All the white sand relaxation in El Nido had me itching for a little adventure. As I taxied from the airport into the city of Cebu, another island in the Philippines, I was a bit nervous that I’d accidently made my way to Manila’s little brother. Thankfully, it didn’t take long to learn that big adventure lay just a couple hours’ drive around the island.

The 3am bus out of the city went quickly enough, as I came to in the bright light and heat of day, surprisingly around 5:30 in the morning. We were shuttled to a beach as busy as a Manila intersection, longboats lined up, their eager passengers trying to stay cool under cover from the somehow blistering morning heat. Admittedly, the whole thing seemed rather unnatural and commercialized, but the moment my head dipped below the water’s surface, a still drowned out the chaos above.

I waited. Not entirely certain as to what exactly I was waiting for, as I’d chosen not to research the creatures I had gotten up some early to see. A large oval seemed to appear in the distance, getting slightly larger as it came into view. Larger still, I reckoned I could probably fit inside it. It was at this point, I realized that I was in the direct path of the biggest creature I’d ever seen up close, the whale shark. Not concerned with me in the slightest, the fish (I think?) meandered its way around me, showing off its enormous profile as it disappeared into the distant waters. Just to be clear, these things are enormous. The average adult is about 30 feet long and 20,000 pounds! Being under water may make things look much bigger, but there was no mistaking the enormity of these beasts.

A handful more made their way past me, sometimes brushing against me, their rough skin sending chills through my body despite the 80-degree water. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so vulnerable, knowing a swift tail wag would be lights out for me. I did my best to float in awe as the sharks swam past, battling the ever strengthening current and slight sea-sickness from it all. The 30 minutes was just enough time for the underwater serenity before making my way back to the chaos of the beach.

Adventure itch scratched, I made my way to the opposite side of the island for a day or so of more beaches, with a bit more local flair this time around. Some new friends and I quickly made friends with a local family’s birthday celebration, and we were treated to cake, rum, and some pretty entertaining conversation. Children swam at the shore, catching fish in a bottle, while mothers practiced their English and drinking skills. It was all a sight to behold.

On my final day, I made my way up-river to a series of waterfalls. Turquoise water and forests surrounded the cascades, cliff-jumps and rope swings filled with tourists and locals alike. Washing off the layer of salt (and probably dirt) in the fresh water pools was just what I needed before saying farewell to the Philippines as I boarded my flight back to mainland Asia.

PS. I would tell you how I actually managed to make a series of very tight connections on my route back through Manila, but it’s not quite as exciting as my bus ride!

PSS. / PSA: I swam with the Whale Sharks in Oslob, where the waters are chummed to attract the sharks. The sharks are still in their natural habitat, but the constant chumming has started to affect their feeding patterns. If you ever plan on swimming with the sharks, there are other places in the Philippines and around the world that I would recommend rather than Oslob.

Landing in El Nido, on the Philippine island of Palawan, a sense of relief poured over, as never in my life have I experience such a stark contrast in environment after just an hour on a plane. Goodbye forever, Manila and road work, hello glorious sands and panoramas.

The first order of business after hopping in a makeshift side car motorbike taxi from the airport into town was to head straight for the sand, where limestone cliffs dot the horizon, as the longtail boats await their passengers for the day. At this point, I wasn’t concerned with boats, but rather, beer. I paid the equivalent of $1 for an icy cold beer, lawn chair included, and planted that bad boy right in the sand, just far enough on the beach not to be washed away, but close enough to hear and feel the smoothness of the crashing tide on my feet. Perhaps the most refreshing beer(s) I’ve ever had, the whole scene pulled straight from a Zac Brown Band song. My only interruption was the longboat that pulled onto the beach right in front of me. That boat just so happened to be transporting a previous co-worker of mine along with a few friends. Just how I drew it up. Introductions were made and the usual, “What are you up to right now?” conversation began. The best answer I could come up with was a simple, “You’re looking at it!”

The next couple days involved some island hopping tours around the striking cliffs and formations, hidden lagoons, and magazine cover worthy beaches, fresh coconuts providing a constant source of refreshment and aloe vera massages the necessary pain relief and relaxation after long days in the sand and sun. I even got in on a game of basketball with some local boaters. The rubber ball didn’t bounce so well in the sand, and the hoop was nowhere near regulation size, but the game remained the same, and I thoroughly enjoyed the local experience. Being the tallest guy on the court for once was just an added bonus.

I spent my final afternoon sipping on a coconut, lounging in a hammock, blinded by the white sand of a nearly empty beach, wondering if there was any real point of going to the airport. My only conflict was whether or not I wanted to remain in my hammock or get up to sit at the table nestled at the end of a sand jetty, surrounded on 3 sides by crystal clear water.

I got my toes in the water, ass in the sand, not a worry in the world, a cold beer in my hand…

Life is GOOD today.

I now have a new “interesting fact about yourself” line. It will probably go something like this:

I once rode an 8-hour bus for 43 hours.

It seems as though my charmed traveler aura has reached its demise. With an extra day in the Philippines to kill before meeting up with a friend in El Nido, I decided I’d be able to land in Manila, head straight to the bus station for an overnight bus up to Banaue to catch a glimpse of the grandiose rice terraces, then catch the night bus back to Manila, and on to the airport for my connecting flight. Seemed easy enough.

Sometime around 6am, as the tropical sun began beating through my window, I noticed the bus was no longer moving. After waiting for my legs to stop tingling from being crammed into the seat made for perhaps a normal sized Filipino man, but definitely not a western bloke like myself, I stood up to confusion. Traffic seemed to all be facing the same direction, save for the sporadic, over-occupied motorbike running in the opposite direction. In addition to that, the two lane road was somehow filled with buses, semis, and cars 4-wide.

By 7 am it was sweltering, and the freezing cold aircon I’d cursed during the night seemed to stop working once the sun came up. Convenient. I decided to try to sleep more, assuming this was normal and that we would arrive eventually, perhaps a couple hours late. Not to worry, I’m a pro at accelerated sight-seeing. By noon we’d moved about 100 meters, so I figured it was about time to get out to stretch my legs and survey the situation. There were mixed reports of a truck turned over in the road that was causing the delay. Surely this could be taken care quick enough, but what I couldn’t understand was why traffic was stopped in the other direction as well, far beyond the scene of the accident. At this point, I made an effort to soak in the scene around me: young boys riding on top of semi-trucks, hanging off of buses, motorbikes stacked 4 to 5 deep, and buses that looked even less comfortable and more crammed than mine. Everyone seemed happy enough though, so this must be normal.

I walked until I was too hot, and probably sunburned, and a bit hungry after missing out on the last serving of white rice and glazed mystery meat at the roadside bodega, before running back to the bus as engines began to start. We were finally on our way.

For about 5 minutes.

15 hours into the bus ride, we reached the source of the delay. We sat for another hour in front of a small patch of road work with nobody holding the Stop-Go sign. The two-lane road turned to one lane for no more than 100 meters. That’s it. I passed by expecting to find a large truck turned over, but no. Just a small patch of unpaved road with nobody working on it. Right.

An afternoon monsoon and half the journey still ahead, we arrived in Banaue well past nightfall, just in time for me to walk outside to stretch my legs and get right back on the same exact bus to go back to Manila, to hopefully catch my flight. I sacrificed seeing the terraces, but at least I wouldn’t miss my flight, as I still had about a 5-hour margin to make it back in time.

I should have known better.

To spare everyone the pain of reading through more cycles of sweating, freezing, stopping, and starving, suffice to say I didn’t make my flight, as the bus back took even longer than the bus to get there. Staying in busy, sweaty, dirty Manila for the night was only slightly more enjoyable than the 43 hours on the bus, but I made it out alive, relieved to finally be sitting on my comfy plane ride to paradise the next morning.

I have to admit, up to this point, I’ve always been slightly arrogant about jam-packed itineraries, making connections, and everything more or less working itself out for the best. As it stands now, though, in the past few days I’ve lost a jacket, a travel pillow, my Under-Armor, my hat, left my sandals on a remote island beach (they were recovered), had those same sandals stolen (though I did track them down and steal them back. You can only run and hide for so long on a Thai island), cracked my glasses, gave myself a mild hernia, wasted multiple days in undesirable cities, battled stomach pangs, been cussed out by a taxi driver, and breathed enough exhaust fumes to make a California environmentalist turn in their grave.

So much for sunshine and roses…