Watercolor Sails, Secret Lagoons and Sunken Ships
After a month in China, stepping off the plane in Manila felt strangely comforting. English was everywhere again. Menus made sense. Conversations were effortless. After weeks of relying on guides, translation apps and a fair amount of pointing, it almost felt like coming home.
The Philippines was a country we had talked about visiting for years, but somehow it had always remained just beyond the next trip. This time we gave ourselves several weeks to move among the islands, beginning and ending in Manila with Boracay, El Nido, Coron and Cebu in between. We expected beautiful beaches and warm water. We found those in abundance, but also wartime history, spectacular diving, whale sharks, tropical downpours, colorful reefs and—as usually happens when we travel—some of our favorite moments were the ones we never could have planned.
Boracay Island
From Manila we flew to Boracay, a small island a few hundred miles south of Manila. Life immediately slowed down. After the pace of China and the crush of Manila, our agenda suddenly became much simpler: beach, warm water, good food and deciding whether there was any compelling reason to leave our chairs.
One afternoon we headed to White Beach at the other end of the island. Its long sweep of powdery white sand was lined with restaurants, bars, shops and people, quite a contrast to the quieter beach where we were staying. Offshore, colorful sailboats moved back and forth across the water, their bright sails catching the late-afternoon light. As the sun dropped lower, the sky softened into pinks, oranges and purples reflected across the water—the sort of sunset that looked less photographed than painted in watercolors.
We spent the rest of our time swimming, snorkeling and doing very little that required a schedule. There were no ruins we felt obliged to inspect, no mountains to climb and no complicated logistics to master. After years of travel, we have finally learned that occasionally doing almost nothing is an activity in itself. Boracay wasn’t complicated. That was rather the point.
El Nido
Getting to El Nido proved considerably more difficult than expected. What should have been a 45-minute flight ending at an airport practically next door to our hotel became a crazy six-hour nighttime ride after high winds and thunderstorms diverted our plane to an airport 188 kilometers away. We piled into a van for the six-hour drive through the mountains, winding around endless switchbacks on dark mountain roads in the pouring rain. By the time we finally arrived at our hotel after midnight, we were all very glad to be dry and in one piece.
The next morning we joined a group of 14 others on an island tour aboard a small engine-powered outrigger to snorkel and kayak among El Nido’s towering limestone cliffs and blue-green lagoons. These outriggers seemed to be the general mode of transportation, whether you were delivering goods or headed out with tourists throughout the many small islands of the Philippines.
At Big Lagoon we traded the outrigger for kayaks and paddled between sheer rock walls rising straight out of the water. The water was calm and clear, and every turn seemed to reveal another limestone wall, narrow opening or pocket of brilliant blue-green water. Later stops were for snorkeling, where we floated over coral and reef fish in the warm, shallow water. Along the way there were beaches, a turtle, even a monitor lizard, and plenty of time simply swimming from the boat.
Lunch was prepared right on the outrigger while we cruised and swam, then carried ashore through the water and spread out for us on the beach—fish, chicken, adobo, inevitably rice, and always fruit: pineapple, red or yellow watermelon, mango or papaya. The beach was crowded with other outriggers, but each group seemed to have its own table. We shared ours with a few recent graduates from France who were also visiting several of the islands. Their English was better than our French, but we tried both.
Then the skies opened. By the time we reached Secret Lagoon—accessed by sliding through a hole in a large stone formation—warm rain was pouring down the rock walls and most of the other tourists had disappeared. Only about five boats remained. We swam and snorkeled in the rain, surrounded by blue starfish, reef fish and the limestone cliffs. It should have ruined the afternoon. Instead, with rain streaming down the rock walls, it might actually have been prettier than it would have been in the sunshine.
In a bar after our return to town, we met a fellow traveler who had been flying a drone during the day. He later shared some wonderful photos and videos with us, giving us views of the lagoons and boats that we never could have seen from the water. It was one of those unexpected little travel gifts—a stranger one minute and someone sharing memories with you the next.
The following day we hired a private rig to explore four more islands, all tiny and, as far as we could tell, uninhabited. With so many islands scattered across the Philippines, many are little more than unnamed specks of rock and jungle. The sunshine gave the limestone walls a completely different look from the day before, and the bathtub-warm water was filled with color from the coral and fish below the surface. We opted not to kayak and simply snorkeled instead—we just didn’t want to get out of the water. Lunch was presented on the beach—prawns, fish, chicken, rice and fruit, enough to feed a small army—and was, again, delicious.
Coron
From El Nido we continued to Coron by ferry, where the attraction was largely below the surface. Coron is known for the Japanese ships sunk here during World War II, something that immediately appealed to Mark both as a diver and as someone who loves history.
Mark spent one day diving two different wrecks, the Akitsushima, lying at about 30 meters, and the Olympia Maru, at roughly 25 meters. As an experienced diver, he went inside with a divemaster. Diving inside the wrecks was a whole new level of challenge for sure—holding a light and a GoPro while navigating narrow passageways and cargo holds.
Between dives he climbed back aboard, dried off in the sunshine and had lunch on the roof deck before gearing up and doing it all over again. World War II history below the surface, sunshine and lunch above it—not a bad way for Mark to spend a day.
Together we traded tanks for snorkels to explore the shallow wreck of the Lusong Gunboat and a nearby coral garden. Here the attraction was less history and more color: corals and sponges, giant clams and urchins, with clownfish, parrotfish, butterflyfish, sergeant majors and wrasses darting around us. We stopped at Pass Island for lunch—grilled fish and chicken with sweet potatoes, vegetables, beans, peppers and, of course, more rice.
After lunch we saved a few fish and chicken scraps to take back into the water with us to attract the little beauties. And swarm they did, not discriminating between fish or fowl. We would open our fingers and suddenly be surrounded. It was simple, silly and completely delightful. That day we had found our own little patch of paradise.
Moving through and around the wrecks, it was hard not to think about the wartime history beneath us. Seeing the ships up close made those battles seem much more real—not simply events from a history book, but something that had happened right there, in the same water where we were now swimming.
El Nido had given us dramatic cliffs and hidden lagoons. Coron gave us another Philippines altogether—one where some of the best scenery, and some of the history, was waiting beneath the water.
Oslob — Swimming with Whale Sharks
From Coron we flew to Cebu and drove three hours south to Oslob, best known for the whale sharks that gather just offshore.
This is definitely not a solo experience. Each morning, 10–15 outriggers head into an area cordoned off like a large swimming zone, each carrying another 10–12 people all trying to get their pictures taken with the sharks. The whale sharks have learned that this is a reliable feeding opportunity, so many return morning after morning.
We were among the last groups of the day. No photograph quite prepares you for being in the water beside a whale shark. They are enormous but remarkably graceful, gliding past with mouths wide open while the humans around them kicked furiously to keep out of their way. Every so often one seemed to materialize beside—or underneath—us, which is a remarkably effective way of reminding you who is the visitor and who belongs there.
Whale sharks are filter feeders, generally eating krill, fish eggs, microscopic plants, tiny crustaceans and other minute prey that become trapped in their gill rakers. Here, though, they have clearly figured out that breakfast is much easier to come by.
And then there were the photographs. The guides were remarkably adept at positioning us as the sharks passed, while we attempted all sorts of crazy underwater poses and tried simultaneously to smile, hold our breath, look at the camera and figure out exactly where the whale shark was. Graceful we were not. The sharks had that department covered.
By the time our group finished, the morning feeding frenzy was winding down. With the outriggers heading back toward shore and the easy meal over, the whale sharks slowly drifted away toward more fertile feeding grounds.
After the whale sharks, we crossed over to Sumilon Island, a private island with its own resort just off the coast of Oslob, where we stayed for three days. The water was clear and warm, and the coral and fish were bigger than any we had seen yet, making the snorkeling some of the best of the trip.
We spent much of our time moving between the beach and the water, snorkeling, swimming and simply drifting over the reef to see what appeared below us. After the activity around the whale sharks in Oslob, Sumilon was a welcome place to slow down again.
As our stay went on, though, the wind and waves began to pick up. It turned out that Supertyphoon Bavi was skirting past on its way toward Taiwan. What’s a beach vacation without a little typhoon action? Fortunately, it stayed far enough away to give us more weather than worry, and by the time we were headed back to Manila, it had moved on as well.
Back to Manila
From Sumilon we made our way back to Cebu and then flew to Manila, completing the circle. By then we had spent weeks moving among islands, each with a different personality—Boracay polished and easy, El Nido dramatic, Coron steeped in wartime history and Oslob and Sumilon dominated by what was happening beneath the water.
On our return we toured Manila with a city guide, which gave us a much better sense of a place that at first seemed simply enormous and chaotic. Much of Manila was destroyed during World War II and later rebuilt, and today Metro Manila is a collection of 16 cities and one municipality. The result is an extraordinary mixture of old and new—Spanish colonial remnants and grand public buildings alongside modern towers and contemporary architecture.
The war is never very far from the surface here. One of the most striking reminders is the Manila American Cemetery, the largest American military cemetery outside the United States. Row after row of white headstones mark the graves of thousands who died in the Pacific during World War II, while the memorial walls carry the names of thousands more who were missing. We have visited battlefields and military cemeteries in many parts of the world, but places like this never become routine. Standing there, with modern Manila spread out beyond the beautifully kept grounds, made the scale of the Pacific war seem much more immediate.
We toured Intramuros—the “city within the walls” and the heart of old Manila. Built by the Spanish as the center of their colonial capital, much of it was destroyed during the Battle of Manila in 1945. Portions of the massive walls, gates and historic buildings survived or have since been rebuilt. Inside we visited the Manila Cathedral and wandered through streets that still give some sense of the old imperial city. Nearby were several of Manila’s grand public buildings, including the Central Post Office and the former Legislative Building.
One of the rebuilt landmarks was that former Legislative Building, which today houses the National Museum of Fine Arts. After a morning filled with colonial history and wartime destruction, it was refreshing to spend time looking at something created rather than destroyed. The museum contains beautiful works by Filipino artists, ranging from enormous historic paintings to more contemporary pieces. We knew relatively little about Filipino art before walking in, which made the visit even more interesting.
Our guide also helped put Manila’s complicated history into perspective. After more than three centuries of Spanish rule, the Philippines passed to the United States in 1898, then endured Japanese occupation and the devastating Battle of Manila before finally gaining independence in 1946. More recently, the Marcos years, martial law and the assassination of Benigno Aquino Jr. led to the 1986 People Power movement and Corazon Aquino’s presidency. Hearing that history while actually driving through the city made it far easier to connect names and dates with a real place.
Returning to Manila felt different from arriving there. The traffic and towers were still there, but now they were part of a country we understood a little better. The Philippines had turned out to be far more varied than we expected: enormous cities, tiny islands, limestone cliffs, coral gardens, sunken ships, whale sharks and some of the warmest water we had ever swum in.
And, as so often happens after a few weeks in a country, some of the things we remembered best were not things we had planned—the diverted flight and six-hour drive on dark mountain roads, arriving after midnight, swimming through a tropical downpour, trying our French with recent graduates over lunch, meeting a stranger in a bar who shared his drone photographs, a beach lunch big enough for a small army, Mark disappearing inside an eighty-year-old shipwreck, kicking furiously to stay out of the way of a whale shark and, finally, a supertyphoon skirting past our little tropical island.
Those were the moments that made the Philippines ours.
