With an extraordinary diversity of life and natural beauty found in its coral reefs and rainforests, the Philippines is a bucket-list destination for divers the world over. Underwater photographer and journalist Lorenzo Moscia shares his adventure to the provinces of Cebu, Negros and Siquijor of the Visayas Islands and the remarkable resilience of its people.
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In November 2013, the most powerful typhoon ever recorded hit land, razing the town of Tacloban to the ground. A week later, I was on the first flight carrying doctors and members of the press from Manila. It was my first time in the Philippines, and I could not help but fall in love with the people, seeing how they faced the worst moment of their lives without resignation, always with hope and sometimes even a smile.
Over the years, I have returned to the Philippines to do other work for various NGOs in places between Manila and Bohol. Having developed a love for scuba diving, I did some diving in the Panglao and Alona areas in 2017 and was fascinated by the beauty and richness of the depths.
In November 2024, I went to the Philippines on holiday for the first time, taking my 24-year-old son with me. What follows is a travelogue of those days. (See the video.)
Moalboal
Moalboal was the first destination we wanted to visit, where I wanted to immerse myself in the sea and leave behind a difficult year, and where my son would try to forget an impossible love affair. The best way to get to Moalboal was to fly directly to Cebu and avoid Manila.
Coming from Rome, with a stopover of a couple of hours in Taipei, we arrived at Cebu’s fantastic and very well-organised international airport at 11.30 a.m. Customs clearance and baggage collection were very quick, and after a couple of hours in a van (for a fee of 40 euros), we arrived at our hotel overlooking the sea. The next day, I was in the water for my first two dives in the Tañon Strait.
If, at first, the small town of Moalboal seems a little anonymous and lacking in points of interest, don’t worry, as its real strength lies in what can be found beneath the waves. This is home to the world’s largest sardine population. Millions of tiny fish dance non-stop, alternating between sudden movements, quick changes of direction and spiralling tornadoes of individuals lost in the endless blue. As I waded into the sardine school with my camera, I sometimes felt dizzy just watching the perfectly synchronised dance of thousands of individual fish around me, captivated by how nature knows how to surprise us.
Oslob
The next day, we headed south to the opposite side of Cebu Island and the strait overlooking the big island of Bohol. Our destination was the town of Oslob, whose main attraction was the chance to snorkel with a community of whale sharks. The wake-up call (at the suggestion of the manager of the small bed and breakfast where we were staying) was 3 a.m., so that we could buy our tickets quickly and avoid the endless queues that started at the crack of dawn.
However, we were not the only ones to receive this advice. When we arrived, more than a hundred people were already queuing in front of us, sitting and waiting for the ticket office to open. The queue behind us grew rapidly, and it was around 4 a.m. by the time we got back to our hut after buying our tickets, so we could start getting ready to be on the beach by 6 a.m.
We arrived at the beach at the appointed time to find a chaotic mass of tourists, all armed with action cam sticks, mobile phones in waterproof pouches, fins, masks and life jackets. It was essentially a giant assembly line where you would eventually get to see whale sharks whose natural migration had been diverted so that the sharks would be “confined” to a limited area.
Dozens of small rowing catamarans sailed out to sea, each carrying a dozen tourists ready to experience their encounter with these giant, peaceful creatures. The latter were attracted to the surface by the food thrown to them from special small boats in which one or two people were equipped with basins of shrimp. About a hundred metres from the shore, we had our first encounter.
Transition to tourism
The fishermen had made the transition from an economy based on fishing various species, including whale sharks, to one based on tourism. They no longer fished on the reefs off Oslob but instead fed the whale sharks in specially designated areas—areas that did not correspond to the natural areas in other parts of the country where they would normally be found feeding.
The animals were no longer fished for their meat and fins but exploited to thrill tourists, who often came into contact with them despite the rules about not touching the sharks and keeping their distance. In addition, most of the sharks had scars on their bodies, probably from collisions with the many boats in the area. The decrease in fishing may have indeed led to a better ecological state of the reef, but it seemed to me that the man-made feeding grounds had caused damage to the reef due to the constant presence of sharks and tourists.
Although I participated in this whale shark encounter as a tourist and understood the importance of this activity for many of the local people involved, I believe that there is a need for greater protection of these beautiful and fascinating animals. The experience lasted about 40 minutes, after which we disembarked on the beach to make way for the next group.
Dauin
The same day, we left Oslob for Dauin and loaded our luggage onto a bicycle taxi, which took us to the ferry embarkation point. After about 40 minutes, we arrived in Dumaguete. In Dauin, I met up with Alex, who was an old Spanish friend of mine and a dive guide.
I met Alex in Alona in 2017 when he was working in a small dive centre and was my guide for a dive. We became fast friends and never lost touch over the years. A few months ago, he left Alona to open his brand new dive centre in Dauin with his friend Luis. The welcome party could not have been better. We settled down to drink and eat on the beach by his dive centre, swapping stories from our lives over the past seven years.
Apo
The plan for the next day was to meet early and board a large raft similar to a motor catamaran, a typical vessel in these parts, which would take us on a 40-minute ride to the small island of Apo. Here, we did three dives at three different sites, and the scenes underwater were amazing, with an infinite variety of fish and corals in excellent condition.
My son, after overcoming a few doubts, made the first dive of his life. He confessed to me afterwards that he was so moved by the experience that he felt like crying and wanted to do another dive immediately.
Thanks to Alex’s professionalism and experience, my son became more and more familiar with diving, and I found him at 10 metres in the middle of a sea of fish. Alex had to grab him by the arm so that he would not go too deep.
The next day, we did one last shore dive at Dauin, in a realm made for macro photography, where we observed various nudibranchs, lionfish and moray eels. We said goodbye to the cheerful group of Spaniards, after feasting on some of their mega tortillas, and headed for the small, paradisiacal island of Siquijor, considered to be the most mysterious and mystical island in the Philippines.
Siquijor
On arrival, we immediately rented a scooter, which was the best way to get around the island and visit its hidden corners, including beautiful coral beaches, waterfalls and mountain viewpoints. According to legend, Siquijor emerged from the sea after a storm and earthquake hit the Visayan region. In modern times, highland farmers have found giant shells on their agricultural lands, supporting this legend. Named “Isla del Fuego” by the first Spaniards who set foot on the island in 1565 because of the eerie glow given off by the large swarms of fireflies that lived in the many molave trees, the island has always been regarded by many Filipinos as “haunted”.
When the Spanish colonised the Philippines in the 16th century, they introduced the Catholic religion but also a belief in medieval witchcraft. After a few years, witchcraft became taboo, except in Siquijor, where it persists and is still practised today. The lack of any means for healing at that time had given way to despair, while the arrival of new hope had opened the doors of every Filipino family. As a result, the animist culture mixed with a new belief in medieval magic and the Christian religion, giving rise to the indigenous healing practices called “tambal na Bisaya”.
The only dive I did in Siquijor was from the shore, in the company of Jun Jun, a local who wore his hair in dreadlocks. We admired several sea turtles. One came very close as it munched on some coral.
Final impressions
After four days, we left Siquijor. It had been an ideal time to explore different sites in this corner of nature, with the promise of returning to explore it further—especially its seabed, as the island has more than 50 dive sites. Following a four-hour ferry ride, we disembarked in Cebu to take a plane back home.
After almost two weeks in the Philippines, we left behind the beautiful seas and, most precious of all, the smiles and genuine friendliness of the people. I could not agree more with the words we saw painted on the tarmac when we landed at the airport in Manila: “It’s much more fun in the Philippines!” ■
See the video, Philippines Under-water 2025, by Lorenzo Moscia.
Special thanks go to Dauin Diving Center.
