I first heard about it from a man on a boat.

I was on my way back from Barangay Janosa in Talim Island, aboard a ferry with my friends. We'd hiked Mount Tagapo and was on our way back to mainland Binangonan.

The man was holding out his smart  phone to his right-side seatmate, narrating the story of windmills being erected in Pililla as he swiped the screen to provide visuals. I listened to him speak, which you couldn't really consider as eavesdropping since he was – it appeared to me – deliberately raising his voice so other people on the boat could hear. A tough job to accomplish over the roar of the boat's engine.

To grow up in a place with such a strong sense of identity is, I believe, a legitimate source of envy. When you are exposed to a culture of artistry and imagination at such a young age, it's hard to not be artistic and imaginative. When you go to market and brush shoulders with renowned painters and esteemed poets; when art, in all its forms, is readily available, you know you're one lucky kid. Such is the case for the residents, like myself, of Angono – the Philippines' foundry of arts.

A one- to two-hour drive from the Metro, this quaint town is nestled on a portion of Laguna de Bay. At first glance, Angono looks just like any other urbanized locales: modern establishments, a mild case of air pollution, occasional traffic jams, and a huddle or two of street children. Look deeper though and one will see undeniable dregs of the once fishing village and an unmistakable inclination to creativity.

Here are a number of places that prove art is in every corner of of Angono:

Balaw-balaw Restaurant: Combining Food and Art

Founded by spouses Perdigon and Luzviminda Vocalan, Balaw-balaw Restaurant is one of the most visited sites in Angono. Offering traditional Filipino cuisine and the eponymous exotic dish similar to bagoong, this place also doubles as a museum housing works by Perdigon Vocalan and other local artists.

Eclectic. The ground floor of Balaw-balaw serves as the dining area

The last supper. Upstairs sculptures are displayed.

Aside from sculptures and self-portraits, there is also a workshop for higantes fabrication on the topmost floor of the restaurant.

The memory of the recently concluded fiesta is still fresh on my mind. The air smelling faintly of menudo as I rode my pink bicycle on the street gallery of Doña Aurora. Barely half across the tamang panahon bridge, a good sir had dumped a scoop of water down my back, somewhat soiling the extra set of clothes I was carrying inside my rucksack. It was still quite early but I was already soaked. I even found myself negotiating with a pitcher-wielding teen shortly before I made the turn from the main thoroughfare. No surprise there. I knew the drill. That day, after all, was a cultural event where basaan is a treasured tradition.

I've been told I take the basaan a little too seriously

That awkward moment when kids have better "weapons" than you

Tubig! Tubig!

I grew up fascinated and involved in the concept of fiestas in general and the Higantes Festival in particular. I participated in the whole affair of Angono's town fiesta as young as the age of nine, playing an indigenous instrument called gabbang for my elementary school's marching band. Of late, the higantes are flashier; the preparations much grander; and the activities stretch all November, but essentially, it had just about the same brouhaha as it had back when I was in grade school.

It had lovely majorettes and colorful marching bands then, still does

Every year, I participate in this event and I still get giddy over the higantes

On the surface, Angono's fiesta appears just like your typical Filipino fete. Colorful streamers line the streets, fiesta paraphernalia are festooned all over town, and a general sense of joviality just palpable in the air. To an onlooker, there are the commonplace parades and processions, complete with religious images and several musical ensembles, highlighting the event. And just like a typical Filipino fiesta, said onlooker is required to attend any of the parties thrown in almost all of the houses in the vicinity.

The makeshift pagoda which will carry the image of the town's patron saint San Clemente across Laguna de Bay to the other side of town

No to gender roles. Women heave the image of San Isidro de Labrador during the fluvial procession

But, for someone who grew up immersed in this tradition, it is difficult to cast aside the nuisances and subtle transformations of this local custom. For instance, the plain motley pennants I knew from back then are now imprinted with the logo of whichever establishment is responsible for putting them up. The higantes which, not only are now made out of more resilient fiber glass instead of papier-mache, have also been relegated to being a medium for blatant advertising. From these crude details to arguably irrelevant activities such as concerts (sponsored by liquor companies no less), it's hard to deny the entire affair had become, dare I say it, commercialized.

Don't get me wrong. I am all for sponsorships and partnerships with commercial establishments. In fact, I appreciate that local businesses are taking part and showing support to the activity. My concern is the association that people, especially those of the younger generations, are unconsciously forming all because of the byproducts of these partnerships.

The meaning behind the celebration appears to get lost somewhere in the mishmash of party-drinking and letting loose. I stood cringing as I watched boys in ridiculous costumes perform equally ridiculous stunts; recoiled at a group of men proffering shots of Red Horse to the parading crowd, including teachers chaperoning students; and almost got caught in the middle of a brewing riot – all during the fluvial procession.

Disrespectful or all in good fun? This is one of the eternal conundrum of the town fiesta

There is a thin line between being entertaining and being ridiculous. I must admit, this one was quite entertaining

I am used to the elaborate celebration and I don't profess to be an expert on fiestas and cultures. I hadn't experienced the simple and frugal gathering older residents are nostalgic for. I'm not suggesting that things are necessarily good or bad. I don't claim that I fully understand the roots of this age-old tradition (although I have been reading up). But what I am is someone who had found ways to enjoy the fiesta come what may. I am someone who has a strong concept of how these types of celebrations should be conducted but believes it's better to let others be and just have fun. As long as no one is harmed – in every sense of the word – and people's lives are uplifted one way or another, I say "to each his own." And though, each year, the clamor gets louder and louder, and the merriment more and more over-the-top, I see in this no drastic change – only an inevitable evolution. But at the end of the day, all these are thrown outside the window, for all that we're looking for is just a really really good time.

And a possible case of pneumonia

The air is noticeably crisper. Houses have put up multicolored lights. Tinsels and parol are taking center stage in every establishment. The airwaves are filled with interludes of carols. These could only mean one thing: the "most wonderful time of the year" is right around the corner.

As the tides turn toward a festive and remarkably buoyant time, with conscientious ninong and ninang gradually going over and checking off items on their gift lists, The Aristocrat in SM Dasmariñas is presenting a familiar way to get people into the merry mood.

In addition to its offerings of sumptuous Filipino favorites like crispy pata, lechon kawali, kare-kare, dinuguan and its famous chicken barbecue, the restaurant also carries a line of delectable desserts through its namesake bakeshop.

The bakeshop sells confectionery staples such as cream puffs, cakes, and cupcakes. But the sweet-as-caramel and creamy-as-milk lengua de gato as well as the mild-flavored-perfect-with-dinuguan cheese roll arguably stand out. These flavors are as familiar and beloved as simbang gabi.

But perhaps the headliner for the Aristocrat's dessert line-up is Torta delos Reyes – a frozen cake with a sansrival-like consistency that looks and tastes as though it cross-bred with a chocolate mousse. And yes, it tastes exactly like that: a strange yet delightful chewy and chocolaty melts-in-your mouth symphony.

Speaking of symphonies, as if the good food and even better dessert choices do not already spell out a feast, SM Dasmariñas' branch of The Aristocrat has also appended an element of "share-your-blessings" to the dining experience.

Every Saturday of the merry month of December, volunteers from two non-government organizations will be gracing the restaurant premises to sing, or – to be more apt – carol, in front of diners. Proceeds from generous diners will go to aid the organizations' respective causes.

One of the organizations, which we were fortunate to witness perform during our visit, is Alay Sa May Kapansanan Association, Inc. (AKAI). This group provides assistance to persons with disabilities (PWDs) mainly by giving implements such as crutches, hearing aids, and wheelchairs. They will perform in alternate with Pagdamay Sa Dukha Associaton, Inc. (PDSA).

The former's repertoire surprisingly consisted not of the expected Christmas tunes but of modern hits such as Sugar by Maroon 5 and Uptown Funk by Bruno Mars.

With the accompaniment of a beatbox, an acoustic guitar, and a violin, the all-girl singing group provided an even more cheery atmosphere. The good food coupled with the feel-good live music really made for a pleasant dining environment. Plus, the opportunity to share the joy of the season to our less fortunate fellows made it more the meaningful.

A fine meal over music while having the chance to play a more socially relevant role? It doesn't get even more appealing than that. So why not pay a visit at The Aristocrat in SM Dasma and share some holiday cheer!

The Aristocrat SM Dasmariñas

Upper Ground Floor, Annex Building, SM Dasmariñas

Brgy. Sampaloc 1, Dasmariñas City, Cavite

Tel. No.: (046) 424-000

We hadn't had a bath yet, Dennis and I. This did not bother me because a) I could go for days without bathing, b) we'd spent the night in Osmeña Peak, under a kailedoscopic roof of stars, and c) in a few more hours, we're sure getting cleaned would no longer be an issue.

What we're about to do next... Well, staying dry was not an option.

We climbed unto the same habal-habal we took to get to Osmeña Peak. We'd made arrangements with the driver to pick us up and take us to Badian.

The ride to our next destination was neither quick nor boring. Flanking the road that we wended were mostly picturesque medleys of greens, blues, and early sunlight. The sky, a peaceful cerulean, unfolding behind the last shreds of cirrocumuli.

The habal-habal ride was neither quick nor boring.

It was around eight when we arrived at the Sangi Crossroad in Badian. Here we met our guide before going to his house where we were instructed of the do's and don'ts of the activity. After gearing up, with our bulky bags back at our guide's house, we hopped on a motorcycle and rode for some 3 kilometers to Barangay Compostela in Alegria.

At the starting line of the four-hour trek.

My four-hour experience of what is now dubbed as "canyoneering" began in Sitio Kangmamhot, from what I estimated as a 40-foot drop to an aquamarine rivulet. This was a less common albeit more thrilling takeoff according to our guide. Several steps to our right, a group of adventure seekers were taking turns at the usual start – jumping 20 feet down into the river.

The forty-foot drop that marked the beginning of the canyoneering experience.

I had the first turn. And it took me quite a while to make the move. There was fear, of course, but there was also the overwhelming sense of wanting to go over the edge. After several moments of internal struggle, I stepped off the overhang, into the scream-sapping interlude down to the cold, cold water.

This is Dennis' forty-foot jump. Mine is not as nice-looking as this one.

And just like that, our problem was solved. Bathing dilemma taken care off! But we still had four more hours before we get to change our clothes.

We proceeded and found out for ourselves that the trek consisted of cliff-diving, swimming through and under rock openings, a bit of wall-climbing, and crawling through and scaling huge boulders.

Off of a true-blue water slide

Makeshift bamboo bridges are present over some parts where the current is too strong

Jumping off a ten-foot boulder

Going against the current is a tough thing to do

We glided, we dived and we hugged rock faces. We went over slippery moss-covered boulders, following the course of the turquoise river cutting through solid stone as high as walls at one bend. We sustained bruises and pulled a muscle or two. At some point, I almost got swept by the surging currents and would have probably drowned if not for the GoPro pole I was clutching.

Still smiling even at the prospect of death by adventure

The experience was exhilarating, needless to say. The scenery was enchanting. The only sounds were the gurgling of the river, the rustle of thick canopies up high, and the occasional splash of a cannonballing "canyoneer."

Rock-strewn river with water as clear and as blue as the sky

Stonewalls as high as city skycrapers

The turquoise river cutting through solid rocks

All drenched but having the best time ever.

I felt like a character from Tolkien's world, venturing into faraway lands, on a quest to defeat some growing evil – complete with take-home scars that could tell the tale better than any words. This thought, which I kept in mind all throughout the four-hour adventure, made the whole experience even more fun than it already was.

The last part of the experience takes you to Kawasan Falls. I don't have a decent picture of it so here's an equally stunning picture of the liquid turquoise water.

To have your own Canyoneering experience, contact Kuya Ronald at +639059682225

BY: Vienna Noreen Adriano

I know you’re tired.

I know you want a way out.

Prologue
Part 1: I Say Goodbye to the Storm Clouds
Part 2: I Squander Half of My Pocket Money

I woke up with tiny beams of sunlight pouring from the thatched roof of the nipa hut. Outside my room, I could hear feet shifting and utensils clanking. For a brief moment, I remained motionless on the papag, safely tucked inside the makeshift fort of mosquito nets. Today was the day I'd stopped being 22.

I'd slept that night with a massive smile on my face – it's not everyday you get serenaded by children. The otherworldly coos and caws, that would've scared the bananas out of other people, had helped lull me into sleep. I felt energized.

I changed into my hiking clothes before I went outside. Kuya Maulvi and the B'laan family I was staying with were already seated around the table. I sat beside Kuya Maulvi and said good morning. They returned my greeting and offered me coffee and bread. Our breakfast was rather uneventful.

It was past 6AM when Kuya Maulvi announced that we should be on our way. So we said goodbye and I promised them I'd return and stay longer.

"We'll be waiting," said the little girl, clutching the bag of candies I left her.

(I must come clean that I've forgotten their names. I know. I'm coming across as ungrateful right now. I will find their names out. I do intend to return there after all.)

I waved goodbye as Kuya Maulvi and I drove away. We passed by more fields of pineapple and arrived at Kuya Maulvi's house where I left most of my belongings. We were only doing a day hike.

Kuya Maulvi told me that he'd invited another hiker to join us so it'll be more fun. It was now three of us on the motorcycle and I was amazed at how he maneuvered us safely in and out of the rutted dirt roads. It took us another 30 minutes to the jump-off point.

Off to Matutum!

Like the ones to Linan, the road to Matutum is flanked by pineapple plantations

As it were, people were quite impressed when we told them that we were just doing a day hike. I hadn't seen the significance of this comment – not until we were actually on the trail.

Mount Matutum is not for the faint of heart – and knees, I tell you. It surprised me how difficult the ascent was. The trail was basically all assaults! It was nothing but inclines, slippery and thick with flora. Kuya Maulvi told me that they sometimes encounter a deer when climbing. I believe him. The trail was so thick and lush of vegetation, it was hard to believe this was the regular route.

To give you a perspective, if ever you've tried Mount Pulag's Akiki trail, Mount Matutum was a little bit like that – except there was hardly any clearings, nor there were any level grounds save for the summit. Think of all the difficult parts of Akiki, then you'll have an idea of how knee-busting the trail of Matutum was. I'm not overreacting here. My two companions, who were much more experienced hikers than I was, agreed that Matutum has a difficult trail. They said that there were some who conquered Mount Apo but couldn't take on Matutum on a day hike. Kuya Maulvi would even confessed later on that if he hadn't seen my performance on our short climb in Linan during the Do Good, Get Dirty stint, he wouldn't have allowed me to go on a day hike. He would've insisted we stay the night.

I had such a hard time that I didn't take a lot of pictures. Good lord. That was the most demanding climb I've insofar had – even more than when I climbed Pulag. Mainly because the three-day toil of Pulag got all compressed in a day at Mount Matutum.

I settled for a photo of "3 Generations of Sandugo"

Nevertheless, I thought it was the most fitting way to start my 23rd year of being alive. Nothing says "I'm stronger now" than outdoing yourself. 

It took us approximately five hours to reach the summit. That day, the clouds were low and the summit was filled with fog. It was really cold too.

Much like when I climbed Pulag, I didn't get any clearing. But it's not always about the summit.

We found a spot. Kuya Maulvi proceeded to make coffee while Ate Susan and I diced tomatoes we picked along the trail. We ate binalot and organic Arabica. The chill in my bones seemed to lift. It wasn't much, but I couldn't have it any other way.

Binalot

Before we descended, we made an impromptu clean-up of the summit. We were hauling a bag of garbage as we went down Matutum. (Come on, climbers. You know better!)

Our guide dog standing guard as we pick up trash

It took us four hours to descend. It didn't get any easier on the way down. In fact, it was more dangerous. The assaults became steep drops and my knees were screaming from getting stronger. Thank goodness we were almost out of the forest when it had started to rain. Mount Matutum, however, wanted to be remembered – as if its hardcore trail wasn't worth remembering enough.

I was going over a huge overgrown root when I lost foothold and slipped. My right leg broke my fall. It was in such an odd angle, Kuya Maulvi thought I'd injured myself. Fortunately, I didn't. A large purple bruise the shape of Palawan bloomed on my right shin the next day, though. So, all in all, a successful climb.

This was the proudest moment of my life as a mountaineer.

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Next on the series: I Cry Like She's Family

Read more of I Spend My Birthday in the Mountain and Other Stories

Prologue
Part 1: I Say Goodbye to the Storm Clouds
Part 2: I Squander Half of My Pocket Money