The Philippines: Winter Sun, Sea, and Quiet Observations

We came to the Philippines just after Christmas to escape winter — from -9°C in Seoul to +29°C in Cebu. Four hours later, on a direct flight, we landed on the tropical island alongside many Korean holidaymakers. Cebu felt very Korean-friendly: Hangul signs, familiar restaurants, and a sense of recognition in an otherwise new place.

After a long queue for taxis at the airport, we were finally on our way. Through the window of our Grab ride, we caught glimpses of local life — tuk-tuks and tricycles carrying people to their destinations. I found myself wondering where they were going and why, wanting to know more than what the eye could see. Even as a passing tourist, I wanted to notice, to capture what was there.

Our resort, Solea Mactan Beach Resort, was only a few kilometres from the airport, but the journey felt longer. The roads were bumpy, the pace slow. When we arrived after about forty minutes, we were immediately struck by how well the hotel was set up for children — right on the beach, with multiple pools, activity areas, large slides, and an inflatable obstacle course.

It felt strange to see Christmas decorations everywhere and hear All I Want for Christmas during breakfast in tropical heat. Christmas was very much present. The Philippines is known for having one of the longest Christmas seasons in the world, with decorations and festivities starting as early as September and often continuing well into the new year.

Filipinos are strikingly warm and friendly. The staff laughed together, showing a strong sense of community. For many, low wages mean that tips matter more than they should — a quiet reminder of the economic realities behind the smiles. Still, what stood out most was the openness and connection visible in everyday interactions.

As we drove around the island, contrasts appeared side by side. Modern malls, condominiums, and cafés resembling those in America or Korea stood close to informal housing — roadside shacks and inland settlements with limited infrastructure. Homes were built wherever survival allowed: near roads, rivers, or unused land, shaped by necessity rather than design. Alongside hardship, there was also resilience — strong family bonds, community interdependence, and a visible warmth that seemed to soften the edges of daily life.

The Philippines had long been on our list for its white beaches and snorkelling, and swimming with whale sharks, turtles, and colourful fish — even sardines — became an unforgettable highlight of our trip.

We rose at 4 a.m. to meet the whale sharks. The journey and the wait was long, but breakfast of coconut rice and mango kept us present. Tumalog Waterfalls offered a brief pause — tall and mesmerizing. At the pond below, small fish nibbled at our feet, making me twitch with laughter in a weird, natural fish spa experience.

Finally, we set out to sea. A whale shark brushed past, immense and gentle, its ancient presence both thrilling and unsettling. For a moment, I swam above it, so close I could almost touch — a reminder of how small we are in the midst of ocean’s vastness. Later, we snorkelled with sardines and turtles.

The next day, we explored smaller islands off Mactan on a private boat. Snorkelling together as a family among colourful fish on my daughter’s birthday was very special.  

As the year ended, New Year’s celebrations filled the hotel grounds. Food, music, dancing, and fireworks — the joy was everywhere. With new friends we met at the resort, we welcomed 2026 for the first time in tropical warmth.

The next day, we sought quiet. Shangri-La’s private beach and snorkelling in tranquil waters offered exactly what we needed — a peaceful pause before the year truly began.

Like everything, something ends and something begins. The week passed quickly, but we left with sunshine still lingering. Ready to return to Seoul — to routine, to normal life — and to whatever the new year might bring.