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.