A decade ago, Jessa Zaragoza’s “Surfing sa Siargao” gave the island its catchy, carefree image. I was there then — the Cloud 9 boardwalk, quiet barangays, cheap halo-halo after surfing. Today, the waves still crash the same way, but Siargao feels like it’s catching a different kind of wave: the influx of gentrification.
What Gentrification Means
Gentrification happens when outside money and new residents transform a community. Property values shoot up, businesses shift to serve wealthier visitors, and locals are often pushed aside — unable to afford their own hometown. It’s a global issue, from Brooklyn to Bali, but in a small island like Siargao, the effects are magnified.
Foreigners can't legally own land, but loopholes like long-term leases and corporations make the effect real: locals fear being priced out of their own island.
From Paradise to Price Hike
Siargao was “discovered” by the world. Travel lists and Instagram feeds crowned it the next Bali. Investors, many from abroad, began buying land and putting up resorts. Airbnb listings multiplied. Prices skyrocketed — so much that a fisherman’s lot is now worth more than a middle-class Filipino can afford.
For locals, that means swapping their family land for short-term jobs in tourism. As one resident put it, “Hindi na para sa amin ang presyo.” The place they call home is slowly slipping out of their reach.
Foreign Influx and Rumors
Recent headlines about a strong influx of foreign visitors — particularly Israelis — added tension. The Department of Tourism even had to remind tourists to respect local laws and culture. While foreigners can’t own land directly, long-term leases and corporate setups make ownership-by-proxy a reality. Locals fear being sidelined in their own backyard.
Cause and Effect in Real Estate Terms
Siargao’s gentrification began with a tourism boom that drew investors eager to turn land into resorts and rentals. As property prices soared, locals suddenly found themselves unable to afford the very soil they grew up on. Many traded their family lots for jobs in tourism — often at wages far below the value of what they gave up. Weak zoning and poor infrastructure made things worse. The island’s roads, sewage, and waste systems lagged behind development, while regulations ended up favoring those with deep pockets. What was once paradise for locals now risks becoming paradise only for those who can pay.
What Can Be Done
The future, however, isn’t set in stone. Local governments can rein in short-term rentals, protect housing for residents, and make sure new projects include infrastructure that serves the community. Land trusts or cooperatives could help locals keep control of their heritage while still benefiting from tourism. Most importantly, Siargao needs strict rules on carrying capacity so its beaches and reefs aren’t destroyed by overuse. For real estate professionals, this means seeing themselves not just as builders or sellers, but as stewards. The waves of development will keep coming — the challenge is to ride them without drowning the island’s soul.
As stewards of built capital and place value, planners and developers have choices. They should design for permanence, not just profit. They must set success KPIs tied to local employment quality, housing affordability, and environmental indicators and not just occupancy and ARR (average room rate).
Final Wave
Siargao will always be about surfing. But if gentrification keeps rising unchecked, the tagline may no longer be “Surfing sa Siargao,” but something sadder — a story of locals who lost their home to the same waves that brought the world in.
We should be humble custodians of culture. Infrastructure isn’t neutral; it changes rhythms and rights.
The challenge is clear: catch the wave of development wisely, or risk being swept away by it.
