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The next day, we woke up to Arya and Mel's voices outside our nipa hut. When Logan checked his watch, it was almost 9AM! Sh*t!

We were supposed to meet them an hour earlier. After putting on our bathing suits in a jiffy, the two of us raced to the common bathroom, splashed water on our faces, brushed our teeth, and made a mad dash back to the room to grab our things for island hopping.

Arya and Mel were patiently waiting for us at the restaurant where they had breakfast an hour earlier. They told us the American couple left already since we were more than an hour late.

Clearly, we weren't good ambassadors of our country. Or maybe the delay was meant to be, because if we all ended up island hopping with another couple, "hindi natin hawak ang oras natin," Mel said more than once that morning.

The four of us took a five-minute tricycle ride to the "port" for our island hopping trip. As if the heavens couldn't delay our trip even longer, we went to the wrong port, where the working men laughed at us "tourists," saying this port was for ships that haul products from Coron to other provinces. Ah, kaya pala may mga barko.

So we took another five-minute ride to the "real port area," this one beside the public market, and talked to the "beach boys" (boat men) for the cheapest island hopping tour we can get. We took a short trip to the public market to buy food. I ended up haggling for cheaper prices while holding Logan's wallet like a seasoned house wife. It took me a while to realize what had become of me: a 20-something image of a desperate housewife, poking meat, choosing veggies and spices, and buying sachets of vinegar and soy sauce for the barbecued pork chop and ensaladang talong we would be having for lunch later.

Of course, Arya and I did the talking because God knows men couldn't do that, especially Mel and Logan, who carried all the things we bought. My friends commended me for knowing my way around. At first, I lighted up because it proves how much I know now, when I wouldn't even be caught dead inside a public market just a few years ago.

And yet, I sort of cringed when Logan jokingly said, "She's the woman, that's her job." I wanted to haul the uncooked tilapia at his face for that comment. But I didn't. Instead, I gave him back his wallet and thought to myself that I'm starting to dislike the kind of woman I'm turning into.

I'm never a Betty. I'm a Veronica. So what changed me? And how come I don't like it?

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