Quite recently, I found myself doing what I do best when I’m avoiding my own thoughts: scrolling.
Somewhere between outfit videos and unsolicited life advice, a viral street interview popped up. Filmed in Europe. Casual. Harmless. The question was simple:
Which country has the friendliest people?
I barely registered it—until the Philippines came out on top.
Thailand followed closely behind.
I paused.
I rewound.
I watched it again.
And as a Filipino, my first reaction wasn’t pride.
It was confusion.
Are we… really that friendly?
Because if I’m being honest—with myself, and now with you—Filipinos aren’t exactly radiating warmth toward each other on a daily basis. Most days, we’re tired. Or distracted. Or quietly annoyed. We’re polite, yes. Rarely hostile, sure. But friendly? That word felt… optimistic.
I’ve always thought our warmth was selective. Earned. Contextual. Not something we hand out freely like free Wi-Fi.
Then, just this week, I found myself in Thailand—and suddenly that old question followed me halfway across Southeast Asia.
I started paying attention.
In shops.
In cafés.
In public spaces.
Everyone was polite. Calm. Respectful. No one raised their voice. No one cut in line. No one made me feel unwelcome.
But something was different.
The warmth felt… muted.
Pleasant, yes.
Kind, absolutely.
But not the expressive, chatty, joke-with-a-stranger friendliness people so often associate with Filipinos.
And that contrast stayed with me.
So I started wondering:
Is friendliness something you feel—or something you perceive?
And how much of it depends on language, culture, and expectation?
Naturally, I did what any modern woman with unanswered questions would do. I looked it up.
And instead of clarity, I found confirmation—mixed with discomfort.
For years now, global surveys have consistently ranked the Philippines among the friendliest countries in the world, especially toward foreigners. Thailand, too, regularly lands near the top.
The InterNations Expat Insider Survey ranked the Philippines 3rd globally for “Ease of Settling In.” Thailand wasn’t far behind.
Another global expat survey placed the Philippines as one of the easiest places in the world to make friends.
US News & World Report echoed the same sentiment.
On paper, it all sounds flattering.
Until you notice one small but crucial detail hiding in plain sight:
These rankings are almost entirely based on foreign perspectives.
Not how locals experience each other.
But how visitors experience us.
And suddenly, everything made sense.
Filipinos are often called friendly because of how we treat foreigners—not necessarily how we treat fellow Filipinos.
Expats talk about how easy it is to strike up conversations here. How people smile, joke, help without being asked. How casual everything feels.
And, of course, how widely English is spoken.
That part matters more than we admit.
English removes friction. It lets humor land. It makes small talk effortless. It creates instant familiarity. We seem open not just because we are—but because we’re understood.
That friendliness is highly visible, especially in tourist spaces. But it doesn’t always reflect everyday local life.
Because among Filipinos themselves, there’s a quieter truth many of us recognize but rarely say out loud:
We’re often warmer to outsiders than to each other.
Maybe it’s because our emotional energy is reserved for family and barkada.
Maybe it’s cultural concepts like hiya and pakikisama—politeness without vulnerability.
Or maybe it’s just life: traffic, work, rising costs, emotional burnout.
Our warmth usually shows up after familiarity—not before.
So yes, Filipinos can be cheerful and welcoming. But that friendliness is often situational. Sometimes performative. Always contextual.
Thailand, on the other hand, feels different—not colder, just quieter.
Thais are deeply polite. Respectful. Non-confrontational. Interactions are calm and measured. There’s space. There are boundaries.
Unlike Filipinos, who might joke with a stranger or overshare five minutes in, Thais tend to maintain respectful distance.
It doesn’t feel unkind.
It feels intentional.
Warmth exists—but it’s expressed subtly, not loudly.
And once again, language changes everything.
In the Philippines, shared English creates instant connection.
In Thailand, limited shared language can unintentionally create distance—even when intentions are warm.
When communication flows easily, friendliness feels natural.
When it doesn’t, even genuine kindness can feel reserved.
So what tourists often call “friendliness” might actually be a blend of linguistic comfort and cultural expressiveness.
So… are Filipinos really the friendliest?
I think the answer depends on who you ask.
To foreigners and expats: overwhelmingly, yes.
To fellow Filipinos: not always—and not consistently.
Compared to Thailand: Filipinos may appear warmer, while Thais appear quieter but deeply respectful.
Friendliness isn’t universal. It’s shaped by language, culture, stress, familiarity, and expectation.
Seeing the Philippines labeled the “friendliest country” can feel strange—even uncomfortable—for many locals. And that discomfort is valid. These rankings reflect how the world experiences us, not how we experience each other.
Maybe Filipinos are friendly in the way the world sees us: open, approachable, easy to talk to.
But friendliness at home is more complicated.
And maybe that’s the real insight I keep circling back to:
Friendliness isn’t about constant warmth.
It’s about how, when, and to whom we choose to show it.
