The Joy of Doing Nothing

November 2012
Maricaban Bay, Busuanga, Palawan, Philippines


I sailed into beautiful Maricaban Bay, Busuanga, Palawan on a full moon and left on a full moon.

I spent almost 5 weeks living by myself in Paraluman in my favorite place in the Philippines, in clear blue waters ringed with lush rolling hills. Alone but never lonely, my days were dictated not by my To Do list or the traffic situation, but by the weather, the sun and the moon.

View from Hunter's Peak. Paraluman is the faint blue line.

I start each day by watching the sunrise and end with the sunset. On calm windless days, I swim laps around the reef, kayak to the mangroves or snorkel with the friendly resident school of jacks. On cool windy days, I run on the beach, climb Hunter’s Peak for a panoramic view of the bay or wrestle the sand rake from the maintenance guy so I can rake the beach myself. Then I go to work- load fresh water, refill fuel tanks, charge the batteries, operate the generator. I clean Paraluman inside and out, and Putol, my trusty dinghy. Cook, wash the dishes, do the laundry. Read the news, check email and manage the city household remotely. During the hottest hours of unbearably scorching days, I take a nap as moving alone becomes an effort. Without planning to, I lose weight and get stronger in a way that I couldn’t in Manila despite hours in the gym and watching what I eat.

In between all that, I sit around a lot doing nothing. I sit in the cockpit or on the bow, following the shade during the day and anywhere at night. I sit for hours looking around me, not reading a book or checking my phone or laptop. I stare at the same things everyday yet everything looks different each time. I see the ever changing colors and textures of the water, the different fish that surround my boat, the mangroves and mountains, the clouds and the sky. I listen to the silence, the sound of water, the whistling of the wind. I discover a lot of new music, veering away from my usual favorites and widening my repertoire from Rachmaninov to Jericho Rosales. Sometimes I close my eyes and just breathe the fresh air, let it fill my lungs, and feel the wind against my skin. I marvel at each sunrise and sunset and the almost imperceptible changes in the moon. At night, it is a toss up between staring up at the moon and counting the shooting stars, or looking down and watching the bioluminescence play in the water. I’ve redefined the meaning of being busy, where sitting around and doing nothing represent doing something, and which I learn to enjoy tremendously.

My daily sunrise

I simplify my life- turn off my refrigerator to save my batteries and use a cooler instead, give myself a pedicure because the nearest salon is 2 hours away by water and land, cook the simplest but delicious and nutritious meals, cut down my 7-step beauty regimen to 2- all for the sake of being able to do more of doing nothing. I lose my attachment to my gadgets and the need to constantly check for text messages, email and Facebook.

My mind remains sharp and constantly in tune with Paraluman, her sounds, her creaks and groans, and my surroundings. Without my husband, Raul, I start out anxious but eventually become confident with my new responsibilities- inspecting my mooring lines, scanning the horizon for weather, checking the weather report, understanding battery charge levels, double checking everything before I sleep at night. I am ready for any wind condition as going from zero to 20 knots without warning is a constant occurrence. I get used to sleeping at night in all situations whether it’s in sweltering heat or with howling winds outside rocking my boat. I learn from my mistakes such as when I almost burned down the boat or I once lost Putol at night (I found her 100 meters away). I learn to be independent and fend for Paraluman and myself. I stop making unnecessary distress calls to Raul.

My friendly neighbors let me swim up very close to them.

Non-typical days mean diving in Apo Reef in its 30-meter visibility and sharks and turtles, nearby Tara Islands with its ridges upon ridges of spectacular hard and soft coral gardens, or in one of the 14 fascinating Japanese World War 2 shipwrecks; snorkeling in Club Paradise with its friendly pawikans; a trip to Coron market to replenish my food supply; or a weekend visit from Raul.

When I feel like exercising my vocal chords, I motor over with Putol to Port Caltom’s Reef Bar at the end of the pier, 200 meters away. It is where tourists and locals alike congregate either for a sundowner or an after dinner drink. Here a casual nod or smile to strangers leads to delightful conversation and happy unforgettable moments. This is where I learn magic tricks, brain twisters and new cocktail mixes from the bartender, brush up on my German with tourists and learn how to dance poi from the dive instructor- my active versions of doing nothing.

There is never a moment of boredom or wondering what to do with so much time in my hands. Yet I end my trip with many things I planned to do still undone- my kiteboarding gear, folding bike and TRX equipment never left the storage room, my yoga mat still in its bag, a pile of books and movies untouched, recipe books I wanted to try unopened. Before I know it, the moon is full again and it is time to go back to the city. I leave with body, mind and spirit refreshed.  


Sailing notes: I moored in El Rio y Mar Resort in Maricaban Bay. It is in a protected natural harbor, yacht-friendly, has moorings for short or long term stays, with the friendliest staff and, best of all, a fantastic bar out in the water at the end of the pier. I have another post here about this place.