Manila to El Nido … Where Beer & Tampons Count as Currency

It’s been interesting to park my sunburnt, over-traveled self in the Philippines for these last few weeks. I’ve been spending time with people who live in Manila permanently, and from what I’ve ascertained in 14 days, there’s a love-hate thing going on with the expat crowd here.

I think – when they all eventually leave – Manila will be delightful in the rearview mirror. There’s also a possibility that time will fade … and this place will get mentally martyred – like places in our pasts seem to do.

It’s been fun to listen to them chat over cocktails, relaying a shared love for small, missing-home moments of joy. Finding broccoli is apparently a huge score, and coming across beef that’s still pink (as opposed to the shiny grey green shot here) is reason enough to rally an impromptu bar-b-cue.

However, nothing shakes the expat Richter scale in Manila quite like tampons. The Holy Grail of hygiene. The purple-maned unicorn of female necessity. More mystical than the Tibetan Book of the Dead, these seemingly normal items cannot and will not be found in a 7-11. Or in a gas station. Most pharmacies don’t stock them … nor do large chain groceries.

When you find tampons in Manila, folks … you need to immediately fall down and give thanks in whatever Aisle 6 vortex you’ve managed to stumble through. Then you better text every other expat female you know with a Google map to that very Aisle 6. Or just buy six boxes and hand them out in the bar for free drinks.

Anyways … enough about feminine hygiene, broccoli and bad meat. The point is, I’ve been here for half a month, and I’m learning why the expat crowd seems somewhat mentally frayed at the edges.

There’s a lot to love here in Manila. The weather’s great. Everyone speaks English. They have a pretty killer cocktail scene, and the locals are extremely friendly.

However, Chris and I needed a break. After a few weeks, I too had come to feel slightly overheated, encased in urban sprawl and concrete. Instead of charming, the bling of the vintage Jeepney’s felt blinding, and I was getting unfairly snappish at the constant, customary litany of manners.

Filipinos are very accommodating and hospitable by definition. Their manners make Savannah seem like the South Bronx. Yet sometimes …. all the pleasantries sort of pile up on you. For example, a simple “Which way is the drugstore?” is going to involve some combination of Yes Ma’am, No Sir, Sorry Sir, Excuse Me Lady and (my personal favorite) Very Much Begging Your Pardon Madame. Ten minutes will have passed. You’ll still be lost. And tampon-less.

So … we recharged our aching brains with a camping trip to the island of Palawan, specifically the area of El Nido.

My favorite part of the Philippines thus far is the easy access to hundreds – no exaggeration … hundreds – of white sand, mostly deserted, stupidly-beautiful beaches. The above photo is not retouched. There were no hordes of Chinese tourists just beyond the frame either.

El Nido is actually 45 islands in a group, with the western half facing the waters of the South China Sea and the eastern half facing the Sulu Sea. Prior to this trip, I’d never even heard of the Sulu Sea. Now I miss the hell out of it. The appeal of El Nido is the fact that you can access incredible beaches that are both protected and mostly untouched by civilization.

Here’s the downside to El Nido. Like all cool, untouched, new-to-tourism places, it’s kinda a bitch to get there. You fly from Manila to Puerto Princesa. Then you get in a mini van for a 6-hour ride that feels more like a Sons of Anarchy chase scene. One guy on our ride threw up three times. No judgment. It’s intense doing 60mph down a dirt road with a ravine on one side, an embankment on the other and boulders, chickens, cows and small kids jumping into your path. Break! Swerve! Almost die! Speed up. Carry on.

Is the horrific bus ride and the airport hassle worth it? Hell yes.

You land in El Nido town, which is cute and seaside-y with tin roofs on thatched bungalows, lots of bright paint, roadside coffee stands, scuba shops, small alleyways, cats, stray kids, and a nice stretch of beach … with restaurants that serve on the sand and stay open late.

As for the boat tours out to the islands, you have some options. At this time, I’m not actually sure what all your options are. Before heading there, I heard of this company called Tao. Apparently they charge upwards of $800 for 5 nights, six days on the boat. All your food is included, but no booze and you sleep in tents. I think they give you a snorkel mask to use too.

Here’s what else you can get for $800: An apartment … for a month … in Brooklyn. Do not pay $800 to go get on a boat for less than a week in a developing island chain. Especially if they make you buy your own beer. It’s more satisfying (and a better story) to be robbed at gunpoint, in my opinion.

We went with Abandon Paradise Expeditions. There were 7 of us total on the traditional Filipino outrigger fishing boat, plus our captain Don and his co-hort Carlos, who stabbed and then cooked our food every day.

Our trip was 3 days, 2 nights and it only cost $155. Beer was still not included, but (as you can see in that photo) we found some. A couple of random men on one of the islands were selling Red Horse, which clocks in at 7%. We bought them all. The food was great, and Don’s quick with creating a campfire or picking tunes on a guitar. Really, my only complaint was the lack of fresh water. After three days of snorkling in saltwater, one likes to rinse off. There was none of that. There was enough rum to make it possible to pass out all sandy and sticky in our tent, though.

The second night, our tent wasn’t set up properly, and it fell on my face. I blame Chris on that one. (Yes, I used to live in Montana. Yes, I also lived in a tent for 50 days traveling America and then moved to New Zealand and lived in a car and a tent for over 6 months. I’m also good at delegating blame. What can I say … it’s a gift).

But back to El Nido – the islands are a chain of beautiful rock karsts, pushing out of the sea with stark grey walls of stone. The sides are decorated in bright green foliage and the perfect shade of blue ocean below.

There are hidden lagoons you can visit, decent snorkeling to be had, the occasional turtle and flying fish episode and the beaches are bright white and excitingly empty … save a few friendly beach dogs. The sunsets are pretty absurd too. 

If I had to do it over again, I would. It’s worth the trek. Only next time, I’d get more beer. And a bigger tent.