Siargao’s easy-going vibe proves to be a draw, but unchecked growth threatens its soul. Old-timers speak of a Siargao that once felt raw and unvarnished, similar to what I would imagine Itbayat, Batanes is today—a far cry from the island visitors encounter today.
One of the earliest batch of surfers to ride the waves at Cloud 9 recalls the stretch now called Tourism Road as ‘puro talahiban’, nothing but tall grass swaying in the wind. Where there were once grassy fields now stand cafés, fusion restaurants, yoga studios, and boutique resorts—symbols of the island’s transformation.
Siargao’s Appeal Is Growing on Me, One Visit at a Time
I’ll admit, I once scoffed at the island’s fast-paced transformation. I kept hearing stories of land grabbing, of wealthy outsiders and, as some locals whispered, politicians from all over the country who ended up buying undeveloped lots in a form of land banking that took advantage of local landowners selling far below value.
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My unease was heightened by the island’s lack of proper infrastructure: an airport struggling to keep up, healthcare so limited that when a friend’s brother was badly injured in a motorcycle accident, he had to be medevacked to Davao City. Add to that the rotating brownouts, questionable local government policies, and the tiresome bureaucracy—it was hard to see the promise of development without also seeing its cracks.
What Siargao Gets Right
As an ordinary traveler with zero influence over policy, I can only take in what the island offers on the good side and how it has emerged as one of the Philippines’ major tourism draws, often compared to a more subdued version of Bali. What strikes me most about Siargao is not just the postcard-like destinations featured across brochures and Instagram reels, but the atmosphere it has created—the kind of everyday life that moves slowly that makes visitors stay longer, even after they’ve ticked off the usual sights and activities.
Once an exclusive surfer’s Eden, Siargao has long since outgrown its get-stoked-on-a-surfboard stereotype. These days, the island’s attraction has expanded into an interesting mix of people. Wellness devotees arrive with yoga mats in hand, guided by yogis who set up classes beneath coconut trees and by the sea. Food enthusiasts have followed suit; chefs from across the globe, local farmers, and even botanists bent on studying the island’s native ingredients. Then come the laptop-toting digital nomads, carving out co-working spaces between surf breaks. And, of course, there are the romantics—travelers who fly in for a week and somehow stay on for months, living out their own version of Eat, Pray, Love.
As with many emerging destinations, Siargao has not been spared from the pitfalls of rapid tourism growth that locals hope will be addressed before it becomes irreversible. Yet the island has also managed something rare: it has cultivated a spirit that feels distinctly inclusive, drawing in a new generation of travelers while bridging cultures, races, and beliefs.
Alex Garland once described Bangkok’s Khao San Road as a “decompression chamber” for travelers, a halfway house between East and West. Siargao, in contrast, feels like the opposite: it has become a place where visitors either slip away quickly or surrender completely, staying far longer than planned, caught up in the island’s magnetic pull.
A Crossroads of Cultures and Interests
For Mary Dizon, a freelance social media manager who first arrived as a tourist and has now lived on Siargao for six years, it was the sense of genuine human connection that convinced her to stay. “I’ve gone through the pandemic, the typhoon, and other struggles here, but I still feel like the island keeps giving—making me feel safe, accepted, and cared for,” she said. “So the goal is to also do what we can for the island and the locals.”
For some, it is unique passions that draw them to Siargao. Take Kat Cortez, a food scientist who arrived in the province for a gastronomy residency with a new restaurant called Roots. Almost immediately, the island’s greenery stirred a memory from her childhood in Pampanga: the alagaw tree, its mint-scented leaves once used to wrap family meals.
In her first week, she thought she had found it. “I saw this beautiful tree and thought, this doesn’t look like the alagaw I know,” she recalled. A crushed leaf confirmed her suspicion—the scent was faint, missing the sharp edge of alagaw.
What she found instead was the inyam, or binayuyo in Tagalog, a cousin of the bugnay. Its small fruits ripen from tart green to deep purple sweetness, but its real value lies in how it restores soil after storms and feeds native birds. Once dismissed as children’s playthings, the fruits are now being transformed, through Cortez’s work with Roots, into jams, kombucha, and even Japanese-style wine.
The charm of Siargao extends beyond those drawn to its culinary scene, wellness culture, surfing, or natural beauty. It also resonates with people who carry an entrepreneurial spirit but long for an atmosphere that’s anything but ordinary.
For Mayee, co-owner of /WEEK•END/ Café, Siargao was never simply a tourist destination. “Siargao, for me, was the kind of place where ambitions felt at home,” she said. The café itself was born out of an evening of drinks and shared dreams with friends.
“We had a vision for a space that could capture the island’s easygoing pace, where every day feels like the weekend,” Mayee added. Manila, with its rush and constraints, offered no such canvas. “Manila always felt too fast-paced, too boxed in. In contrast, Siargao’s energy—laid-back, welcoming, and full of creativity—perfectly matched the vision we had in mind.”
The café, she says, is their way of giving back: a get-together place where island culture and slow living meet over good food and coffee.
For Flora May Padayao, who lived on Siargao between 2017 and 2018, the island was where she found a safe refuge, a place where walking barefoot felt natural. “I found my own tribe when I lived there, you know, people that don’t judge you, accept you as you are, regardless of your past,” she said.
It was also in Siargao where she met her German husband, a serendipity that keeps her connected to the island to this day. Yet returning for good has become harder. Land that was once affordable now sells for as much as ₱30,000 per square meter—a reminder of how fast the island is changing and how that sense of belonging can quickly shift.
Mirra Reyes, the founder of the bus-ticketing start-up Biyaheroes, resists the idea that her repeated returns to Siargao fall under what locals call the island’s “curse.” She prefers another word: hiwaga, or mystery.
“The island captures the best of what it means to be Filipino,” she said. “From its landscapes—whether explored by boat or on foot—to its surf breaks, its diverse and inclusive food scene, and above all, the warmth and generosity of its communities, Siargao has everything I could ever hope for.”
What Siargao Needs to Correct Before It’s Too Late
Rising land prices have pushed living costs sharply upward. When videographer and content creator Joshua Chua first settled on the island just a couple of years ago, he rented an apartment for ₱3,000 a month. By the time he left, the rate had crept higher. Today, he said, that same space goes for ₱20,000.
For Sasa Steck, a journalist who first visited Siargao a decade ago, the island’s rapid transformation is bittersweet. She worries that development increasingly caters to the wealthy, leaving behind the character that once made the place so appealing. “I’m not sure what Siargao is like now,” Steck said, noting the influx of affluent residents and the addition of direct flights. “I feel like everything must be expensive.”
When she arrived years earlier, Siargao struck her as a haven for budget travelers and digital nomads. “If you stayed in a decent hotel, it was only 500 to 800 pesos a night,” she recalled. “Restaurants were accessible, nightlife was cheap, and getting drunk was easy. Siargao was like Koh Phangan in Thailand, except five times better.”
Yet one problem then, as now, stood out: the lack of healthcare. Steck cut short her stay after falling ill. “There was no hospital, not even a town clinic,” she said. “I drove miles looking for a pharmacy and found only a plywood shack with limited medicine.”
While facilities have improved, concerns linger. Earlier this year, a popular American vlogger known as Barbie suffered a motorcycle accident and had to travel to Butuan just to undergo an MRI.
Such gaps in basic infrastructure—healthcare, housing, and public services—are colliding with the island’s rising cost of living. Many fear that unless Siargao balances growth with essential services, the island could become unsustainable—a bubble bound to burst.
For visitors and longtime admirers alike, that is a future no one wants to see. As someone already smitten by the Siargao curse and planning a longer return, I certainly don’t want that to happen.
The island has the potential to harness its popularity not only to boost the local economy but also to raise the standard of living for its residents. Yet as development accelerates, the challenge lies in addressing infrastructure, services, and community needs in a way that preserves the character that draws people here in the first place and ensures that Siargao’s appeal lasts well into the far future.
The route is one of the many new connectivity expansions aimed at bringing more visitors to the island. Beginning this October, 2GO will launch a once-a-week sea voyage from Manila to Siargao, expected to bring an additional 1,800 passengers to the island.
Connectivity Boosted with Clark Flights
This writer, together with a few members of the media, flew to Siargao from Clark International Airport aboard a Philippine Airlines flight. With Philippine Airlines offering travelers from Central and Northern Luzon another option to fly directly to Siargao—along with other routes such as PAL’s Manila–Cebu–Siargao connection—the steady wave of arrivals to the surfing island is set to continue.
For a hassle-free exploration around Siargao, we used the Guide to the Philippines app, available on Google Play, to book essentials such as accommodations, restaurant reservations, motorcycle rentals, surfing lessons, and more.
