Far from the tattoo trails of Buscalan, a richer portrait of Kalinga unfolds in sacred rituals, heirloom recipes, and the coldness of mountain villages.

Despite years spent crisscrossing the Philippine archipelago, a few places have continued to elude me. Chief among them: the mountain village of Buscalan in Kalinga, home to Apo Whang-Od, centenarian, cultural icon, and said to be the oldest traditional mambabatok (Kalinga traditional artist) of her generation. Using a thorn, soot, and indigenous ink, she etches ancestral symbols into skin, each mark a living archive of identity and cultural symbol.

Sunrise over the mountains of Lubuagan, Kalinga is a great reason to wake up early

Having climbed my fair share of mountains during my college days, I knew well enough that when a guide says, “Just 10 more minutes,” what they really mean is that a good hour or more separates you from the summit. By the time I reached the boulder face of Mount Apo, I was already battling a sea of massive stones. These boulders, remnants of an undocumented ancient eruption, lay scattered like imposing obstacles one has to hurdle with both hands and feet, and an impressive balancing act, before reaching the peak.

A clearing and a sea of clouds

Some people can’t imagine traveling anywhere without a few travel buddies. But between everyone’s hectic schedules and responsibilities, it sometimes feels impossible to plan a trip for a family or big group of friends. 

 In this town in Quezon Province, residents transform their homes into dazzling tributes to faith, harvest, and heritage.

Growing up, the word bayanihan reminded me of a painting of neighbors carrying a wooden house on their shoulders. It was a scene representative of a time when homes were built light enough to carry and communities close enough to do so together. But beyond the literal meaning of bayanihan, the term has since signified something greater, a collective effort, of people coming together to help one another in times of need.

Tagay sa Tagumpay

For many Filipino travelers and weekend warriors, the usual stops in Quezon province tend to circle around the well-worn routes of Lucena, Tayabas, Lucban, and Gumaca, places already familiar to motorists en route to Batangas or Bicol.

Top view of Balagbag Falls in Real, Quezon

They say the third time’s the charm. But in Batanes, the northernmost province of the Philippines, each of my three visits has carried its own distinct magic. My first trip, over a decade ago, involved pedaling halfway across Batan Island on a rented bicycle. It happened to coincide with a town fiesta, and my friends and I were warmly welcomed into local homes, where we feasted on traditional Ivatan dishes and experienced generous hospitality.

Postcard-images at every turn of the head

Most festivals in the Philippines zero in on street revelry, and why not? Who wouldn’t want to strut to the sadsad steps of the Ati-Atihan while shouting “Hala Bira!” through the sweltering streets of Kalibo, Aklan? Or stomp to the thunderous drumbeats of Iloilo City’s Dinagyang, where every rhythm pounds the ground like a heartbeat? Both celebrations, this writer’s two most favorite festivals in the Philippines, light up Panay Island with an energy that’s hard to resist.

Davao del Sur was one of the first provinces in Mindanao I visited. In 2009, I flew to Davao City with my then-girlfriend, Marianne. From there, we made our way to Camp Sabros, an outdoor retreat in Kapatagan, Digos City, known at the time for having one of the longest zip lines in the country, an 800-meter ride above the treetops.

Posing with members of the Bagobo-Tagabawa community in Sta Cruz, Davao del Sur

Often mentioned last when one converses about the Bicol region, the province of Catanduanes revealed itself with such unexpected surprise that it swiftly secured a place among my top five favorite provinces in the Philippines. Its unassuming surf culture, endless rolling hills unfolding into sweeping Pacific Ocean views, and surreal rock formations create a landscape both rugged and breathtaking. Mornings reveal scenic peaks wrapped in a sea of clouds, while waterfalls, hidden lagoons, and a winding coastline of powdery white sand complete the island’s charm.

Come for the scenery, go home happy

Seated on a mat laid over the cool sprawl of lawn of MiraNila, a heritage house and events place in Quezon City which now holds outdoor film showings and a house tour as part of its offerings, I stretched my legs, letting my sock-covered toes press into the softness of the earth. Overhead, the night shifted in slow, deliberate movements, with the nighttime skies parting just enough to unveil a waxing crescent moon. On the huge screen set up on MiraNila’s spacious front yard, Greta Lee’s Nora leads Teo Yoo’s Hae Sung through the bustling streets of New York City in Past Lives—a film driven by the weight of life’s what-ifs.

Facade of MiraNila

Beyond its big city vibe and bustling shopping and marketplaces, it hides a wealth of nature spots and soulful activities.

Growing up in an era a couple of decades away from the advent of low-budget airlines, I saw our rich neighbors jet off to Hong Kong for shopping trips. At the start of every school year, I would listen to a couple of classmates telling stories of high-rise buildings and the video games they brought home. Since then, I have come to associate the place as where the affluent Filipinos go for holidays.

At just one of the many scenic vantage spots atop Biu Tsim Kok