In May of 2009, a friend and I ventured to the Philippines from our home in central Japan. We researched as much as we could via Lonely Planet, travel blogs, and the word of mouth of fellow expatriates, but never truly became prepared for the experiences that lie ahead. The element of surprise was both a blessing and curse on our journey.

Our trip began in Manila. It was rainy and humid – we had arrived just before the onslaught of monsoon season. As the day wore on, the weather cooled and the skies cleared. We stumbled into the biggest festival of the year, Aliwan, that first night. Our eyes were pregnant with the richly colored and textured costumes  of the participants, who had come from all over the country to take part in the weekend celebration. We loved every second of this evening, and had grand expectations for the rest of our trip.

We traveled south to Bohol, where we stayed in a remote rain forest collection of huts. The owners served vegan meals and sponsored adventure hikes and cycling outings. It was obnoxiously humid, and the mosquitoes were thick and provided constant cacophonous sounds the duration of every night. Thank goodness for mosquito nets. It was in Bohol that we both contracted a waterborne parasite, and spent the rest of the trip downing Imodium as our stomachs churned out of control.

Our next stop was Borocay, where we lounged on the beach and took advantage of the relative luxury of “western” food and air conditioning. Next up was Taal and its grand volcano, which we managed to scale despite our stomachs.

Although the journey was uncomfortable at times, and we both wished for the comforts of Japan, we concurred that the adventure was worth the suffering and we felt stronger for it.