Part 2

El Nido, or “The Nest”, is a somewhat unkempt nest.

Row upon row of cut-and-paste guest houses, two-star hotels and restaurants for which a Michelin star will only be a galactic hallucination until the end of days, compete for a place in the sun along the narrow, dusty streets. This, while dozens of tricycles – three-wheeled motorcycles that serve as rickshaws – crowd out one another in their quest to pick up yet another passenger. In the entire town you will not find a single supermarket, and you will have to search far and wide for a “trendy bar” or a “hip eatery”. But for the residents of El Nido, who all depend on tourism for their livelihood, this does not matter. Because ultimately, tourists are not drawn to The Nest by what is within the town’s borders…

The scenery surrounding El Nido is any travel agency’s dream. You can point your camera in any direction, press the button, and the end product will be deserving of the cover of next month’s brochure. Carlsberg does not do tropical islands, but if they did, their work would have been a mirror image of The Nest.

A significant number of the 7 107 Philippine islands are found in the crystal clear waters around El Nido, and the best… well… the only way to explore it, is to pay a local travel agency a few pesos in exchange for removing the logistical obstacles that accompany such a sightseeing tour. A boat is boarded early in the morning, and for the entire duration of the day you, and whoever accompanies you on that boat, are taken from one island to the next to “oh” and “ah” over what is probably among the most spectacular sea and beach scenes in the world. In Palawan vernacular, a day like that is known as “island hopping”, although the only real “hopping” occurs if you step on a shell with your bare feet.

Also read: Philippines – Part 1

The last time I used an ensemble of a snorkel and diving mask was in circa 1987, when my best friend (who incidentally also was the captain of our gang “The Scallywags”) and I dived 20c coins from his father’s pool. I was therefore (literally) as excited as a child about the prospect of again having the opportunity to imagine myself being a frog on our island hopping extravaganza.

Early on the first morning already our boat’s engines were silenced, while we floated above what was described by the guide as “one of the nicest coral reefs in the Philippines”. I put on my frog feet and went into the water over the edge of the boat. For some time I was treading water while I was fitting my diving mask and snorkel. And then I submersed my head into the water…

I’m not sure what I expected to see. Maybe a fish or two in the distance. Or maybe, if luck was on my side, a whole school of fish far in the distance. But what I actually saw when my eyes went below the surface of the water, made me pull back my head instinctively and I almost choked on the laughter that uncontrollably pushed up into my throat. I could not believe my eyes…

There were fish all around me! Hundreds, thousands of them! And not catfish or carp or any other dull little fish – tropical fish in all the colours of the rainbow. I could swim right up to a school of them, and with a movement of my arm I could split the group. Or I could follow a big one and watch what he was doing. A fish is not exactly the type of animal with which you can forge an emotional bond, but it really felt like those fish and I shared a moment.

For long periods I floated face down on the surface and went wherever the tide would take me. In those moments where coral reefs and fish in all sizes, shapes and colours moved past me, time and space ceased to exist. It was as close to an out-of-body experience as I have ever experienced, and it once again made me realise that homo sapiens actually is among the very dullest creatures in the universe.

Next week you can read more about our adventure in the Philippines.

Please visit Fanie’s website, Fanie Os Oppie Jas, and his Facebook page, Fanie Os Oppie Jas: howzit my China.

Photos: Fanie van der Merwe