Our last passage together in the Philippines is like travelling here has always been: exhausting and adventurous. Early in the morning, we travel by trike through pouring rain to Magdiwan Pier. The 50 metre long RoRo ferry of Montenegro Lines is shaken by large breakers in heavy seas. The spray splashes up to the promenade deck at a height of five metres. The going is reminiscent of Oktoberfest after four measures.

Max hasn’t eaten properly for two days at Guting-Guiting. He orders two 45cm pizzas at the Romblon Deli. Then a cheap room and a good night’s sleep. We can’t go any further today. In the evening, we finish the rest of the pizza and sip the last gin and tonic in Romblon. We haven’t seen a single traveller for days, not tourists anyway. (more…)

by Mad Max. Mt Guiting-Guiting, the toughest mountain of the Philippines – this mountain has fascinated me since I first saw it on Boracay in good weather over a week ago, and that’s over 100 kilometres away. The tour takes three days, I want to do it all in two days.

A tough schedule and perhaps a little overconfidence? We’ll see. Guiting-Guiting means something like scissors. The peak, which juts out of the surrounding countryside into the sky like a pair of scissors, hangs in the fog. After our sunny moped tour over the last few days, we might be lucky with the weather. I gladly accept Frank’s offer and write the report on the mountain after we have parted ways for two days. (more…)

I grew up in a small village. My childhood there was something between boring and cruel. Life only got better when I moved to the big city. Now I’m happy there. And yet: on all my travels, the small villages are always heaven on earth for me. Magdivan is one such small village.

The boys play basketball in front of the school. A large sign adorns the entrance: “Elementary School”. Directly behind it is a wall: “You are entering a drug-free zone”. The marketplace. There is little to buy, but perhaps that is precisely why there is enough. The trike riders doze in the sun. I stock up on my sunglasses. The wind is blowing today. It doesn’t bother me. Quiet in the village. (more…)

I just left the broken bike at the side of the road yesterday. This morning it’s back in front of the door. Comment: “It’s running!” I say “No, it’s broken, the engine keeps cutting out and eventually it won’t work at all. I don’t want to push it again!”. But the mucked-up ones remain firm. In the end, I get back on the battered two-wheeled flak. We head south on the west side of Sibuyan.

The concrete road soon ends. The gravel tracks lead through green jungle, with high mountains to the left and the blue sea to the right. The engine stutters again on the first steep incline. It cuts out on the next one. I just start shouting, loud and long. A Filipino comes running up. And helps me immediately. They have nothing and give everything, always. (more…)

I’m lying on the kitebag at the edge of a little-travelled road and looking up at the sky. Clouds pass behind a large ficus tree. Next to me, the local motorbike gang sits in the shade of the palaver. Chicks chirp, hens cluck, roosters scream. Children laugh, girls sing, men argue. A pig grunts. The wind rustles in the leaves of the trees.

The teachers are teaching in the school next door. In the village, a radio plays Filipino evergreens. A dog barks. The escaped goat eats the flowers in front of the church. The policeman throws a stone at it. Birds chirp. The paddy field sways in the wind. A woman hangs up washing. Thanks to its engine, you can hear the jeepney long before you see it. Everything is: good. (more…)

Everywhere: masses. Many times smaller than on New Year’s Eve. But many times more sluggish. Where just a few days ago wolves danced around tap-dancing bears, now chill-out bags groan under the mass of tired bodies. To the endless repetition of this sight from bar to bar to disco, “You are not alone” booms in my head.

I, too, am infinitely tired from doing nothing. Doing nothing means bridging a five-day lull with 10 hours of work a day. In bed. As soon as I get out of bed, I get tired. We watch “Into the Wild” – Boracay is the most inappropriate place imaginable. Chris McCandless endeavoured to call a spade a spade. For the time being, my precious targets are drowning in Boracay’s 50 cm deep fish pond. (more…)

Visit Boracay! Why? We have the most beautiful beach in the Philippines! Sometimes you can even see it for all the people. Enjoy good food from all over the world – at prices that are guaranteed to upset your stomach. Boracay, with its 14,000 inhabitants, had a turnover of around 14 billion US dollars in 2010 – that’s three billion more than Manila with its 12 million inhabitants.

We need you to safeguard this standard! Forgive us for the significant downward correction of the official visitor numbers – if the figures were correct, we would have to purchase a much larger sewage treatment plant and the poo would not rot in the streets. We don’t want to waste the hefty ecotourism tax on the purchase of superfluous rubbish bins. (more…)

My customers are going through a lot right now. Even on the last islands of Fiji, the connection was much better four years ago: there was a connection. I prepared myself well for this trip. The Philippines is one of the most advanced countries in Asia in terms of mobile phone technology. I know which provider is better on which island and I have a mobile phone and SIM card.

But what use is all that? Nothing, nothing, and nothing again! Internet in the Philippines is a disaster. Now I’m in Looc, the capital of the big island of Tablas. No internet shop has a connection. The mobile phone network kicks me out every 30 seconds. Wouldn’t be so bad. But even the Google homepage takes over a minute to load. (more…)

What do I like so much about travelling? Travelling is life through a magnifying glass. You see everything more sharply, more focussed. Travelling is often a magnifying glass, especially after cloudy days. Sometimes it’s hard to decide: Straw or charcoal? I see people burning and I hear glowing stories. But above all, travelling is one thing: a reduction to the essentials.

You feel every gram of luggage that you don’t really need. You waste all the money you don’t really need. You forget everything you don’t really remember. You only find what you’re not desperately looking for. And the most important thing: friends come and go. As long as you stand still, staying is just a coincidence. But travelling friends stay, no matter where you are. (more…)

On our last day together, I go diving with Dave and Miri. We take the little Bangka from 3P out to Logbon Island. The weather is finally good again – it has often rained heavily over the last few days. We dive at Coral Canyon: a few small fish, colourful corals, nothing special. The dive is twice as expensive as in the Red Sea – and there’s much more to see. I’m a little disappointed.

Suddenly there are lots of small creatures floating in the water. My face immediately starts to burn badly. I protect myself with my hands. But it’s too late. We dive through a nice swarm of jellyfish. All the open areas of skin are covered in nettles. It’s bearable on my hands and ankles. It burns badly on the face. Great souvenir. (more…)

Romblon is famous for its marble. Everything here is made of marble. Tiles, washbasins, fence posts, even street lamps. Romblon is not rich, but there is plenty of stone and labour. The locals live well together with the foreigners. The mix is pleasant. There’s hardly anything on Boracay that belongs to Filipinos. Supposedly almost everything is Korean black money.

I hire a Chinese dirt bike and cycle around Romblon. The route is just 50 kilometres long, but quite tough. There was also heavy rain and flooding here a few days ago. Even when the road is tarred, there is not much difference to the usual dirt track. Streams and roads, all one. (more…)