The Philippines had always been on my radar, a place of dreams and desires. Although I had visited once before in 2019, it was a brief encounter, leaving much unexpected. This time, I was determined to delve deeper into the beauty of Cebu and El Nido.
My flight from Hong Kong landed me in the vibrant island of Cebu. Initially, I did not feel the intensity of the heat, perhaps because I had grown accustomed to the tropical climates. But as soon as I stepped out of the airport, the sun’s rays embraced me with a vigor far beyond what I had experienced in Hong Kong’s often cloudy skies. It felt like stepping into an oven, a stark contrast to my recent days.
navigating my way through the airport, I sought out a place to buy a SIM card. When the lady at the store told me I could not use my credit card, I realized I had no cash on hand. A wave of anxiety hit me as I approached the nearest ATM. Alone and cautious, I scanned my surroundings, fearing the possibility of being mugged. Yet, the transaction went smoothly, and soon I held 75,000 Philippine pesos in my hand. With the SIM card purchased and internet access secured, I felt a surge of relief. In today’s world, internet access is a lifeline, enabling me to stay connected and navigate new territories with ease.
With my phone connected, I hailed a Grab taxi, the Southeast Asian equivalent of Uber. My destination was Barrio House Mactan, a charming hotel just 15 minutes from the Mactan-Cebu International Airport. The room welcomed me with cool air conditioning, a sanctuary from the sweltering heat outside. Exhausted from my early morning flight, I decided to rest before venturing out for a late lunch.
One of my travel rituals, born from a past nightmare with bed bugs in Indonesia, involves meticulously inspecting the mattress for any signs of these tiny invaders. Bed bugs are nocturnal parasites, leaving behind red, itchy welts after their bloodsucking feast. A clean, bug-free mattress is a non-negotiable aspect of my comfort.
Refreshed from a brief rest, I set out to explore Cebu. The familiar sights stirred memories from my previous visit. My first destination was the iconic Lapu-Lapu statue, a tribute to the brave leader who defended his island against Magellan. As I gazed at the statue, I reflected on the resilience and strength it symbolized. The ocean’s edge provided a perfect spot to sit and absorb the serene view, the gentle breeze a welcome respite from the heat.
While soaking in the tranquility, I noticed a local man far out in the ocean, navigating a canoe. The tide was low, and he was pulling the canoe towards the shore. As he approached, he caught my eye and walked directly toward me. He was in his 30s, with deeply tanned skin and a few missing teeth, a testament to a life lived under the sun. He greeted me with curiosity, “Where are you from?”
“I’m from Japan,” I replied with a smile.
“Do you want to ride a canoe? There’s a beautiful place behind the mangroves. I can take you there,” he offered.
My initial hesitation gave way to curiosity. His offer sounded too good to be true, and my mind raced with doubts. Was this a trap? Would I be ambushed by his accomplices? But then I remembered a powerful lesson: most of our fears are products of our imagination. Deciding to embrace the adventure, I asked, “How much is it?”
“It’s okay,” he replied, waving off my concern.
Skepticism gnawed at me, but I chose to trust him. I told myself that if anything seemed suspicious, I’d dive into the ocean and swim to safety. With a mixture of excitement and apprehension, I climbed into the canoe.
What followed was one of the most memorable experiences of my life. He guided me through the mangroves, revealing a hidden world of stunning natural beauty. There were no lurking threats, only the serenity of untouched nature. He showed me abandoned boats, remnants of a devastating typhoon from years past. On one of these boats, I spotted a man doing laundry.
“Does he live on that boat?” I asked.
“Yes, he does. That’s my cousin,” he replied with a grin.
Fascinated, I accepted his offer to explore the boat. We climbed aboard, and I greeted his cousin, who waved back. Curious about their lives, I asked, “Does he ever go back home?”
“He does. He goes home every night. He just spends some time here during the day,” my guide explained.
“How does he go back home? The boat is destroyed. Does he swim?” I inquired.
“Yes, the boat is broken, but he walks back home when the tide is low. Do you want to walk around here at night? We can catch some crabs.”
This time, without hesitation, I agreed. “Why not!”
In that moment, I realized the power of embracing the unknown, of trusting people and their stories. It’s these unplanned, spontaneous encounters that often lead to the most unforgettable adventures. And so, my journey in the Philippines had only just begun, with promises of more unexpected delights waiting to unfold.