Lying on a beachfront hammock in gorgeous Malapascua Island has its perks, but wearing its weave pattern is not one of them. It is a sign to get up. Usually. 

But what to do? More snorkeling means extra grilling in an open fire, and let me tell you, my skin is way past well-done by now. 

Oh, there is a lighthouse on the island. Somewhere. I don’t know where, but you would think it is a no-brainer. 

How hard is it to find a lighthouse? It is a fucking lighthouse. Can’t miss it, right?


I start walking, and walking, and a little bit more. Then a lot. What I expected to be a lovely afternoon stroll quickly turned out to be a Death March.
 I am hot, sweaty, and incredibly thirsty. I have imagined my death in numerous occasions but I never thought this is how it ends. 

Delirious. I am seeing things. Surely, that is not a pig tethered to the front of the house?  

A few more turns, this way, that way. I am fucking lost. I know so because this is the end of the damn island. 

I came close to the lighthouse but not all the way. I was ill-prepared to scale a cliff. 

See, kids? This is why you never leave your beachfront hammock.



  1. Lol….death march… happened to me on a forest trail…just bloody wouldn’t end… but I had shade….and water…and an apple… but I kicked myself for not picking up the bar of chocolate on the counter… ah well…that was my motivation… to get out alive and eat that fricking bar of chocolate…


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