Francis Peppett Photography

Manila is a sensory overload. A sprawling mega-city, with a Latin American feel. Jeepneys thunder down smoky streets and huge neighbourhoods bloom between skyscrapers and condos. As we stroll around, Sari-sari stalls pepper the pavement, bright stalls illuminating avenues and corridors.

Manila is the most densely populated city in the world. As you attempt to go from A to B, its pulsating neighbourhoods of colour and life push back in heady resistance.

Jeepneys are gigantic, military buses, adorned in vibrant colours that spread out like capillaries among Manila streets - a vital lifeline connecting each part of the sprawl.

After a dizzying foray into the neighborhood of Tutuban, a cacophony of smells, markets and basketball courts, we wander to the waterside. As locals watch the sun set behind Mount Mariveles, we watch on as a small band of fishermen cast nets into the silky ocean waters.

Killing time before our overnight bus to the North Luzon mountains, we relax by the waters edge with locals. As we stroll along, a man perches on the sea walls, watching the sun set over the South China Sea.

We take a hair-raising overnight bus to Sagada, a small town in North Luzon's Cordillera Mountains. After a short nap, we walk around the town, coming across some kids playing baseball on a small dirt field next to the town's Episcopal church. Baseball was introduced to the Philippines during the American colonial period, and is particularly popular in Sagada province.

We travel in jeepney to Banaue, our starting point for a 2 day hike around the province's rice terraces. After breakfast we snake our way to the hikes starting point by tricycle, and on our way pass an Ifugao lady in traditional dress. Expert rice farmers, the Ifugao's fiercely resisted Spanish colonization, allowing their cultural identity and unique traditions to persevere into the modern day.

We spend 2 days and many miles hiking the Ifugao rice terraces. Miller is our extremely kind, knowledgeable and conscientious guide. We exchange stories and perspectives on life as we weave over, across and around some of the most stunning and awe inspiring terrain we've ever encountered. The terraces themselves are reputedly over 2000 years old, and are endlessly carved, reshaped and maintained practically by hand by the local rice farmers. Miller himself had previously farmed, mined and built roads, yet found his calling as a guide some years prior. Although we only spend two days together, we leave having made a friend.

We journey to the Central Visaya region of the Philippines, stopping in dusty and colourful Cebu City for a couple of nights. For breakfast, we head to the mammoth Carbon Market, an alluring labyrinth teeming with traders and shoppers. Before tucking into the Cebu speciality of Tuslob Bawa (pork brain blended into a delicious pate with garlic and chilli), we pass one of the city many tricycle riders, taking a break in-between jobs.

As the sun sets, we search for what has now become our go-to Filipino dish, Lechon. Crispy BBQ pork with a side of dipping sauces and (of course) rice. On our way through the ubiquitous Cebu City traffic, countless jeepneys roar past, ferrying families and commuters to and from different parts of the city.

After a long day in the saddle motoring around Bohol island, exploring its jungle interior, waterfalls and small villages, we stop at a beach to watch the sunset. As the sun dips below the skyline, we spot more and more fishermen wading out into the shallows, some with harpoons, others with just buckets. We watch as they search the sea shore, planning to either spear or catch by hand, as fish are more active once the sun goes down.

Basketball is more than just a sport for Filipinos, it's their religion. Michael Jordan jerseys are ubiquitous, and kids and adults alike shoot hoops on a dizzying array of makeshift courts and ramshackle courts around the country. On our way to the northern tip of the island, I slam the brakes on our scooter as I spot a what looks like a court a few metres away in the jungle. We scramble down a dirt track to find a dusty court in amongst palm trees, only a few metres from a deserted white sand beach. A few boys deep into a game of 2 on 2, give us a wave as we pull up to watch the game.

After a few minutes of chatting to the boy's older brother about his intentions to study computer programming and go to university in Manila, the gang usher me over to play. After getting tied in the knots by the boys, and missing every single shot by a few feet every time, I decide to leave the balling to them.

We all feel it in the air, an incoming Filipino deluge. We've got a few miles to go up coast to our lodgings for the night, so before I go, I ask the ballers for a group shot. The boys oblige and wave us off as we scramble back onto the main road.

This colourful, humble filling station catches our eye as we make our way up one of the many palm-fringed island roads.

We spent our final day in the Philippines exploring the mangroves off the western shore of Siargao Island. We meandered through a maze of mangroves, small settlements, and emerald lagoons. Upon our return, weary, salty, and ready for some sustenance, we walked past one of the dock workers. He asked if we'd like a photo, and a little confused, we said yes. Before we knew it, a dozen kids ran over, giving high-fives and asking how we were. I obliged, snapped their photo, said goodbye, and hopped back onto our scooter for our one-hour ride north. It was a fitting end to our month in the country, an infectious friendliness that will live long in our souls.