Life in Davao City, as a Korean tech entrepreneur who’s been here since 2010, is rarely dull. You learn to expect the unexpected, especially when it comes to social gatherings. Just yesterday, I got a prime example of this beautiful, chaotic reality.
I was invited to Anika’s birthday party. The message I got suggested it would be a low-key affair. “Just family and a few close friends,” I was told. “A chance to hang out, have a few drinks.” Sounded perfect. Casual, intimate, the kind of gathering I enjoy.
Bringing My A-Game (and A-Nabe)
I’ve been on the receiving end of Filipino hospitality for over a decade now. It’s generous to a fault. People here constantly invite you, feed you, and refuse any attempt to contribute. I appreciate it, but sometimes it feels a little one-sided. So, I figured this small birthday gathering was my chance to reciprocate, even just a little.
I decided to bring something special: Mille-feuille Nabe. It’s a Korean hotpot dish. Thin slices of beef, napa cabbage, and perilla leaves layered meticulously. Stacked vertically in a pot, it looks like a beautiful floral arrangement. Once cooked, it’s comforting, savory, and perfect for sharing. More importantly, it’s a conversation starter, something a bit different from the usual Filipino party fare. It’s also incredibly good with a drink.
Beyond the nabe, I grabbed a few bottles of local spirits. Nothing fancy, just the kind of drinks you share with friends. I wanted to arrive ready to contribute, ready to share. Feeling good about my choices, I headed out.
Welcome to the Grand Family Assembly
I pulled up to Anika’s place. Even from the street, something felt… bigger than anticipated. Parking was tight. There were more shoes outside than I’d expected for a “small” party. My internal alarm bells started to chime, softly at first.
Walking in, those bells went off like a full-blown siren. “Small gathering”? My ass. This was a full-blown family reunion. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins – a whole battalion of relatives. Kids running everywhere. Aunts gossiping in a corner. The aroma of a dozen different dishes filled the air. My “few friends” turned out to be just me and a couple of other folks I recognized. Everyone else was family.
I stood there for a second, my mille-feuille nabe pot in one hand, the bottles clinking in the other. A bit of a deer-in-headlights moment, I admit. My internal monologue was a mixture of “Oh, this is why they wouldn’t let me contribute before” and “Well, this just got interesting.”
Unexpected Success: The Nabe Breaks the Ice
Despite the initial surprise, Filipinos have this incredible way of making you feel instantly welcome, even when you’re clearly out of your depth. Anika’s mom, bless her heart, spotted me. Her eyes widened a little when she saw the nabe pot.
“Oh, Kevin! You brought food!” she exclaimed, a huge smile spreading across her face. “What is this? It looks so beautiful!”
Suddenly, my awkwardness dissipated. The nabe became an instant point of curiosity. I explained what it was, how to cook it. We found a spot on the stove. Soon, the broth was simmering, the layers softening, and the aroma started to mingle with the other delicious smells of the party.
People gathered around. They were intrigued. Filipino cuisine is rich and diverse, but Korean hotpot was new for many. They watched as I showed them how to serve it. The first few bites were met with surprised nods and murmurs of approval. The savory beef, the fresh vegetables, the warm broth – it was a hit. The local alcohol I brought also went down well, a perfect companion for the nabe.
It wasn’t just about the food, though. It was about the shared experience. We laughed, we talked. The nabe became an anchor for conversation. It brought people together around the table, exactly what good food is supposed to do. Despite the miscommunication about the party size, my contribution was genuinely appreciated. That’s what matters. That’s the real warmth of community here.
The Seed of an Adventure: Mount Apo Beckons
As the evening wore on, full of good food, flowing drinks, and easy conversation, the energy shifted. Four couples from the party, friends of Anika and myself, started talking about future plans. The chatter turned to hiking. I enjoy a good hike myself, though I wouldn’t call myself a professional mountaineer. Living here in Davao, you’re constantly aware of Mount Apo. It dominates the skyline.
Mount Apo. The highest peak in the Philippines. It’s a legendary mountain. Majestic, challenging, sometimes shrouded in cloud. For years, I’ve looked at it from my window, from the city streets. It’s always been a dream. A ‘someday’ kind of thing. But a sedentary digital nomad life, glued to a computer screen, doesn’t exactly build the kind of stamina you need to conquer an active volcano.
“Let’s do it,” someone said. “September.”
The idea spread like wildfire. Four couples. And me, the solo entrepreneur, caught in their adventurous wake. “I’m in,” I heard myself say. A bit impulsive, perhaps, given my current fitness level. But it felt right. An opportunity. A challenge. A chance to finally stop just looking at that magnificent peak and actually stand on its summit.
The Training Begins: A New Chapter of Discipline
Saying “yes” to Mount Apo wasn’t just agreeing to a hike. It was signing up for a new regimen. A promise to myself. My digital nomad life, while flexible and fulfilling, can be a trap. Long hours in front of the screen, late nights, early mornings driven by global time zones. It takes a toll. I need to break that cycle.
September is still a few months away. That’s enough time. Enough time to get serious. My plan is simple, but it demands discipline:
- Reduce screen time: Easier said than done when your business lives online. But I need to set stricter boundaries. No more aimless scrolling late at night. Dedicated work blocks, then step away.
- Daily morning workouts: This is non-negotiable. Running. Strength training. Maybe some shorter hikes around the Davao region to build endurance. I need to get my body ready for that climb. No excuses. I’m starting tomorrow.
This isn’t just about Mount Apo. It’s about finding better balance. It’s about proving to myself that I can still push my physical limits, that the entrepreneurial spirit isn’t just about pixels and code, but also about grit and determination in the real world. It’s about living fully, not just working fully.
The Nomad Life: More Than Just Remote Work
Experiences like Anika’s party, or the impromptu decision to climb Mount Apo, are precisely why I love this life in Davao. It’s the unexpected connections. The warmth of a culture that embraces you. The spontaneous adventures that arise from genuine friendships. It’s the stark contrast between intense work sessions and moments of pure, unfiltered life.
My decision to move to the Philippines over a decade ago was about freedom and opportunity. But it’s these human connections, these shared laughs over a Korean hotpot, and these grand plans with local friends that truly make it rich. It’s about building a life, not just a business, in a place that feels like home. And sometimes, that means saying yes to climbing a dream mountain, even if it means ditching the computer for a while and getting some serious sweat equity in.
The path to Mount Apo starts now. Wish me luck.
🚀 Kevin’s Nomad Insight:
* Embrace the unexpected: Sometimes, the best experiences come from events that turn out nothing like you planned.
* Bring your culture to the table: Sharing your background through food or stories is a powerful way to connect.
* Balance screen time with real-world challenges: A digital nomad life thrives when you push your physical and mental boundaries outside of work.
* Invest in local connections: Genuine friendships with locals enrich your experience far beyond any tourist guide.
