The Endless Conversation with Myself Continues Even When It Rains in Moalboal
On the internal dialogue between the frugal part and the adventurous part within me
📍 Moalboal, Philippines
When I sat on the flight from El Nido to Cebu, I couldn't imagine the next three dark hours waiting for me on the road. But before we get there, I've already told you about the breathtaking experiences in El Nido in my previous post, and now it's time to continue the journey.
From Cebu airport, I needed to get to Moalboal, a small town three hours away. In retrospect, I should have booked a night in Cebu City itself and taken a bus in the morning for 250 pesos, but I didn't think about it and paid 3,000 pesos for a taxi.
The self-criticism started immediately. I tried to remind myself that it was about $50, not the end of the world. I debated a lot whether to cancel the night I'd booked, stay another night in the city, because beyond the taxi price, it meant traveling three hours at night with a driver in a foreign country.
I shook off that fear and chose to get there as quickly as possible because time is money. Booking another night in the city, canceling the night I'd already booked, taking a taxi to the hotel and a bus the next morning might have been cheaper but more of a headache.
After three hours of almost completely dark driving, through unfamiliar paths, with quite a few people still awake despite it being midnight, and two episodes of the latest season of 'Tehran', we arrived.
At the wrong place.
"Are you sure this is it?" I asked the driver, as if deep down I knew the answer.
"Yes, 3 Sisters," he was already taking my suitcase out of the car.
"Wait, I'm checking the reservation again," I said while a scenario ran through my head of him leaving me here on a dark side street in the middle of the night with two suitcases.
"This isn't the place," I pointed to the map and showed him "Sisters Inn". "But it's only a 3-minute drive," I added, understanding he was probably more tired than me.
We arrived at the right hotel, where I met a tired clerk who greeted me with "Good morning" and started offering tours.
"Right now I just want to sleep, please don't sell me anything," I said with my biggest smile.
When I entered the room, I understood it was worth getting here immediately. It was the same room I'd treated myself to when I added an extra $6 per night and chose the Queen Suite. The only room that looked renovated, and I'll allow myself to say even Western. Everything was clean, shiny, spacious, pleasant. The shower was exactly what I needed, and the bed hugged me with love. I realized how much I missed cleanliness here.
Only in the morning did I realize what a disconnect there was between this polished room and the streets outside - those with no sidewalks and full of mud because it was raining. And how far it was from the first café I saw, which I entered to hide from the downpour. Beyond the amazing cold coffee with the purple fruit, I shared my table with ants, and told myself: "That's how it is on an island" or "You wanted to get out of your comfort zone, right? So take the mud and ants."
I scolded myself for being a spoiled princess, sorry - spoiled queen (that's the name of the room, I didn't make it up).
I don't understand why I'm so tormented. Every financial decision, every tour I book, every accommodation - everything feels full of guilt. It shouldn't be like this. I should enjoy being here, and I really do enjoy it, but I can't let go of the fact that I have no income and that I'm "just spending." This isn't me, it goes against my values, it's irresponsible, it's dangerous.
If there's a fear that drives me - it's this. Here it doesn't bother to hide, because it's simply realistic. The financial fear, that I won't have money, that I won't be able to do what I want, that I won't be able to fulfill my dream.
I think twice about prices. Even in the 'expensive' week in El Nido - where I spent 'a lot' on expensive attractions and restaurants - that whole week cost me $300. That's it.
"That's more than a month's rent!" shouts the voice in my head.
"Yes, but that's why I'm here! And I'm not disrespecting money, but $300 for a month's living expenses isn't a lot! What's wrong with you?!" answers the sane voice.
I'm trying to get used to thinking in terms of a nomad, of maximum savings, of setting boundaries, but maybe that's a mistake. Maybe I've already created a framework of general savings for myself - I decided there are things I don't want because they're expensive, and that I simply want inexpensive things, and they're within the possible framework, and that's okay.
Maybe I've already decided in advance that I don't compromise on attractions, because that's why I come all this way. And I don't skimp on food because eating healthy and tasty food is important to me. And on other things I give up in advance - on alcohol, on going out, on clothes. There are things I simply don't consume, and those I do - I need to feel free.
Sometimes it's enough to write thoughts down and give them air. Every time I remind myself of the real numbers instead of sinking into fears, everything becomes clearer. The choices I've made - giving up shopping and luxuries in favor of experiences and flavors - are simply right for me.
I'm sitting in the cafe, with ants around me, watching the rain pouring outside. This internal dialogue is part of my nomadic lifestyle just like my suitcase and my smart glasses. It follows me everywhere, varies in intensity, but is always present. And I understand that this is the real journey I'm on - not just the places I see, but also the endless conversations with myself along the way.
Your support helps me to continue experiencing new worlds and sharing them with you through my words. Sometimes, a single cup of coffee can make a difference.
Thank you for being part of this journey.
Who Am I? | The Journey Through Time | The Daily Journey
I was going the taxi, waiting with suitcase, arriving & travelling with you. Keep writing.