My method of remembering how to pronounce Siquijor, is “ciggie-whore”. I had found my kind of island which offers AMAZING snorkeling within protected marine sanctuaries! I was wetting my pants thinking how incredible a night snorkel would be with my new diving torch, but a lone local was on station who said that he was “playing policemen” and scanning for fisherman. No night swimming allowed.
The general vibe in Siquijor is awesome. On my very first night I could hear some vibey music coming from a nearby room at my guest house. I popped my head in to say hello and have now become friends with Swiss-Italian Presco (50) and Filipino Shannon (44) who were busy cooking up a storm in pots and pans! They invited me to join them with open arms. I’m not sure if I believe all of Preco’s stories because many were unbelievable! Apparently he once posed naked for an artist in Georgia and got nominated to be president of the country.
I thought I would be in bed after that but my ears pricked up like a Fennec Fox as more good music could be heard coming from nearby, so I headed towards it. There I made new friends with Peter – a gay dance instructor from Australia, and transgender Sofie the Filipino. They have been so much fun! It was Peter’s birthday weekend so I gifted him a handmade card from Vietnam that has a colourful peacock pop up as you open it. Inside I wrote: “Always stay fabulous!”
They told me about a weekend jol on Siquijor that happens EVERY Friday and Saturday night at JJ’s Backpackers Village. I attended both times. These are massive beach parties mostly attended by locals. My guess would be 80% locals vs foreigners – being entertained by three rotating bands and LOTS of drink. There is a signature rum here called Tanduay which gets served in towers with coke and ice. Roadside adverts of the stuff say: “Tanduay Rum. Drive Safely!” Filipinos know how to party and drink a LOT. On Sundays they repent for their sins.
Lazi in Siquijor
After one helluvah festive weekend on Siquijor, I decided to relocate to the opposite end of the island to rough it in a beachside tent. Upon arrival a bunch of locals where busy barbecuing a ton of fish and porky bits and (of course) drinking Red Horse Extra Strong beer out of 1 liter bottles. It was midday, but they insisted that I join them and ploughed me with food and drink. We chowed down using our hands for cutlery. The only gift I could think of giving them in return was a deck of unused playing cards from Greece.
So that was lunch. By evening time I wandered towards some karaoke. Another group of locals were having a jol with food, grog and song. An entire roast pig was on the table, which they call Lechon. I was again lavished with more food and drink and gave the best performances that I could on a karaoke machine that must be from the 80’s, but still worked! Back at camp, I fell asleep on a beach lounger with the waves lapping near my feet. Bliss. There were NO feelings of financial expectation in exchange for two free meals, just pure Filipino hospitality…
The Enchanted Tree & Underground River
There were a few things to see on the Lazi side of Siquijor. The large Enchanted Tree was cool. There is a pool of water at the base with fish which seemed happy enough to give your feet a fish spa treatment. The Underground River was disappointing by comparison. It’s compulsory to have a guide who makes sounds like a rooster and goat as you float underground. The water also feels soupy and suspiciously warm. If you’re claustrophobic, then you would probably die. I wouldn’t recommend it to a friend.
I’ve shat myself on two occasions while riding around without an international driver’s license. Policeman with very big guns set up random checkpoints to check for helmets and licenses. You know that one is up ahead when a bunch of helmetless locals are waiting for the police to leave from about 50 meters away. (The authorities won’t take the necessary steps towards them). I saw some fellow travelers breeze through without being stopped, so I decided to risk it, but they DID stop me! I presented my standard driving license and got let through with no questions asked. Phew! His shotgun could have left quite a scar.
If I had to sum up Siquijor and its inhabitants in one sentence, it would be: Jol, rinse, repeat, and repent!
Next: Philippines #7: Pray the Gay Away
Previously: Philippines #5: Chocolate Hills & Cathedrals
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