My husband has long-loved going to the Philippines. His first visit, while on TDY during his military career. And there were many thereafter. For almost 10 years, he’s talked about the PI, and all the things he loves about it. And for as long as I’ve been a certified scuba diver, he’s talked of taking me there.
When we landed a sweet air fare to Cebu (thank you Scott’s Cheap Flights!), the time had come for him to introduce me to all the fish in the ocean and all the lumpia my little heart (and stomach) desired.
It’s no small task to get to the Philippines. Our flight over included a 16.5 hour hop, a 1-hour layover in Taipei which was reduced to 40 minutes thanks to a delayed departure (our ruck training came in very useful!), and finally a 2.5 hour hop to Cebu.
So what does one do on a 16.5-hour flight? Well … there is sleep, of course. I normally can’t sleep on planes – I think it’s that second X chromosome because my husband has absolutely no trouble in sawing precious logs. Pretty much anywhere. But thanks to some tasty Melatonin gummies and the fact that we never saw the sun during the entirety of those 16.5 hours, I was able to sleep.
And then there were movies to watch (might I suggest “Beautiful Boy”? Timothee Chalamet gives a superb performance!).
And there are the trips to the lavatory and laps around the cabin to make. My ankles are usually comparable to that of an elephant when I make long-haul flights, even when I wear compression socks. Getting up and moving around after every movie aided in ensuring my ankles were their natural svelte selves upon landing.
We spent less than 24 hours in Cebu City. Enough time to spend an hour in traffic, making our way to our hotel which was 8 miles away, introduce Filipino Barbequed Chicken and rice (always rice!) into our diets, enjoy a Happy Hour massage for a cost of $6 each (and no, it was not “that kind” of happy hour!) and walk off some of the jet-lag.
When we travel, we always attempt to get on local time as quickly as possible. This time we weren’t so successful, falling comatose around 6:30 and waking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at 3:00 a.m.
Our adventure truly began when we made our way to El Nido on the island of Palawan (pronounced pa-la-WUN). Another hour-long taxi ride to the airport and we arrived in time to be assessed a heavy luggage fee (for being over 20 kgs, or 40 lbs., each) and to have our flight delayed. And then delayed again.
Whereas in Cebu, where people cram into rather small busses called Jeepneys, in El Nido, the preferred method of transportation is called a Trike. Our luggage strapped precariously to the back, we folded ourselves into the metal shell (which barely sat the two of us, and not all-together comfortably), while the driver navigated El Nido’s finest potholes using his Evil Knievel-like skills.
Whether you’re seeking adventure or relaxing on the beach with some kind of fruity, alcohol-filled concoction, El Nido’s got you covered.
Itching to get this adventure started, we began with an island-hopping tour. There are four different tours to choose from, allowing you to see almost half of El Nido’s 45 islands. We opted for Tour A and enjoyed a day hopping from the Small Lagoon (I guess size is relative – it didn’t seem that small to me), the Big Lagoon (really … there’s just one?), the (not-so) Secret Lagoon, Shimizu Island (Shimi-what?), and 7 Commando Beach (it’s really not what you might think – there are neither nude sun-bathers or militant-types roaming the beach).
We swam. We snorkeled. We lunched. Heartily. We swam some more – this time with jellyfish (honestly, the stinging wasn’t all that bad). We kayaked. And we climbed through a rock formation to see the Secret Lagoon, comprised of 50% sunscreen and 100% tourists. All in all, the islands that we did see, combined with the smooth, white sand and water that is reminiscent of Bora Bora, proved that one island hopping tour satisfied all of our island-hopping needs.
More adventure? You
bet! There was a jungle to hike and waterfalls
to swim under. 
There were cliffs to
climb. Well … not really in the
rock-climbing sense of the word. There
were stairs and bridges to cross, leading you to the most incredible overlook
facing Bacuit Bay. And there was diving.
I’ve been a certified scuba diver for roughly 10 years. In all of my now 17 dives (that’s a post for
a different day), I’ve not seen such beauty as in El Nido. There
were huge schools of fish, the crystal-clear water offering incredible views of
the sea life. Seeing a sea turtle up
close was just-about a dream-come-true. I
also saw clown fish (Nemo) for the first time here and just about wet myself with
excitement. Okay – I didn’t just about wet myself. That just happens naturally when you’re
diving in cold water. TMI?
There was shopping to do (or at least exploring town on foot). Yes, that CAN be adventurous.
Like many tourist destinations, El Nido boasts many street vendors. All selling the same things: dry bags (a necessity in a beach town), those little pouches you can put your phone in and wear around your neck, jewelry, and swim socks.
But there was one such gentleman who was selling something a little different from the rest. Let’s just say Keith and I were absolutely gob-smacked when a man approached us and asked if we wanted to buy A BABY. After we were able to speak, Keith uttered, “Cute baby, but no thank you.” I mean, really … what else can you say?
Need a break from adventuring? There’s at least one massage parlor on every block. And for $12, you can enjoy a one-hour Swedish/Shiatsu combination massage. Heaven. On. Earth.
And then, there were the sunsets. I’ve seen some pretty spectacular sunsets right here in San Antonio. But there’s something special about watching the sun dip into the ocean (or behind the shadow of an island), with the spidery outriggers known as bangkas dotting the bay. God’s artwork on full display. With the light turning from orange to red to blue to purple to yellow then back to orange again before it makes its way to the other side of the planet.
It’s even better when you’re enjoying a local brew (something Keith and I try to do in every locale that we visit). And here … the brew did not disappoint.
We alternated between the smoother, more mellow San Miguel and the “Extra Strong” (it says so right on the front of the bottle!) Red Horse. How much “Extra” is a Red Horse, exactly? Let’s just say that we had one helluva good time one evening over 2 liters of the stuff accompanied by shrimp lumpia, then the most delicious Hawaiian pizza.
But pizza isn’t the only thing on the menu in El Nido. I mean … the pizza was very, very good, but our
pants might not forgive us if we didn’t experience other local flavors. Given the number of fishing bangkas around
the islands, it’s not surprising that there is an abundance of fresh seafood
available. Pick your lobster. Or snapper.
Or octopus. Or crab. Or prawns.
Or mussels. They have it all.And you can have it all – in the form of a divine seafood pasta, complete with a light tomato sauce and the most scrumptious of spices (your mouth is watering, isn’t it?)
Tired of seafood? There’s always chicken. Fried chicken with rice. Chicken adobo with rice. Barbequed chicken with rice. Grilled chicken with rice. We even found a quaint little Greek restaurant with the most phenomenal view of the bay. On offer were ... chicken schwarma and chicken gyros. And rice. At least there was a FANTASTIC view.
Want something other than beer? There are the fresh fruit shakes (but without the ice cream) offered on every corner and in every restaurant. Banana. Pineapple. Kiwi. Strawberry. Mango. All of the above mixed into one. One word: yummo!
I am fastidious when it comes to having clean hands. When eating finger foods or licking my fingers when even one ounce of deliciousness is too much to waste, I wipe my hands with every bite. This is one of the ways my OCD presents itself. Imagine how out of sorts I was when there were no napkins available and when asked, we were given a couple of Kleenex. The horror.
And yet … their toilet paper was 52-ply. I guess there’s something to be said for having a clean bum.
Our credit cards were, for the most part, useless in El Nido. There were very few places in this dusty little town with spotty electricity and even spottier internet, where credit cards were accepted. The preferred form of currency in El Nido is the Philippine Peso (yes, just like in Mexico, which makes sense because their number system is in Spanish!). We were caught on more than one occasion without sufficient cash for the day when the electricity went out and thus, so did the ATMs. Bank holiday? ATMs took a holiday too.
We were lucky enough to find a shop owner who exchanged money for us at a fair rate. He was but one of the many friendly faces we found. In fact, almost all the locals we came into contact with were incredibly polite and friendly.
Maybe because we were unique in that there were very few Americans in El Nido. Plenty of Europeans, Australians, Japanese and Russians too. But very few visitors from the U.S.. From the lovely lady who we sat next to on the flight from Taipei to Cebu to the guy who sold us a Coke after our hike through the jungle. Everywhere we went, people asked where we were from and then, if Keith was military. They seemed to be especially intrigued when they found out he had been.
The first half of our adventure complete, it was time to grab a Trike and make our way to the airport. Our luggage, weighing only slightly more it did when we arrived in El Nido (a pair of water socks and a windchime were added), again considered heavy. “Sorry Ma’am. But your luggage is over 10 kgs.” Hmmm … 20 kg allowance going to El Nido, but only 10 kgs going back. I smell a scam.
Maybe they’re not so polite after all.
As we lifted off, my ear buds in, John Denver’s “Leavin’ on a Jet Plane” playing as we circled Bacuit Bay and El Nido’s 45 islands one last time.
Back in Cebu, the people were just as friendly. Not only those in the service industry, but even the people we passed on the street. We were regularly greeted with “Good morning, Sir”, “Hello Ma’am”, “Good evening, Sir.” It was actually very nice.
And the kids.
I tend to think our grandchildren are the most beautiful kids on the face of the planet, but the kids in the Philippines are just … I’m sorry. Words fail. The one word I can think of in describing them, is “bright”. It’s their smiles. And their eyes. It’s the joy on their faces.
If El Nido was meant for adventuring, our time in Cebu was meant for relaxing. Except for the one day we dove.
It wasn’t quite the mesmerizing experience as our dive day in El Nido. It was exceptional in that we had the boat and the dive master to ourselves. And that the boat crew were incredibly helpful, getting us suited up for our dive and even offering a hand when we were going in; and by “offering a hand", I mean they pushed us! They even took off our gear (weight belt, BCD [inflatable vest onto which your tank is harnessed], and fins) before we climbed back into the boat.
The fish in Cebu were plentiful, but the water a bit cloudy. Combine that with me not being able to clear my ears (thanks to my allergies) and Keith getting sick because we came up too fast on our first dive, and it just wasn’t the most perfect of days. That said, a day of diving is still better than no diving at all.
Now back to the relaxing part. We spent a couple of days just laying around
at the resort, swimming and snorkeling, reading and maybe drinking. Just a little.And watching some very old dudes being very inappropriate with some very young Filipino girls. There was one such couple on our flight home. She go to States.
We found Cebu to be a relatively poor city. People living in hovels. People hustling and doing anything just to earn a buck; selling water and snacks on the street or selling home-cooked food from a make-shift store-front.
And in the middle of all of this, there was a beautiful shopping mall that would rival the Mall of the Americas. I kid you not!
Certainly, shopping is one of MY favorite ways to relax. And Keith enjoys seeing me happy. Shopping makes me happy. So off we went. When we travel, we don’t just shop for souvenirs (though we do try to pick up a piece of art at each destination). We shop for things that I think may be a little different than your average tourist – unique clothing items, shoes, and distinct handbags are among the favorites. At the end of our shopping day in Cebu, clothes and shoes added to the weight of my luggage.
And we had ice cream. From Dairy Queen!
Not surprisingly, there was a massage parlor within walking distance from our resort, the theming of which was Japanese. I say this because what I experienced there was a little different than the others and I can only surmise that what happened might be normal with a Japanese massage.
My Swedish/Shiatsu combined massage cost $15 here. It was extremely relaxing, what with the scent of flowers filling the air, some light Japanese music playing softly. At the mid-way point of the massage, she has me turn over on my back. She places a softly-scented towel over my eyes and my body sinks into the table, my mind, floating into the clouds.
Until … she rubs her hands down my sternum and all around my breasts. She giggled when I nearly came off the table. Certainly, wasn’t expecting that.
In preparation for the long flight home, Keith and I returned to the same massage parlor (I was fully prepared to have my sternum massaged) on our last day in Cebu. And for $37, we enjoyed a 2-hour body massage and a 30-minute foot massage. Sounds like heaven, don’t you agree? Well … it was.
Until … she straddled my butt and proceeded to move up and down my spine, pressing her knees into either side of my vertebrae.
In the end, they poured both of us off our respective massage tables and we agreed it was $37 well-spent.
Our two-week journey over, we were ready to return to our furbabies. The long-haul flight broken up by an 8-hour layover in Taipei (thank goodness it’s a sizeable airport with plenty of room to roam).
A short 13.5 hour flight to Houston (the tradewinds were kind) and we were back on US soil.
Catch you later, bai, PI.
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