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I was wrecked. After two straight months of work without a day off I was due. After many early morning starts, and some 3 am finishes, I desperately needed a getaway. I work in sports media, where most of my work is digital and my phone is essential to everything I do. Facebook galleries, Instagram uploads, tweets. I managed to divert my return flight home to stop by The Philippines, on the Island of Cebu to go scuba diving. I figured work emails and business calls couldn’t reach me when I was 50 feet underwater. With the salty air on my face and the sun on my pale skin, I take a seat on a milk crate on the outrigger boat – apparently, it’s a ‘Bangka’ in the local tongue. I check my weather app, and through the cracked screen I read it’s 30°C. The affable instructor JP gives me the rundown. I try not to act like it’s only my second dive in five years. It’s low season, so it’s just JP and I that jump overboard. We visit an old wreck and a school of what must’ve been a thousand fish surround us. A turtle floats by in slow motion and I wish I could take a selfie. Back on the Bangka, I upload an Instagram shot of me jumping into the crystal-clear water. I try to think of a witty caption. “Live life diving in head-first.” – That’ll do. We dock back onshore. The tide’s in. I tuck my phone and wallet into my shorts pocket and hold it above my head as I leap off. I sink. Straight down. The phone still in my hand. It’s wet. It’s wrecked. I amble back to my hostel and as I collapse on my bed, I realise I’m suddenly alone. There’s no way of contacting friends and family. No way of Googling the bus timetable. No way of finding directions to the shops. No way of watching Liverpool play. No way of checking my bank balance. No way of updating my Facebook status. I wander out for dinner and I ask the hostel manager for a restaurant recommendation. She tells me of her cousin’s place down the road. We converse on the merits of fried vs roasted chicken. I meet her cousin at the door and he leads me to my table. We chat about the low season, and how tides change through the year. I eat alone and notice a young couple on their phones. They take a photo of the sunset and I think to myself; “That’s a nice memory.” I head to a bar afterwards on the recommendation of the cousin. I take a seat and I drink my beer. I read every word on the back of the beer label, and then I read the ingredients of the bar nuts. I start a conversation with the bartender, and he tells me of a time when he was young and drank a whole case of Red Horse beer. We laugh as he hands me a free drink. Over the ensuing days I relearned when and how to start a conversation. What one-liners worked best. Life became a lot slower and you start to take in things you might not have noticed if I had been staring at my phone. Like how Filipinos only addressed me as ‘Sir’. And how ceiling fans turn counterclockwise. Losing my phone opened up my eyes more than anything I’d ever done before. I never thought I could gain so much by losing something I thought was so integral to my life. It was liberating and not nearly as terrifying as I thought it might be. It was travelling without a safety net. Travelling without likes, scrolling and swiping. Travelling the way it was intended. Next time I travel, I think I’ll leave my phone at home.