After a month here, I still haven’t quite realised what makes Filipinos tick. Only individual aspects, but they have a massive impact on everything else. The most important characteristic of Filipinos is that they live fully in the here and now. Not yesterday. Not tomorrow. Today. And only there, not a millimetre further.

In the evening I have a beer with the guitarist Ronel. In the morning, he pushes his empty bike to the petrol station. In the evening I see signs announcing draconian penalties for littering. In the morning, you can hardly breathe in the billows of smoke from hundreds of small private rubbish incinerators. In the evening, the Filipinos in the Videoke bars howl cruelly at the moon. In the morning they show that they can actually sing. (more…)

Completely different from the rest of the Philippines. Almost all the roads here are tarred – on obligatory reinforced concrete. There are funny white lines in the centre. I’ve forgotten what they’re called. Everything is cleaner, the houses are finished. It’s much easier to get rid of the pushers. There are a few Muslims here because of nearby Mindanao. And Bohol is much more expensive.

I hire a bike for 400 pesos and set off. The racing exhaust is loud, but the top speed of over 130 km/h rocks – and you can do that here, at least until the next occasional pothole. The tour leads from Panglao Island over the bridge to Bohol, through the centre of Chocolate Hills and halfway around the island. I end up with over 300 kilometres on the clock. (more…)

Farewell, my Palawan! Next island: Cebu. The flight goes through heavy thunderstorms. The young Japanese girl next to me is still screaming during the first free fall with a bum lift-off, but she’s still clinging to the backrests with a white-knuckled grasp. I’m glad when we land. With its three million inhabitants, Cebu is the second largest city in the Philippines. Slums and luxury.

Kukuks Nest looked quite nice on the internet. In reality, it is Kukuk’s hole. Entrance in the backyard, small dark room with a sticky double bed. Bathroom without a sink. Smells of poo and rubbish. For a hefty surcharge, I reduce the planned working stay to two days and switch to an overpriced “executive” room on the first floor. (more…)

It’s pouring with rain all day. Even the fish in the koi pond below us are gasping for air. We hole up in the hut and go through pictures. In the last four weeks, we’ve given each other nothing. I’ve never been able to travel at such full throttle with anyone – and yet almost always in unison. We were stuck in the jungle, stewed in our own sweat.

We had to change a lot of plans and often had to wait for ferries. Travelling was very exhausting. It was the first time in eight years that I really managed to do nothing for a month. Thanks to all the customers and especially to you, Mike! In the evening, I take Uli to the nearby airport. She’s flying to Manila today, spending the night at the airport and returning home tomorrow. Get home safely! (more…)

Have you ever read a restaurant review? That’s the kind of elaborate verbal wankery of professional whingers who are not satisfied with anything on principle. Even the Michelin Guide likes to employ Germans for this reason. The one-sided battle of words between alcoholics and cokeheads usually appears in the culture section of larger daily newspapers and offers only two possible reactions: Laughter or gastritis.

Today I was in a place where food becomes a religion. Food-induced endorphins may lead to silly grins, but they are still quite enlightening. Ka-Lui in Puerto Princesa is religion. So unfortunately I can’t write a restaurant review right now. Instead, here’s a suggestion for world peace. (more…)

The journey to Puerto Princessa takes almost three hours. At peak times, there are only 47 passengers and around 1.2 tonnes of fish in / around / on the jeepney. We would have liked to stay a little longer on Sabang’s beautiful beaches. But I finally need internet again. And electricity. And laundry that is clean and dry after washing.

Uli hits the bull’s eye with her choice of accommodation: Lotus Garden isn’t cheap, but it’s an absolute dream. We spend the last few days in a Japanese pavilion above a pond with koi and water lilies. Fine wood, air conditioning, TV and walk-in shower, plus an all-you-can-eat sushi buffet in the evening. Internet at 5kB/s seriously sends me into a speed frenzy. (more…)

At 7 o’clock in the morning, we travel south along the east coast of Palawan on the Bangka for a good 2 hours. Our destination is the Sabang Underground River, the longest navigable underground river in the world. The swell is heavy at over two metres, as is the shorebreak on the beach. The captain plays D-Day: full throttle onto the beach, almost sinking the enemy Bangka, flattening any helpers that come running, landing flaps down and “GO! GO! GO!”

I expect heavy fire, but all I see are loads of tourists taking photos. World heritage, again. Life jackets on, helmets on, Fraggles song in the queue, off by boat into the underground. 1.5 km by paddle boat through stalactite caves up to 65 metres high and full of bats. Outside, monitor lizards and monkeys await. (more…)

Beauty is not in the eye of the beholder. It is solely a question of focus. Great, beautiful pictures are often spoilt by small adversities. Example: The potato salad was oversalted, so the holiday sucks. It rarely happens the other way round. Or would someone looking at a nude with imperfect breasts assume that the rest of the model is ugly?

My big picture has been clouded for a few days now. No wind, too expensive, boredom. I decide to travel in Macrovision from now on. I zoom in on the details. I then use them to put together a nice big picture. (more…)

The poster says “No speeding, reliable and not overcrowded.” The speed van is the best way to travel south from El Nido. Departure is at seven in the morning. The helpers seem to have mistaken my kiteboard for a negative spoiler. The way they lash it loosely to the back of the roof, it is predestined for flying. The threat of the death penalty makes things better.

The bus has 16 seats. As there are only 12 passengers today, this is considered “not overcrowded”. The legroom is -15cm. The track to the south is largely unpaved. The driver speeds through all the potholes towards Roxas at up to 100 km/h in best Peterhansel style. He covers the almost 200 kilometres in four hours. By then, the rain and the cloud of dust have ruined all our luggage on the roof. (more…)

We meet a nice Kurd again, whom we had already met on Coron. He’s all about island hopping. He’s doing his third tour here within three days. We join him. The bangkas here are smaller and the engines are much quieter. The ecotourism levy seems to be making a difference. In a small group, we head a few kilometres out into the Bacuit Archipelago.

The islands are even smaller, steeper and more spectacular than in Coron. Although practically everything here is water, yesterday’s rain has added a lot of humidity to the air. Today the sun is really blazing and we’re cooking in the steam at 35°. The water here is almost perversely blue. Bright white sandy beaches catch the eye, green palm trees glow in 300 metre high cliffs. How many generations did it take to get up there? (more…)

I can get a lot of fun out of Extrema. Even when most others have long since found it unfunny. Today was enough. To make progress, we take the bangka from Coron to El Nido. A completely overloaded five-metre GRP dinghy takes 15 people out to the big bangka. The angle of inclination when boarding is up to 30°. The engine cuts out after 30 seconds.

Once at the bangka, it finally dies. The dinghy is towed back. We set off an hour late. The weather forecast is good, only ten knots of wind. We have eight hours of sailing ahead of us through dangerous waters and 160 kilometres of open sea from Coron to El Nido. (more…)

We tour Coron Island with the Bangka. Coron is just a huge rock from the outside, but there are hidden entrances to places that are fighting hard to be the understudy for “The Beach”. The first stop is a lake that can be reached via a short climb between the rocks. Asians splash around with life jackets. Visibility in the Mondsee is easily 20 metres.

Uli joins us from her last dive. Lunch on a small beach directly under the rock face. Snorkelling at Twin Peaks Reef, thousands of fish in good visibility in the midday sun. Twin Lagoon, a hidden entrance from the sea, then dive through a tunnel into the second lagoon. Layers of water shimmer on top of each other, the rock faces rise 300 metres vertically. (more…)

Dear Kiteboard, I know that times are tough. I’m dragging you to the end of the world. A nice end, but one where you have less to do than anywhere else. Even at Lake Garda, the topography makes kiting less stupid than here. I really didn’t know about the only 4% over 4 Beaufort wind statistics. But I’ll do everything I can to look after you.

I actually wanted to relax. Uli wanted to study for his diving licence. But you whinge in the room like an infant with thin poo. So I rented another bike, a little scooter today. Despite the miserable wind forecast, we rode 70 kilometres on the worst tracks through the jungle to make you laugh. (more…)

The Coron archipelago is perfect for playing hide and seek. Especially for ships. The Americans and Japanese already realised this during the Second World War. Nowhere else in the world are there so many shipwrecks in so little space. Even if the Americans today can only be accused of associative behaviour towards the outside and inside: here they gave billions of fish massive asylum.

We head west for 1.5 hours with Coral Bay Divers. In a narrow passage between two islands lies the first Japanese gunboat. At a depth of 12 metres, the ship emerges from the deep blue. A short lap around the outside, then it’s time to go in. You actually need an Advanced Open Water Diver for this. But as nobody asks for my PADI licence anyway, it doesn’t matter. (more…)

The day starts far too early again. Montezuma’s fist is playing pinochle with my intestines. Today we are going on a tour to the islands of Malcapuya, Banana Island and Bolog Island, 25 kilometres south of Coron. The ten-metre bangka takes 1.5 hours to get there. Only one young Phlippine couple is travelling with us.

The remnants of the night wind now give us a metre swell. Enough to throw the spray in fountains over the entire deck. Everything gets wet. We are travelling in the relative protection of the islands of the archipelago. Perhaps it’s just as well that we don’t get a bangka 160 kilometres to El Nido after all. The internet is full of horror stories about two-and-a-half metre waves, lost luggage, 30-hour trips and accidents. (more…)

Uli is doing her diving course. Meanwhile, I get myself a nice Yamaha DT for little money – and 100% insurance-free. The deposit is my driving licence. There are no police checks. The bike consists of handlebars, motor and two tyres. No lights, no fuel gauge, no speedometer, few brakes, no kick starter. Starting is only possible by pushing. Let’s have some fun!

The tarmac ends just ten kilometres after Coron City. What remains is a dirt track. Perfect for this bike. The difference between light and shade on the road is extreme due to the high sun. I miss a few deep potholes. Bridges are usually just a few wooden planks, if there are any. At one point I cross a small river. (more…)

At last! That’s how it should be! The sun rises just before we enter the harbour in Coron. “The rainy season lasted much longer this year,” says a local resident. Until a few days ago, it rained non-stop for weeks. The result: murderous humidity at 30 degrees at seven in the morning. We almost fall over before we take a trike to the coconut resort.

The Kokonuss Resort is fine: small nipa huts in a tropical garden. Indian statues and fountains, flowers, palm trees, Nepalese flags. Wonderful. The bamboo hut is simple and cheap, but a bit mouldy. You get wet in the water. Banana pancake, shower and finally spread out our clothes. We stay here for a few days. I’m looking forward to the peace and quiet. (more…)

Today is a defiance blog day. Departure at seven o’clock in Banaue. 350 kilometres through the rain down the mountains to Manila. After a while, the road even has a central reservation again. We make the journey in eight hours. Another 1.5 hours through Manila at rush hour. Roundabout in five “lanes”. The right-hand lane continues to circle, while the left-hand lane shoots outwards.

I miss a junction, we end up on the Skyway and are 10 kilometres away from the rental car station in no time at all. Open up, off to the hostel. In, spread out my water gear, out. There’s a small shopping centre around the corner. Small, that is, just under 500 shops. It goes by the name of Robinsons Plaza. Fitting. Search for the exit for half an hour. (more…)

Before breakfast, we take a short hike to the hanging coffins of Sagada. The Ifugao bury their people hanging in rock faces or in one of the many caves. At breakfast we meet two nice backpackers from Holland and Italy. They had already admired my park skills yesterday. So now they think I’m a safe driver. We give them a lift to Banaue.

It continues to rain cats and dogs. The road leads over a rough dirt track 500 metres down into the valley. The axle seems to survive. It clears up briefly and the first rice terraces appear between clouds of mist. Then the road is completely closed due to a landslide. An excavator shovels a few tonnes onto a truck, then we carry on. (more…)

Today’s route does not require a sat nav. Creep 20 kilometres out of Baguio in a traffic jam. Follow the serpentines for 100 kilometres straight on to Sagada. In fact, there is not a single tarmac descent or straight road on the entire route. The “highway” leads up into the clouds to over 2200 metres. The temperature drops to 12 degrees.

It’s pouring with rain. In the clouds, visibility is sometimes only 50 metres. In combination with the sudden appearance of a few hundred metres lowered road halves due to landslides, it is quite entertaining. The excitement is great when the road has completely slipped away and the diversion 50 metres higher up is an unsurfaced gravel track with a clear view down the steep face. (more…)

Funnily enough, everything that Lonely Planet recommends is completely overcrowded and twice as expensive. The 100 Islands National Park tops that. The cabins on the outermost island now cost four times as much as they did two years ago. So bye-bye Robinson, hello day trip. At 17 euros for a few hours on a private boat trip to some of the more than one hundred islands, it’s okay.

The islands are coral reefs raised from the seabed, completely overgrown with greenery and gnawed away by the sea at all edges. Some look like turtles, but most look like fossilised hippie mushrooms. I take my kite gear with me on the little bangka. Unfortunately, there’s no wind. But the trip is still great. (more…)