cumbled after comedy night in cebu (and it’s still 27 degrees at midnight)

okay look. i flew here for a ‘micro-tour’ that was supposedly three nights, four days of guaranteed laughs. my promoter sent me a list of ‘must-visit supper clubs’ that all looked like they were decorated by a very optimistic pirate. i’m currently sweating through my only clean polo shirt on the balcony of a ‘guesthouse’ that definitely used to be somebody’s garage, staring at a power grid that looks like a bowl of neon spaghetti.

*the weather here isn’t weather, it’s a full-time mood. i just checked and it's… just sitting on your skin, hope you like that kind of thing. it’s 27.2°c but feels like someone wrapped you in a damp blanket and said ‘congrats, you’re a human soup now.’ the humidity is at 68%, which means my hair has achieved a level of structural integrity previously only seen in architectural models. the only thing drier than my mouth is my comedy material.

last night’s gig was at a place called ‘the gig box.’ it’s a literal shipping container with a stage. i did a set about being single in cebu to five very polite, very bored locals and a dutch tourist who just kept nodding. after, a guy named ‘mike’ who claimed to manage the venue (he was wiping down the single table) gave me the best piece of advice: ‘don’t tell jokes about sinulog. they’ll think you’re police.’ noted.

food, oh man. i followed a rumor down an alley near colon street-someone told me that the best lechon isn’t at the fancy spots but from a lady named ‘aling Nora’ who sets up at 4am by the public market. i found her. she had a whole pig on a spit that looked like it had seen some things. i got a chunk. it was the crispiest, most unapologetically pork thing i’ve ever put in my face. if you’re here, you need to find her on a local food board like this one. just look for the longest line of tricycle drivers. that’s the review.

if you get bored, the beaches are just a short boat ride away. moalboal or oslob are the names you’ll hear. i’m too tired to do the whale sharks. i saw a guy on facebook marketplace offering ‘whale shark viewing + instagram photoshoot for p1500.’ the comments were a war between ‘overpriced’ and ‘it’s a once in a lifetime.’ i think i’ll just go to the magellan’s cross and try to feel historical. good luck with that.

here’s what i overheard in the line for iced coffee at this chain place (don’t judge me, i needed the caffeine):

> ‘…and then she told him his aura was beige. like, beige. what does that even mean? he cried.’

> ‘you have to try the dried mango from the sari-sari by the jeepney stop. the one with the blue door. they put sugar on it after. diabetic, but happy.’

speaking of jeepneys, i tried to flag one down for an hour. they’re all packed like clown cars full of smiling strangers. i eventually just walked. the traffic here isn’t traffic, it’s a living organism that breathes exhaust and blares horns in a random, joyful symphony. you just have to step into it and become part of the flow. or get run over. 50/50.

my ‘hotel’ (the garage) has a rooftop that looks onto a bunch of other rooftops. one has a whole family sleeping on mats under a single bulb. another has a man practicing guitar scales with terrifying precision. it’s all just… life. no polished instagram feeds here. just raw, humid, brilliant mess.

you should know: the sea level pressure is 1010 hpa, which apparently means ‘stable weather.’ i don’t feel stable. i feel like i’m melting. but in a nice way.

going to try and sleep now with the fan on ‘tornado’ setting. tomorrow i might just find a beach and sit. no jokes. just the sand* between my toes and a coconut with a straw in it. maybe i’ll finally understand what ‘island time’ means. probably not. here’s a thread from a travel forum where someone asked about safety around theSRP that’s a wild read.

anyway. the city name is cebu. it’s hot. it’s loud. it’s real. i think i like it.

colorful jeepney parked on a busy street in cebu city with palm trees

lechon on a spit being carved at a street stall

crowded public market in the philippines with hanging fish

cumbled after comedy night in cebu (and it’s still 27 degrees at midnight)

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About the author: Clara Moon

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