This one's a longer story, one that involves an impromptu four-month stint in the Philippines and an island hop off the beaten track.

I was living in Shanghai when I decided to move the Philippines. I had travelled to Boracay island for a long weekend in the summer during Habagat (also known as typhoon season), when the winds change direction and hit Boracay's pristine White Beach from the West. I was running on the beach to a gym for a muay thai lesson, when I heard a loud rumble in the grey, gloomy sky. Clouds gathered quickly, too dark for the afternoon, while the sky's roars continued overhead. I heard waves crash during a few seconds of ominous silence, and then swoosh - a door opened in the sky and buckets of water poured down. The tide rose quickly, and I could no longer run. I trekked through the water with a drenched backpack above my head, a hilariously pathetic cover which did nothing to keep me dry.

A few locals perched on trees nearby laughed and cheered me on as I waded through the water. When I finally got to the gym, the trainer wasn't even there - he'd fallen ill with a fever no one had notified me. And I didn't mind at all.

I spent four wonderful months in the Philippines, living in a room above this gym. My days revolved around boxing and muay thai, while doing freelance work on a Chinese e-learning course. A few disturbances rocked my boat, but overall it was a smooth, sunny ride.

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