The Chronicle’s Mark Bellune traveled to Cebu, Philippines, recently to see a friend. He learned much of the history and culture of the nation of islands in the Pacific — living with locals for 2 weeks. This is the second in a series.

Basketball is the number one sport in the Philippines.

Cock fighting may be a close second.

They play it from an early age and have youth, school, college and pro leagues like we do.

It was late May, and pro basketball could be seen almost throughout the day.

It was also the NBA’s Eastern and Western Conference finals back home.

Each morning at 9 a.m. – 9 p.m. here – they broadcast the games.

At the welcoming party my hosts threw for me, we watched the finals on tape delay. They enjoy it so much that Filipinos show the NBA games twice a day on ESPN-P which is broadcast on the airwaves for all to see.

One morning at my hosts’ home outside Liloan, north of Cebu City, and after everyone had left for work, I watched the game with my 9-year-old guide, Ashley. I was watching the Golden State-Houston game while Ashley diligently washed the breakfast dishes and watched from the kitchen.

Then Ashley screamed from the kitchen and I could hear a whooshing sound.

I found him trying to hold back rushing water from the wall where the spigot used to be located.

I looked for a cutoff valve, but the water was coming from the concrete wall. I ran outside looking for a cutoff valve. No luck.

We must have looked like The Three Stooges minus Moe.

Coming back into the kitchen, Ashley excitedly pointed to the wall where the water was shooting.

Ah, the breaker box, I thought.

Water seemed to be an inch deep. Barefooted, I ripped open the door to the breaker box and flipped the switches praying I was not about to become lechón.

That’s Filipino for barbecued pork.

The water stopped and my heart began beating again.

An hour later we had the kitchen dry and towels hung out to dry.

Fortunately Ashley’s grandfather came by on his bicycle. And thankfully, my hosts had left me their motorbike.

Through broken English, Ashley’s grandfather directed me to a hardware store and then another and finally a third where we got the pieces to fix the sink.

Then we were off to where Ashley and his father, grandfather and children live a few miles away in Sambag.

It is a poor community at the base of some foothills.

I wondered how they manage during rainy season in the tropics.

This was my first visit to Sambag. Ashley took my camera backpack on his shoulders and off we went with his five young cousins to the Shrine of the Virgin Mary.

We reached a staircase cut into a foothill that led up and up and up. I was soaked by the time we reached the pinnacle in the hot and humid tropical afternoon.

The huge statue of the Virgin Mary loomed over us. At the base is a large room where children are led in jazzercise and studies.

An aunt hurried up the stairs. One cousin who is now a Facebook friend, 11-year-old Jhanfaith, interpreted that my lady friend Liesyl, was off work early and wanted to go shopping with her sister; and I had the key to the motor bike.

I returned in a few nights to Sambag where a huge tournament was held for differing age groups.

They do love their basketball here.

Next: Touring historic Cebu.