In Between Islands

I’m sorry to all my readers for the untimely post… it’s been a busy two weeks in the Philippines.

We landed in Cebu City late on a Friday evening, and the realization kicked in— we would have to get used to a whole new country. After a month in Japan, we were accustomed to their efficient and speedy mode of transportation, lower spring temperatures, and cheap rates. Getting out of the airport, the humidity quickly frizzed my hair and had us sweating while we tried to Google what a fair taxi price was to get to our hotel.

With an hour drive to the hotel, we took in the city through our foggy taxi window. Motorcycles and mopeds flew by in a parade, weaving in and out of lanes, blasting music. Old, brightly painted trucks filled with Filipinos transported them home after a long day of work. People hopped on and off of motorbikes—their version of Uber—to beat the traffic. It was a stark contrast from the orderly streets of Japan.

Our flight to the eastern island of Coron was booked for Sunday morning, so we had two nights to spend in Cebu City. Tristan and I knew little about the area we were in, and decided to walk to lunch. In hindsight… not our brightest idea. We wandered through neighborhoods that quickly made us feel out of place and a bit uneasy, so we turned around and headed back to the hotel. We opted to rest up and prepare for our early flight instead.

We embarked for Coron at dawn. Gazing out the airplane window, the sea below was sprinkled with white sandy beaches and lush green forests. It wasn’t long before we landed at the airport—equipped with only two gates—and found transportation to our hostel. The town of Coron consisted of a main road filled with souvenir stores, little restaurants, dive shops, and a large port for fishermen and tourists’ expeditions.

Our hostel, The Outpost, was full of energy. Every night they hosted social events on the rooftop bar overlooking a beautiful pool. Thankfully, our eight-person dorm was equipped with AC and comfy beds. After our early travel morning, we lounged by the pool—where Tristan, poor guy, fried his back in the sun. That evening, we grabbed drinks on the rooftop and joined a scavenger hunt where Tristan won a free cocktail.

We booked an all-day boat tour for the next day to snorkel in Coron’s lagoons. This was a blast. Our boat guides brought a speaker with karaoke, and we sailed around to the most stunning lagoons I’ve ever seen. At each stop, we would swim up to shore and walk across a bridge to a protected, crystal-clear body of water. We practiced our freediving skills, impressed by how far our guides could go underwater with a single breath. It was a day of sunshine, music, and good vibes—and by the time we got back to shore, we were wiped. I called it a night because I had to wake up early for a full day of scuba diving.

Coron is famous for its WWII wreck dives, and honestly, it blew me away. We descended and entered the first wreck through a gaping hole left by the bomb that sank it. Inside, it felt like an underwater museum. We swam through jail cells and narrow hallways, passed by the still-intact engine, and saw the massive defense guns now lying silently on the sea floor. Life had taken over—schools of fish darted through the rooms, coral bloomed in every corner, and I even spotted a turtle lazily swimming through one of the chambers. It was surreal and totally unforgettable.

The highlight of our time in Coron was definitely the boat expedition to El Nido—a two-night, three-day journey where you sail with 20 other travelers to remote islands, sleep in sandy huts, eat freshly caught fish, and witness sunsets straight out of a painting.

We’d already met a few people from our boat on the lagoon tour, so we were hyped to spend more time together. On day one, we packed a small bag for the journey—our main luggage was stored beneath the boat—and boarded early to meet the crew. Everyone was awesome, but the real star of the show was Virgin, a six-week-old puppy who joined us for the voyage.

We traveled the furthest the first day, stopping at three islands to swim to shore and snorkel around the reefs. As the sun began to set, we arrived at our first campsite and watched the colors change as the day turned to night. The crew brought plenty of rum and gin for a fun evening, and we all danced on the beach (I may have brought the worm out of retirement).

The second day aboard was a little rougher, as Tristan battled a hangover and I lost my own war to a sun rash. But the food kept our spirits high. We had a chef on board who cooked fresh meals for every stop, and I cannot praise him enough. We spent the day playing an embarrassing yet fun game of beach volleyball, snorkeling with turtles, and taking naps on board. We arrived at our second campsite and took pictures along the beach while dinner was being prepared. Dinner was well worth the wait—it was a masterpiece of BBQ skewers, fish, rice, noodles, and fruit. It’s traditionally eaten with your hands, so we didn’t waste time with silverware and dug in.

We brought out the karaoke machine to celebrate our last night and danced until our feet were sore. On the final day, we had just a few more stops and took full advantage of our snorkel masks, swimming all day. After three days on the water, we were sun-soaked, salty, and in desperate need of a shower. We docked around mid-afternoon and had a bumpy hour-long van ride to El Nido.

At the hostel, we assessed the damage—damp clothes, sandy bags—and quickly separated laundry before showering and heading out. We met back up with our boat crew for one last night together. It was a perfect farewell: karaoke, beer pong, and a lot of laughs.

Special Guest Except from Tristan:

Jordan and I woke up in El Nido mentally prepared for the long couple of travel days ahead, starting with a five-hour van ride to Puerto Princesa. We weren’t really sure what to expect from the van we’d booked—it was the cheapest and only realistic option to get out of El Nido. Thankfully, it had air conditioning, which was a huge win, and we were scheduled to leave at 10 a.m.

What we didn’t know was that the van had to be completely full before leaving, so we spent about an hour driving around El Nido picking up passengers from all walks of life. Once the van was packed to the brim, we finally hit the road to Puerto Princesa.

The first hour and a half wasn’t too bad—Jordan and I had both downloaded some podcasts and were trying to ignore how insane our Filipino driver was. While apparently totally normal by local standards, it felt to us like he was auditioning for the next Fast and Furious movie.

As time passed, my backside started to feel the toll of the cramped van, which was clearly built for quantity over comfort. Fortunately, we got a short break at a rest stop about halfway through. We stretched our legs, grabbed a few snacks, and fueled up for the second half of the ride.

Jordan and I decided to swap seats—I tried to sleep against the window, and Jordan took the front view to help avoid getting carsick. I didn’t end up getting any sleep, but we finally made it to Puerto Princesa!

We checked into our hostel, which thankfully had a small restaurant attached—neither of us had the energy to go hunt for food. That night, we caught up with our friend Vicky, who we’d met back in Coron and, by total coincidence, ended up at the same hostel. We spent the evening chatting about travel plans and life back home before heading to bed early—we had a morning flight to catch back to Cebu, and from there, a four-hour bus to Moalboal.

Though there were vans available for the Cebu-to-Moalboal leg, we both had a little van PTSD and opted for the bus instead. The next morning, I woke up feeling a bit under the weather—sore throat and a bit off—but nothing too serious. We were both geared up and ready to take on another full travel day.

We hopped in a tuk-tuk to the airport—it was such a surreal experience knowing we were catching a flight in an hour while sitting in a sidecar. Still, we made it smoothly and had a great flight to Cebu.

Once we landed, we had to find a taxi to the bus terminal, which is always a little stressful because you don’t want to get charged the tourist rate. Our usual system is to agree on what we think is a fair price and then find a driver who’s close to that. Today’s target: 600 pesos (roughly $5 each for a 40-minute ride). We got lucky—our guy offered 500 right off the bat. Done deal! He was super kind and even guided us to the bus ticket counter.

We made sure to grab tickets for an air-conditioned bus and found our terminal, which we confidently confirmed was the right one thanks to the group of sunburnt backpackers with oversized packs—always a reassuring sight. The bus ride was fantastic—comfortable, cool, and smooth enough for both of us to read without getting motion sick.

After a quick tuk-tuk ride from Moalboal town, we made it to our hostel, where we’d be staying for the next five days. Huge bonus: they had laundry service, which we immediately took advantage of. Our clothes were in desperate need of a wash after the boat trip and two long days of travel.

We took it easy on our first full day in Moalboal—my mild sickness had gotten worse, so we chalked it up to a rest and recovery day. We strolled around town a bit and found an amazing little Greek restaurant with delicious, budget-friendly food. Jordan also discovered a shop where you could turn seashells into necklaces. She found two identical shells—one big, one small—which was adorable. Mine went on a white cord; hers got the deluxe treatment with a chain and some sparkles.

The next day, I was feeling better, so we decided to hit the beach. We rented a moped to get there—about 15 minutes away—and it was a blast. (To any parents reading this, I drove very safely!) The beach was stunning. We soaked up the sun, jumped in the ocean to cool off, and just enjoyed the vibes.

On the way back into town, Jordan found a highly rated Indian restaurant, and later that night we played darts at the hostel—she beat me in a game of Cricket—and we called it a night.

For our third day in Moalboal, we signed up for the famous canyoneering tour, which came highly recommended by just about everyone we’d talked to. It absolutely lived up to the hype. Our guide quickly became a friend, and he decided to give us the "VIP treatment."

The tour started with a zipline into the canyon, followed by a hike down to a gorgeous river. I had no idea what canyoneering actually was, but I quickly learned—it’s basically hiking through a river, with jumps off high rocks, floating down rapids, and climbing through beautiful natural terrain.

We had three guides all to ourselves, and they were killing it—making the whole experience feel like a natural amusement park. One of the funniest parts was that one guy's sole job was to carry our phone and take as many pictures and videos as possible. I was skeptical at first, but this man was a pro—I don’t think a single drop of water hit that phone.

We spent about four hours floating, jumping, climbing, and laughing the whole way. The best part? Watching grown men psych themselves out for five minutes at the jumping points while fearless Jordan—half their size—just launched off without hesitation.

After the tour, we were totally wiped out. We spent the rest of the day napping, relaxing, and of course—more darts.

The following day was dedicated to heading back to Cebu—a quick four-hour bus ride we already knew would be easy. Once back in the city, we started getting excited for our next destination.

The Philippines had treated us so well. We saw incredible places, had unforgettable experiences, and met amazing people. But all we could think about was what’s coming next…

Singapore, here we come!