Seven hours after leaving the city of Bangkok at the stroke of midnight, I found myself on the main highway of Old Sukhothai—under a drizzly sky. With a throbbing head and the effects of intermittent sleep, I located my hostel, which, to my surprise, was nestled within a boutique resort complex. “Our Dorm of Happiness—as we call it, is located on the second floor. Come follow me,” the receptionist told me. She then directed me to my bunk bed inside one of the rooms at the old cream-colored wooden house fronted by a picturesque courtyard.

Less than fifty kilometers away from Dapitan City in Dipolog, a quaint coastal town called Sapang Dalaga radiates more than enough charm worthy of a detour visit. Under the outstretched arm of a massive Jesus Christ statue perched high atop a hill, I carefully scrutinized the magnificent view of the twin bays of Casul and Murcielagos shimmering against the sheen of the setting sun.

From the gleaming waters, I trailed my sight up to the rolling mountain slopes circling back 180 degrees, leading my eyes once again to the towering figure of Caluya Shrine—a 45-foot doppelganger of Rio de Janeiro’s iconic Jesus Christ the Redeemer.

If gazes could talk, one would instantly have heard the surrounding eyes mouthing off intentions of mayhem—a bedlam not equating to violence, but rather expressed through the mischievous actions of more than 700 long-tailed macaques who called that place home. A primate habitat known as the Mandala Wisata Wanara Wana, or otherwise referred to as the Ubud Monkey Forest, was another popular tourist destination in Bali. Home to more than 700 long-tailed macaques, it was tucked deep in a forest covering approximately ten hectares with a labyrinth composed of zigzagging water streams, hilly slopes, sheltering towering trees of around 115 different species, and three sacred Hindu temples.

On our way to Sapang Dalaga in Misamis Occidental, we stopped by Jimenez Church—a late 19th-century Baroque Church—otherwise officially known as the San Juan Bautista Parish Church, located in the quiet town of the same name.

Everyone was silent as our speedboat sliced through the calm, glassy waters of the Celebes Sea. Under the brilliance of a full sun and unmindful of the burnt sensation on my golden skin, I savored the eerie stillness of cruising over a body of water once notorious as one of the most dangerous maritime backwaters in the world.

What used to be a violent playground for pirate ships committing robbery—and during the worst of times, a sailing route for militants preying on civilians—the waters approaching Panampangan Island are now a picture-perfect, unruffled natural haven.