Philippines: Visayas & Negros Revisited

On my fifth visit to the Philippines, I chose to begin my trip at a dive location that is still relatively unexplored: Anda, at the southeastern tip of the island of Bohol. I departed from Rome, with a stopover in Taipei, one of the most convenient and functional airports in Asia, before landing in Cebu. It was a practical choice, allowing me to avoid the traffic of Manila and gradually enter the archipelago.

Cebu’s airport was modern and well-organised. After a short transfer, I reached the port and boarded a ferry bound for Tagbilaran, the capital of Bohol. From there, the journey continued by land, about two hours along the coast, passing through small towns and stretches of sea that appeared suddenly. 

The Filipinos’ enduring spirit

I first encountered the Filipino people in 2013, at their darkest moment, after the devastating super typhoon Haiyan (Yolanda) destroyed the city of Tacloban. It was one of the Philippines’ deadliest and strongest typhoons ever recorded in terms of wind speed, killing at least 6,300 people in the Visayas alone. (Ed. – See Lorenzo Moscia’s profound and heartrending video documentary about the devastating impact of Typhoon Haiyan that hit Tacloban on Leyte Island in the Eastern Visayas region in November 2013.)

Over time, I grew to love them for their resilience and courage in those days, and for the way the local people who had lost everything faced such a disaster. They welcomed me into their homes and always looked out for me. Fourteen years later, they have not changed. Having travelled half the world, I believe Filipinos are perhaps the people I love most for the way they face life with calm and joy, and never with resignation.

During my latest visit to the region, I often found myself in spontaneous situations where I was invited, without any pretence, to improvised karaoke sessions. All it took was a phone, a speaker, a microphone and a few beers to have an amazing time and forget life’s troubles.

Diving and photography

I arrived in Anda late in the evening, when the village was already immersed in silence. The sea at Anda was accessible and uncrowded. My first encounter with sea turtles took place at a depth of about 15m at a “cleaning station”, where they lie peacefully on the seabed accompanied by remoras attached to their shells.

I normally do not use underwater strobes on my travels, as I have always preferred to use lamps or torches that provide continuous lighting during video shoots. However, the intensity of the light produced by the strobes in terms of lumens was much higher than the power generated by the video lamps, so the window of creative possibilities in terms of photography increased significantly.

My rig included a Canon R5 camera with an 8-15mm or 35mm macro lens. I attached two articulated arms to the housing, on which I mounted a lamp for shooting video and a strobe.

Initially, I struggled to find the right exposure in relation to the variable power of the strobe, and I was unable to be precise in choosing the strobe positions. I discovered that, for some photographs, it was even better not to use the video lamp too much. The best results were obtained with backlighting, leaving the sun in the background, underexposing the scene and moving the strobe to angles that accentuated the three-dimensionality of the centre of attention.

Topside excursions

In addition to the underwater world, Anda also offers numerous beaches, the most famous of which is Quinale Beach, which stretches for kilometres. Characterised by fine white sand, it is managed by the local government and stands out for the care and cleanliness of the coast, as well as the absence of entrance fees, making it an accessible destination for everyone. Despite several downpours that compromised the visibility of the seabed, Anda left me with a positive impression.

On the way back to Tagbilaran, I made a short stop to observe some local rice fields, typical of the agricultural landscape of Bohol, and to have a close encounter with the Philippine tarsier (Carlito syrichta), one of the smallest and most peculiar primate species in the world. These primates, known for their large eyes, ability to rotate their heads 180 degrees and nocturnal predatory skills, are a fascinating example of the Philippines’ endemic biodiversity.

Alona Beach: Chronicle of a transformation

Shifting from a divers’ retreat to a mass tourist destination, the years since I had last visited Panglao Island had changed the face of Alona Beach. I had previously been to Alona in 2017. Returning eight years later and walking along that beach, which I remembered as intimate and relaxed, was an alienating experience. With every step, I had a hard time recognising it.

Alona Beach is located on the island of Panglao, connected to Bohol by a short bridge. At the time of my first trip, it was an ideal retreat for those seeking extraordinary coral reefs—with diving in the small, protected neighbouring islands of Pamilacan and Boracay—but also a place to slow down. With a few informal bars, some small restaurants on the sand and massages by the sea, everything followed a simple, almost spontaneous rhythm.

In December 2025, that scene appeared to me to have changed profoundly, as if 30 or more years had passed. Alona had exploded under the weight of property speculation. Seven-storey hotels and even taller ones lined the beach, while new structures continued to cluster along the coast, clearly redefining the coastline’s profile.

Before 2017, Alona was a quiet beach, frequented mainly by European travellers, divers and backpackers. There were a few large hotels, and nightlife was almost non-existent. This balance began to shift with one specific event: the opening of Bohol-Panglao International Airport in 2018.

The new airport, which replaced the old Tagbilaran airport, has made the area easily accessible to international flights. Regular connections soon began, particularly from South Korea, with airlines such as Air Busan, Jin Air and Air Seoul. Alona has thus become one of the first beaches you can reach upon landing.

A building boom

With the increase in international traffic, the density of resorts and accommodation facilities has grown steadily. Bars, restaurants, shops and tourist services are concentrated along the road leading to the beach, while the natural atmosphere that had characterised Alona has given way to an increasingly commercial and standardised environment, which now also includes a large McDonald’s.

In addition, between 2023 and 2024, large projects by regional chains arrived, such as the JPark Island Resort Alona and the Grand Summit Panglao, complexes with hundreds of rooms that definitively mark the change in scale of the destination.

This often-unregulated growth has had obvious consequences: Arbitrary fencing off of public spaces, buildings constructed too close to the coastline, and concessions granted with little regulation. It is therefore not surprising that Alona is now the focus of criticism regarding the overexploitation of the land and environmental impact.

Impacts of mass tourism

Walking along the beach, comparisons with the past were inevitable. Alona continued to attract visitors from all over the world, but the feeling was that, in just a few years, it had sacrificed a significant part of its identity on the altar of mass tourism.

I had difficulty recognising the small Piratas Dive Center owned by my Spanish friend Alberto, which once stood almost isolated on the beach. I remember that in 2017, after diving, I was invited to a barbecue behind the dive centre, among palm trees and a few huts ringed with hammocks. Now the dive centre was surrounded by concrete. On one side was one of the many 7-Eleven shops, on the other, a four-storey hotel.

Since 2017, Alona has also seen a radical change in water sports. Whereas activities were once limited to diving, snorkelling and a few boat trips to nearby islands, today the beach is home to more “disposable” tourism. The introduction of powerful motorboats has paved the way for a range of extreme sports: parasailing, banana boating, flyboarding and jet skiing are now the order of the day.

The intense motorboat traffic has increased the risk of accidents, and, unfortunately, some tourists have lost their lives in recent years, mainly due to poor regulation and failure to respect safety zones. The sea, once a place of calm and peaceful diving, has become a noisy and crowded arena, where extreme fun coexists with real risks.

Despite all these changes, which have transformed Anda into a kind of Las Vegas of the sea, the seabed remains breathtaking, even if you often have to literally elbow your way through other divers to try and take an underwater shot.

Dauin and Apo: Fisheye and macro at its best

After four days in Anda, I was ready to return to Tagbilaran and embark for Dumaguete, on the island of Negros. Here, another Spanish friend, Alex, was waiting for me. Together with Luis, he had recently opened a dive centre in the coastal town of Dauin, a few kilometres south of Dumaguete, called Dauin Diving Center.

My arrival in Dauin immediately opened up new perspectives. The area was famous for its underwater reefs, rich in macro life, and for its gentle currents, which make diving peaceful and always surprising. We decided to start our first dives on Apo Island, which I had previously explored last year, about 40 minutes by boat from Dauin.

A year ago, I did not use a strobe. I used two lamps and worked with a 10-20mm lens on my Canon R5 camera. This setup was great for videos but cumbersome for still photos, especially because it required more attention to avoid placing human subjects too close to the edges of the frame.

This year, the difference was made by the Sea&Sea strobe, which I was slowly falling in love with. Underwater, I was slow and indecisive in my choices: whether to shoot video or photography, whether to use the lamp or the flash. It was never a foregone conclusion, especially on the rich and colourful reefs of Apo, where corals, schools of fish and small nudibranchs followed one another without respite. The experience required concentration and quick decisions to enhance the subject without altering the natural environment. 

I took a lot of photos. Sometimes I got the exposure wrong, and other times the strobe did not fire, but I managed to bring home a decent series of shots and a few minutes of decent video footage after three intense dives in the magical waters of Apo Island.

Shore diving

The second day was dedicated to shore dives in the Dauin area, one of the world’s most renowned destinations for macro photography. The sandy seabed of volcanic origin provided an ideal habitat for extraordinary benthic biodiversity. Alex proved himself to be a true specialist in identifying cryptic fauna, spotting a specimen of wonderpus (Wunderpus photogenicus), a cephalopod characterised by brown and white banded livery and long, extremely flexible tentacles. This species was known for its ability to mimic the movements of potentially dangerous marine organisms, using mimicry as a defensive strategy.

A short distance away, I was also alerted to the presence of a mimic octopus (Thaumoctopus mimicus), one of the most fascinating and well-studied species due to its extraordinary behavioural mimicry abilities. This octopus is capable of imitating up to 15 different species, including lionfish, flatfish, and sea snakes, adapting its posture and movements to perceived threats.

On to Malapascua: Realm of the thresher shark

Crossing the central Visayas from Dauin to Malapascua means moving from a volcanic coastal environment to one of the most unique pelagic hotspots in the Indo-Pacific. After exploring the Twin Lakes Natural Park, featuring two volcanic lakes nestled in the mountainous interior of eastern Negros, the journey continued to Malapascua.

From the port of Dumaguete, the main maritime hub of eastern Negros, a ferry crosses the strait separating Negros from the island of Cebu, landing at Liloan on the southeastern coast. The crossing, which is relatively short but often subject to waves and cross currents, represents the first real change of scenery, with the entry into one of the busiest maritime corridors in the central Philippines.

From Liloan, the long overland journey up the island of Cebu began on a road that ran the entire length of the island from south to north. The transfer passed through densely populated areas, coastal stretches and rural areas, taking several hours to reach the port of Maya, the last point of access to Malapascua. This often-underestimated logistical segment contributed significantly to the island’s isolation and the relative preservation of its dive sites.

From Maya, the last leg of the journey was made aboard a bangka, a traditional boat with side outriggers (katig), designed to ensure high transverse stability and low draught. These characteristics are essential for navigating over the coral reef without damaging it and for dive support operations, particularly during night or dawn departures, when the sea is still dark, and conditions can change rapidly.

Malapascua owes its international fame to Monad Shoal, a submerged plateau that rises abruptly from depths of over 200m to around 20-24m. This particular morphology creates a direct interface between the deep pelagic environment and the shallow platform, favouring the formation of stable cleaning stations over time.

It is here that the pelagic thresher shark (Alopias pelagicus) makes daily ascents from the deep blue in the early hours of dawn. Observing this rare and highly specialised behaviour is only possible thanks to rigorously planned dives, conducted with neutral buoyancy, immobility and total respect for the animal.

Malapascua is now an emblematic case study for advanced diving: a place where geomorphology, pelagic currents and animal behaviour converge in an exceptional way. It is not simply an iconic destination, but a site where every dive is a conscious observation of a fragile, repeated and extraordinarily precise biological ritual.

Final thoughts

Although there has been a building boom and an increase in mass tourism at Alona Beach since my last visit due to the new international airport, diving in Bohol still offers rich rewards, with several sightings of sea turtles, as well as a diverse range of intriguing critters. The beauty of the reefs and marine life at Dauin and Apo Island still fascinates, especially for macro photography, while the chance to encounter thresher sharks at Malapascua Island was captivating. My return to the region deepened my appreciation not only for the beauty of the coral reefs and marine life, but also for the enduring spirit and resilience of the people who live there. ■

See the video Philippines Underwater by Lorenzo Moscia.

Special thanks to Dauin Dive Center and Piratas Dive Center.