From where I'm sitting

On an edge of a ledge, on the edge of the world

Hello, hello, hello. I write this sitting on a wooden counter-top outside of a hut, overlooking the sea in Pururan, Catanduanes. The hut belongs to the resort where I’m staying, and is run by a man who I’m starting to think may be the island’s answer to the Laughing Buddha. Most of the day, he sits here in this same hut, hands clasped, looking out at the sea or making corny, if slightly inappropriate jokes. His smile is wide, his eyes joyous. He moves and talks slowly. Sometimes, in the morning or late at night, he’ll twang away on the guitar and sing sweetly. Everyone sings here without a care in the world about who might hear.

The resort specialises in teaching surfing and English, and offers other activities, among them yoga. I’m here to look after that part. Every day, guests are so tired from paddling against waves that we take lots of long, stretchy poses in my classes. That’s my favourite kind of yoga, so secretly, I’m delighted.