Siquijor carries a reputation that precedes it: for generations, Filipinos saw it as the 'island of magic', a land of healers, sorcerers and potions, a place many spoke of in hushed tones. Far from scaring people off, that reputation is now part of its charm: you can visit 'healers' who prepare oils and amulets, and during Holy Week the island keeps up its tradition of healing rituals. But set foot on it and you soon find that Siquijor's real magic is something else: that of a small, green, luminous island with turquoise waterfalls, near-empty beaches and a pace of life that invites you to slow right down.
This is an island to explore by motorbike, without rushing. The coastal road goes all the way around it, and in a single day you can string together the tiered Cambugahay Falls (with their vines for swinging into the water), the old balete tree where tiny fish give your feet a 'fish spa', the white sand of Paliton Beach, a lonely lighthouse, the imposing coral-stone churches of Lazi and Siquijor, and a viewpoint or two to watch the sun go down over the sea. All relaxed, cheap and just minutes apart.
This guide lays out Siquijor with a practical, warm eye: which waterfalls and beaches not to miss and what each entry costs, how to get around the island, how to get there by ferry from Dumaguete or Bohol, and how to combine it with Apo Island and diving in Negros. Siquijor rewards travellers looking for calm and authenticity: it doesn't have Boracay's party reputation or Palawan's landscapes, but it has a special soul, half legend and half quiet paradise, that hooks almost everyone who visits.
Siquijor was sighted by the Spanish in the 16th century and named 'Isla del Fuego' (Island of Fire) because of the glow given off at night by swarms of fireflies in the molave trees. That name, and its isolation, fed an early reputation as a mysterious island. Over time, Siquijor became synonymous with Filipino folk magic: a land of 'mananambal' (healers) and 'mambabarang' (sorcerers), where healing and evil-eye rituals were practised, and where every Holy Week the 'minasa' and the oils and amulets considered powerful were prepared in a communal ritual. Under Spanish rule, coral-stone churches and convents were built, such as the imposing Lazi convent, one of the largest in Asia, and the island went through the same upheavals as the rest of the Visayas: Spanish colony, then American, Japanese occupation in the Second World War, and independence. In 1971 it separated from the province of Negros Oriental and became a province in its own right. The full story of the 'Island of Fire', its healers and its churches is on our history page.
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Origins, formation and what the sources say.
When Spanish navigators first approached this small island in the Visayas in the 16th century, they saw something that unsettled them: at night, the whole island seemed to glow with a faint, supernatural light. They named it 'Isla del Fuego' (Island of Fire). The explanation was far less magical than it looked — swarms of fireflies settling by the thousands on the molave trees, making the forest flicker — but the name, and above all the feeling, stuck. From the very beginning, in the eyes of newcomers, Siquijor was a different place, wrapped in mystery.
Isolation added to that first glow. Siquijor is a small island, away from the main routes, and for centuries it lived with relative independence from the centres of power. That isolation helped preserve ancient traditions, animist beliefs and folk healing practices that elsewhere faded away under the weight of colonisation and the Church. In Siquijor, by contrast, those practices blended with Catholicism into a syncretism all its own.
The island's own name, Siquijor, has its legend too: it is often linked to an ancient local chief called 'Kihod', so that 'Katugasan Kihod' or similar expressions would have turned into the current name. Another tradition ties it to low tide ('kihod'). Whatever the exact origin, between the fireflies, the isolation and the old beliefs, Siquijor earned its reputation as an enchanted island very early on, a label that still follows it today.
If there is one thing that made Siquijor famous across the Philippines, it is its tradition of healers and folk magic practitioners. On the island, in both imagination and practice, two opposing figures live side by side: the 'mananambal', the healer who uses herbs, prayers, oils and rituals to cure ailments, undo curses and offer protection; and the 'mambabarang', the feared sorcerer who, according to belief, can cause illness and misfortune through 'barang', a curse said to send insects into the victim's body. This tension between healing and harming lies at the heart of the island's mystical reputation.
These traditions reach their peak during Holy Week. During the holy days, the island's healers gather to prepare the 'minasa' and, above all, the famous healing oil and powders, in a communal ritual that combines gathering herbs, roots and ingredients from seven different places with prayers and formulas handed down from generation to generation. This is when many Filipinos travel to Siquijor in search of amulets ('anting-anting'), potions and remedies considered especially powerful because they were made on those sacred days.
This syncretism — half Catholicism, half pre-colonial belief — is a genuine and still living cultural phenomenon, not just a show for tourists. For many people in the Visayas and Mindanao, Siquijor remains a place of power, one approached with respect and a little fear. For the traveller, visiting a 'healer' or witnessing these practices (discreetly) is a window onto a deep and little-known side of Filipino folk culture.
Despite its pagan aura, Siquijor was also, like the rest of the Visayas, thoroughly evangelised. Under Spanish rule, missionaries — first Augustinians and later the secular clergy — built coral stone churches and convents on the island that still dominate its towns today. The most impressive complex is in Lazi: the San Isidro Labrador church, built in the mid-19th century from coral blocks and timber, and opposite it a huge two-storey convent with a wooden structure, considered one of the largest and oldest of its kind in the Philippines and in Asia, now declared a national cultural treasure.
Other churches, such as the San Francisco de Asís church in the town of Siquijor, whose bell tower served as a lookout against pirate raids, round out a colonial heritage that is remarkable for such a small island. These coral giants, raised through communal labour, were at once places of worship, shelters and symbols of the new order. Their presence shows that, however 'magical' its reputation, Siquijor was also a Catholic island, where folk beliefs and official religion were intertwined.
For centuries, Siquijor was administratively dependent on other provinces. It went through the same ups and downs as the rest of the archipelago: long Spanish rule, the handover to the United States after the war of 1898, and the Japanese occupation during the Second World War, with its hardships and its resistance. The island, remote and without major resources, always stayed somewhat on the sidelines of the big events, which helped preserve its character and its traditions.
For much of its history, Siquijor was little more than an appendage of neighbouring Negros Oriental province, with its capital in Dumaguete. That changed on 17 September 1971, when Siquijor split off and became an independent province, with its six municipalities and its own administrative identity. It was recognition for an island that, despite its size, had a character of its own.
For decades, Siquijor remained a marginal, rarely visited destination, partly because of its isolation and partly, paradoxically, because of its own reputation: many Filipinos avoided the 'island of witches' out of superstition. That reputation, which kept mass tourism away, ended up being a blessing: it kept the island calm, with its empty beaches, hidden waterfalls and peaceful towns, far from the runaway development that transformed other Philippine destinations.
In recent decades, and especially in recent years, Siquijor has become popular with travellers looking for exactly that: an authentic, affordable and relaxed island, ideal for exploring by motorbike, with a special aura that sets it apart. Its proximity to Dumaguete, Apo Island and Bohol made it a natural stop on routes through the Visayas. The challenge, as in so many places in the Philippines, is to grow without losing what makes it unique: the calm, the clarity of its waters and that one-of-a-kind blend of legend and quiet paradise which, half a century after becoming a province, is still its greatest treasure.
