After graduating from Binghamton University in 2003, I decided to take some time off before jumping into the workforce and spent three months to relax in my country of birth, the Philippines. For four days of those three months, I visited an uncle and his family at Patnanungan, a small island located in an island chain east of the big island of Luzon.

That was my second visit to the island; the first was when I was around three years old. My memories of the place were limited to the long, nauseating outrigger boat ride, the white sand of the beaches, the delicious fresh seafood (including a conical shellfish eaten like escargot), and losing one of my flip-flops to the sea on the boat ride back (and crying about it).

The boat ride was still nauseating the second time around, although not as much as I remembered. The beaches were still white, and the food was still good, but this visit opened my eyes to a darker, harsher reality of life in Patnanungan.

Poverty is now a big problem in the island. After years of abusing the natural resources provided by the sea, the once profitable businesses of seafood farming and tropical aquarium fish harvesting have died. Seaweed farming is now the main source of income for many of the island's residents, and it's not a very steady source, sometimes not even yielding enough to provide for the daily meal.

Crack cocaine has become an epidemic on the island, a problem that has been growing more and more as people find something to turn to whenever times get too tough to handle on their own. Without local law enforcement, the island is policed by mere volunteer residents who have no power over the drug cartel, whose people can sometimes be seen carrying automatic weapons.

But despite their problems, many of the people in Patnanungan still greet the day with their chins up. I saw what a cheerful bunch they can be despite their plight. People greet me with smiles and hellos whenever I walked down the alleys to the store. The children laugh like they don't notice the hunger in their bellies as they play on old boats, or when they shoot pool. At night, the karaoke machine plays non-stop, and the singing easily overcomes the rumbling of the gasoline-powered generator the machine is connected to.

Leaving Patnanungan was a bittersweet experience. I was happy to leave the hardships of island life behind, but was also saddened to say goodbye to people who, despite being dealt with a bad hand, still know how to smile and truly appreciate the beauty of daily life most of us take for granted. I feared for these people, but all I could do was wish them well.

I captured some of the scenes in Patnanungan using my old Olympus OM-1 and whatever limited black and white film I had during my visit. These are the photos that you can see on this page. While they give an idea of how life was on the island, there are still so much that I, in my inexperience, did not capture.

Now that I have grown as a photographer, I want to someday go back to Patnanungan and do a more in-depth documentary. Hopefully, through my photos, I can raise awareness, and maybe funds, to help the people of this wonderful island.