What I know about Panglao

A week on Panglao, hanging out in cafes, exploring the local tourist highlights and not much else.

I finally managed to get the ferry from Oslob to Panglao and arrived at around midday on the Island. I’d decided a while ago that this was going to be my last stop in the Philippines. I just wasn’t enjoying travel as much as I had been previously, and I was exhausted by moving around all the time: I wanted familiarity or I wanted to stand still. As such, this meant I was officially leaving the Philippines, and to some extent, my nomadic lifestyle, in one week’s time.

As the boat pulled into the dock, the crew were shouting about how for ‘the very cheap price of 100 pesos’ they had transport waiting to get us to our next destination. I Google-mapped this, and my hostel was 6kms away – given I spent 70 pesos for 18km the other day in a private vehicle there was absolutely no way I was going to fork out the extra pound, or whatever ridiculously small amount it was, purely on principle. I started walking.

Now dear reader, please understand that, although I am a little travel weary and stingy, I’m not insane. I wasn’t actually planning on walking 6km with my heavier-by-the-location backpack in the crazy Filipino sun. No way. I was actually planning on flagging down a motorbike as soon as I saw one. About 50 metres down the road I was getting tired and it suddenly occurred to me that maybe they didn’t have the motorbikes on this island. About 100 metres down the road one of the original vans, with all of my boat pals in, passed me and offered me the trip for 50 pesos. I got in the van.

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Since I was there for so long, and I was so behind on my blog, I wanted to stay somewhere in the town, near the beach, so I could top up my tan some days and catch up on writing in hipster coffee shops on other days. This meant my options for hostels were limited, and honestly, the hostel options on the island overall were not great. Given how antisocial I currently was, a curtain was my one non-negotiable, so I could laze around and watch Netflix and ignore the world if I wanted to (which I did want). I know. I’m living the utmost pinnacle of exciting travel life. Sorry reader, this is just mentally where I was at this time – it happens to the best of us.

I was staying at Moon Fools Hostel, which wasn’t as highly rated as I usually opt for, but honestly, the pickings were suprisingly slim. It was fine. I didn’t love it, and the mood I was in, I wouldn’t stay there again, but the staff were really friendly (although one of them did move my curtain on my bunk at one point when I was in there to tell me about the free cocktails in the lounge, which felt a bit invasive). I actually realised that since I was planning on going to Australia after this, and since hostels there were so damn expensive, this was my last chance to have a private room for a long time and I might as well make the most of it. I went to talk to them in person as you get more of a discount than when you book online, and for my last two nights I did end up staying in a private room in a very cute guesthouse. I sort of had to chase a cockroach out with a broom at one point, but overall it was an upgrade from my hostel. I had a TV where the channels only worked some of the time, but I ended up watching Grease multiple times as it happened to be on.

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I can’t really remember what I did in Panglao – this is my own fault for leaving it so long before writing this blog (I’m literally about ten weeks behind now). I know I spent several mornings in a coffee shop with comfy seating, blogging. I spent one day on a tour of Bohol, which I’ll tell you about soon. I don’t think I did go to the beach. It scared me in the end. I hung out with some hostel people. God. I don’t know what I did. I’ll need to dig out my notes. … Okay, turns out my notes are not especially informative so I’ll try and do this from memory and any photos I find on my (old) phone.

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I think I spent almost a week here. I knew it was longer than I needed almost instantly, especially with the lacking accomodation options, but it worked out okay in the end. There was a coffee shop on the main strip that wasn’t quite as hipster as I liked (it only served drinks, no food) but it did have comfy seats, and I spent a lot of time in there caffeinating my weary soul and pouring my steadily decaying memory of my travels into these posts. I tried to go to the beach one of the days – I walked along the beachfront a few times but I just didn’t particularly want to lie there and be pestered. It wasn’t an overly amazing beach either so I didn’t spend as much time there as I’d hoped I would when I planned on coming here. I got Greek food (go figure) and some beers with some hostel pals one night and almost joined a free zumba class that was going on in the square whilst I was having solo hipster dinner another night, but it finished before I’d finished eating, sadly.

The one thing I really did want to see whilst there was the chocolate hills in nearby Bohol. Every 30 seconds along the main strip in Panglao there are tour operators selling the exact same trip for, I believe, the exact same price. I booked onto one of these and, after some confusion when they came to pick me up, left, came back, drove away with me, brought me back because they thought they had the wrong person, and then came and picked me up again, me and 13 chinese tourists were on our way. They took us to a bunch on random places that I was not initially interested in but turned out to be fun, and I made friends with the other tourists. I think I was something of a novelty for them. We went to a place that had these snakes you could hold, so travel Cassi (the badass alter-ego) came out for that. We also went on a very expensive river cruise (not included in the price) which was fine and pretty but would have been more fun with friends. We went to the Tarsier Sanctuary which I was initially super excited about but actually, it would have been hard to spend more than 30 minutes in there. The highlight of my day was meant to be the chocolate hills which are these beautiful natural formations that look like hills, that go brown in the summer and look like something out of a kids fantasy movie. We’d had beautiful weather all day, and, as soon as we got out of the bus, of course it started raining horrifically. Visibility was low but, by God, I was climbing to that viewpoint. I ended up soaked through with some, really quite half-arsed photographs of this normally very cool looking site, but still. I’m glad I got to see it and did actually have a fun time on my really random day trip. I just kind of wish I’d managed to get one utterly beautiful photograph of the Philippines, but oh well.

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After my week spent, let’s face it, mostly chilling, in my final destination in my final new country, I boarded a flight. I couldn’t go directly to Perth, in Australia, which was were I planned on settling for a few months, and I didn’t want to take an indirect flight straight there (it’s just a waste of a destination) so I did the only thing that made sense. I took a flight back to my south-east asian love, the Gili Islands, with a second flight booked for Perth 10 days later. It wouldn’t have been right to end my southeast asian adventures without one final stay on my island. It was also exactly what the Philippines hadn’t been for me. Sun, great food and somewhere I already knew the ins and outs of so could finally just relax. Tune in next time for my Gili adventures.

Moving to Moalboal and Ethics in Oslob

Two nights in Moalboal, mostly diving and a third, accidental night in Oslob where I ended up seeing first hand the state of tourism involving Whale Shark feeding.

After leaving Malapascua island I set off on the long journey to Moalboal, on the south west side of Cebu. I took the four hour bus back to Cebu City (airconned this time), shoved my pack on my back and set off on the 1 km walk from the North Bus Station to the nearby mall, to grab some lunch before calling a Grab to take me to the South Bus Station, where I’d be getting my next bus. I was geared up for a long day of travelling.

On the walk I noticed a lot of staring, and, as I mentioned in a previous post about the Philippines, this tends to happen when you’re the only westerner around for miles. I ignored it as much as possible, but eventually a man actually came up and started speaking to me. I was carrying a heavy bag and really didn’t want to stop and chat, so was admittedly getting a little annoyed as he was trying to say something to me but kept gesturing behind me and saying there was a problem. I kind of assumed he was just trying to get me to take his taxi or something by saying my bag was too heavy for me, which annoyed me more as he’d stopped me to say this whilst I was carrying said heavy bag. Eventually he got out Google Translate but it still wasn’t very clear, as the message was saying something like ‘your behind is phenomenon’. Here I got really annoyed as I thought he’d literally made me stop to compliment my ass, before I realised that when hoisting my bag on, over a km ago at the bus station, I’d caught my (very loose) trouser leg in it and hitched it all the way up so, in short, my very summer friendly (ie, small) underwear was on display. For a kilometre. This poor man was just trying to tell me there was an issue (phenomenon) and I was looking at him as if he were a sex pest. My bad. Anyway, after that I decided I could never again show my face in Cebu city and, after grabbing a bagel to soak up my shame in a nearby coffee shop, I jumped straight on the bus to Moalboal.

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I’ve learnt that most people who go to Moalboal actually do not stay in Moalboal, but in the nearby Panagsama beach area. This was where I was headed, and I’d read that I just needed to grab a tricycle (Filipino version of the trusty tuk tuk) down to the main tourist area, once I got off the bus. It was very dark by this point, but I’d met a French couple on the bus who were going to the beach too so asked if they wanted to squeeze into a tricycle together. We ended up paying 50p each for the journey, which I think is a rip off, but the alternative was getting on the back of a motorcycle on my own for 40. I might have done it if the guy hadn’t been so insistent on taking just me. After a short journey and an exchange of contact details, I bid goodnight to the couple and checked into my hostel.

I was staying at Smooth Cafe hostel, and had booked for two nights. It’s been a while since I’ve screwed up a booking, which is very out of character for me, so I was probably due this one. I booked for two days, but a day too early, so I arrived half way through my booking. I’d realised I’d done this the night before, luckily, and had emailed them to let them know and ask if they could change it. They couldn’t give me the day I wanted unfortunately, as they were full, and they couldn’t refund it, which I understood as it was booked through a third-party operator. They did, however, offer me a free lunch as compensation, which was entirely unnecessary but very very welcome. I had the falafel wrap. It wasn’t as good as expected but still excellent for being free. I did change to MoHo’s hostel for the second night, which was actually also fine, although the music from the common area was very loud and audible from the dorms late at night and early in the morning.

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I was mostly in Moalboal to dive and had heard it had a pretty bad reputation in terms of safety and the party scene. As you’ve probably guessed from recent posts, I think the part of my trip where travelling and partying were basically the same thing were firmly on hiatus by this point, so this didn’t bother me much as I was only planning on staying for a few nights to dive and then moving straight on.  I’ve got to say, however, that there was actually a lot of cool stuff to do around Moalboal and I definitely think I could have spent a few days longer than I did there and been happy enough. There were beaches and canyoneering and hipster cafes aplenty to keep me entertained and the food here was really good, especially in comparison to the rest of the country so far! I tried Ven’z Kitchen on the first night, which I’d heard was the place to go for local food. I ordered the traditional sisig again, with real meat this time, and although I preferred the vegan version I’d had in Manilla, it was still actually really good and the staff were lovely.  I treated myself to Three Bears for Dinner on the second night and can heartily recommend. The posters on the walls will keep you entertained for hours and the food was delicious.

During the day, I dived with Cebu Dive Centre. I barely remember the dives themselves so I don’t think they overshadowed the other sites I’ve dived, but I remember them being fun.  My guide and other divers were actually a lot of fun and it was a nice group to spend the day with. I will admit that I kind of hated the guy on the front desk a little though. He was just a bit full of himself, plus, I’ve never had to sign a waiver saying I won’t sue someone for any wilful neglect that leads to my death before…

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All in all I did enjoy Moalboal, and think if I was less travel-weary and not just kind of going through the motions I’d have wanted to stay there for longer and collect more fun life experiences. By this point, I was definitely moving from place to place to fill the time until I could finally stand still for a while though and so stuck with my original plan of leaving after two nights. I was bracing myself to having to go through Cebu city again in order to get to my last stop in the Philippines, Panglao Island, when a member of staff at MoHo’s advised me that I could actually just take a midday bus to Oslob, then a 3pm ferry to Panglao. He made it sound so easy and so chilled out that, of course, I really shouldn’t have trusted it, but I did because I just wanted easy and chilled out.

I left the hostel earlier than he’d advised me to, just in case, and made my way into town where I desperately went on a hunt in the midday heat and with my heavy pack on for a simcard top-up place, as the seven days I’d bought in Cebu were over now and I knew I’d need internet for the next stages of my journey. In true sod’s law style, I couldn’t find any, and waited over an hour and a half for my bus which didn’t have any kind of fixed schedule that I could find. I think I knew getting on that I was never going to make it to Oslob ferry port in time, but I asked the driver to please drop me there anyway. I met three other British people on the bus, who were going to see the Whale Sharks that Oslob was famous for: it’s the only place in the world that you are pretty much guaranteed to see these giant fish. I had actually deliberately decided to avoid Oslob on this trip because I’d heard that the Whale Sharks tourism was pretty unethical, and it was just a random twist of fate that I found myself passing through never-the-less.

The tourists seemed sensible and they did raise some good arguments for why the Whale Sharks feeding was perhaps less harmful than it was made out to be, and that it had actually done a lot of good in terms of  the growing numbers of the species. I wasn’t 100% sure I was convinced, but I liked them and conceded that I didn’t know enough about the matter to be sure either way, but I certainly wasn’t judging them. They got off the bus before I did, but since I had no data and the growing fear that I might be stranded in Oslob all night, I took the name of their hostel, so that, in a worst case scenario, I could give the name of it to a tricycle driver and not be stranded all night. Good thinking travel Cass as this is exactly what happened.

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My bus driver dropped me off somewhere random at 3:05pm and told me to take a bike to the ferry port. Right. I was already late but willing to risk it for a biscuit – we are on Asia time after all, and asked a nearby restaurant how to get to the port. They told me that all of the ferries today were gone and I asked if there was a chance I could still make the 3pm to Panglao. After some confusion it came to light that this ferry does not exist. I don’t know what Moalboal MoHo’s guy was thinking, but no except him thought there was a 3pm ferry to Panglao. I was informed it really was only at 9am and I could get the 5pm from a town about an hour’s drive up the coast. The lovely people helped me top up my credit, and popped me on another bus to get the correct boat. As much as Filipino men in the street had annoyed and intimidated me, I do remember actively realising that these people were some of the most incredibly kind and helpful people I’d met on my entire trip.

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There I was, cruising along on my last bus of the day, when the ticket seller asked where I was going in order to sell me my ticket. I told him I was going to Argao and asked if we’d get there in time for the ferry and he told me that there was no ferry from Argao to Panglao. Of course. Of course there wasn’t. Rather than take the risk, at this point I decided to cut my losses and get the 9am the next day from Oslob, and stay with my new bus friends. I got off the bus and grabbed a surprisingly inexpensive tricycle about 8 kilometres back the way I had come, and rocked up to Way Shack Hostel. It was a cute hostel although please note that I would definitely not recommend staying in Oslob at all as a tourist: it’s really really hard to find anywhere good or even easy to eat at and the tourist stuff… well… read on.

It turned out me and my new pals were the only people in the room we booked too so I guess that was nice. I was so defeated by my efforts to get further than Oslob that night that, when they suggested that I join them for their 7am Whale Shark Watching trip, I’m ashamed to say that I agreed. A) It fit perfectly before my boat, B) I’d heard arguments for why it wasn’t as ethically terrible as I’d heard, and C) the universe clearly wanted me here tonight. So I paid my 6GBP and I agreed to go.

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We crawled out of bed at 6am to join thousands of other tourists waiting to get on a boat out to swim with Whale Sharks. The sheer hordes of people there was my first indication that maybe this really wasn’t okay, despite the arguments I’d heard that it was. The second indication was the site of the feeding boats, only about 30 metres out to sea. Since it was much closer to shore than I’d expected, it was clear that the water couldn’t really have been deep enough for a 12 metre whale shark to easily and freely maneuver. They did warn tourists not to touch the sharks, but honestly, it’s quite hard to avoid when they’re crammed into that space. I’m not going to defend it: it did feel unethical. I don’t really want to write this blog admitting that I fueled this industry, but it’s probably important that I do.

I want to say – the sharks themselves are lovely and beautiful and seeing them was amazing, but it wasn’t worth it in this context. The tourist boats form a semi-circle around them and you can see them sometimes, trying to find a way out when the water isn’t really that deep and there are tourists in the way. It’s also worrying how comfortable they are around the boats – these were just feeding them but a similar looking boat might be hunting them and they’d no longer see it as a threat. Yeah. It was a bad move on my part. I shouldn’t have caved. I’m glad I saw them I guess as all the signs were pointing to me doing it and now I have a better understanding of the arguments, but I definitely wouldn’t do it again. I know there were photos taken of me with the sharks on the cameras of my Oslob crew, but I’ve never asked for them. It’s not really a fond memory and I should have known better.

Larks with Sharks

Three nights on Malapascua, diving with sharks and toying with the idea of making travel friends in my antisocial state.

So there I was, on a local non-air-conned bus at the very North of Cebu Island, and the only westerner in sight. The windows were open and the air was circulating so I didn’t actually get greenhouse-effected on the bus in the Asian heat, but I was actually somewhat reassured when a German guy got on the bus just before we reached the final destination. We got off at a ferry port. I think the usual tourist boats to Malapascua leave from New Maya Port but we were dropped at Old Maya Port.  Since this wasn’t the main port, the transport was by a local man with a boat, rather than a scheduled ferry, and since there were only 5 of us going altogether, he asked if we’d be willing to pay 200 instead of the 100 pesos it should have cost. I already knew that this was a thing, and although 100 would have been nice, I said I’d go with the majority. Hilariously, the tourists all said yes but the locals refused and the very honest boatman charged us all 100 as he said it wouldn’t be fair otherwise. He spent a lot of the journey talking to me and warned me to be careful walking alone at night on Malapascua, which, admittedly, scared me a little as I was already getting this vibe from the Philippines.

The island is tiny, and my hostel was only a short walk to where the night markets were situated (and by short I mean 30 seconds). I stayed at Malapascua Budget Inn, which is a hostel, although the name makes it sound a bit like a Travelodge.  People here were friendly, and I think this is one of the places in the Philippines that I made the best friends, despite my low-energy and propensity to hermit. The night markets next door were also a very cheap and tasty place to eat, serving buffet style food reminiscent of Nasi Padang in Indonesia, as well as a barbecue and a full menu that included noodle soup. I ate there a lot, sometimes with hostel friends and sometimes alone with my trusty pal Netflix.

The thing this tiny island is famous for is it’s dive sites, and specifically, the Thresher Shark cleaning stations nearby. The presence of these stations mean that you’re almost guaranteed an encounter with these beautiful fish should you choose to dive here. Keeping up my commitment to try and dive in more places than just the Gili islands, I, of course, was here to dive. I went with Thresher Shark Divers in the end – I actually can’t remember what it was that drew me to their shop first at all but the man at the desk was nice enough so I ended up booking three dives with them for my second day on the island. Diving in the Philippines is very cheap, but annoyingly, you rent your equipment separately, which means that you feel far more inclined to do all of your dives on a single day rather than trying to spread them out a little. There’s a deal at my hostel for doing five dives and getting two nights free accommodation if you dive with Devocean, the shop partnered with the hostel. I didn’t want that many dives so went with TSD, but the people who went with Devocean seemed happy enough.

It was a 4am wake-up call for me, as the best chance to see the sharks is at dawn, when they swim in the shallower waters for the cleaning stations. They told me to be there for 4:45, to which I dutifully obeyed, only to be the only person outside a dark shop for a good 10 minutes. Another diver turned up: a very friendly professional underwater photographer who was doing a nitrox course. His instructor turned up soon after, but my guide… well…he just never did. Luckily the nitrox instructor was willing to take me, which was a little haphazard given that I didn’t have my own dive computer and my decompression limit will have been lower than theirs, but I trusted that this guy knew what he was doing. Besides, being an instructor rather than a guide meant he was very chatty and friendly. I think locals are often guides as the level of English doesn’t need to be so good if you’re not teaching anyone anything – this is normally fine and I’ve had some great underwater banter with locals, but instructors are almost always friendlier, since they are used to having to build a multi-day relationship with people who need to trust them. I find this is the main thing I’m missing when I go diving and is the reason I have not found anywhere I like more than my own dive shop (hey, Compass Divers, hey). I’m not doing a course with them so they can’t afford to put the effort in to get to know me, even if it means I’ll choose not to do a course with them in future because of that. I understand it as a business concept, and even as a human one (bonding with people who move on within a few days is tiring), but when you’re travelling alone and you spend a day diving it’s nice to feel like you’ve built a good relationship with the person you’re somewhat entrusting with your life.

Photo from Craig (hey Craig hey!) my professional underwater photographer pal

 

I enjoyed my dives although, in all honesty, there’s not much to see on the Thresher shark dive apart from the sharks (which were very very cool!). On the way back to the island for lunch we passed a batfish floating on top of the sea, clearly in it’s death throes. One of the locals jumped into the water, caught the batfish, and brought it back on the boat to later barbecue. It was one of the most surreal things I’ve ever experienced. My lunch was very boring by comparison but super exciting for me: we breaked for lunch and I ate at the dive shop, which served (amongst a ton of other things) ham and cheese sandwiches on brown bread. In the UK this is a standard train station lunch, but it had literally been about 4 months since I’d had brown bread so I was pleased.

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The next day my hostel pal Tom and I went to Logon Beach, the pretty beach on the north of the island. The main one on the south is saturated with dive boats and really isn’t the kind of place you can laze around in swimwear on. We took a motorcycle which was meant to be 40 pesos per person, but we managed to get it for 40 altogether (purely by not understanding that the driver meant each), and lounged around in the sun, drinking lukewarm coconuts and swimming in the sea. There’s just one resort up there but they’re pretty chilled about letting you use their sun loungers if you buy a drink, and apparently there’s somewhere nearby that you can cliff jump. We did not cliff jump in the end, although it would have been nice to add to #travelcassi’s resume. We managed to get our return journey for 40 too on the basis that the last guy only charged us 40, although the driver wasn’t pleased about it. It sounds like there’s definitely some wiggle room in 80 pesos for a two person trip though.

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I did some good bonding on this island considering I was so socially exhausted by this point and honestly, needing a break from travel a little.  My last travel bud Anthony and I defined the demarcation between a ‘travel friend’ and a ‘travel acquaintance’ as whether you add each other on a social media platform. If you do the congratulations, by the definition of this brummie gal you’ve made a pal – if you don’t, well, at least you had a pleasant chat and you can just try harder next time. I gained about 3 or 4 new social media pals on this island, which is admittedly better than I did anywhere else in the Philippines, so I think I did well.

I wouldn’t say I was quite falling out of love with travel as I very much still intended to finish my original route (to New Zealand and up through Latin America) at some point, but I definitely felt like a break was needed.  I’d had my working holiday VISA for Australia come through in July, and I knew, in order to retain my own sanity and eventually recuperate my love for travel, I’d need to use it pretty soon. A change of pace was definitely needed and so, on my last night on Malapascua island, I booked my flight out of the Philippines for a week later. I’d originally planned on staying for a few weeks and maybe seeing Palawan and some of the other islands, but this wasn’t the time. I certainly wasn’t hating my time travelling, but I knew I was done.

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I caught the boat back to the mainland the next morning, after three nights only on this island. Some people say that Malapascua is the type of island you just find yourself staying on for weeks. I can kind of see that but, at the same time, it didn’t hook me the way some others did. It might have been my headspace but nothing in the Philippines got me like Indonesia and Vietnam and Myanmar and Laos did.

On the beach, I signed up for the boat to New Maya Port and the local there told me since there were only 10 of us, it would be 200 pesos each. On a whim I said I’d just wait for the next one (even though it’s literally less than 2 GBP difference) and sat to wait where there were like 30 locals sat. The boat arrived and all of the other tourists started loading into it and at that moment, I realised that with my massively long day of travel ahead, I really didn’t want to wait, so I told the man I would like to catch it. He’d already started passing his boat sign up sheet to the locals and admitted to me that they’d all be getting on too so he’d only charge me 100, but I couldn’t tell the other tourists. Yes, there are scams everywhere. When we got on the boat the other tourists obviously noticed the 30 extra people and realised they’d been scammed anyhow. Still – it is definitely possible to get both journeys for 100p even if they tell you it isn’t.

 

Sightseeing in Cebu City

Three days in Cebu City, where I explored the main attractions and attempted to ride a Jeepney.

I arrived in Cebu city in the late afternoon. I hopped straight on a bus to the centre, as I knew it stopped by SM mall, and figured I’d get dinner there, before getting a Grab to my hostel. I was, of course, taking for granted that the mall would have free WiFi because that’s just how Asia has been working so far. Warning: this is not the case in the Philippines. Very very coincidentally, a guy at my Brunei hostel had given me a Filipino simcard, and it’s very lucky that he did, because the only way of logging onto the internet was by finding the WiFi for your simcard provider, and entering your phone number to receive a one hour log-on code via text. I did this before getting food so I would be able to figure out where I was going and what I was doing over the ramen I had ordered from the fairly uninspiring foodcourt. It wasn’t great ramen but I’m a sucker for a soupy noodle. Anyhow, I ordered my Grab and took my bag to the front of the mall about 45 minutes into my hour, meaning I had 15 minutes for my Grab driver to pick me up before the internet ran out. Great, Grab booked and waiting time 6 minutes. My back ached from carrying my bag around but I was nailing this whole new city thing. Except 15 minutes later he still hadn’t moved and my internet died. I waited in the same spot for the car anyhow, but after another 20 minutes I needed a new plan. I already knew there was no viable public transport route to my hostel so I did the only thing that I could think of. I went back into the mall in an attempt to load some credit onto my free sim card. It took forever and everyone kept trying to sell me month long contracts. I must admit, my bag was painful by that point and I was very frustrated and it was not a great introduction to Cebu City for me. When my internet came back on my original Grab driver still hadn’t moved. I cancelled it and ordered a new one to take me to my hostel, Murals.

My hostel was fine. It was one of the more antisocial ones I’d been in in Asia but had a nice co-working space that I could pretend to blog in (in case you’ve noticed, I’m literally months behind right now!) It was pretty far away from a lot of things but, honestly, the longer I stayed in Cebu city, the more I realised the ‘things’ weren’t super exciting anyhow. I don’t remember a massive amount from Cebu city, mostly because I remember not really enjoying it and think I have blocked it out. The following anecdotes are a few standout moments though.

There was the the time I decided to go down to the main part of town to check out the fancy things down there.  I’d heard that there were some cool historical things in the main part of town that were worth taking a look at. This was multiple kms from my hostel and, although I’m normally a walker, there were two reasons I didn’t want to walk there today. 1. It was bloody hot. My rule with my backpack on is 1km. Anymore and I fork out for a very reasonably priced Grab. I was not wearing my backpack, but in 40 degree heat I feel like a similar rule should be employed. Maybe 1.5? Who knows, all I knew was I didn’t want to walk it though. 2. This is an awkward one to say politely, but basically, the locals. Or rather, the local men and/or taxi drivers. Don’t get me wrong, Filipino people are extremely friendly and lovely in a lot of circumstances, but when you’re a solo female traveler walking down a street in a city with very few westerners – it gets uncomfortable. The women ignored me whereas the men – and specifically the men around my own age – would say hello to me. This would have been fine if it was a few times a day but every 5 meters is taking the p*ss. And I admit: when this happened in Indonesia etc I find it less annoying so I can’t specifically single out the Philippines for this, but I was not feeling very energetic or social in Cebu city and I did not want to have to talk to random men just because I happened to be white and alone. Sorry for that rant. It really affected how I remember the Philippines though, and not in a good way.

Anyhow, reasons for not walking aside, I asked my hostel the best way to get down the that end of town. They immediately responded ‘For you, get a Grab’, to which I responded ‘and for you?’. This prompted them to explain Jeepneys to me, which I’d seen around. I kind of pride myself on possessing the kind of stinginess that forces me ride the local bus and eat the local food and, just genuinely have more enriching adventures because I don’t necessarily want to pay for ease. That being said, I can totally see what they advised me to get a Grab, although I’m really glad I didn’t.

Catching the Jeepney involved walking to the road they drove along, and sticking my arm out when one passed. Luckily, it stopped for me. There was very very little room on it and I thought I might have to stand on the back of it, but obligingly the other riders made some space in the seating section. I held my 7 pesos in my hand unsure of what to do with them as I watched other people get on and off. I sort of realised people were passing their money forward when the driver was stopped in traffic so I added mine to the pile as it was being passed. I’m honestly impressed that the driver can keep track of who has paid and who hasn’t. I tracked our progress on Google maps and guessed about the right place I needed to get off, but had no real clue of how to stop the driver. I suspect that just shouting stop would work, but someone else got off nearby so I just scrambled after them like the awkward little Brummie girl I, deep down, truly am.

My trip took me to see Magellan’s cross, which I had heard of, but honestly had no idea what it was or that it was here. I also walked around San Pedro Fort – entry was ridiculously cheap but I was lazy! – and the Heritage Monument. It was weird, as, walking around these sites I realised the expectation that I had in my head: that of walking around a European Historical Center. Of course, it wasn’t like that – sure, I was visiting very European style attractions but in a city in the East. The attractions were the same, sure, but the tourism surrounding them was very different. I can’t explain it, it just felt small. Like there was this statue or cross, one tourist tat stand, and then nothing else to really alert you of it’s presence. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. I think it was just very reminiscent of Europe without being Europe.

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After a few days exploring and not really being impressed by the city, I decided to go North, to Malapascua island. I was currently feeling like I should get some good use out of my diving qualification and I’d heard the diving here was incredible. I’d heard that the easiest way to get across to this island was to hire a van or buy a bus ticket, then get the ferry. I, of course, thought the van guys were trying to scam me and ended up paying literally a dollar less to get the non airconned local bus four hours to the north, rather than getting a 3 hour van or at least an airconned bus like a normal person. I was the only westerner on my bus with no idea what was going on. Still, at least I was finally out of Cebu city!

Mysteries of Manilla

Three days in Manilla, exploring, shopping and re-adjusting to solo travel.

I’m not going to lie about this for the sake of a sparkly blog: I was kind of done by the time I got to the Philippines. I didn’t mean to be. Before this, I was looking forward, in a way, to when Anthony left and I could almost repilot my solo travel. I sort of hoped, at first, that the Philippines would force me into being super social and as soon as I got to a hostel my energy would be back and I’d be back into the peak of high-energy, life-lovin’ #soloyolo travel. Realistically, however, I was feeling lower energy and far more introverted than I have in months and I kind of knew it might end up feeling a little like that first week in Thailand where I wasn’t having an utterly amazing time, but everything was okay, I was still discovering it without putting any pressure on it being amazing, and I knew at least that I didn’t want to go home. In actuality though, and I hate to admit this, but for the first time in 7 months, I kind of wanted to go home.

I don’t blame the Philippines, there’s a lot of stuff I found unpleasant about my experiences here that I laughed off in other countries. I think maybe somewhere between travelling with someone done with travel for a while, and travelling alone again after not having to worry about that in so long, I too, became done with travel. This is actually a huge deal – I admit I was slightly worried I’d never ever be done with travel, and so it’s great to know that sometimes, all you want to do is stand still, have a routine and not have to do anything new or exciting for a while. I know it won’t last forever, but pretty much immediately upon launching my travel repilot, I knew I was done.

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Manilla was fine. I spent three days there even though I know most people just fly in and fly out, but a city seemed like a good place to try and restock everything I needed (ie, havainas etc). I stayed at Zula hostel which was still partially being built but was fine. They leave you a little bag with breakfast in it, which is labelled with your bed number and left in the corner of the room, which is fantastic after a late night flight but also removes the easiest way in an Asian hostel to make friends: limited tables at breakfast. You can’t socialise, you just eat in your bed at whatever time you get up. It was kind of exactly what I wanted actually and was glad I didn’t have to venture out for food, but it did not help in terms of forcing me to be social.

Key experiences of Manilla include walking to Power Plant Mall and buying jaffa cakes in the Marks and Spencers they had there, finally trying the 7-eleven toasties everyone goes on about, and, my favourite Manilla experience: discovering Cosmic Cafe. I’d been Googling the nicest cafes in the area so I could have somewhere nice to eat and blog, and this one was coming up as the best sounding one. I went to where it was meant to be, however, and could not find it. I walked the streets for a good ten minutes before giving up and going to find another one. It was only later, for dinner, when I googled the cafe again and saw its last review was only a day old, that I realised it was sneakily a bit hidden but did, indeed exist. It’s probably really obvious to everyone else, but I just didn’t look up. I think the second story window actually has it written, but from street level, the only sign that exists is a tiny little drawing of an eye next to a very non-public looking staircase. Once I actually managed to get in, I really really liked it. I had the vegan sisig, and it was actually phenomenal. I couldn’t eat it all so took a little doggy bag home to my hostel.

Other than the sisig, I struggled a bit in Manilla with local food, and actually, this would become a running theme of the Philippines. It was very very hard to eat local unless you wanted to spend a (small) fortune on pork. That was my experience, I know other people will have experienced very different things and it might have been more to do with my energy levels, but I was not excited for Filipino food.

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I realised early on how done I was with travel, and decided to limit my Filipino adventures just to Cebu and surrounds this trip, to save some of the country for when I was more excited for it. As such, I caught a flight to Cebu city, where I would stay for three days, before heading on to some of the more famed locations nearby.

In true #classycassi fashion, I had more airport shenanigans. I usually travel in my long trousers since flights get cold and I don’t have to fit them in my bag and, since the tear was quite small, I figured they’d be fine for another journey without me needing to sew them up. Of course, of course, I misjudged this, and it was whilst waiting in the check-in queue, feeling a slight breeze and hearing little Filipino ladies giggling behind me, that I realised I had a massive hole in the back of my trousers and my arse was, legitimately, on display. Or at least, it would have been, had I not still had my backpack on (I’m assuming the ladies weren’t actually giggling at me, but you never know). So there I was, knowing that once I got to the front of the queue I would need to check my backpack. I had a jacket in my bag I could tie around my waist, but how to get it out of my bag without having to remove said bag altogether, before reaching the front of the queue? These are the dilemmas I face in my life right now.

After a struggle and probably some slight flashing, I did indeed manage this. Unfortunately, I had to remove it to pass through security, but the less said about this the better. I kept my jacket around my waist for the entire flight and immediately binned my trousers upon arriving in Cebu.