Aside from the beautiful Mayon, Albay is famous for birthing the sili ice cream. But there's more to this province's culinary landscape than just this delicacy. In this maiden post of the Albay Foodserye, we put a spotlight on one of Tabaco City's prides: Cafe Molave and Souvenirs. 

Tabaco City, aside from the industry of tabak-making and the fun Tabak Festival, has another contribution to Albay's tourist landscape. Named after the upland baranggay whence it is found, Oras Falls offers a varied perspective to the City of Love.

Along the Tabaco Bay, in the town of Bacacay in Albay, is a little known paradise called Pinamuntogan Island (also spelled as Pinamuntugan). This inlet is lined with coconut trees and a shore with fine, cream sands opening to blue, blue waters. It's still relatively unknown to people outside of Albay, which makes it perfect for those looking to get away from the crowd.

Located off the coast of Malilipot, Albay, this capricious, relatively small shoal features crystal clear waters and white sands. As of writing, Vanishing Island has several floating cottages that can be rented along its periphery.

To freeze to death wasn't the way I imagined myself to go, but the icy air slicing through my lungs and the frost coursing in my veins made it damn sure feel like it was exactly how I was going. As we slept, the midnight downpour found its way to the tent, gathering in a pool of inch-deep mountain rain. My sleeping bag was soiled, and the bud of cold blossomed beneath me. I was too tired and too hungry to worry about our belongings, too cold to even move. My annoying mind whispered, "What idiot brings a beach tent to the mountains?"

I don't know what it is about a sea of clouds but many a traveler dream of witnessing it. We travel far and take long often arduous journeys in the hopes of seeing it. Fortunately, here in my home province of Rizal, a sea of clouds is quite easy to come by.

In Tanay, particularly, with its endless mountain ranges, stunning vistas are a staple. The Maysawa Circuit in Cuyambay, for example, is often graced by the vaporous wonder. But, if you're in no mood for hiking but still want to witness a sea of clouds, you need not go to Sagada, for in the place known as Treasure Mountain, you'll get this and more.

One of my favorite places ever is Cuyambay. This baranggay is home to a community of the indigenous Dumagat. Surrounding it are mountains considered as the tribe's ancestral domain. Fortunately, those with no Dumagat blood can hike up these mountains and experience the breathtaking views they afford. I've already written about the other mountains previously, so now, here's a guide to another one of Cuyambay's mountain treasures: Mt. Masungki.

If you're looking for a quick weekend nature getaway, look no further than Tanay. Aside from its collection of beautiful mountains, it also has a number of nature retreats perfect for those who are keen on spending time with nature without sacrificing comfort.

You might not realize it by walking in the scorching heat, but the rainy season in the Philippines has officially begun. Despite being late this year, the weather is already fickle enough to make most people postpone their travel plans until it's summer again. While I wouldn't blame you if you do just that, I feel it's a shame to stay cooped up in your apartment and deprive yourself of the amazing feeling even a short vacation can provide.

As with many things in life, people tend to focus on the risks and ignore the benefits. If you too find yourself doing that too often, there's no need to feel bad, since most people are risk-averse. This behavior has likely been hard-coded into us through evolution, and is designed to help us intuitively minimize risk and increase our chance of survival. This has already been proven to be a major factor in vacation planning. So, when you think of a winter holiday, you immediately imagine the worst case scenario – when the weather acts up and ruins your whole vacation.

I learned the city's name and my mind was quick to form this image: a cluster of huts with thatched roofs, a coop of roosters, folks in straw hats, and a menacing burly man skulking on a banyan – a kapre. Yet Tabaco was nothing like how I pictured it. It was a city, not a sleepy barrio where people still believed in kapres. Here, there is a mall and a Jollibee. A McDonald's, too, plus a sundry of commercial establishments. The roads are paved and many ply on it. It is bustling and dons the raiments of the modern world. Why would I even think that, you ask? 

Well, "tabaco", to me, had always meant kapre. This figure in local mythology is said to have a proclivity to smoke the stuff (or is it snuff?) and, just like any Filipino, I've made the association as soon as I'd heard the tale. But I'm not entirely wrong, mind you. See, the city's etymology points to the abundance of the tobacco plant and how it was its primary product in pre-Hispanic times, but given the stigma of smoking (and its association with the kapre, I'm sure), the residents weren't keen on keeping this version. There was another account preferred by the Tabaqueños. 

It's seldom you'll find a Filipino town's legend without some random Spaniard or American featuring in it. Often, the birth of a town – its name, that is – is by a foreigner who took something he heard out of context. In the case of the more agreeable version of Tabaco's origins, it was "tabak ko" which translates into "my bolo". A bolo, tabak, being a large single-edged knife.

What the tabak meant and represented was unsurprisingly better-liked than that of the uncouth tobacco. So much so that in February 23, 1966, the municipal council took this version of the narrative and made the tabak the symbol of the city. Literally. The city's seal contains an image of the tabak wielded, no less, by a woman. I suddenly feel compelled to mention that the place is also nicknamed the City of Love. If those won't deliver the message, I don't know what will. 

It works, too, for now the industry of cutlery is one of Tabaco's leading. The craft has also been elevated to a level of cultural and historical significance, being the cause-for-celebration of the city's Tabak Festival.

Used to be slated every March, the Tabak Festival was moved to June for it to coincide with and culminate to the feast of the city's patron St. John the Baptist on June 24. This year, by invitation of the City of Love's local government, I was able to partake in the festivities.

Naturally, tabak-making exhibitions were held throughout the 10-day fete. An "Amazing Race" among local padyak drivers also took place. There was also a quartet of beauty pageants: Ms. Teen Tabaco, Ginoong Tabaco, Mutya ng Tabaco, and – my favorite – Mutya ng Tabakla.

It seemed Tabaco City was not immune to the Philippines' mania for pageants. I can only guess what it is about these that we enjoy. Perhaps we all just really care for beautiful, fine things (and people). Or it could be that we're so insecure as a nation that we don't mind being objectified (or objectifying others) to gain validation.

I digress. 

What I like about Mutya ng Tabakla is that it afforded participants a respect often absent in run-off-the-mill gay pageants. Here, the contestants do not resort to prat-falling just to exact reactions from the audience, conducting themselves instead in a dignified manner that prompts onlookers to reciprocate. And while it was alarming to realize how sloppy I would've looked next to the contestants, I had a truly great time watching it. 

I was also part of the audience during the "Night of Infinity Stars" – an event unlike anything I've seen or heard of before. It was a program headlined by the city's different offices, its employees and servicemen. This year's theme was tribal and so each department had been tasked to choreograph a performance inspired by the traditions of an indigenous tribe. We got to see policemen, firefighters, and street-sweepers in beautifully crafted costumes, doing complex dance routines. It was very interesting.

A friend, however, noted how questionable it was for the city to spend money on such an event, but I thought: aren't the employees entitled to a slice of the proverbial pie? The people seemed fine with it, perhaps because the performers are also their friends and families. City employees are Tabaqueños too after all. I could be biased, though, for I was completely all for it the moment I saw Mayor Krisel Lagman-Luistro radiant in a T'boli ensemble. She looked amazing! Plus, I found out what a city abattoir is – I hadn't been aware such a word (or thing) exists. Knowledge is always an effective incentive. 

At any rate, Tabak Festival is definitely no Sinulog – at least, not yet. I believe it is being tapped to boost tourism, eventually to be marketed to travelers and cultural connoisseurs – I'm pretty sure that's the reason why I was there – but, for now, it is a festival for its own people. This is clear when you go over the activities. All had been designed not only to celebrate the city's culture but to bring joy to its residents as well. The concerts, for example. And the celebrity guests. 

The city brought in artists like Juris of MYMP, and Wacky Kiray. BoybandPH, and Neil Perez. And Aubrey Miles. These guests were there, first and foremost, for the locals. Most tourists like myself won't travel 14 hours in a non-AC bus just to see a celebrity. Hold that thought – maybe I would (especially if it's godamn Florence Welch), but the point is, as a non-local, the reason you go to a festival is to see and feel something inherent to a place – not to watch a concert, unless the concert in question is inherent to the place. Having said this, I somehow feel a strange sense of pride for having been allowed to experience this festival this way.

Truth be told, Tabak Festival is still in its infancy stage, where the locals are the main consumers; where the needs and wants of those within and in close proximity are a priority. My wish right now is for the Tabaqueños to fully revel in and savor it while it lasts, for I'm yet to find a cultural event able to keep balance between purpose and progress. Even my hometown's Higantes, sadly, had failed in this. I hope, when the time comes, Tabak sells out – everything and everyone does eventually – just the right amount. 

Tabaco, on the surface, may appear like a bustling city, but enduring undertones of a quaint pueblo can still be seen upon closer look. As of the moment, the city still holds and adheres to time-honored expectations that come with holding a veritable Filipino fiesta – all wholesome entertainment (relatively) and none of that rowdy alcohol-driven street parties most big festivals now promote. To be in the thick of the Tabak Festival is to get a feel of the city's psyche, of its people's values and ideals. It's basically a 101 to Tabaqueño Life, a primer on the Tabaco Way. And judging from what I've gleaned during my foray, Tabaco's actually not that much different from the image I initially conceived. It's still a sleepy barrio, but instead of sari-sari stores, there are department stores. Different facade, pretty much the same rationale. Its residents could still be wary of kapres for all I know. But if you ask me, that's really not a bad thing.

The province of Cebu offers adventures ranging from historical, cultural, all the way to adrenaline-inducing, but in the town of Busay, photogenic destinations offering a no-fuss, laid-back ambiance can be found. Here are five of them:

Aside from its wild spaces, cultural pockets, and gastronomic nooks, Bataan wouldn't be Bataan without its trademark products. Since it's impossible for this province to not make an impression, making you want to take a piece of its colorful identity back home, here are five souvenirs that say "Behold Bataan":

We Travel, We Care is a series of essays discussing and exploring issues related to travel and tourism.

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I'm still not sure about how I feel about Las Casas.

On one hand, I couldn't deny that all those buildings in one place does result into something beautiful to look at – an architectural orgasm, if you will. On the other, there's something wrong with its idea of conservation. I mean, is it really conservation when you're plucking a thing from its original source? I don't think so. 

Three brothers, Miguel, Raphael, and Gabriel – all named after archangels – love home-cooked meals so much that their parents opened a restaurant with a menu of their favorite dishes. Christened "Angelitos", this food place in the town of Orani, is fast becoming the go-to fix for locals craving home-style comfort food. And for good reason.