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Jolo, Sulu: A Drummer's Dehydrated Rant on Humidity, Rumors, and Bad Wi-Fi

@Topiclo Admin3/23/2026blog

i landed in jolo on a tuesday after a 12-hour ferry from zamboanga. my hands were still buzzing from the last gig in manila where i was subbing for this indie band that wanted a 'natural' drum sound - whatever that means. the port hit me with a wall of heat that felt like a sauna built inside a compost heap. i checked my phone: 26.44°C, humidity 79%, and the 'feels like' was exactly the same. that's not a coincidence; it's just the universe mocking my decision to tour the southern philippines in a denim jacket (don't ask). the air was so thick i could've drummed on it.


i dragged my 22-inch bass drum (yeah, i travel with that behemoth) to the hotel i found on TripAdvisor - which had a 2.3 star rating because 'the wifi is slower than a snail on vacation.' i should've known. the room had a view of a row of parked tricycles and a stray dog that i nicknamed 'snare' because he had a patch over one eye and a posture that reminded me of a drum throne. the floor was sticky, like someone spilled a giant soda and never cleaned it. i set up my practice pad on the bed because the carpet smelled like fish sauce left in the sun. i found the place on Airbnb, but for eats i always check Yelp for the best lechon spots. there's also a local forum called Jolo Insider where you can find tips.

i'm here because i got a call from a friend who's producing a folk duo called 'the sultan's shadow.' they needed a drummer who could play with a 'subtle, earthy vibe' - i told them i could do subtle as long as there's a coffee shop within a 5-mile radius. there isn't. just endless rows of rumah sapi (those traditional thatched-roof houses) that look like they'd float away in a decent breeze. the band practices in a community hall that has this weird echo that makes every hit on the snare sound like a gunshot. i had to bring my own mutes, which of course i forgot the right ones at home. the local drum shop (yes, there's one, run by a guy named choi) sells second-hand gear that's probably older than me. he told me: 'i heard that the last foreign drummer who came here left his entire kit because the humidity warped the shells beyond recognition.' i laughed until i saw the drum set we had to use - a glossy red sparkle that had more cracks than a broken sidewalk.

someone told me that the best chicken inasal in town is at a place called 'ate myrna's' but be careful: 'the portion sizes are huge but if you ask for extra rice they charge you like you're trying to buy the farm.' i tried it anyway. the chicken was smoky, spicy, and came with a side of sinigang that made my nose run so bad i thought i was drowning. a local at the next table leaned over and said, 'you know, they say jolo's road to peace is paved with good intentions and better adobo.' i nodded while wiping my brow. the humidity turned my shirt into a second skin.

i've been here three days and the weather hasn't changed. it's just 26.44 degrees and 79% humidity all the time. i pulled up my weather app and it's a steady 26.44°C with 79% humidity today, no shock there. i spent an hour trying to tune the toms, but the drumheads absorb moisture like a sponge and constantly go flat. i swear i can hear the humidity laughing at my tuning key.


the neighbors? well, jolo sits on a little island off the sulu sea, and if you get bored, tawi-tawi's island chain is just a short bangka (outrigger boat) ride away. i heard that over there, they have this beach where the sand glows at night because of bioluminescent plankton. i'm tempted to skip the next rehearsal to chase that, but my bandleader would probably hunt me down with a bolo knife.


i overheard a snippet at the market: '...the military checkpoints are heavy after dark, so don't even think about wandering after 9pm unless you want to be questioned for three hours about your drum pedals.' i'm not kidding. i'll stick to the room.


the food scene is a mix of malay, indonesian, and filipino influences. i tried a dish called 'tiyula itum' - a black soup that looks like something out of a nightmare but tastes like a campfire hug. someone told me that the secret ingredient is burnt coconut, which is apparently a thing here. i believe it. it gave me a weird craving for coal.

i also discovered a karaoke bar called 'voice of the volcano' where they blast classic rock at 3am. i think they opened it just to spite me. i tried to explain to the owner that i need sleep, but he said, 'drummer, you're the rhythm, you should love the noise.' i'm starting to think the whole town is in on some prank.


a tricycle driver warned me: 'if you order a fresh coconut, make sure they cut it in front of you. i heard that some vendors will refill old coconuts with water from the tap and charge you full price.' i learned that lesson the hard way, and trust me, tap water here tastes like seaweed and regret.


the internet is basically a myth. i can only send messages when the satellite aligns with jupiter or something. i've been using the downtime to sketch out beats in my notebook. the local kids are fascinated by my practice pad. they gather around and try to play, but they keep hitting the rim like a gong. i told them, 'you're supposed to strike the head, not the hoop, unless you want a concussion.' they just laughed and said, 'we like the kong sound!' i started a mini-drum circle on the sidewalk, and within minutes we had a crowd clapping along. it was beautiful until the barangay captain showed up and told us we were disturbing his afternoon nap. guess i can't spread rhythm everywhere.

i've also been comparing flight prices - getting out of jolo is a nightmare. the only plane out leaves at 5am and costs more than my entire gear combined. i might have to sell my snare to afford it. jk... maybe.


a couple of expats at the little cafe (the one with the questionable wifi) were debating: 'is it worth it to bring your own drum kit to a place like jolo? i heard that you can rent decent stuff in davao, but shipping here is a nightmare.' i'm leaning toward renting everything next time and just bringing my sticks and a practice pad.


anyway, i'm going to finish writing this while the power's still on (they cut it at 10pm). i've got rehearsal tomorrow with the sultan's shadow, and i need to figure out how to make a hi-hat sound with two sticks on a metal bucket. because that's what i have. humidity might've ruined my cymbals, but not my spirit. i'll update when i'm back in civilization, if civilization still exists. if not, i'll probably open a drum school here and teach the kids how to play 'we will rock you' on tin cans.

oh, and if you're ever in jolo, check out the little sari-sari store near the port that sells cold soda - they keep it in a clay pot filled with ice, and it's like nectar from the gods. but remember: ask for a straw that's actually clean. i heard that the first time i asked, they handed me a used one that was just rinsed. not cool. literally.

i'm calling it a night. tomorrow's another sticky day in paradise.

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About the author: Topiclo Admin

Writing code, prose, and occasionally poetry.

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