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When I was younger, I had an enormous explorer style world map above my bed. It was the source of both my dreams and nightmares, as there was this whole world of possibilities open to me, and all I had to do was make a choice. Contradictorily, all I had to do was make a choice.

It is difficult even for people who know me well to decide if my indecisiveness makes me easy-going or just too passive. I often prefer others to make choices for me when both options seem desirable. I can’t bear to be blamed if things don’t go well, and I sincerely want both, so how I could I possibly choose only one? On a solo trip to the Philippines though, I had no choice, but to choose.

I arrived in Manila with lots of ideas. There were places in every direction that I wanted to visit. There were buses, boats and planes, lakes, volcanoes and about 7000 islands. I stared at the map in my guidebook, stymied. Ready to close my eyes and go where my finger landed, I finally made my decision by choosing the location of the next festival. When boats and plane tickets were sold out for my first choice, I settled on the Dinagyang Festival in Iloilo, Panay. Dinagyang means merry-making in Ilonggo. It is a religious and cultural celebration and involves a lot of drumming with dancers painted black, wearing elaborate colorful costumes. It is loud, hot and crowded, and like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Large groups arrive from all over the country to participate on the fourth weekend of January every year.  

I arrived in the evening, a week early, and watched the preparations. Stalls were set up selling glass bottles of coke and San Miguel, and barbequed fish. There were speakers piled upon and speakers, nearly toppling over, and students practicing drum routines in the streets. I decided to spend the week on the island of Guimaras, home of the juiciest mangos in the Philippines, and return when the festival was in full swing.

Guimaras is just a short boat ride from Iloilo. My first stop was Valle Verde Mountain Resort, in the center of the island. From there I took steamy walks through the villages with a local guide and a grumpy old foreign man. He was slowly going blind, and waiting for the construction of his house nearby to be completed. I familiarized myself with jeepney etiquette, visited a monastery in an orchard, and cooled my feet in the pool, staring at the emerald mountains surrounding me; sticky mango peels piling up beside me.

But soon I longed for the beach, so reluctantly I left Valle Verde and ended up at Rico Beach resort in Alubihod, Guimaras. This is an older style resort, the kind favored by day-tripping picnickers. The restaurant served only portions of seafood big enough for whole families. It got very noisy. Watching all the families enjoying each others’ company made me lonely and only further reminded me of how out of place I felt. The Philippines is not a place to be alone. Throughout my journey people questioned me about my lack of companionship, astounded that I would travel alone.

Rico wasn’t the sort of resort I had in mind, so when I was invited on a boat ride, touring around to other beaches and a turtle sanctuary, I gladly took it. This is when I first stepped on Baras Beach. Baras Beach Resort was what I had in mind. I spent my days snorkeling, paddling a canoe and exploring this tiny beach, or soaking up the afternoon sunlight on my private cliff, waiting anxiously to be called to dinner, as the smell of it wafted up to my bungalow. Evenings were spent eating creamy seafood curries, communal style, and sipping Tanduay rum.

What made this spot so special to me wasn’t the views and fresh fish. This was only to be the first of many similar experiences on my four-month trip around the country. On the third day, the other tourists left, and as I watched a new boat arrive, and about 35 members of an extended family disembark with their own beer and food, I feared I was in for more of my Rico Beach experience. Instead, this lively and expansive family invited me to join them in their reunion.  Each year one of the daughters in this family, married to a Swiss man, returns with her husband and children to treat everyone to a memorable day out.  This family treated me as one of their own, and summoned me to all their activities including drinking games and a drag fashion show using life saving equipment. In the morning, the matriarch of the family wished me well, hoping we’d write to each other.

The best part of travelling in the Philippines is that most people speak English fluently, and because of it, conversations and real exchanges of culture, like these I shared at Baras Beach, were the most cherished mementos I took from my vacation.