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I am up to my ankles in sewage. I’m in El Nido, Philippines, quite possibly the most beautiful place on earth: towering cliffs, deep turquoise waters, white sand lagoons. This is hard to appreciate, however, because I am standing in foul, grey sewage. My friend Katie and I are in the Philippines. We spent the afternoon rocketing around the countryside on a scooter and taste-testing every Filipino potato chip flavour we could find. All in all, a successful day. A few hours after going to bed, however, I awoke to Katie vomiting. I tried to help, but could do nothing. I spent the night in a listless sleep-wake limbo, drifting between reality and disturbing dreams as Katie retched and groaned. In the morning we headed to the town clinic. Inside the cramped, one-room medical centre I felt the curious eyes of about ten local Filipinos. Eventually the doctor offered us a private room, a privilege none of the locals were granted. She examined Katie, and I (having felt rather useless up until now) offered to go retrieve Katie’s prescriptions and withdraw cash to pay the medical bills. I headed to the bank, only to find that the ATMs were out of cash. They were waiting for a cash delivery, a guard told me, but no one knew when it would arrive. Flummoxed, I hurried over to the pharmacy. The pharmacist rummaged around before shaking her head. “Nothing,” she apologized. I traipsed back to the clinic empty-handed. As I turned a corner, I realized the entire block had been flooded with dirty sewage. At first I tried to pick my way through, gingerly placing my feet on high ground, but eventually realized I had no choice but to plug my nose, grit my teeth, and wade through the filth. And now I’m standing here, feet submerged, worrying about Katie, and realizing that for the first time since getting here, I am encountering reality. Our travels had been wonderful, but I hadn’t experienced the true El Nido. The true El Nido is not just the incredible beaches; it is so much more. It is the cash and medication shortages that belay the country’s infrastructure problems, and the faulty sewers that need money and government action to fix. And it is the Filipinos who give a private room to tourists, just to make us more comfortable. Katie recovered, and I vowed to never mistake lounging and beaches for a true local connection. Travel is to know the lives of others, to truly understand the realities of a foreign place. I didn’t do this in El Nido. But next time, I will.