Sometimes, we get so enamored of a place that we go so far as to want to take home a bit of it. And while there are many intangible ways that we could carry a piece of a place with us, there come times that we prefer something substantial like, say, a bracelet or a keychain – the quintessential souvenirs – but for a place like Zamboanga City, where multiculturalism is the prevailing theme, there is, of course, a whole lot more fascinating choices. Here are five of them.

I already wrote about my recent visit to these islands in this comeback narrative (that’s over 2,000 words long but I’m so proud of it so I hope you could read it), but here are the essentials you need to know should you wish to see and experience these islands for yourself.

But before we proceed, please have a look at the Leave No Trace Principles:

Storytime is a series of  stories about my most memorable travel experiences. Read more here.

“If you were the sea,” I muttered, almost absentmindedly, as I slid off the prow of the pump boat, onto the island called Bisaya-Bisaya.

That morning in early October was like a borrowed summer day: the sun out; the sky a cloudless, faultless blue. As soon as the engine sputtered to a halt, the lull of waves and sea breeze took to playing in the background. I shielded my eyes, not from the sun, but from the sparkling, powdery shore that stretched on either side of where I stood – so white and reflective it was hard to look at without squinting. I then ambled to my companions who were heading toward the grove of coconut trees, away from the harsh mid-morning glare. Just before the trees began were masts of colorful vinta sails – a reminder that we were, indeed, still in the vibrant city of Zamboanga. We then found an array of wooden cottages, on which we deposited our things. Rid of bags, I turned on my heel and finally faced the sea.

The Philippines is full of picturesque destinations, and many of them haven’t been discovered by the many tourists that flock to the country each year. One such location is Osmeña Peak in the town of Dalaguete in the province of Cebu. It’s one of the best kept secrets of  the Central Visayas Region – a must-see for those who love absolutely gorgeous mountain views of the Philippines’ lush tropical landscape.

I must admit, I was quite relieved that I didn't get zapped by lightning or swallowed by the ground after my blasphemous comments (and thoughts) about the Monastery of the Transfiguration. But I guess I was inflicted with another kind of punishment: Hunger.

It was past noon and we hadn't had lunch. We'd been on the road for most of the morning, traveling from Cagayan De Oro to Bukidnon. Finally, we arrived in the latter's city center of Malaybalay.

Bukidnon's Kaamulan Festival began in the 70s when local leaders decided it was high time they put a spotlight on the province’s indigenous heritage. Its goal is mainly to bring together the seven original inhabitants of the province: the Bukidnon, Higaonon, Talaandig, Manobo, Matigsalug, Tigwahanon and Umayamnon.

Over the years, the festival had earned praises for being the "most authentic" and only truly ethnic festival in the country.

"Isn't that a subject in Hogwarts?" I asked.

Potpot, one of my companions, blinked. He proceeded to face the car window, ignoring me.

In the passenger seat, I heard Edgar snicker.

"Right?" I insisted, tapping Edgar in the shoulder for support.

Storytime is a series of  stories about my most memorable travel experiences. Read more here.

I was wearing a bikini top the whole time but my companions only took notice when I pulled my pants down.

"I thought that was a crop-top," Marky admitted.

Couldn't really blame them. Most of my normal clothes look like a bikini top. In the words of my friend Isa: the world shall know my pusod.

I digress.

Full but still tired from all the commute, I couldn't wait to get to our hotel. On our way back from High Ridge, we made a pitstop at a roadside fruit vendor (which was already closed, but we begged to be let in) to get some durian. I wasn't too enthused about it to be honest, but I still enjoyed the communal durian-feasting. We drank Coke after – to burp the icky smell of durian away – and since I was still hungry, I bought some bread from the bakery across the street.

In any case, after our evening dessert, we finally made our way to our hotel.

It had turned dark when we left the Divine Mercy Hill. Dinner was our next agenda. As we approached the city center of Cagayan de Oro, I marveled at how quickly the traffic had turned heavy. I found it amusing but only at first. As we spent more and more time stuck on the highway of the city, the more I remember how hungry I was.

A 68-foot statue of Christ ala Brazil's Rio de Janeiro towers over the Divine Mercy Hill in the town of El Salvador in the province of Misamis Oriental. Every Holy Week, devotees flock to this site, up the 70 steps of the massive statue, into the tabernacle holding the Blessed Sacrament. Completed in 2008, the view here sweeps across the Macalajar Bay where sunrise is said to be extraordinary, particularly on the next Sunday after Easter.

Imagine going on a foodtrip right after yoga. Sounds counterproductive? Oh, totally. But, that's what Marky, Christine, and I did. We'd just finished attending Ferdz' yoga session in Community Fitness in Pasig where we also went in a walking tour/foodtrip.

We already did some good eating around Pasig, but we weren't done yet. In the afternoon, we rode to Quezon City for another round. Hey, what's life without a few workouts going completely to waste?

When I got a message from THE Gay Mitra-Emami, the PTB Queen herself, asking if I could represent her to a sponsored trip to Singapore, I instantly said no. 

One of my bestfriends Nikki was home from Dubai, and wanting to spend time with her, I took her with me to Batangas, to Eagle Point Resort for some quality bonding time.

When one literally eats dust on an empty stomach, one tends to crave real food. Fortunately, after the sandy soiree over at the La Paz Sand Dunes, and a quick jaunt at the Bangui Windmills, we proceeded to Pagudpud for lunch.

It's been almost four years since I started this life, since this magical, wonderful, wandering life became my reality. It may have been born of sorrow, but it had lead me to experience joy in ways I wouldn't have if I'd stayed in one place. 

On that fateful day in April of 2014, just three months after my mother died, I'd gone to what was the first of my many adventures. It was in the Ilocos that I'd traveled to, with my former colleagues who'd been kind enough to extend me an invitation. 

Storytime is a series of  stories about my most memorable travel experiences. Read more here.

As our journey to the North continued to Ilocos Norte, we found ourselves in the city of Laoag, in the expansive desert that is the La Paz Sand Dunes.

I'm no stranger to the sand dunes of Ilocos. I have been to the one in Paoay almost four years ago as part of my very first adventure. But still, I was excited to brave the desert once again.

So along with three of my companions, we boarded a 4x4 and rattled across the bumpy landscape. Our bodies jostling as we scaled hills and rushed back down. The ride, albeit bruising, was exhilarating.

We arrived in Ilocos Norte well into the night. In Sitio Remedios, we had a late dinner of bagnet and poqui-poqui before checking in at Rosewell Hotel.

Facing the West Philippine Sea in the town of Currimao, the heritage village resort of Sitio Remedios recreates the grandeur of a mid-century Ilocano community. Arranged based on the Spanish quadricula, the layout places vintage houses around open spaces and ancient trees.



The houses are made from bricks and woods salvaged from ancestral homes across Ilocos Norte. The compound is reminiscent of Las Casas Filipinas de Acuzar in Bataan. The place is owned by neurologist Dr. Joven Cuanang, the same gentleman behind Pinto Art Museum in Antipolo.

While the overall vibe may be old-world, the place is not without modern luxuries. The houses, named after the towns it originated, are all well-appointed. The spa called Ablon – an Ilocano term for healing through massage – offers guests a place to get pampered, complete with a bar and restaurant that serves fresh seafood and vegetarian meals.

Entrance to the resort is by reservation only while overnight stays start at Php5,000/night. Visiting hours is from 8AM to 12NN, and 1PM to 6PM daily.

Sitio Remedios is located at Brgy. Victoria, Currimao, Ilocos Norte. For bookings and inquiries, call +63 917 332 0217.

Once you go exploring in Tarlac, you're bound to get pleasantly surprised. It will even come to a point that you can't get enough. And just like what happens every time we get "attached" to a place, you'll want to take home a part of it.

So, when you inevitably get sepanx from Tarlac, here are five local products reminiscent of its character that you could take home and share (or not) with your loved ones.

After discovering the surprisingly varied offerings of Tarlac, stuffed to the gills with barbecue and bonete, We proceeded to the town of Capas. 

It was a special day, for a super blue blood moon hung over the clear night sky, and I couldn't wait to lie down.

It's always been clear to me that most of the best examples of architecture can be found in churches. While I'm not particularly religious and may or may not have unshakable faith, I could appreciate hallowed calm and interesting backstories. So, whether you're looking for candidates for your next Visita Iglesia, or are simply fascinated by the things in this world (as you should), here is a trio of Tarlac churches that warrants a stopover or two.

Think of Tarlac and, honestly, not much will come to mind. There's Pinatubo... but that's basically all we know (aside from being a national reststop) about this province.

Buuuut, Tarlac has loads to offer. There's the Monasterio de Tarlac, Kart City Tarlac, the Ylang-ylang Center in Anao, the Aquino Center and Museum, among other things. Plus, there's a collection of food places that are definitely worth the stopover. So, should you find yourself in this province, be sure to check out these six restaurants:

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

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Green-yellow trees leaned over the road like curious spectators. They stood in rows, marching into parallel lines that went on as far as the eyes could see. Their canopies, latticed and rustling, turned sunlight into fractals. I was on a moving bus, peering behind glass, but I was sure that if I crack the window even just a tad, fragrant air would fill my lungs. We were in Anao, after all, where air is basically perfume.

Every breath here carries a hint of ylang-ylang – a tree ubiquitous in not just the roadsides but in all of town. It is cultivated here, grown for oil extraction. Anao's low land elevation, acidic soil, and tropical clime make it an ideal place to grow the trees. Three varieties thrive here: malasaba, malakawayan, and kulot.

It may be the tiniest of Tarlac's towns, but it compensates by being the country's largest producer of ylang-ylang extract. The industry began in 1994. More than two decades later, it still remains as a cornerstone in Anao's economy. But progress, even after all those years, is slow.

Dinner, and the ensuing race at Kart City Tarlac left me wanting for a soft, comfortable bed. It had been a busy day, filled with a historic walking tour and a quick river cruise. We'd been traveling by bus to boot. I couldn't wait to lie down. 

My mind was set that I'd be billeted at Microtel Luisita and I was actually thrilled, for my previous stay there had been a joy. As we left KCT however, I was told that I'd be spending the night in La Maja Rica Hotel. I was honestly too tired to think much of it.

"So long, sucker!" I screamed as I smashed the pedal on my go-kart, the engine's roar slicing through the cold Tarlac night. A huge, goofy smile was plastered across my mouth. I was in first place and I felt a little smug. 

San Rafael River Adventure presented itself like an unexpected gift.

"Are we still in Bulacan?" I thought suspiciously upon stepping out of the bus, unto the resort's canopied vicinity. 

The vibe here was so different compared to the heritage city of Malolos. The art nouveau buildings were replaced with foliage, glinting like metal from the late noon sun. Instead of the impatient song of cars and feet, there were chirping birds and crackling leaves. What an abrupt, albeit welcomed, transition. 

Stripped of rolling hills or noteworthy seascapes, Malolos and its carpet of character is instead woven with pieces of historical jewels. The place doubles as a living, breathing historical journal, tactile and rousing. In its hallowed folds, men are reared to become heroes. A republic no less was born within its walls.

It harbors countless stories. Why, even how its name came to be has several versions. There's the one about the many rivers (from the Tagalog "paluslos" meaning downward), the one about the abundance of the "Lulos" reed, and, of course, the archetypal linguistic misunderstanding with Spaniard conquistadors. 

Our stay in Saigon can be likened to a staycation. We just slept and ate. We did try to sight-see and go to a spot that Dennis wanted to photograph, but it turned out it had been barricaded. We'd tried going up the Saigon Skydeck but found the fees absurd. So, instead, we'd ended up experiencing the local transportation, which was, to be honest, a fun experience in itself. 

It was only our second day in Ho Chi Minh, but already we had settled into a routine: wake up late, walk around to get some food, amble back to the hotel, lounge in bed, then repeat steps two to four until it was time to sleep.

My husband Dennis noted how much like a "staycation" this leg of our trip was. I knew he wanted to do more, to take perhaps another one of his wonderful photos. But, for the past two weeks, that was what we've been doing –across the thoroughfares of Melaka, up the volcanoes and temples of Indonesia. In all earnestness, I really just wanted to eat.

After our 10-day foray into Indonesia, then spending one whole day at the Jakarta International Airport, we were finally down to the last leg of the #CDHoneymoonAdventure. We arrived in Ho Chi Minh late in the night, with a room in the Binh Tan District. On the way to our hotel, I soon realized I made a grave mistake: we were too far from the city center. 

It was too late for us to go to another hotel, so we spent the rest of the night there. I checked Traveloka and applied for a refund of the remaining 4 nights, and I was glad it was immediately granted. 

Say Yogyakarta, and Borobudur would most likely come into mind. While a visit to this Buddhist temple is something you should do at least once, there are more places to explore and things to do in Jogja. 

And I'm not talking about a jaunt over at Prambanan, or a sunset at Rato Boku. I'm talking about eating, shopping, art, and – ok, fine – more temples, but lesser known and more M. C. Escher-esque. 

So, here's a handful more things to do in this vibrant city.

Yogyakarta remains as one of my favorite places ever. Even if it was a witness to an embarrassing episode involving Burger King and fries, despite being home to the second lousiest room I've ever stayed in, it still holds a special place in my heart.

After spending a night at a sleazy dungeon of a room, Dennis and I decided we will not spend the rest of our Yogyakarta stay in such a sorry state. This was our honeymoon, goddammit, and we deserve to be pampered.

So after searching through Traveloka, I found Griya Inap Moeslem Kemala Seturan. The daily rate was thrice what we paid for the dingy room, but the photos looked lavish and honeymoon-worthy.

Thus, we packed our bags, got on an Uber, and got the heck out of that dump. #sorrynotsorry

By 3AM, we were already at the foot of the greatest Buddhist temple in the world.

It all felt so familiar. The flashlights. The steep climb up the stone steps. The thrill. Here I was again, on the age-old stones of Borobudur, waiting for sunrise – with my husband this time.

I watched as the handful of people blossomed to a veritable crowd, all tuning in to the east. Soon, there was a soft blue light that grew quickly into a glittering golden dawn. Bright and warm and beautiful.

Some experiences are worth repeating. This was one of such.

Merry Christmas.