Craving for a home-cooked pork binagoongan and a plateful of pancit malabon? How about a classic afternoon merienda of lugaw and lumpia? If you happen to pass by Quezon City, I have just the place for you. Neatly tucked in a quiet street, an eatery called Lola Idang’s Bahay Pancitan.

The place is not that big, with only about ten tables set on a 35-square meter eating space. The restaurant is so unassuming that you’ll hardly take a second look at it; plain white tiles flooring, simple decors, plastic Orocan chairs, and tables laid with generic plaid table clothes. What distinguishes this small diner from the throngs of eating places in Quezon City though is their food.

I’ve always thought that the best bulalo in Tagaytay is located at one of the many fancy restaurants fronting the Taal Volcano. Boy, was I ever wrong! I’ve heard about the best bulalo being sold at one of Tagaytay’s many markets, but have no idea where it was. Little did I know that I’ve been passing through it countless of times, it was just at the Mahogany Market all along.

CARINDERIA STALLS AT TAGAYTAY'S MAHOGANY MARKET BULALOHAN

Half a day of walking around the drizzly pathways of Caleruega made some dents on our tummies, immediately turning our mini tour into a Tagaytay food trip. We immediately headed towards the bulalohan area along the Nasugbu Highway to replenish our batteries but were immediately turned off by their prices (PHP380.00 per bowl).

We packed up and boarded another jeepney, this time to Mahogany Market, there’s also a bulalohan strip there that’s much cheaper, although sans the view, my friend says to me.

Before discovering pancit batil patong, the first thing that comes to our mind when one mentions Tuguegarao City is its cave—a huge one where light filters in from a natural crevice above, illuminating a row of pews facing a natural stone altar. A cave, whose chambers are large enough to hold weddings in. One unlike any other in the Philippines. Callao Cave.

INSIDE CALLAO CAVE IN PENABLANCA

But we were dead wrong on our assumptions.

During my first visit to Tuguegarao City, I was finally able to step inside this northern gem. It’s not located in Tuguegarao City, as I previously thought, but in the sleepy town of Peñablanca. Twenty four kilometers away from where I thought it was.

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About two years back, coming from an week-long trip from the towns of Claveria, Pagudpud, and Calayan, we made a quick decision to drop by Tuguegarao City as we were about to board a bus bound to Manila. Since it was such a spur-of-the-moment move, we scrambled across the web, scouting for the cheapest accommodation we could find before our bus passes through the city.

Pensione Joselina was the first one we found and a quick call from our cellphone confirmed us for the night.

We arrived at Tuguegarao City at around eight in the evening. Finding Hotel Joselina was easy enough. After a few questions for directions, we were at the inn’s gates in less than five minutes.

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Tuguegarao City holds the record for having the hottest climate in the Philippines. And on in this particular day, we really can’t quite dispute that. We were sweating buckets as we moved through the city’s busy streets, walking through shades and sprinting along open areas as we made our way to the Tuguegarao Cathedral.

TUGUEGARAO CATHEDRAL’S MYSTERIOUS WALL DECORATIONS

The baroque-style cathedral stood proudly against the midday heat. A handsome brick sentinel, watching guard over the whole city. On its symmetrical façade—framed by Solomonic twisted pilasters—we could glean cryptic clay casts; two bolos with a six-pointed stars, roosters, mysterious characters topped with crowns.

Church architecture aficionados were quite particular with the cathedral’s broken and crested pediment, a style they said, typical to Cagayan churches.

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I tasted my first pancit batil patong dish the night before at a guerilla-type roadside eatery along Bonifacio Street near Hotel Joselina Tuguegarao, where we were staying. I was instantly hooked.

This was about two years ago and it was my first time to visit Tuguegarao City. The next morning, we hunted for a proper panciteria, asking locals as we went along. They were all saying the same thing, go to the Tuguegarao Cathedral, there’s one along its left wing. We followed their advice and we found Ed’s Panciteria (amazingly, it was just across Jomar’s Panciteria, which would later become our favorite pancit batil patong restaurant).

INSIDE ED’S PANCITERIA’S SIMPLE INTERIORS

It was basically a shack with a bare ceiling, unfinished floor with a few plastic chairs and makeshift tables. The thing that made us decide to eat there was the number of locals having their fill of their noodles, a good indication that this place serves a mean dish.

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On the night of our fifth day in Sulu, we finally packed our bags for the last time. It was past dusk when we departed Camp Bud Datu and were escorted to the port of Jolo. The sight of so many people packed in so little space unnerved us. Our marine escorts quickly led us to the docked ferry and secured our room.

It took ten almost sleepless hours before we finally disembarked at Zamboanga City.

Walking on the port to a waiting vehicle, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. The feeling of being able to walk without a platoon of marines looking out for you was liberating. This is freedom.

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We’ve just finished an hour snorkeling at a beach somewhere in Sulu when the sky cracked red. Sitting on the beach, conversation with the Juan Portrait crew was starting to heat up around the reason why the band Sugarfree broke up. Bottles of Red Horse and shot glasses filled with Emperador were soon passed around.

As the sun started to set, everyone turned to look. I knew each one was debating whether to get their cameras and look for a proper vantage point, but the lure of alcohol and stories were just too much. After a moment, everyone settled back to their place, looking on as I raced for my camera and tripod.

From the open-aired windows of the military trucks provided by Marine Battalion Landing Team Six, I caught a fleeting glimpse of Sulu; from the chaotic streets of its capital, the bucolic sceneries of its outskirts, the stilt houses near its coastal area, and the graceful white mosques towering above the town’s painted tin roofs.

Our trip with the Juan Portrait team to and from the various rendezvous in Sulu wouldn’t have been possible without the help of the MBLT-6 team. Besides providing us with a place to stay in every night, they also lent their vehicles for us to use—complete with armed personnel and a platoon of convoys.

And that said convoy includes a tank. Yes, a full blown, massive, armored tank.

See, no matter what you read or heard about how it’s relatively safe to travel to Sulu, it simply isn’t true. Especially for people like us who are considered foreign to the place. We were told that the moment we stepped into Jolo’s port, everyone knew that we were already there.

And that is not a comforting feeling to have.

Through the five days that we were on the island, our movement was totally limited to the MBLT-6 camp in Patikul. To go out, we need to be on their trucks, rumbling at a fairly rapid pace. These trucks were not to be impeded by anything—local vehicles swerve out of the way when we pass, lest the chance of an Abu Sayyaf ambush begets us.

And through these trucks, I saw Sulu.

It looked as chaotic as any city I’ve been to. Pedicabs and tricycles rule the street of Jolo. It was surprising that their houses looked as ordinary as the ones as say, in Quiapo. It was jarring to see the graceful minarets of mosques towering over the chaos of the city.

I have no idea how many mosques there are in the whole island of Sulu, but I can tell from those we passed that there are a lot. Some of them, the major ones I suppose, are even quite impressive. It was with a disheartening feeling that we were left to admire them from afar. It would’ve been nice to see them up close, and if possible, even enter their premises.

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From our vantage at Camp Bud Datu, I saw a couple of mosques that really stood out. Again, I have no idea what the names of these worship houses are. My mind was too preoccupied with things that might happen as we hit the road again, leaving the comforts and security of the marine camps.

Which was quite unjust to the place.

From what I saw from the mountainous region of Sulu, I’m pretty sure that the island offers more than the little we saw. If the white sand beach of Quezon Beach Patikul is paradise, what more so those little islands I saw dotting the perimeter of Sulu.

This is a place different to most provinces in the Philippines.

In Sulu, there are no guided tours. Here, you take in as much as you can from a vantage of a speeding vehicle. You can swim on white sand beaches, but with escorts checking you out via binoculars from the shore. You wait for the sunset, not beside the sea, but on a speeding military truck trying to beat the retiring sun from setting before you reach the safety of the camp.

It is not a place to go to just for the heck of it.

It is saddening to admit, but Sulu is not a safe destination for tourists like us. I’m just hoping and praying that someday, I can take those words back and not only let everyone see how beautiful this province is, but also invite them to see it for themselves.

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There’s something about soft, plush toys that speaks to every child. They’re cuddly, they’re cute, and they make even the most hardened kid flash a smile. It gives them comfort, it gives them a sense of being of who they are—even after tragedies and life’s hardships altered them in ways that we adults can only begin to understand. A simple toy can bring them back to being ordinary children—without worries, without fear.

It was our last day in Sulu. We woke early in the morning, had our usual longsilog breakfast at the MBLT-6 camp. We packed our bags and together with a massive convoy of marines, drove to a graduation ceremony being held at the 26th Marine Corp camp in Barangay Danag in Patikul.

The weather was cool and the breeze felt nippy. The panorama from the balcony we were standing on was incredible. From our vantage, a sprawling land filled by trees. It felt like we were in Tagaytay City but for the crescent moons topping the graceful roofs of mosques and minarets. We were in a military camp in Sulu, Camp Bud Datu.

From the MBLT-6 Camp in Patikul, where we were based during our four-day stay in Sulu, our convoy of three trucks, a bulletproof SUV, and a tank clambered up the mountainous region of Sulu to visit the eco-tourism center at the town of Indanan at Bud Datu.

Three kids rowing and playing with a seemingly too narrow bamboo raft paused in front of me. Take our pictures please! They playfully hollered at me. Above their heads, a feather of a cloud was lighting up with fire. A few inches above their ankles, the warm sea was lazily pushing waves, lapping the white sandy shore of Quezon Beach in Patikul.

It was another fulfilling day of taking portraits in Patikul with the Juan Portrait team, a town in the island province of Sulu. With a few hours of daylight left, the group decided to chill a bit and visit one of the beaches on the island. Quezon Beach is located less than half a kilometer away from the MBLT-6 camp where we were bunking in, but still, we went there with full military escorts—safety being the primary concern of our hosts.

One of Sulu’s sultans lives right in front of the beach, Mohammad Muejuddin Jainal Abirin Bahjin. He gracefully chatted with us and even gave us some coconut drinks before we stripped off and ran to the waters.

Okay, you’re next, one of the teachers told a bashful girl wearing a traditional Muslim clothing. She led her to where I was standing and coaxed her in their local dialect, Bahasa Sūg, to smile a bit.

Taking portraits is really not my forte, finding rocks and waves much more interesting. But there I was, trying my very best to talk to these shy kids to pose in front of my camera. It was something alien to most of them, something they’re probably doing for the first time in their lives.

The distance between where we were staying, the Marine Battalion Landing Team-6 camp at Barangay Buhanginan and the Kaunayan Elementary School, where we were to photograph the kids, was only 600 meters. Close enough for a leisurely seven-minute walk.

But we weren’t allowed to do that.

It was still some hours before our flight to Zamboanga City—our jump-off point to the province of Sulu. We were headed to the town of Patikul in particular. And I was totally dreading it.

With time to kill, we got out of the airport and bought a few cans of Red Horse Beer. We brought it to a grassy patch near the terminal and guzzled a few down. I was hoping to unknot the terrible loops forming in my stomach.

And then we were flying. The metro was still dark as we took off. There’s definitely no going back now.

Some weeks back, I was invited by a photographer friend, Chris Linag, to join a shoot in Sulu. Having never been to that province, I immediately said yes—it was for a good cause anyways. We’d be going there to take portraits of school kids, print them and give them back the next day. Easy, right?

It was the second time they’re doing this so I assumed that Sulu is a safe place, so much so that I never even bothered to research about.

I jumped in. The water was warm and crystal clear. It enveloped my whole being as I plunged, paused, and sprung back to the surface. I had a quick glimpse of paradise—schools of colorful orange-striped fishes swarming above a seabed replete with healthy corals. I puffed seawater out from my snorkel, readied myself, and let Boracay’s emerald waters envelop me once more.

NOT REALLY THE PERFECT WEATHER FOR AN ISLAND HOPPING ADVENTURE

Our day started early at the Station 2 of Boracay White Beach. We weren’t really planning on doing a Boracay island hopping tour since it was the rainy season and the weather wasn’t really that great, but C’s friend, who runs a boat tour around the island convinced us otherwise. She told us that tourists can still do the tour, which runs for about five to six hours, even if it was the habagat season (south-west monsoon). The tour sites shift to the eastern side of the island, with Bulabog Beach being the jump off point.

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We’re always on the lookout for the most affordable lodging possible whenever we visit a place. During our past travels to the celebrated Boracay Island, we found what could possibly be the cheapest beachfront accommodation along the Boracay White Beach.

DIVING AND SNORKELING EQUIPMENT AT WHITE BEACH DIVERS HOSTEL BORACAY

Dubbed as the White Beach Divers Hostel, it is located (as expected with budget lodgings on the island) at Station 3—quite a walk away from the party happenings at Station 2. As their name implies, they’re on the White Beach, they’re a diving outfit and they have a hostel. There.

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At the far end of the cove is a rocky area highly in contrast with the rest of Guisi Beach. Here craggy rock formations soar like deconstructed houses hovering above the sea; the booming waves battering them, hell-bent on bringing them down to their foundations. I watched and sat down on the most comfortable rock I could find, and waited for the sun to peek through the thick blanket of clouds quickly moving through the darkening twilight.

The first time I found out about Guisi Beach was when I visited the nearby cast-iron Guisi Lighthouse. From the promontory leading to the tower, I spied this beautiful emerald cove and promised myself to check it out the next time I visit Guimaras.

That next time proved to be much quicker than anticipated.

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It was nine in the morning when we woke up. The sky was finally showing some colors and the beach looked inviting—quite far from the previous night’s seething waves. At last, the weather seemed to be clearing up. I stripped off my shirt, unmindful that I haven’t even had breakfast yet, and ran to the sandy shore of Guimaras’ Guisi Beach.

Coming from Iloilo City, we decided to head to Guimaras to spend a couple of nights before pushing through to Boracay. Alubihod Beach is the usual beach of choice when in the island, but we want none of that. We want something more secluded, a place where most tourists find too far to stay in. Guisi Beach was the obvious choice.

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Vines crawl along the old walls of an outpost situated on a promontory along the southwestern coast of Panay Gulf. Somehow, along with the dreary weather, it reminded me of banyan roots clinging along the more ancient sites of Cambodia. Taking a few steps forward, a short roofless corridor led directly to a dilapidated rusty farola; after three visits, I finally got a glimpse of Guimaras’ Guisi Lighthouse.

It was my fourth day in Iloilo City and after church-hopping myself to high heavens, I finally ran out of churches to visit. With nothing else to do, I decided to revisit the island of Guimaras, which is just a song away from the city. Meeting a local guide, Kuya Cherald, at the Jordan (pronounced as Hordan) Port, I quickly asked him to whisk me away to the Guisi Point Lighthouse.

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With no budget for fancy restaurants, my culinary trips to Iloilo City usually consists of nothing more than carinderia fares, bowls of La Paz batchoy and the usual tusok-tusok streetfood. So I almost choked with surprise then that on my last outing to the city, I, together with other travel bloggers, was invited to try out the upper-class cuisine of Iloilo City at the Al Dente Ristorante Italiano.

According to Merriam-Webster’s, al dente is a dish that’s cooked just enough to retain a somewhat firm texture.

Alright alright, I know most 90s kids know what the word means from a TV commercial from yesteryears. The term originates from Italy and refers mostly to pasta dishes, so I’m thinking we must be having Italian tonight.

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