Always determined to prove others wrong, I had intended to uncover that Manila had something special to offer rather than skipping it altogether for the beaches and islands like most other travellers to the Philippines. I planned to spend only five days in this dense city that boasts the title of having the worst transport in the world and with many considering the capital city bereft of sites to visit. Along with my travel companion, Andy, I explored a thriving arts scene, an original 16th century Spanish city, mastered crossing chaotic roads, sliding between cars, motorbikes and jeepneys, none of which stop for pedestrians, travelled in the side car of a tricycle, squeezed into a crowded ferry populated with jovial locals, walked back streets, experienced fiery cocktails and food markets and, when we needed to escape the unexpected and dangerous volcanic air, explored large modern shopping malls. Having spent an extra day in Manila as a result of our flight being cancelled due to the ash from the recently erupted Taal volcano, we were ready and raring to travel to the remote beach of Siquijor, south of Manila. But things weren’t that easy; as we were still in Manila, Andy recommended we allow three hours to get to the airport. A distance of only seven kilometres, in most of other countries this would take a maximum of thirty minutes, but remember, this is Manila, the country with the 'worst traffic in the world', especially during rush ‘hour’, which usually extends for four hours each morning and afternoon. So, for the second time in two days, we rose at 4am ready for a 5am departure to the airport. I felt for the many travellers at the airport that were sleeping either inside or outside the gallery, presumably having been there since the day before, flights cancelled. How lucky I was to be staying in a high rise with plenty of English language speakers resulting in a middle aged woman alerting me to the news of the volcano the day before our flight, prompting us to look up our flight status.
The flight itself arrived in Dumagette twenty minutes early so there was barely time to lament the lack of free refreshments on this budget flight. My window seats afforded me picturesque views over the ocean so I spent most of the time snapping away at the rich turquoise oceans that metamorphosed out of the warm and muddy tones of the big city. A small airport, it took minimal time to exit the airport and then choose a tricycle and haggle for our price to the ferry terminal.
For a country that seems relaxed about many rules and regulations that would be strictly followed in other countries (it seems anything goes in traffic, for example), there seems to be an oversupply of infrastructure around some transportation such as ferries.
Despite having booked our ticket online we still were slugged a port tax and were also required to pay for luggage all paid for in separate queues with multiple security guards guiding you to which queue to line up for. All staff, however seemed to elevate the mundane elements of their day and my experience was to see many of them singing along to the oft played 70s pop music without embarrassment, even by themselves, and in smaller towns, always taking the time out to say hello or good morning, not expecting anything in return. After the equally fast ferry ride, it was another trike ride from the Siquijor pier to Larena, to where we were about to relax, snorkel, hike and enjoy a peaceful paradise for the next 2.5 days.
Larena is a 5th class municipality of the island of Siquijor with a population of around 14,000 people. It was the former capital of the province of Siquijor. Siquijor was called the Island of fire by the Spaniards in the 1500s because of the fireflies that were known to light the island up. One of the smallest islands in the south, Siquijor is famous for its mountain-dwelling mangkululam (healers) who brew traditional ointments for modern ailments and being one of the best islands in the world for snorkelling.
We were warmly greeted at our resort, Casa Del Playa by the healthiest and fattest dogs we had seen for the whole of our stay. These dogs were well looked after by the resort unlike most of the wretched, starving and scarred dogs seen in Manila. Then we were escorted to our beach cabin which was directly opposite the beach and so close that the night tide actually came right up to our step and, with the open windows and no air conditioner, we drifted off to sleep to the sound of crashing waves. At one dreamy moment I imagined I was rocking in a boat, maybe a flashback from our ferry ride.
Upon arrival however, we couldn’t wait to swim in the sea, directly opposite our cabin, and although the tide was in, the water was mostly shallow so it was a long walk to find any depth; Andy put her snorkelling gear to good use; borrowing the mask for short swim, I witnessed a myriad of coral species, orange and black sea stars and stripey colourful fish.
On our second day in Larena, and after a glorious morning walk along the beach alongside hundreds of hermit crabs, I decided to explore the area on foot while Andy went on a snorkelling trip with our newfound friends next door, Evie and Emmie, of the successful travelblog Mumpacktravel.
Walking the main road and then the back streets I noticed that most dwellings had no windows despite the evidence of trappings of modernity such as televisions inside. Upon arrival at Larena we had been indeed surprised to only find a single sheet on each bed; when we asked for a blanket, the staff seemed bemused but brought down an extra sheet each. Having previously resided in the air conditioned high rise comfort of Tivoli Gardens Residence in Manila, I wasn’t aware that it does not cool down at all at night in Siquijor, unlike Victoria’s beaches and therefore a sheet was all that was required, sometimes none at all.
After walking the main road that had lead us to Casa Del Playa I eschewed googlemaps to walk up a side street; noticing that school children seemed to be heading home, I was greeted with shy but giggly children greeting me and we shared names. I also arrived at one of the many open sided churches in the Philippines. The traffic thinned and chickens, goats and cows populated the roads amongst homes of various styles and sizes. Many homes used repurposing successfully; I have never seen used paint tins used attractively as flower pots but it worked here.
Then it was back to our cabin on the beach to, well, swim some more, lie in the hammock and enjoy the changes in the beach sky thoughout the day until the consistently spectacular sunset occurred around 6pm every night. It felt like we owned the beach with fewer than ten tourists passing us from the various ‘resorts’ along the beach and only occasional locals and staff ‘cleaning’ the beach (which consisted of raking the mounds of seaweed every morning and collecting the minimal rubbish, fishing and boating. The main noise we experienced was from the noisy gecko in our roof that makes such as weird sound which starts off as a rattle and then a musical repetitive sound that does actually sound like ‘Gecko, Gecko, Gecko”. Whilst we didn't end up partaking of the mountain healers, our beach and surroundings were healing enough. We could get used to this.
