Fresh Buko

Growing up, I never liked coconut; mind you, I grew up in the mountains of Spain so I could hardly taste the real thing. It was either dessicated flakes placed on cakes or desserts attempting to imitate the flavour, in a sickeningly sweet way.

My first encounter with fresh coconut was at the kidney cleanse I did in Chiang Mai. I was becoming delirious after days of no eating and drinking mostly parsely juice, when the staff brought out a dripping cold glass. It had near freezing fresh coconut water with slabs of fresh coconut floating inside. I remember feeling bliss as I put it to my mouth but then again, I was starving and delirious so anything seemingly sweet and fleshy would've felt like heaven anyway, right?

Well, my full fledged love affair and veneration of fresh coconut has happened in Siargao. The coconut trees grow all around and so, when we want a fresh one, Romeo, who works here, climbs up and picks them off from underneath the tall palms! Now I understand why the trees have these step-looking cut slabs in the trunk. They are young, smooth and green on the outside. (I learn the hairy brown ones just mean they're old). They are filled with water and the meat is smooth and delicate - sometimes like a thin film. And so we grab a knife and slice the top off. Water spurts out and we collect the overflow in a bowl to chill for later. And with a special knife we cut the insides in circles to make fresh spaghetti-looking shapes. As I look out onto the clear waters before me, and the mangroves surrounding the house, I eat fresh coconut, or buko, as it is known here. Breakfast, dessert, snack ... it is a pure and healthy indulgence I feel I cannot live without now. How lucky to be able to drink nature's juice as it was intended.

Discover Siargao

Why is it that the harder and more arduous the journey, the more rewarding it feels? Why is it we all want to feel like we've discovered a place? At some point, you want to discover a place that is isolated, hard to get to, un-beknown to mass tourism and authentic. There's a place in the Philippines called Siargao that I like to think is this way. It used to take 2 days to get there from Manila... now it takes half a day. That's still a stretch for some. However, once you've weathered the plane and boat rides, you sail slowly up the turquoise waters to the white sandy beaches, dotted with leaning palm trees and nothing but mangroves in sight. When you walk down the sandy roads, you get a glimpse of life within the small cottages made of wood planks, and tended with little flowers and coconut shells as makeshift fences. Children will run out to see who's coming and offer you a cheery "hello" and "goodbye" as you pass. As you sit out, you may see the fishermen diving for mud-crab, the tastiest island specialty, or a great surf wave beckoning you into the water. Whether you think you like fresh coconut or not, when you see the man climbing the tree to pick it for you, cutting it open and offering you a taste of nature's own, you won't think to say no, and believe me, it will taste like heaven. Then at night, you'll catch yourself hearing your breath, the silence only interrupted by the slow drift of the wind among the palm leaves above, or the faint lap-lap of the shallow waters at low tide. You'll look up and thank all your lucky stars for being alive and experiencing this beauty and peace. You'll want the clock to stop. You'll want to stay forever.