Down some hundred steps from Lazi’s main road is a scenery as magical as Siquijor’s mystical reputation. The afternoon was steadily progressing on as we made our slow way down on stone steps leading to Siquijor’s famous three-tiered Cambugahay Falls. The treads were evenly made with natural stones, probably procured from the river that feeds the waterfall. The falls cascade all the way from a small rainforest above the mountains, some freshwater springs, and watersheds.
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| UNEVEN STONE STEPS TO CAMBUGAHAY FALLS |
A hint of light green waters, reminiscent of Palawan’s famed Kayangan Lake, springs into view in between the foliage as we made our ever downwards progress. And in less than five minutes, we were holding on to our jaws, lest it fall all the way downstream with the green gushing waters of Cambugahay Falls.
► SEE: SIQUJOR TRAVEL GUIDE
I T I N E R A R Y 
“You’re going off to Dumaguete? Don’t forget to try their sans rival and bring home some silvanas too!” That seems to be the tag line for someone off to see the Land of the Gentle People and we’re not exempted. I’m really not a lover of sweets but the fervor for this certain Sans Rival in Dumaguete was such that I was wont to try it, well, at least just once.
Opened in 1977 by Trinidad Teves Sagarbarria, Sans Rival has always been one of the most popular places to eat out in Dumaguete City. I cannot get past a forum discussing the city without its name getting mentioned. 
The city of Dumaguete has its own share of historic structures and one of these is the St. Catherine of Alexandria Church or more popularly known as the Dumaguete Cathedral.
Located far on the church’s left side is its old bell tower, the Campanario de Dumaguete, one of the four watchtowers that once dotted the city. It was once used as a warning device against marauding Moro invaders in the 1700’s. The circular tower is made of coral stones with a pentagonal bell house topped with a red dome. 
We got lost in Dumaguete looking for an oddly named food place. Qyosko which I gather is a play on the word kiosk is not the easiest thing to ask a tricycle driver to locate and we got dropped twice on the wrong restaurant. I guess third try’s a charm and we finally found the 24-hour diner tucked in one of the less busier part of the city.
There weren’t much people eating inside as we entered its yellow portal. We secured a colorful table near the entrance and proceeded towards the counter for our orders. This place is more of an eatery than a fancy restaurant so customers are expected to pay as they go.
I tried to peek out from our hotel window and the sky was frowning. It was drizzling and the heavens was painted in a dark shade of grey. Taking my chances, as I really have no other to catch a sunrise in Dumaguete City, I packed my cameras and went down the desolate streets. 
Named after the country’s National Hero, it was said that Jose Rizal briefly visited the shoreline of Dumaguete before proceeding to his exile in Dapitan. The stretch has now become a favorite hang-out of locals, especially since its proximity to the food places in the city. At night, a portion of the boulevard transforms into a streetfood mecca of sorts complete with chairs and tables.
Our base of operation in the City of Gentle People is a tall glitzy hotel building a few blocks away from the city’s endless Rizal Boulevard. 
I was actually surprised after seeing the photos of their quarters; it doesn’t look like a budget hotel at all. The design was modern and chic; clean cream walls punctuated with naturally finished cabinets and drawers, geometric dark trims, red fabric highlights on their soft bed and a fantastic looking toilet and bath. 
Dumaguete City has always been tagged as a campus town; they say the atmosphere is laid back and very relaxed. My mind was already picturing long rows of trees, blankets of grass, lots of benches, pavilions, arcades and hardly any motorized traffic. 
We arrived at Dumaguete City in one piece after the rumble and tumble of a ferry ride from the island of 
I T I N E R A R Y 
Lounging on hammocks strung on coconut trees at Coco Grove resort, the afternoon sun suddenly threw out god rays all over the western sky. We scrambled from our relaxed position, gathered our camera bags and followed the glorious rays. 
Where the fine sand ends, stone beds and green algae begins. The ebbing tide provided a dramatic landscape that creates natural pools surrounded by dark rocks and green lichen-like plants.
The western portion of Coco Grove’s kilometer-long shoreline is littered with coral stone formations that rise up to more than a man’s height. Its undersides are carved from eons of waves slamming along its base making an almost cave-like natural stone cantilever of the formations.
The rocks can be scaled and not a few visitors and locals spend the afternoon at its shelf, watching the sun retire or like the kids we saw, singing to their heart’s delight; seemingly giving odes to the beauty of the landscape.
The god rays, too far for my lens were gone by the time we got into position. The landscapes of San Juan nevertheless were still too beautiful to pass up on. The sky was already calling on twilight as we packed up and headed back to the comfort of Coco Grove.
The next morning called early and found me on the opposite end of the beach. 
It seemed everyone’s still dreaming in slumberland except a few fisherfolks already out on the water and some dogs yawning along the beach.
The beach transformed from fine sand to rough pebbles; the water shallow, filled with plant life and creatures that looks like a cross between starfishes and a mini octopuses. 
On the sea’s glassy surface, the sky reflected its indecision; torn between delivering rain and sunshine it throws a few drizzly feelers every now and then. At last it made up its mind and broke off the clouds which the sun dutifully lit with its warm morning rays.
I was ruminating on the past days we were in Siquijor as I made my way back. It was our last day of stay and the past three days had been a complete surprise. I wasn’t expecting to find this mysterious island, so engulfed in rumors of sorcery and witchcraft to be so beautiful. Its old world architecture, natural pools, waterfalls and culture makes it worth risking the dire warnings from home. 
Located on the west side of Coco Grove Resort in San Juan, Siquijor is one of its two restaurants. Aptly named after the setting sun, it is a silent witness to the fiery afternoons of Siquijor. 
Being budget travelers almost always means any room will do; unfortunately we’re not really hardcore backpackers. Although we could’ve just chosen the cheapest accommodation possible in Siquijor, we still tried to look for a cozier one and mightily tried to fit it within our measly budget. 
Coco Grove’s prices include breakfast for two and unlimited hot water free of charge. For your normal uncaffeinated drinking needs though, you’d have to buy their bottled mineral water. No service water for cheapskates like us. To work around this, we bought a six-liter jug of water from a water station a few steps from the resort’s gate and just plunked it in the mini-ref. Php60.00 for 6 liters of mineral water versus Coco Grove’s Php30.00 for 350milliliters, you choose.
On the second day, we transferred to one of the farther rooms since the one we were currently occupying was already booked for another guest ahead of time. We really didn’t mind as the resort’s courteous staff helped us moved our things. The new room was almost identical to the previous one, only difference was it was tucked on a corner of their forest-like garden. 
This is the most famous resort in Siquijor, our guide told us as he maneuvered his tricycle into the gates of Coco Grove. We’re still unsure where to book our three-day stay in the island and Kuya Joam was showing us around the various resorts circling Siquijor’s shoreline.
Passing a long cogon colonnade we were welcomed by a huge white parrot at the Coco Grove’s open-aired front desk. We did our inquiry, the cheapest room they have is priced at Php2,400.00; good for two persons, breakfast included. Not that pricey, but not cheap either. We decided to check out the resort first.
Most people I have talked with don’t wanna be caught dead traveling through Siquijor’s roadways after the sun sets below the liquid horizon. I understand how the island’s reputation for sorcery has somehow ingrained this bit for wary travelers who for some unknown reasons found themselves in the middle of the mystic island. But we’re no part of these groups of vacationeers.
Siquijor has charmed us the moment we alighted at 
Our tricycle had blasted through the wind and roared through the paved roads of Siquijor, passing farmlands, small villages, man-made forests, mangroves and the sea, always the sea. 
We were on the wrong end of the sunset, the coast we were standing on faced east. There were shadows in the horizon as dusk negotiated a treaty with early evening. The sky was transforming into blues and purples; clouds being painted in magentas. 
Dusk was quickly falling as we arrived at the last of the three churches we visited in Siquijor. A boombox blasting out Lady Gaga songs was trying but failing miserably to brighten up the now solemn atmosphere looming over the town of Maria as early evening encroaches on the mystic island 
Dubbed simply as Santa Maria Church by the locals, its exterior is devoid of any ornamentation; no saints on niches, no intricate carvings, no fancy stained glass windows. The same can be said of the octagonal bell tower that squats beside the church. The bell holder seemed more intricate compared to the structure. 
The only thing that doesn’t go well with its old-world charm is the new portico built in front of its two-story tall double doors. Made of concrete and designed in fake neo-classical motif, it clashes with the minimalistic façade of the original structure. 
But enough of that, the architecture of Santa Maria Church, beautiful as it is, is really not what tourists visit in the sleepy town of Maria. Inside the stone church is a religious statue as eerie as the eeriest tale told in Siquijor. 
Dubbed as the Black Magic Maria, it has one of the most piercing gazes I have ever seen, be it from live flesh or dead stone. I didn’t know it’s possible for a lifeless statue to send chills down one’s spine. Covered in black garb, the saint’s pale face is sporting a thin frowning mouth. On one of her hand is a human skull and on the other is a cross, which was said to be inverted. Well it was not inverted when I visited but it didn’t add any comfort to my swirling mind as I willed myself to stare at the apparition; am I really looking at a statue of a saint? 
The history might explain the somber look, but to Siquijodnons there’s more to this sculpture than written history. 
Whether you believe in such chatter is of course entirely up to you. But talks like these take a few more creds than what it should probably deserve when you’re inside an empty echoing church with the sun way below its small windows and you can feel the Black Maria’s eyes seemingly staring behind your back. 
Sta. Maria Church 
