Further into our trip, we are tending to select our next destination based on the quality of the diving and the Philippines was an easy choice for a couple of scuba addicts. Not only would I say I am addicted but the more I dive and learn about the fragility of the coastal waters, the more I want to incorporate marine conservation and awareness into my life and, possibly, someday, a career. For this, I must thank SE Asia, for I don't know anywhere else in the world someone like me can ignite such a passion in such a short time. The Philippines in particular, had a big impact on me due to its incomparable mix of affordable world class diving, welcoming people and visible efforts to preserve its marine biodiversity and coral reefs ecosystems.
We began our Philippines journey in Manila, knowing that we weren't going to stay long enough to give it much of a chance since we had only twenty days to see the country on our complimentary visa but I was optimistic and excited to get my first taste of this outlying country in SE Asia. To sum up, the capital wasn’t our favorite but whether that was our own fault or not I can’t say for sure. We followed the our guidebooks suggestions quite rigidly as soon as we stepped off the plane, flagging down a yellow metered cab instead of a white set fare cab which saved us a few dollars. We rode to a quality hostel, also recommended by Lonely Planet, in a popular neighborhood for backpackers. However, even after a few laps around our neighborhood, it felt as though around every corner the darker side of the city was lingering with scam artists, thieves trying to pawn off stolen electronics, hookers and loads of begging children (not to mention that pungent gutter stench that lingers in every overgrown metropolis).
One instance on the very first day we arrived stands out in my memory as a Manila memento. After dinner, we were cooling off in the mall and were stopped by a short and stalky American man with slightly crossed eyes behind wiry glasses. He told us some story about mistaking us for a Swedish couple he had met earlier and then informed us that he was just released from jail in Manila and needed help from fellow Americans. We didn’t buy it but after he wouldn’t leave us alone I gave him a twenty peso note and wished him luck as we did not intend to put him up for the night. It was a bizarre moment for us and I couldn’t help but think of other scenarios where I would have paid money to get out of awkward situations quickly. This was surely one of the weirdest moments on our travels so far.
An early start the next morning had us riding the aged, but functional, elevated train to the central station during a crowded rush hour. We took a roundabout walk to get to the entrance to Manila’s oldest district, the Intramurous, which contains contains St. Augestine’s church, fort Santiago and a plethora of well preserved historic buildings. The church was our first stop and it was brimming with Catholic history from the Philippines and housed a vast collection of religious artifacts from the 14th to 20th century (the coolest was the giant pipe organ that must have been at least ten feet tall!). After declining at least half a dozen offers for a pedicab tour of Intramurous, we found our way to fort Santiago, perched perfectly against a golf course and the coast. The grounds here were immaculately kept, a stark contrast to the rest of Manila. A polar opposite what I imagined the interior of a fort to look like, there were perfectly manicured hedges, lawns and flowers all wrapped in an old stone wall, some of which you could walk on top of. Plaques and brochures told most of the history of the fort and its use by the Spanish, Americans, and most recently, a brief but violent occupation by the Japanese before it was decommissioned and declared a historical landmark in 1951. On the long walk back to the metro station, we passed a peculiar Starbucks coffee shop and many more homeless claiming the spaces in between parks, roads and mass transit infrastructure. While Manila certainly has the potential for loads of fun, we were a bit squeamish of our own neighborhood and we eagerly anticipated our next destination.
The following morning, we hopped on a bus to Batangas pier, skipped across a channel of water and landed in Sabang, near Puerto Galera, transporting ourselves seemingly worlds away from Manila in under three hours. From offshore, Sabang looks like a tiny Mediterranean village, comfortably tucked into the hills and meeting the azul water at high tide. We were greeted at our dive “resort” by a cheery Finnish woman who showed us to our room, which was spacious and nice enough for ten dollars a night. After some good local lunch and sampling Philippines’ national brew, San Miguel, we explored much of the town on foot as there is only one main road for jeepneys and automobiles and networks of tight alleyways to get anywhere else.
Our first dive in the Philippines was absolutely the most colorful dive we’ve done. The stunningly clear water allowed the sun to illuminate the most vivid spectrum of coral colors, even some clear red hues a bit shallower; the eels, octopi and were surprisingly active as well on both dives of the day. Later on we sat down for a beer at a typical British sports bar and as it began to rain outside, the French man we dove with joined us. He was quite talkative and told us he is a part time dive instructor in France and also works in the French Airforce, most recently modifying aircraft in Crete for the Libyan conflict. We also learned about his retirement ambitions of buying a sailboat, his Filipino wife and how difficult it is to understand heavy French accents at times. He was really nice and he insisted on paying for our drinks and we promised to return the favor.
Our dives the next morning began differently but no less spectacularly with a heavy current wreck dive. Megan, myself and our Finnish dive instructor, Tanja, were the only ones diving for the first fifteen minutes or so and upon our entry into the sunken vessel, we were greeted by a huge hawk bill turtle, eating and scratching itself. I fumbled with our new toy, an iphone dive case we purchased the night before, and tried to take as many pictures as I could before it disappeared. After lunch, we dove with the strongest current we’ve ever encountered and had a blast cruising along several different dive sites with new found confidence in my underwater photography ability. Though we planned on staying a third day and diving two more times (it is so cheap here!), I managed to get glass in my foot and cut it badly enough to keep me out of the water and off of my feet for two days. We simply enjoyed each others company, technicolor sunsets, and I was surprised by the countless solicitations by hookers around the waterfront. And, thanks to Megan, we would be spending our upcoming five year anniversary on the white sands of Boracay.
The overnight ferry from Batangas pier to Caticlan. Boracay was an experience in itself. Between the pier and the boat, we met a guy our age from Panama, two unbelievably friendly Iranians going to dentistry school in Manila who were very interested in talking about the relations between our countries and an older American from Hawaii who was heading to the same resort as us. After somehow managing to get to sleep, I jolted awake to Megan whispering, “we’ve got bedbugs.” I shot up to go use the bathroom (or in the Philippines, the comfort room) and I was stunned to see the entire floor littered with thumb sized black bugs. Thousands of them. Everywhere. We quietly made our way to the front of the ship near the cafe, each step producing a crack and crunch as we crushed the little bastards one by one. I must have dozed again and woke to hear the announcement that we would be arriving five hours late. Luckily, everything went smoothly after we disembarked since our resort worker guided us through the process of entering the island of Boracay.
I cannot imagine a much better setting for a five year anniversary celebration and prime diving destination than Boracay island. A delightful combination of sun, sand, drinking and diving draws people from around the world to this three kilometer stretch of shimmering white sand, including a fair number of Californians and other Americans. The beach is relatively narrow but very well kept and the water is perfectly clear thanks to a strictly enforced steep fine for smoking and littering. It is rimmed by the forgiving shade of coconut trees, infiltrated by vendors and dotted with hundreds of bodies seeking the perfect shade of bronze. The food selection here is phenomenal and our resort in particular was certainly committed to providing fresh and delicious plates of all kinds for very reasonable prices. You can spoil yourself with Indian, Greek and Italian cuisine or live off the hawker food stalls and budget cafes away from the beach.
Our resort was run by a personable, father figure named Vaughn, from Massachusetts, who did everything possible to make our stay pleasant. We did two great dives here which introduced us to (bio domes?), one great example of Boracay's project to reintroduce a coral reef ecosystem with man made technology. The visibility on here may have been the best we’ve seen, at least 30-35 meters, and allowed us to see a host of new animals like an adult lobster, large shrimp and a sea bass school. Unfortunately, this is also where I punctured my inner ear membrane and had to end halt diving for at least a month. Good thing there was a lot of relaxing and eating left to be done here! What a place to reflect on the best five years of my life with my favorite person, Megan.
Just over a week later, the Boracay dream ended and we were squeezed into an overcrowded bus for six hours before hopping onto our last (hopefully!) overnight ferry ever to Cebu. We stayed as late as we could stand it in the ferry’s cafe to avoid the bedbugs we suspected were lurking in every crevice and enjoyed the company of five, extremely amateur karaoke singers, most of whom did everything they could to avoid the right pitch. Thankfully, we didn’t see any bedbugs and had a pleasant few hours of sleep before arriving the next morning. We tried to go and hail a cab on our own but a group of poor men outside the port seemed much extremely eager to do it for us in exchange for a tip.
We were in Philippine's original capital for just two nights to rest up before taking Singapore by storm for the weekend. Unfortunately, though the city has a magnificent waterfront and is nicknamed "Queen City of the South," poverty is still very present here as well; there were guys actually selling puppies in bags to passers by on an overpass and no shortage of children begging. When I gave one little girl the leftover rice from our last dinner in the country, I couldn't help but feel the undeniable cushion I enjoy in my life.
Overall, the Philippines have been really good to us; the people are friendly and up for a good time, the food is cheap and tasty, English is prevalent and the sunsets consistently blow our minds. It is really interesting to hear the language spoken as some Spanish words and numbers have stuck, making for a very unique tongue. Its place in the Pacific guarantees gorgeous dives and some damn fine surf too and you can bet I'll be back here someday.
We began our Philippines journey in Manila, knowing that we weren't going to stay long enough to give it much of a chance since we had only twenty days to see the country on our complimentary visa but I was optimistic and excited to get my first taste of this outlying country in SE Asia. To sum up, the capital wasn’t our favorite but whether that was our own fault or not I can’t say for sure. We followed the our guidebooks suggestions quite rigidly as soon as we stepped off the plane, flagging down a yellow metered cab instead of a white set fare cab which saved us a few dollars. We rode to a quality hostel, also recommended by Lonely Planet, in a popular neighborhood for backpackers. However, even after a few laps around our neighborhood, it felt as though around every corner the darker side of the city was lingering with scam artists, thieves trying to pawn off stolen electronics, hookers and loads of begging children (not to mention that pungent gutter stench that lingers in every overgrown metropolis).
One instance on the very first day we arrived stands out in my memory as a Manila memento. After dinner, we were cooling off in the mall and were stopped by a short and stalky American man with slightly crossed eyes behind wiry glasses. He told us some story about mistaking us for a Swedish couple he had met earlier and then informed us that he was just released from jail in Manila and needed help from fellow Americans. We didn’t buy it but after he wouldn’t leave us alone I gave him a twenty peso note and wished him luck as we did not intend to put him up for the night. It was a bizarre moment for us and I couldn’t help but think of other scenarios where I would have paid money to get out of awkward situations quickly. This was surely one of the weirdest moments on our travels so far.
An early start the next morning had us riding the aged, but functional, elevated train to the central station during a crowded rush hour. We took a roundabout walk to get to the entrance to Manila’s oldest district, the Intramurous, which contains contains St. Augestine’s church, fort Santiago and a plethora of well preserved historic buildings. The church was our first stop and it was brimming with Catholic history from the Philippines and housed a vast collection of religious artifacts from the 14th to 20th century (the coolest was the giant pipe organ that must have been at least ten feet tall!). After declining at least half a dozen offers for a pedicab tour of Intramurous, we found our way to fort Santiago, perched perfectly against a golf course and the coast. The grounds here were immaculately kept, a stark contrast to the rest of Manila. A polar opposite what I imagined the interior of a fort to look like, there were perfectly manicured hedges, lawns and flowers all wrapped in an old stone wall, some of which you could walk on top of. Plaques and brochures told most of the history of the fort and its use by the Spanish, Americans, and most recently, a brief but violent occupation by the Japanese before it was decommissioned and declared a historical landmark in 1951. On the long walk back to the metro station, we passed a peculiar Starbucks coffee shop and many more homeless claiming the spaces in between parks, roads and mass transit infrastructure. While Manila certainly has the potential for loads of fun, we were a bit squeamish of our own neighborhood and we eagerly anticipated our next destination.
The following morning, we hopped on a bus to Batangas pier, skipped across a channel of water and landed in Sabang, near Puerto Galera, transporting ourselves seemingly worlds away from Manila in under three hours. From offshore, Sabang looks like a tiny Mediterranean village, comfortably tucked into the hills and meeting the azul water at high tide. We were greeted at our dive “resort” by a cheery Finnish woman who showed us to our room, which was spacious and nice enough for ten dollars a night. After some good local lunch and sampling Philippines’ national brew, San Miguel, we explored much of the town on foot as there is only one main road for jeepneys and automobiles and networks of tight alleyways to get anywhere else.
Our first dive in the Philippines was absolutely the most colorful dive we’ve done. The stunningly clear water allowed the sun to illuminate the most vivid spectrum of coral colors, even some clear red hues a bit shallower; the eels, octopi and were surprisingly active as well on both dives of the day. Later on we sat down for a beer at a typical British sports bar and as it began to rain outside, the French man we dove with joined us. He was quite talkative and told us he is a part time dive instructor in France and also works in the French Airforce, most recently modifying aircraft in Crete for the Libyan conflict. We also learned about his retirement ambitions of buying a sailboat, his Filipino wife and how difficult it is to understand heavy French accents at times. He was really nice and he insisted on paying for our drinks and we promised to return the favor.
Our dives the next morning began differently but no less spectacularly with a heavy current wreck dive. Megan, myself and our Finnish dive instructor, Tanja, were the only ones diving for the first fifteen minutes or so and upon our entry into the sunken vessel, we were greeted by a huge hawk bill turtle, eating and scratching itself. I fumbled with our new toy, an iphone dive case we purchased the night before, and tried to take as many pictures as I could before it disappeared. After lunch, we dove with the strongest current we’ve ever encountered and had a blast cruising along several different dive sites with new found confidence in my underwater photography ability. Though we planned on staying a third day and diving two more times (it is so cheap here!), I managed to get glass in my foot and cut it badly enough to keep me out of the water and off of my feet for two days. We simply enjoyed each others company, technicolor sunsets, and I was surprised by the countless solicitations by hookers around the waterfront. And, thanks to Megan, we would be spending our upcoming five year anniversary on the white sands of Boracay.
The overnight ferry from Batangas pier to Caticlan. Boracay was an experience in itself. Between the pier and the boat, we met a guy our age from Panama, two unbelievably friendly Iranians going to dentistry school in Manila who were very interested in talking about the relations between our countries and an older American from Hawaii who was heading to the same resort as us. After somehow managing to get to sleep, I jolted awake to Megan whispering, “we’ve got bedbugs.” I shot up to go use the bathroom (or in the Philippines, the comfort room) and I was stunned to see the entire floor littered with thumb sized black bugs. Thousands of them. Everywhere. We quietly made our way to the front of the ship near the cafe, each step producing a crack and crunch as we crushed the little bastards one by one. I must have dozed again and woke to hear the announcement that we would be arriving five hours late. Luckily, everything went smoothly after we disembarked since our resort worker guided us through the process of entering the island of Boracay.
I cannot imagine a much better setting for a five year anniversary celebration and prime diving destination than Boracay island. A delightful combination of sun, sand, drinking and diving draws people from around the world to this three kilometer stretch of shimmering white sand, including a fair number of Californians and other Americans. The beach is relatively narrow but very well kept and the water is perfectly clear thanks to a strictly enforced steep fine for smoking and littering. It is rimmed by the forgiving shade of coconut trees, infiltrated by vendors and dotted with hundreds of bodies seeking the perfect shade of bronze. The food selection here is phenomenal and our resort in particular was certainly committed to providing fresh and delicious plates of all kinds for very reasonable prices. You can spoil yourself with Indian, Greek and Italian cuisine or live off the hawker food stalls and budget cafes away from the beach.
Our resort was run by a personable, father figure named Vaughn, from Massachusetts, who did everything possible to make our stay pleasant. We did two great dives here which introduced us to (bio domes?), one great example of Boracay's project to reintroduce a coral reef ecosystem with man made technology. The visibility on here may have been the best we’ve seen, at least 30-35 meters, and allowed us to see a host of new animals like an adult lobster, large shrimp and a sea bass school. Unfortunately, this is also where I punctured my inner ear membrane and had to end halt diving for at least a month. Good thing there was a lot of relaxing and eating left to be done here! What a place to reflect on the best five years of my life with my favorite person, Megan.
Just over a week later, the Boracay dream ended and we were squeezed into an overcrowded bus for six hours before hopping onto our last (hopefully!) overnight ferry ever to Cebu. We stayed as late as we could stand it in the ferry’s cafe to avoid the bedbugs we suspected were lurking in every crevice and enjoyed the company of five, extremely amateur karaoke singers, most of whom did everything they could to avoid the right pitch. Thankfully, we didn’t see any bedbugs and had a pleasant few hours of sleep before arriving the next morning. We tried to go and hail a cab on our own but a group of poor men outside the port seemed much extremely eager to do it for us in exchange for a tip.
We were in Philippine's original capital for just two nights to rest up before taking Singapore by storm for the weekend. Unfortunately, though the city has a magnificent waterfront and is nicknamed "Queen City of the South," poverty is still very present here as well; there were guys actually selling puppies in bags to passers by on an overpass and no shortage of children begging. When I gave one little girl the leftover rice from our last dinner in the country, I couldn't help but feel the undeniable cushion I enjoy in my life.
Overall, the Philippines have been really good to us; the people are friendly and up for a good time, the food is cheap and tasty, English is prevalent and the sunsets consistently blow our minds. It is really interesting to hear the language spoken as some Spanish words and numbers have stuck, making for a very unique tongue. Its place in the Pacific guarantees gorgeous dives and some damn fine surf too and you can bet I'll be back here someday.