Philippines

This is the Philippine's upland, pine-clad retreat from the heat and dust of the lowlands, albeit not a very tranquil one. Baguio (bah-gee-oh) is a university town that boasts one of the Philippines’ largest student populations (250,000) and is also a crossroads between hill tribe culture and lowland settlers. For most travelers, Baguio serves as the primary gateway to backpacker bliss up north in Sagada, Banaue and Kalinga.

The crystalline waters of Bacuit Bay are a fantasy-scape of jagged limestone islands, mesmerising from any vantage point, whether under the water, in the air or lying on a beach. Easily the rival of southern Thailand or Halong Bay in Vietnam, the islands hide so many white-sand beaches, lagoons and coves, not to mention hundreds of species of fish and coral, that you’ll be overwhelmed.

This sprawling city – the culinary, cultural, economic and commercial capital of the south – is, for better or worse, becoming more like Manila. More traffic, more malls, more multinationals, more subdivisions hidden behind security gates. However, Mt Apo looms majestically in the distance, symbolizing the typical Davaoeño's dual citizenship as both an urbanite and someone deeply rooted to the land outside the city. Locals know that Davao (dah-bow, and sometimes spelled “Dabaw”) has more than enough action to keep them satisfied, and yet it’s only a short drive or boat ride from forested slopes and white-sand beaches.

Sitting among mist-shrouded mountains, tiny Sagada is the closest thing the Philippines has to a Southeast Asian backpacker hub, yet it's possible to find tranquillity along its many hiking trails and get your adrenalin pumping on adventures in the depths of its caves. There's a mystical element to this village, a former refuge for intelligentsia fleeing dictatorship: the centuries-old coffins high up along limestone cliffs lie close to the sky, and days and nights are peaceful thanks to the lack of tricycles or much other traffic.

The tiny island of Pamilacan, adrift in the Bohol Sea about 23km east of Balicasag, is cetacean central, its rich waters supporting marine megafauna including whales and dolphins, manta rays and sharks. Islanders have always lived off the sea, hunting whales until the ban in 1992, then targeting sharks and rays. In 1993 Sulliman University recorded 30 whale sharks landing in Pamilacan in just 44 days. If you visited the island in the mid-1990s, lanes would be full of shark and manta meat drying in the sun. Finally, in 1998, whale shark and manta hunting were officially banned.

Palawan’s bustling capital is mainly a gateway to El Nido and the beaches of the west coast, but “Puerto” does have enough diversions to warrant a day or two if you’re passing through. A rising food scene, some nightlife along main drag Rizal Ave, and a growing number of boutique hotels increase the appeal.

A region that invites intrepid exploration, North Luzon encapsulates a nation in miniature. Surfers race waves onto sunny beaches, where whites sands are lapped by teal waters. Machete-carrying mountain tribespeople are quick to smile and quicker to share their rice wine. An impenetrable jungle hides endemic critters. In Spanish colonial cities, sunlight breaks through seashell windows. Far-flung islands with pristine landscapes greet few visitors.

This was Typhoon Yolanda's “ground zero”. Tacloban took a direct hit on 8 November 2013, when the mother-of-all tropical storms destroyed the city. Yet as you walk through Tacloban's streets today, it's impossible to imagine the apocalyptic scenes on that fateful morning. The center has been fixed up, hotels have been repaired and there's even a degree of cafe culture evident. Tacloban's bars are again filled with local drinkers instead of relief workers. Yes, the city has resumed its role as the commercial heart of both Leyte and Samar.

Nothing defines Palawan more than the water around it. With seascapes the equal of any in Southeast Asia, the Philippines’ most sparsely populated region is also the most beguiling. The 403-mile main island stretches all the way to Borneo.  

Essentially a two-road town where the jungle drops precipitously into the bay, Port Barton offers simple pleasures. It’s the kind of place where, after just a few strolls down the beach, you don’t want to share the tranquillity with outsiders. Several islands with good beaches and snorkeling lurk offshore surrounded by rows and rows of buoys, the sign of working pearl farms.