IN THE pelting rain, our rented white Toyota Corolla skidded, hit a basin of clams and crashed into a tree.

A crowd of curious onlookers gathered and the clams vendor grumbled: "You broke my new wooden stand. Pay me 1,500 pesos." That is about S$50.

My travel mate, Iqmal, and I got out to check the car for damage - one headlight cover was smashed. We paid the vendor 1,200 pesos after bargaining.

HAVING A SPLASH: Village kids in Bulacan after a typhoon.

The accident near Dagupan town was one of several experiences we had of the country's wet and wild monsoon, typically from July to September.

We had gone there early this month for a nine-day road trip which covered not only the capital city Manila and surrounding Tagaytay and Ta'al volcano, but also Luzon island's other famed sights.

We also flew in a small plane over Mount Pinatubo's crater, boogied at Subic Bay Freeport's bars, explored Hundred Islands National Park's islets, checked out Sagada's hanging coffins, and hiked on Maligcong and Banaue's golden rice terraces.

But driving through fog, heavy rain and potholed, flooded roads upped the thrill factor by several notches.

The manual, left-hand-drive car we rented was not quite what Iqmal, a fellow Singaporean, was used to driving. Jerky moves, zig-zagging and stalling were the order of the day.

"We should have rented a four-wheel drive. We are the only ones driving a car," said a frustrated Iqmal, revving up the crippled engine for the umpteenth time.

I could only suggest doing karaoke to keep sane. And so we crooned, indulging in the Filipinos' top pastime, to cope with the chaotic traffic of jeepneys (colourful jeeps), pedicabs (trishaws), carabao (water buffaloes) and chickens.

WOODEN WONDERS: Coffins stacked in a cave (below) in Sagada.

I was a better cheerleader than vehicle commander. On three maps, I read Bulacan (a township) as belacan (shrimp paste).

Indeed, not only did some words in Tagalog and the Ifugao dialect sound similar to those in Malay or the Javanese dialect, a number of them have the same meaning, too.

Hujan is rain in Ifugao and Malay while payong is umbrella in Tagalog and Malay.

Some anthropologists claim the first Philippine settlers hailed from the Malay Peninsula. To us, this simply meant that, based on looks alone, we could pass off as Pinoy or the local folks.

Indeed, at Angeles City's Clark airport immigration, several locals, thinking we were Pinoys, joined us in a queue meant for foreign-passport holders.

They realised their mistake when we did not respond in Tagalog. "You, Pinoy?" a woman finally asked in English.

Throughout the trip, we spun tales of how our Pinoy forefathers left the country to look for work in Singapore, and that we were comeback kids hoping to retrace our roots. The locals bought our story. Guilt-stricken, we confessed we were only joking.

The country's eclectic mix of history and culture, breathtaking natural and man-made wonders, coupled with its friendly and hospitable people are a balm for the eyes, mind and soul.

Hundred Islands' islets and white sandy beaches enthralled us. At one, we saw dozens of snoozing bats plastered on a cave ceiling. A thunderous clap sent them flying frantically in circles.

Our retribution came later. On the return boat trip to the mainland, a sudden downpour turned the calm waters choppy and wild. The sea and sky merged to become a single grey wall. We were drenched to the bone.

Iqmal asked the boatman: "Can we take cover on an island until the rain stops?" The latter smiled, ignoring our plea.

Sagada's Sumaging cave, created by water erosion, was our personal favourite. During World War II, it was a hiding place for Filipino soldiers and guerillas.

Clambering the stalactites and stalagmites worked up a sweat. Our untrained feet slipped off limestone rocks and our hands dipped into mushy bat droppings. We turned acrobats, contorting our bodies to fit into tiny openings and doing splits to move between rocks.

At the bottom of the cave was a pool. Our guide Egbert said: "Only waist-deep." When I jumped in, my feet struck a stone portruding from the pool bed. The swelling left me limping for days.

Later that day, we trekked to view about a dozen hanging coffins perched precariously on the face of cliffs. The people of Sagada still practise the 2,000-year-old burial ritual, where coffins are placed in hard-to-reach spots.

We also visited a cave where old wooden coffins are stacked floor to ceiling.

The Maligcong terrace ricefields, with their golden grains, were magnificent and worth the stressful drive up winding, uneven and steep roads.

SEA HEAVEN: The white sandy beaches at Hundred Islands' islets.

But driving south to Manila, we got stuck in a 4km-long traffic jam caused by floods in Bulacan, one of the places hit by three typhoons in a week.

Ricefields were under water, and houses and trees were half-submerged.

On the highway, the water was knee-deep. We wondered if our tiny, exhausted car could get through the flooded stretch.

Since nobody could tell us when or if the floods would subside, we tempted fate. Our car rumbled and slowly progressed through the water.

But we gave up on Manila's haphazard traffic and confusing signs. We ditched our car for the city's jeepneys and cabs, which were plentiful and affordable.

It was Iqmal's third visit to the capital but my first, so we split ways.

I visited the must-sees, including the 16th-century Spanish Intramuros fortress, local markets in Quaipo and Chinatown, and shopping centres at Greenhills and Mall of Asia. I also watched a $3 movie with a newfound friend, a Pinoy beautician.

The Pinoys are an active lot. As early as 4am, many are jogging in Roxas Boulevard or doing mass aerobics in Rizal Park. Nights pulsate with trendy young crowds thronging the many bars.

A cabbie mistook me for a teen and steered me to Decades, a Quezon City disco for partygoers below 25. I befriended some girls who were gyrating wildly to techno music. One whispered to me: "Sister, we are only 17. Don't tell the bouncer."

Iqmal later accompanied me to the Ta'al volcano and Tagaytay. These touristy spots featured pushy touts keen to overcharge.

"Dusty, so you need a mask - 50 pesos. Hot, so you need a straw hat - 50 pesos. Tough hike, so you need a horse - 800 pesos," they said.

We insisted on being our own mules. After a breezy 20-minute hike to the crater, we got a nasty sunburn.

A lesson: Rain or shine, an umbrella is a must-have in Luzon. Just do not hand-carry it home.

We were puzzled when airport customs officials confiscated Iqmal's payong.

Song & dance in Davao

A SAN Miguel is optional. With or without the lessthan- a-dollar local booze, the Pinoy can get jiggy with it anytime, anywhere.

At the Philippines' Davao NCCC Mall, I collided with a youngster doing the running man to MC Hammer's Too Legit To Quit. When the mall's guest band played Snow's Informer next, everyone started grooving.

In no time, I lost all inhibitions, too. I sang aloud when James Blunt's You're Beautiful reverberated through the supermarket, where I was queuing to pay for dried mangos. Seconds later, everyone in line chorused along.

I chuckled and told a shopper: "This will never happen in Singapore."

I was exploring Davao on south-eastern Mindanao island on an invitation from the Philippine Tourism Authority. The August highlight must be the Kadayawan sa Dabaw festival with a traditional song-and-dance street parade by indigenous people and beer-drinking fairs.

Many women vendors selling handicrafts in Davao's Aldevinco mall don the tudung. Not unusual since the country's Muslims are concentrated in Mindanao and the Sulu archipelago.

"As'salamualaikum," I greeted one as I browsed a stack of malong or sarongs woven in golden threads. Madam Sarah responded warmly. A Tausug, one of the five major Muslim groups there, she said her ancestors hailed from north Borneo.

Tourist spots in Davao include the Long Hua Buddhist temple, the Philippine Eagle Center and the Pearl Farm Resort. Davao is also home to the country's tallest mountain, the 2,954m-high Mount Apo.

Nights can be spent at videoke (or karaoke) bars; Venue or Autoshop, a cluster of local bars; or Magsaysay Fruit Vendors' Association stalls hawking cheap durians, marang or cempedak, pomelo and mangosteens.

The city is also known for seafood, particularly the yummy bariles, yellow-fin tuna cooked over hot coals. But no amount of pesos could make me swallow a balut - hard-boiled egg with aborted duck foetus in it.

Photos: Arlina Arshad

arlina@sph.com.sg