In the city, where we wanted to commute but were unsure of which jeepney to take, we walked, which under the blazing sun but away from the beach may sound "unfun" at first. Amusing exchanges with the locals--when we needed to ask for directions, getting lost despite the map we would furtively consult as soon as the roads cleared of other pedestrians--either in English sprinkled with Cebuano and Tagalog words or uncomprehending stares (from some street urchins) set the mood right quickly enough.

    In any case, most of the three-and-a-half days we were on Panglao we spent on the beach, near the beach, and very "into" the beach, so how can any mood other than "feeling great" enter the picture?

OFF DUTY ON DUTY

    Officially, we were on Panglao to cover a meeting of the Philippine Neurological Association (PNA). On the side--but never on the sly, I had to point out to still the good-natured teasings of my envious officemates--we covered as much of Panglao's beaches and waters.

    Bohol, home to the Chocolate Hills and shy tarsiers, we saw very little of. A pity--how can a trip to Bohol be without this experience?

    While our plane banked in preparation for landing, we could have taken the opportunity to catch a glimpse of the famed hills: a green landscape of hills, fields, and mangroves. Squinting hard--one or two of those raised folds in the land might have been cone-shaped.

    This was last June. Metro Manila was starting to be drenched in rain but, in the Visayas, summer still had a grip.

    Good for us tourists.

    On Panglao, of the white beaches and excellent diving sites, summer was a perfect companion. We reached it by hiring a taxi, which took us from Tagbilaran City and across a causeway to Panglao Island.

    Giving just adequate time to set down our belongings in our rooms, hop next door across the sands to Bohol Beach Club to pay our respects to the PNA's organizers--who were all sweating hard in the afternoon sun, doubtless longing for a dip in the so-clear blue waters just a few yards away--we officially started our summer.

    Summer was only beginning to show its real face to us.

SEASON OF FLIES

    The rustic porch restaurant had no walls to let in the breeze and allow a refreshing view of the Bohol Sea as it changed from aquamarine to the deepest blue farther on.

    Unfortunately, it also let in pests. Flies like winged black buttons suddenly became thick around us whenever food was brought out.

    We were told that from May to July, their presence is inevitable. Placing lighted candles, like a touch of the exotic, beside each plate is practical. The smoke drives a few away.

    On our first meal, a restaurant staff treated us--he fanned the flies away as we ate.

    Food on Panglao was delicious, however simply most of them were prepared. Naturally, seafood was plentiful: squid, prawn, and fish--grilled or served with vegetables.

    And always with a chocolate drink, made from cocoa beans grown in Bohol itself.

    The flies, startling at first, we eventually learned to take in stride.

CORALS AND SAND

    Fascinating how the quality of light changed how the sea looked. In the morning light, the point where the sand gave way to coral under the water was crystal clear. At first I mistook the differences in color for changes in depth, that the area where the waters were a darker shade of blue was deeper. When I swam towards it, I discovered coral--alternately rock-hard and moss-carpeted.

    At noon, the sky and sea almost melded in a dazzling pale blue. Before twilight, the sea let go of color and made do with what the setting sun gave it. But the water never lost its intense clarity.

    And it was heavenly. While the sun blazed hot on exposed skin, the water was cool, fooling the unwary swimmer that the sun's radiation had little effect.

    Of course, the tan we got was the reality.

    Another observation. In this part of the world, sand wasn't just sand; it was--is--decadence. It was so soft it lured me into just letting my toes curl and dig into it and just sink…

TRIP TO PANGLAO

    We read about tourists raving about their safari down Loboc River, on tour boats that double as restaurants, offering grilled seafood to their hungry guests as scenes from Busay Falls and the towns of Loboc, Loay, and Bilar cruise past.

    And we heard about how the other tourists were off on their Bohol Challenge, in which they planned to visit Bohol and Panglao's centuries-old churches, the Tarsier Sanctuary and, of course, the Chocolate Hills.

    Well, we weren't about to be left behind in this cultural and geographical immersion. We soon found, however, that hiring a taxi for a half-day tour was too much for our budget. So we hailed a habal-habal, which got us back to Tagbilaran City.

    But as we cut across Panglao, we occasionally sped past wooden houses that were decaying badly. The cultivation, mainly corn, seemed sparse and not very well tended. The interior, in stark contrast to the island's shoreline, looked melancholy.

    The habal-habal driver spun yarns about island life while we navigated winding roads: If one isn't lucky enough to have a boat for fishing, one farms. If he or she has the funds to keep at it. If one doesn't have either boat or farm, one serves or ferries tourists around. But if one can't do any of these things, well, what can one do?

    For the half-hour we were on that small motorcycle, I realized that we were on the real Panglao--something that emerges when tourists stop being tourists.

SPOTTING OR HUNTING?

    My feelings were ambiguous.

    On the fourth day, we rose before dawn to look for dolphins. A motorboat would take us to a point between the islands of Pamilacan and Balicasag, where every morning the dolphins gathered.

    The roar of the motor was deafening. Ours wasn't the only boat around. There were probably six or seven filled with excited tourists.

    And we were one of them. When the dolphins were spotted, the boats followed, sped alongside, and cut across their paths as the dolphins dove in and out of the water.

    At first, I thought there were only two. Then I realized there was an entire pod of them.

    The dolphins seemed to be playing with us (or trying to escape us--I hope not). When boats got in their way, they suddenly went in two separate directions only to regroup later, away from those in pursuit.

    They were so fast that we weren't lucky enough to get really close. But we saw them in their element and our interest made those who used to hunt them for a living cater to tourists instead.

    When the sun rose, we let the dolphins have their peace, but gladly took a little of their peace with us.

    By noon, we were en route to Cebu City via the SuperCat. That evening, summer officially closed with angry clouds pouring their sentiments on Metro Manila. OK lang, we gorged on summer anyway while we were in Panglao.