The smaller island across from Cebu is a beloved destination in the Philippines, and its appeal is fairly obvious. This place is teeming with natural wonders. The coastline gives you access to white sand beaches and coral reefs, and going to the heart of the island takes you to the Chocolate Hills, one of the Philippines’ natural wonders. You’ve got tarsiers and whale sharks and plenty to do.
Having actual family ties to the Philippines means I haven’t really gotten around to some of the big things that attract international visitors, and that’s always felt funny when I would hear people rave about their experiences. I really knew I needed to shift that, so on my most recent visit to the Philippines, I added Bohol to the itinerary.
The kids and I had a great time. BUT, there was a lot I didn’t expect. Like how curated the Bohol experience tended to be. I tried processing that encounter with the reality of ecotourism in the Philippines in my latest video- out now!
There are so many different ways to experience a destination. Loose plans, room for serendipity, sincere moments spent connecting with locals, and some encounter with nature is my idea of a good time. On the other hand, an overly planned, sanitized, for-tourists-only kind of experience isn’t really my thing.
At the risk of sounding like a travel snob, I absolutely hate the idea of using other people’s home and land as my own personal playground. An entire experience where working class locals cater to my own comforts and amusement feels like sitting in the driver’s seat of all that’s wrong in the world. This doesn’t mean I’m opposed to the idea of relaxing, being entertained, or having a whole lot of fun when I travel. But I believe there are a lot of ways to do so that support locals and nature, rather than reinforcing inequities.
Thankfully, my desire to travel in a way that’s good for people and nature generally goes hand-in-hand with my distaste for the typical tourist experience. I’ve come to associate over-planned experiences catered towards tourists with the exploitative side of the industry- cruise ships, all-inclusives, and the likes.
But are there times where something is planned and designed for tourists with the intent of being good for nature and culture?
I think I experienced this in Bohol.
My previous experience in Iloilo, of having to navigate my own way to remote villages in order to embark on mountain hikes was so positive. I felt deeply connected to the people who lived there and all the wild living things on that mountain. I also felt very free, having navigated that way using loose directions and the help of a local friend.
I was hoping to do some similar exploring in Bohol. Hiring a driver. Making our way to caves and waterfalls marked on maps… not because they’re on the list of must-visits, but because of loose hunches that they might be spectacular and a willingness to be wrong.
I was surprised by how difficult this was to actually do in Bohol. My efforts to hire a driver came with those drivers offering menus, all offering the same lineup of adventures: the Chocolate Hills, the tarsier conservation area, whale-shark watching. These were all fun, but even the way these big items were packaged– all in the same day– were different from how I envisioned our time in Bohol. Slower. More integrated with everyday life.
It turns out, the infrastructure of Bohol is simply different. One branch of it was very much designed for tourists. The other for those who lived there. And I sensed a good layer of separation between both. It was hard for non-locals to simply go out and explore freely. It seems like the way to gain access to caves, underwater wonders, or panoramic points, was to sign up for the right package.
Thankfully, being there for a longer stretch of time gave me a chance to bend this a little. I befriended drivers on curated outings and asked to explore some additional sites. I found more independent guides for paddleboarding and kayaking who then put me in touch with other excursionists. What I found over time, however, was that the extreme curation of experiences helped minimize disruptions to the environment and economy of Bohol.
I noticed Bohol didn’t have as many shopping malls or retail spaces compared to other parts of the Philippines, where mall-walking is a pastime. I got used to running errands in these spaces, which made me feel like Bohol was a more difficult space to live an “ordinary,” less-touristy life. It turns out that Bohol limited the ability of big brands to open up on the island so that local businesses could thrive.
I also noticed that in order to dive in most underwater spots of interest, you needed a guide. Not just to arrange the dive, but to accompany you and show you exactly where to go. While we had our equipment in hand, just waiting for a guide to be available, it occurred to me that a positive effect of this system was the way it safeguarded against bad behavior by rogue tourists.
I will always value being less of an extractive tourist, and more of a mindful visitor who seeks to make real connections with locals. But I love that Bohol gave me an opportunity to see different ways of doing this. Creating such a separate infrastructure for tourists probably wouldn’t have been my first pick, but I definitely saw its upside.
All the more opportunity to learn new things from new places.