Between the islands and the rice terraces

The market as your first lesson

You stand right in front of a grill where a woman in a red apron is turning bamboo skewers of meat. A barbecue skewer might cost you two euros. Next to her, someone is making halo-halo: ice, sweet beans, corn, and syrup, all in one bowl. Even cheaper. You look around and see no tourists, only schoolboys, mothers, and labourers. Everyone here eats the same thing as you. Street food in the Philippines is not watered down for foreigners; it is simply what people eat when they are hungry. A banana Q (fried banana with brown sugar) is three bites and you are done. These market visits cost almost nothing and are the best way to feel where you are.

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Siquijor and the ten-metre cliff

Your boatman is called Ruben and he knows every inlet of Siquijor. The island lies just below Cebu and feels forgotten: no large resorts, no streams of tourists. Paliton Beach is a crescent-shaped bay with sand that is truly white and water so clear it makes you nervous. You can walk around there for at least two hours without meeting a soul.

At Salagdoong Beach Resort, five kilometres further on, there is a rock formation where you can jump into the sea from ten metres high. It is not scary until you stand at the edge. Then it is. The water below is truly deep and truly blue, and as soon as you fall, everything else fades away. The fall takes two seconds, and the splash is far shorter. Every volunteer who does this stands there for five minutes afterwards, panting from the adrenaline.

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Under water: island hopping and coral reefs

Island hopping costs between twenty and one hundred dollars per boat. That sounds expensive until you realise you are at sea all day, that Ruben takes you to five islands where almost nobody is, and that you can decide almost everything yourself. You do not go to the famous spots; you go where he knows the turtles are.

The sea here is so full that you do not need a diving lesson to see anything. You snorkel around and there they are: sea turtles going about their business, coral reefs in purple and yellow, and fish in groups so tightly packed they look like a single moving cloud. In the dry season (December to May) the visibility is better, but in September you see plenty. The water is warm; you can see the bottom down to your ankles, and you forget that you are breathing through your mouthpiece.

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The rice terraces in the green

Then you leave the coast and drive inland, higher and higher. The landscape changes from salt and sand to rain and green. The rice terraces lie like a staircase against the mountain slopes, each field the same size, each field a different shade of green. In September, they are filled with water and reflect the sky. It feels like walking through a painting.

This is where you feel how vast the Philippines is: not just the sea, but also the land behind it. A local guide takes you past the fields, through small villages where you walk through the harvest, and past houses where children greet you. You eat rice that comes from this field. You suddenly understand why people stay here, why they do not want to leave, and why they walk up and down that staircase every day for this greenery.

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