We went back to that questionable hotel for the night and after we ate, my body officially clocked out. Day 1 in Cebu was basically a full season of Survivor: Water Activities Edition, and I was running on fumes, saltwater, and pure stubbornness.

The next morning we woke up and shuffled into the bathroom… and immediately got introduced to our new roommate:

The Shower Bucket.

Not a cute little bucket either. This bucket looked like it had been through wars. Like it had stories. Like it was old enough to have its own passport stamps. We did what we had to do though—because at this point, comfort was not invited on this trip. 💀

Then we climbed back into the van and got hit with a smell so aggressive it felt personal.

You know that smell when wet clothes don’t dry and get shoved into a corner to marinate? Yeah. The van smelled like damp regret. Like someone microwaved a sock and said, “Let’s trap four humans in here for hours.” That van didn’t just smell bad… it smelled like it had given up on life.

First stop: Cuartel Ruins / Heritage Park / Quartel Beach. We walked around, took in the views, and tried to breathe through our mouths. We also stopped at San Roque Church, which was beautiful and peaceful… a stark contrast to the fact that our van smelled like it was haunted by mildew.

We were supposed to go to Osmeña Peak, but it started raining and the tour guide basically said, “You won’t see anything.” Cebu really said, Not today, hikers. So we pivoted.

Next we traveled to Boljoon, which is known for its historic church and that old-world Cebu vibe—stone, sea air, and the kind of architecture that makes you feel like you accidentally time-traveled. It’s one of those places where you walk around quietly because it feels like history is watching you back.

Then we climbed up Eli Rock and got rewarded with a panoramic view that made everything feel worth it—coastline, ocean, and that “wow” moment where you forget you’re still wearing yesterday’s outfit and possibly still have river water in your ears.

And then… back into the van.

Back into the stinky curse mobile.

At this point, we weren’t even reacting anymore. We had accepted the smell as a fifth member of the group. It had a personality. It had presence. It had dominance.

Before heading back north to Cebu City, we stopped at Simala Shrine in Sibonga—and I’m not exaggerating when I say it was the most beautiful church I’ve ever seen. It felt like a castle. Like a place built for pilgrimages, prayers, miracles, and people who still have energy. We walked around, listened to the bells, and for a moment… my nervous system unclenched.

Then we finally made it back to our hotel in Cebu City.

And this is where the comedy peaked.

Remember the wet clothes from all the water activities the day before? The ones we never got to wash because we were basically living out of a backpack?

Yeah… I had stuffed all of them into my duffel bag like a crime scene.

So we arrive at this 5-star hotel—like fancy lobby, shiny floors, the whole “welcome, ma’am” vibe—and there’s a security checkpoint. They ask me to open my bag.

I unzip it.

And when I tell you the guard got ONE whiff and immediately waved us in like:

“Yup. You’re good. Please go. Please. Go.” 😭😭😭

He didn’t check anything else. That smell was the security clearance.

So there we are… in a luxury hotel… doing laundry in the bathroom like we’re on a budget travel show.

I’m washing clothes in the shower.
Suyapa is rinsing and wringing them out in the sink.
We’re hanging things wherever we can—towel racks, hangers, hopes, dreams.

We didn’t even get to enjoy the hotel amenities because after the Bathroom Laundry Olympics, we were DONE. Lights out. No pool. No spa. No “let’s enjoy luxury.” Just: “Goodnight, world.”

The next morning we checked out, headed to the airport, flew back to Manila, and from there, started the long journey home—tired, proud, and forever changed by:

Cebu’s beauty
The bucket shower
And the van smell that will live in my memory rent-free forever 😅

By the time Suyapa and I hit Cebu, it didn't even feel real that we were already on the last chapter of our Philippines run. We'd already done California, then Manila, Tagaytay, and Coron--one adventure stacked on top of the next--so you'd think we'd be pros by now.

Wrong. 😂

We flew out of Coron to Manila… just to hop on another plane to Cebu. We landed around **11pm**, checked into our hotel, and immediately had to mentally prepare for the most offensive pickup time known to travelers everywhere: **3am**.

When 3am rolled around, we were still jetlagged, half-asleep, and operating purely on vibes. Then came the part they don't put in the highlight reels: a **3--4 hour drive** before we even reached Badian. We picked up another group along the way--a young couple who were also doing the tour--and somehow the four of us bonded over that shared "why are we awake" energy.

Our first major stop: **canyoneering at Kawasan Falls.**

We got handed off to two guides who were basically built like mountain goats and immediately led us into what felt like the start of a movie. It began with about a **mile hike** into the canyons--and I could tell within five minutes that Suyapa and I made a rookie mistake.

**We wore water shoes.**

Guide running up and down the canyon trying to take a picture.

It must've rained the day before because the trail was muddy and slick, and our shoes kept getting stuck like we were getting personally attacked by the ground. Every few steps: _SCHLORP._ Another shoe trapped. Another wobble. Another moment of "we're going to die here and they'll find us still holding each other's sandals."

When we finally reached the canyon, the guides laid it out casually, like they were describing a walk in the park:

"We'll be doing **seven falls**… last one is **40 meters** (about **131 feet**)."

SEVEN. FALLS. And the last one… basically a building.

The first fall was pure joy--more like a natural slide. The guide had us lay back and we just whooooosh slid down like kids at a water park. Not too high. Not too scary. Just enough to make you think: Oh this is fun. We're fine.

And then the canyon started unfolding like levels in a game.

We slid.

We waded through waist-deep water.

We climbed up wet ledges.

We shimmy-walked along narrow sides.

We used a rope swing like we had something to prove.

The farther we went--something like **three miles total**--the higher every jump got, and the more I realized: we were deep in it now. No turning back. Only forward… and occasionally down.

Not somewhere you would want to slide down.

Also, because the Philippines will never stop being the Philippines in the best way possible--there was literally a **little canteen stand in the middle of the canyon**. Right there. In the middle of all this nature and adrenaline. Selling BBQ, snacks, and drinks like, "Jump off your waterfalls, bebé, but don't forget your refreshments."

And can we talk about the water?

That canyon water was unreal--like **blue Gatorade**, except it's natural. The kind of color that feels fake until you're standing in it. Photos don't do it justice. It looked like the earth was showing off.

Then we reached the final jump.

**The last waterfall. The 40-meter one.**

And suddenly… common sense entered my body like a late delivery.

I got in line to go first, looked down at the water, looked back up, and my brain went:

"Girl… you have bills. You have responsibilities. You have a whole life."

So I did what any rational person would do: **I let the couple go first.** 😂

There is a section where you can rope swing.

And then it was just me and Suyapa.

Let me tell you something about my best friend: she surprised me in the best way. No long speech. No dramatic pacing. She walked right up to the ledge, waited for the countdown… and **jumped right at the end** like she was born for it.

Just like that.

Now it was my turn again.

And I stood there… for what felt like forever. Five minutes. An entire lifetime. A full reconsideration of every decision that led me to this exact ledge.

A small crowd had gathered at the base of the waterfall, and they started chanting my name, hyping me up like I was in a championship match.

And I knew--deep down--if I didn't jump, Suyapa would never let me live it down. Not in Cebu. Not back home. Not in the next decade.

Also… there was an "alternate way down," if you can even call it that--because it involved shimmying down the side of the waterfall, and somehow that looked **more** questionable than launching myself into the air.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Sheila Mac (@sheilamacadventures)

At the top of this waterfall is the last jump at 40 meters high.

So I jumped.

And the second my feet left the ledge, everything got quiet. Just air. Just water below. Just that split-second of "I'm actually doing it."

Then--splash.

And suddenly I was alive, laughing, and full of adrenaline like I'd just unlocked a new version of myself.

After we all made it down, we still had to hike back out another way to get to the van--wet, exhausted, muddy, and absolutely proud. The kind of tired that feels earned. The kind of tired you only get from doing something you were scared to do… anyway.

And honestly?

For our last big adventure in the Philippines, it felt perfect.

Because that's what this trip with Suyapa was--moving through the islands, through the early mornings and long drives, through the fear and laughter, through the "we're fine" moments and the "what are we doing" moments… and coming out the other side with a story we'll be telling forever.

And I already know: if I ever start to forget what it feels like to be brave--

Suyapa will remind me. 😅

And the best part? **This was only one of the stops we did that day.** Cebu really said, "Oh you thought you were done?" 😅

So consider this the first chapter of our Cebu adventure--because there's more coming.

Part 1 of 3 of Cebu Adventures

Next Up->

Part 2 of 3 Cebu Adventures