Settling Down and Setting Out

In the past year or so, I have been settling down to a less nomadic lifestyle. Instead of monthly backpacking trips to new and undiscovered places, I travelled back to familiar places and stayed for months, assuming a more regular rhythm of working, relaxing and training. I completely unpacked my backpack and stashed it in one corner -- something that I normally do after coming back to Manila and not after arriving at a tropical beach island. I feel like I'm finally growing up.

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In April 2017, I put down my backpack to live with four other strangers in a 2-storey apartment in Panglao, Bohol. We all volunteered to be part of a dolphin survey project, which lasted for three months. It was my first step towards marine conservation and a baby step away from capitalism, but as getting paid remains essential, I had to combine both.

On early mornings, I worked with the team to collect data and information about the local dolphin tourism industry in Panglao Island. In the evenings, I worked by myself on my laptop to deliver business plan projects. It was difficult adjusting both to living with other people and to juggling two different jobs. Nevertheless, by the end of the three-month period, I have gained new friends who are similarly unconventional, as well as more clarity towards the person I want to be, whilst keeping my job and my salary.

We normally arrive at Doljo Beach just as the sun is rising, excitedly greeted by the dog pack of Doljo. On some mornings, the sky lit up like it was on fire amidst a cool sea breeze.

In September 2017, after a short solo backpacking trip that included me skipping two days of meals for lack of currency, I reunited with my grumpy-old-man in Koh Tao, Surat Thani, Thailand. He was taking his Instructor's Course while I was recovering from my freediving injuries. It was our first international trip together, which actually didn't go as we hoped.

While he was busy with his day-long classes and sessions, I was idle without work and money. I didn't have active projects to work on during the day and I couldn't withdraw money from my card to spend on exploring the island, so I felt stuck and dependent on him. Even though I tried working on my personal projects and resolved to borrow funds from him, the constant feelings of guilt and constraint made me anxious. It was three weeks of struggling to be okay and pretending to be better.

On the only day I dared to drive alone up and down Koh Tao's steep roads, I successfully and safely arrived at Tanote Bay. I spent the afternoon snorkelling, people-watching and sun-bathing.

In November 2017, after a hectic month back in Manila, catching up with friends, working on projects and volunteering in a non-profit convention, I decided to come with my grumpy-old-man to Boracay Island. Although I initially found myself jobless again and attempted to find local employment, I ended up juggling three different clients along with training for freediving -- a stark contrast from the previous month.

On most days, I hopped from one coffee shop to another for work, walking along White Beach and dodging tourists in between. On less demanding days, I scheduled freediving courses and training sessions, struggling against less-flat and less-warm waters. It was the real first time I assumed a digital nomad lifestyle -- working and living simultaneously in a place of my choosing -- and I made it sustainable. By the end of January 2018, I had to leave for fieldwork in Manila but I felt satisfied and fulfilled.

Regardless of how crowded and polluted it was, Boracay amazed me every day with its powder-white sand and clear blue skies. Whenever life starts to feel heavy, I would walk the stretch of White Beach, comforted by the soft sand and breeze.

In February 2018, after an out-of-town reunion with UKworkinggirl and her squad in El Nido, Palawan, I headed to Siargao, Surigao del Norte. I devised a goal of scouting for a hostel business opportunity, drawing from a feeling two years ago that it could be the island I can finally settle in. Unfortunately, with the recent tourism boom, the island underwent drastic commercialization, resulting in inflated prices.

Nevertheless, arriving at the island vaguely felt like coming home. I squealed with every shop I recognized and gaped at all the new establishments. I stayed at my old hostel and re-introduced myself to the friends I previously made, as well as made new friends at the native studio I transferred to. For more than a month, I cycled between working on my laptop, practising yoga, attempting to surf and understanding the local economy, but the island had become a tourist trap so I had to leave for good.

Arriving at Cloud9 for the first time a few years ago, I gazed in awe at the endless roaring waves and the calm shallows. These days, locals refer to the platform as Crowd9, adding that the island is on its way to becoming the next Boracay.

Since March 2018 , I have been back and living in Panglao, Bohol as a result of personal choice and opportunistic circumstances. Now approaching my 4th month, the longest that I have stayed outside of Manila and Batangas (and my ongoing PB in nomadic living), I have laid down some roots in the form of long-term lodging, go-to coffee shops, familiar faces, and international friends.

Within that period, I have been in and out of the island for travel, work and family -- to Singapore for freediving and conservation, to Dumaguete for an organizational meeting, and to Manila, Davao and Cebu for family reunions. Additionally, I have initiated a citizen science project on the conservation of marine turtles around the island and have been completing a Master's course on freediving, all whilst keeping my employers happy, running on island time, and working out relationship drama.

Unlike other beaches, Alona Beach has always given me mixed feelings. Its turquoise waters are somewhat tempting but its boat traffic is always discouraging. But then, I haven't really spent enough time uncovering its secret pockets.
(I don't have enough pictures from Panglao so I am stealing this from ProbinsyaLeavesTown)

Although I've always had a love-hate relationship with the island -- its lack of exciting activities and of social opportunities balanced by its optimal freediving conditions and accessibility to both beach and city life -- I do consider it as my new home, akin to Manila. It has introduced me to a new reality, enabled me towards unthinkable achievements and forced me to overcome myself. Unfortunately, similar to Manila, I feel like it is becoming too comfortable, too familiar and too near and that I should soon get out.

And so, I have started considering new destinations -- trips that would force me back to my detailed itineraries and to my wide-eyed gazes, trips that would challenge my street smarts and my world ideals, and trips that would anger me to my limit or comfort me towards restful sleep. Regardless, I would like to continue living a semi-nomadic lifestyle of almost settling down before setting back out.

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Back in 2015, I remember proclaiming to a fellow nomad in our Kyoto house that I am pursuing a sustainable travel lifestyle and would like to travel continuously for at least two years. Well, at least half of that statement has come true. It's probably high time that I pursue that second half.

Rediscovering Freediving

For three weeks now, I have been based out of Panglao Island, Bohol as I expand my comfort levels in freediving. It so far remains extremely terrifying and surreal, with each dive a battle against underwater pressure and self-doubt. However, I have happily made strong progress both in skill and in enjoyment. And although my motivation for pursuing freediving continues to be vague, the path towards it is now clearer than when I first discovered it.

Freediving is both a competitive and a recreational sport wherein participants hold their breath and dive underwater to depths of up to 200m (656ft). Of course, not all freedivers dive that deep and most enjoy freediving as simply holding their breath for a few seconds and diving down to 10m (33ft). In any case, the activity is best enjoyed at a personal level, with athletes competing against themselves than against each other.

Taken during the Asian Freediving Cup at Panglao, Bohol by Kohei Ueno. My first exposure to a freediving competition, I immerse in the water with only a mask and a snorkel amidst expert freedivers with wetsuits and long fins.

It was back in 2015 when I first discovered freediving in Moalboal, Cebu. I knew very little about it but the idea of diving with no attached equipment and at my own pace and will convinced me that it was how I want to explore the underwater world. So after a 2.5-day AIDA 2-star course, which culminated in a 17m (56ft) dive and a sea turtle sighting, I saw a whole new world open up for me.

Taken by Nicolas Foubert in Moalboal, Cebu. Ascending from a 10-meter (33-feet) dive on a single breath, I felt contented and didn't imagine daring to go deeper.

However, just like graduating from university, the next step after finishing the course was unclear. I wanted to use my new-found underwater exploration skills but I had no one to freedive with.

Nevertheless, I held on to my budding interest and started designing my travels around freediving schools. This made it easier to decide where my next destination will be and also safer to practice freediving. Still, doing coached dives with freedive instructors in and out of the Philippines, although enjoyable, didn't really match my initial idea of what freediving is for. It felt like I wasn't getting the most out of it.

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It wasn't until a fun dive session in Napaling, Panglao that I rediscovered joy in freediving. I was with a more experienced freediver, which made me feel safe as I know he can rescue me in case something happens, and challenged as I didn't want to appear sloppy and incapable. We dived through swim-through's, up and down a reef wall, over colorful corals, and through a small school of sardines. I felt graceful, relaxed, and amazed. I remembered every skill I learned and used them to move effortlessly and enjoyably underwater. It was pure joy. After that, I started dreaming of becoming better, of staying underwater longer, and of doing more fun dives like this.

Taken by Gert Leroy in Napaling, Panglao. I stay a couple of seconds underwater, letting the water push my body upwards as I examine the different sensations occurring inside.

I thought then that that was the goal: freediving for underwater exploration. But the more I thought about it, the more it felt incomplete -- like it was just one side of the coin. More so, I realized how I am not really looking at marine life underwater but looking at myself inwardly.

Unexpectedly, opportunities for training and for more freediving came up. I suddenly found myself along this path that demanded so much discomfort yet imparted so much amazement. I was doing something I have never imagined I could and it was slowly becoming part of my comfort zone.

Taken by Gert Leroy in Napaling, Panglao. I head towards the surface as my legs start to burn and my lungs crave for fresh oxygen after achieving a new 25-meter (82-feet) PB*.

So I trudged on. And from looking at freediving as a means of exploring the underwater, I look at it now as a means of discovering myself. Further, from being an impressionable audience at the most-awaited freediving competition in Asia, I am now a hopeful participant at the last depth competition this year in Panglao.

I may still be considered a beginner freediver who takes pleasure in the idea of looking more bad-ass than scuba divers, but I am also now a competitive freediver who finds so much joy in reaching new depths. Nonetheless, freediving will always equate to exploration, be it of underwater seascapes or of my innermost tendencies.

Taken by Gert Leroy on a fun dive session in Barracuda Lake, Coron. I dive down to 12m to check out what limestone formations are hiding beneath. If this video takes too long to load, check this out instead ;)

A post shared by Gert Leroy (@gertleroy) on Aug 1, 2017 at 3:58am PDT

*Personal Best: In depth disciplines, this refers to the deepest that a freediver has gone to without blacking out or losing motor control.