Upon arrival, Manila did not necessarily offer a view of the vast nature the Philippines has to offer: towering skyscrapers, congested streets, compacted living spaces, etc. We quickly witnessed the beauty of the country as we departed for the resort in Batangas. On the ride there, I caught plenty of glimpses of the majestic mountains and colorful coastlines. I also saw U.S. chains, notably Starbucks, which is always disappointing to see, whether it’s in rural Philippines or urban New Orleans. We convinced our van driver to let us stop and take photos of the overlook.
Batangas
The Pico Sands Resort offered a short walk to a beautiful beach that was nestled in a valley between large hills. I was ecstatic to see this stunning side of the country. Feeling the sand between my feet and the warm, fresh water blessed my soul. Despite this, I did consider the environmental impact of a resort, considering the research on their habits of hoarding fresh water for the wealthy elite.
At the resort, the Fulbrighters and I signed up for a snorkeling excursion where we witnessed colorful fish, lounging starfish, and other creatures of the sea. We also jumped off the boat into the water on numerous occasions. Check out the GoPro footage on my IG (@chrisdier3) highlights to get a better feel for the journey. The boat ride offered views that were even more splendid than from the beach. Being in the water always soothes my soul in ways I am unable to comprehend.
Albay Province
My second experience of nature was the Mayon Volcano outside of Legazpi, our home city. The Mayon Volcano … Before arrival, one of our Filipino hosts notified us that if the top of the volcano is clear, that means that those visiting the city have “good hearts.” Edgar, our main Legazpi host, and a few other Filipinos greeted us at the airport with a joyous welcome and sashes. It felt nice to be so welcomed in a place so far from home. After departing the airport, I immediately felt that Legazpi, despite being much smaller, was much more uniquely Filipino than Manila. Despite it being at night, I’ve quickly noticed the city was not as perturbed by globalization and Westernization as Manila.
As I stepped out of the car, I noticed an ashy smell that was completely unfamiliar to me. It was the smell of a being in proximity to an active volcano. The fact that one day I’m snorkeling off the shores of Batangas cliffs and then smelling fumes from a volcano the very next day speaks volumes about the country’s diversity. The next morning, I immediately looked out my window to see if the view of the top volcano was clear. I’m not one who embraces superstition, but I certainly recognize the cultural significance of such beliefs. Luckily, the view was clear as day. After hearing about this belief over a dozen times from various locals, I continued to feel a relief at seeing the tip of the volcano. Maybe I am one who embraces these beliefs.
Being in a city next to an active volcano did frighten me, especially after recent news reports and hearing about a massive 19th-century explosion that buried much of Legazpi in ash. We also received notifications on our phones warning us of pyroclastic flows and landslides caused by the ongoing eruption. Pyroclastic, a word I just learned, refers to fragments of rock, ash, and volcanic glass ejected during explosive volcanic eruptions.
However, I’ve learned that the Mayon volcano is one of the most monitored volcanoes in the world and that the warning signs can be identified way in advance. I’ve also read about evacuation procedures. All of which provided the necessary relief to enjoy my time there. My Katrina experience has always had me respecting and fearing what can transpire if nature decides to act. In 2005, I experienced a Friday of normalcy to a Monday where chaos reigned supreme.
Regardless of any ease I felt, seeing the lava spewing from the volcano one night did not assuage my fears, despite how beautiful of a sight it was.
Climate Change
At Legazpi City Science High School, Edgar and another Filipino Fulbrighter, Cheryl Pavericio, presented on climate change. What immediately caught my attention was how personal climate change was for the co-presenter, Mrs. Pavericio. She had been deeply impacted by a typhoon in 2005 that flooded her home. As she talked about her experience, I couldn’t help but think about Katrina and how easily memories of that time can come rushing back, even twenty years later.
I later researched the typhoon she was referring to and found that a small tropical storm hit Legazpi in 2005, but Typhoon Reming, a massive typhoon that struck the Philippines in 2006, caused unprecedented damage and led to more than 1,300 deaths across the country. Regardless of the exact storm, I found myself thinking about how strange and fascinating it was that we could be sitting thousands of miles apart from where Katrina happened, yet have such a similar point of reference in our lives within almost the same time frame.
Obviously and inevitably, I shared a little bit about my own personal history with Katrina. It was one of those moments where the distance between Louisiana and the Philippines seemed to disappear, albeit for a brief moment. In the same years that my life was turned upside down by a climate change-induced disaster, so was the life of someone living on the other side of the world. And now, twenty-plus years later, we were sitting in a small room in a school in Legazpi sharing those stories. I’m positive neither of us could have imagined this moment back then. Katrina was such a defining event in my life, and yet here I was in the Philippines finding another person whose own life had been shaped by an eerily similar experience. These moments make me feel less alone.
It was a powerful reminder that climate change and natural disasters are not abstract ideas that happen somewhere else. They affect real people, real homes, and real communities. More importantly, they connect us in ways that we probably never expected. I came to the Philippines to learn about another country and another education system, but cherished moments like this reminded me that there are experiences that transcend invisible borders and geographic barriers. We may live thousands of miles apart, speak different languages, and come from vastly contrasting cultures, but we can still understand one another through such life-changing experiences.
The Filipino teachers had also created some of the first climate change educational materials in Southeast Asia. They incorporated climate change science into various subjects and created workbooks based on those subjects. After the presentation, they showed us these impressive workbooks. I really appreciated this approach because it treated climate change as interdisciplinary rather than content that belongs exclusively in a science classroom. It made me think about my own positionality as a white Westerner with a much larger footprint than most of the world. The experience also caused me to think about my own teaching and the responsibility educators have to help students understand the world around them, particularly when environmental changes are already affecting their own communities – from Louisiana to Albay.
Exploring Albay
After extensively learning about climate change, typhoons, and the devastation that natural disasters can wreak, it was interesting to experience the landscape itself. Our guides took us to a museum to learn more about the Mayon Volcano, which, despite not being my forte, I learned quite a lot. Our guides took us on an ATV tour of Albay. The views were stunning, and every stop there was another reminder of how incredible the natural environment can be.
We explored the Cagsawa Forest Trail, a one-hour route featuring river crossings and lush local greenery. Because the volcano was still active, we weren’t allowed to do the tours that went too close to Mayon, but even from a distance, the scenery was stunning. We crossed beautiful streams and traveled through the dense greenery, eventually getting incredible views of the majestic Mayon Volcano. Again, feel free to check out my IG highlights to see more photos and videos of the adventure.
There was something almost surreal about looking at Mayon after spending so much time learning about the effects of climate change and volcanoes. The volcano was beautiful, but it also represented the power of nature that the people of Albay have aptly learned to live with. Not just living with, to be fair, but even building structures, like churches, out of volcanic rock. I kept thinking about how different that relationship with nature must feel when you know that the same landscape that provides so much beauty can also threaten your home and your community.
Quitinday
On our last day in Albay, our guides took us to Quitinday Hills. Our experience there gave us yet another opportunity to experience the unique landscape of Albay up close. The topography was striking, with rolling hills, farmland, and lush terrain stretching in every direction. What made it even more fascinating was learning that this land was underwater at some point in the distant past. One of our guides actually pointed out geological evidence of this by pointing out the fossilized shells embedded in the ground, which made me look at the landscape differently. He also pointed out the Jovellar Underground River. It’s odd to stand atop land and hear water rushing underneath you. What appeared to be just beautiful hills and greenery was also a stark reminder of how much the earth itself has altered over time.
We hiked through the area, working our way through the hills and taking in the scenery along the way. The higher we climbed, the more expansive the views became. The greenery, farmland, and surrounding hills made the hike feel like we were walking through a completely different world from dem Louisiana swamps and flatlands. If I had to compare it to another place, I’d say the region resembled Maui. After reaching the endpoint, the wind had really picked up, which made the moment even more memorable as two of us faked like it was going to blow us off the cliff. Standing there, taking in the scenery with the wind roaring around us, I was able to appreciate just how beautiful and unique Albay’s landscape really is.
Trekking the Quitinday Hills allowed me to experience the history and geography of the place rather than simply learning about it. I was literally walking through a landscape that had once been submerged for eons, surrounded by evidence of a much older world, while experiencing the beauty of Albay in the present.
Our time in the Philippines ended up being much more than climate change presentations, ATV tours, museums, hikes, and the like. It became a journey about shared connection – between people, between places, and between the past and the present. Katrina had shaped so much of my identity, and I never expected that one of the places where I would better understand that experience would be in Legazpi, Philippines – a place I had just heard about last year. Twenty-plus years after a storm changed my life, I was thousands of miles away talking to someone whose life had also been changed by a storm. Just days later, I was staying in a city in the shadows of what is widely considered one of the most active volcanoes in the world, seeing firsthand the environment that makes this place both beautiful and vulnerable. Such experiences made me cherish Legazpi in ways I had not previously anticipated. I left humbled and in awe as the experience was a powerful reminder of just how interconnected we really are. Such is the impact a glowing paradise has on the soul.
Chris Dier 