Ordinarily, I’m not the kind of traveler who circles back to a place. Like many, I’d rather put the cost of airfare flying abroad toward discovering a new city or country. But something about Hoi An’s Old Town lingered with me, an appeal that made the idea of returning feel less like repetition and more like certainty.

I first spent five days there, ringing in the New Year of 2018 during a two-week journey across Vietnam that took me from Ho Chi Minh City to Da Lat, Hoi An and Da Nang. A month ago, I finally returned, urged on to accompany a friend from Europe who had never been to Vietnam, and guided, in my own mind, by the lingering pull of the old town.

No Doubt’s cover of the Vandals’ original song “Oi to the World” looped in my head, not only because it conveniently rhymes with Hoi An, but because it captured that holiday-bright feeling of returning to a place in Southeast Asia that, after all these years, still ranks among my favorites.

When my friend and I arrived at our hotel, we slipped easily into a spacious room with a bathtub and a balcony overlooking the Thu Bồn River. River Suites Hoi An Hotel sat just 200 meters from the Old Town, close enough to view the lantern-lit boats cruising over it every night. At 1,200,000 VND, or about 2,600 pesos, the deal felt almost too good to be true (when compared to hotel prices in the Philippines). With free breakfast buffet on a riverside corner, an indoor pool, and that view stretching out toward Hoi An’s historic center, by all measures, it was a steal.

We wasted no time, even with four full days in Hoi An, quickly unpacking, changing into comfortable clothes, and setting out for a walk through the Old Town.

Beyond the familiar iced milk coffee or a black brew, Hoi An offers a world of coffee to sip. There’s coconut coffee, egg coffee, even salt coffee, each made from beans ranging from Arabica and Robusta to the elusive civet variety.

Paired with local delicacies: white rose dumplings, fresh spring rolls, Bánh mì, or sweet treats like tapioca pudding and assorted cakes, the ritual becomes a slow pleasure. Sitting on to a low chair, cup in hand, and just people watching, especially observing the rhythm of cyclos passing by—those three-wheeled rickshaws with a passenger seat upfront and the driver pedaling behind—feels like the perfect way to spend an hour or two.

Hoi An’s Old Town is a treasure trove of cafés, restaurants, galleries, and boutique shops with about hundreds of them, winding along narrow streets and alleys. For foodies, it’s less of a question of “what to eat” but of “how many days will it take” to sample the best, discover hidden gems, and stumble upon the random surprises that appear around every corner.

Cao Lau Ba Le, tucked deep in a narrow alley, rewards the determined with its signature noodles and tender barbecued pork. Madam Khanh, known as the Bánh Mì Queen, has been serving the Old Town since 1975, and under the guidance of the founding couple’s daughter, offers six variations from pork and sausage to egg and chicken. Across the town, from street-side stalls to small eateries, Bánh Mì appears at every turn, each one as good as the next.

For lighter fare, Hoi An boasts White Rose Restaurant for its delicate dumplings, and a string of cafés: U Café, Mót Hoi An, Poison Café, Hoi An Roastery, The Espresso Station, Rosie’s Café, and Reaching Out Tea House invite leisurely pauses. Whether it’s a cold Bia Hơi or a hot cup of coffee, getting a seat with a riverside view makes the Old Town unfold like cinema in real life.

I found myself constantly converting Vietnamese Dong to Philippine Pesos, tempted by souvenirs from T-shirts and fridge magnets to small artworks, but each time, I decided to spend most of our money on food and coffee instead.

The appeal extends beyond cuisine; history is woven into every street. Among dozens of century-old heritage structures are sites like the Hoi An Museum of History and Culture, the Cao Dai Temple, the Hoi An Museum of Trade Ceramics, and Precious Heritage by Réhahn. One such residence, the Tan Ky House, bears a stark reminder of the town’s relationship with the Thu Bồn River: markers on its wall indicate floodwaters that have previously exceeded seven feet.

What makes strolling through Hoi An’s Old Town after sunset particularly captivating is the explosion of colors from countless lanterns, their varied shapes casting a warm, romantic glow across every street. The back-and-forth glow of yellow and neon lights highlights the patterns of the heritage architecture, making every detail come alive.

Once a bustling port, Hoi An welcomed traders from across China and Asia, later absorbing influences from Japanese settlers and French colonizers. The result is an intriguing patchwork: yellow-washed facades, narrow winding alleys, Indochina aesthetics, and Chinese-style merchant houses.

The effect is both timeless and modern: for Gen Z travelers armed with cameras, it’s a dreamlike Instagram backdrop; for the culturally curious, it becomes a living classroom. Every carved door, tiled roof, and lantern-lit corner offers lessons in history, trade, and design. It’s a tangible narrative that still appeals to me. And yes, a third visit is not too far in the future.

To outsiders, Butuan is a place travelers pass through when flights to Siargao tip into the unreasonable rate, since its airport serves an alternative only two hours from Surigao Port, where one can hop on a ferry to the island. But for those traveling with deeper curiosity, Butuan reveals stories that held more significance.

In 1976, within a stretch of land a kilometer wide, archaeologists unearthed balangay boats, plank-built wooden vessels now regarded as the oldest known ship in the Philippines, and the first of their kind excavated in Southeast Asia. Eleven in total, some carbon-dated to as early as 320 C.E., they paint Butuan as an ancient trading hub.

The remains of the Balangay boats spoke of movement, trade, and a community already established centuries before Spanish colonizers arrived. The succeeding digs only expanded the story: ceramics from across Asia, Chinese pottery from the Tang and Song dynasties, ivory seals, death masks, woven sashes, burial jars, and golds. There is a big reason why the National Museum of the Philippines has a branch in the city.

With a history dating back to pre-colonial times, it is only fitting that the city’s artistic traditions also run deep. It came as no surprise, then, to encounter a theater group whose performance would strike anyone, art enthusiast or not, as exemplary.

The group, Balangay Repertory Theater Inc., staged its original production, “Bagani Hong Lawod,” to a packed audience during February’s National Arts Month celebration at the city’s FSUU Gym. Already known among locals and theater enthusiasts in the region, this particular performance further elevated its profile to a wider audience.

Many would say that maintaining a theater organization is easy, given that several cities and universities across the country have their own. That couldn't be further from the truth. Staging productions that feel world-class despite being backed by a meager budget, speaks volumes about how this particular theater group in Butuan conducts itself.

It turns out that Balangay Repertory Theater Inc. is far from a ragtag group assembled to put on a show. Rather, it is a community of artists, both seasoned and emerging, united by a common goal: to use theater as a platform for advancing the history and artistic traditions of Butuan.

There’s Sai Collado, a former member of Sining Kambayoka, the theater group of Mindanao State University (MSU), and a recipient of the Japan Arts Foundation scholarship in Performing Arts. He now serves as the founding artistic and managing director of Balangay Repertory Theatre Inc. “This was conceived in 2018,” he said, emphasizing the significance of heritage-based theater. “It means a lot since this has been a longstanding dream—to mount a heritage-based theater production.”

Under his guidance, research, accuracy, and artistic expression converge: “We do research for accuracy, and the rest is our artistic expression aiming to provide a compelling story to capture the heart of the viewers.” He views theater as a tool for transformation: “When you considered Theater Arts not just for entertainment per say, but rather a device for social transformation, then it is vital, so to speak.” Collado’s leadership ensures that theater plays such as their own Bagani Hong Lawod not only entertains but also strengthens cultural identity, civic participation, and community engagement.

The artists that comprises the Balangay Repertory Theater comes from diverse backgrounds even ones without early theater background. One such artist is Cherrie B. Beluan. 45 years old, an HR freelancer and mother of three, Beluan joined Balangay Repertory Theatre when she was casted to play the role of Khayam in Bagani Hong Lawod, she described the experience as personally transformative. “It is a great avenue for everyone. It is very important to keep the culture and history alive especially for the young Butuanons,” she said.

Beluan reflected on how the play reshaped her sense of possibility: “The lines I recited were somehow significant on me personally.” She describes her theater journey as “Wala ko kini damha sa tbuok kong kinabuhi.” It means that I never imagined this all my life. Who would have thought that at my age I can still be part of this talented artists in Butuan City.” Beluan also highlighted how the play allowed her to balance her identity as a mother, wife, and productive member of society while actively contributing to the arts.

One of the youngest members of Butuan’s Balangay Repertory Theater, Angel Antiquina did not stumble upon performing arts intentionally. Instead, it came via her devotion: through youth activities at her parish, where theater plays were part of it. By 2018, it ignited a yearning for performance arts. Joining the repertory company, she began to shape her craft within a model that put importance to heritage as much as artistic expression.

Considered as one of Kulture Revival’s ‘babies,” Angel says she feel like she had grown through the theater group’s culture-driven principles. Growth, in her case, is not just the result of experience. It is personified, as shown by her performance in Bagani Hong Lawod, staged during Butuan’s National Arts Month celebration. Onstage, she exhibited great teamwork with her fellow ensemble cast. Offstage, she now speaks of culture-based creative processes as a calling, one that allows her to use performance as a language for social awareness and change.

The community of artists that makes up the group came in different stages of the members’ lives. One of those who got into Balangay Repertory Theater late is Josephine Gabor-Cajoles. “My engagement with Balangay Repertory, started with the musical play, Bagani Hong Lawod when I was cast as Bae Diwa” Cajoles, a 61-year-old retiree, says.

“In my elementary years, I have been exposed to acting in a local radio station (DXBC)” she adds. Her acting exposure was widened by short program every Sunday. “My Grade IV teacher was my first acting coach,” she recalled. Her acting experience continued through college productions based on Butuanon stories such as May Kabag-ohan ba ang Pasko and Juan Tamban, formative experiences that sharpened her craft. “Back then in the 80s, community theatre started to become an avenue to express and make people understand and make an action of social issues confronting the society,” she said.

For Gabor-Cajoles, she hopes that the production of theater plays grounded in localized stories and art, such as Bagani Hong Lawod, will stir the community, the academe, the local government, and other sectors to collaborate and align, if not, to fully institutionalize community theater, then at least to establish stronger support for it in order to keep local culture and the arts alive.

One of the veteran stage performers in the group is Richard Dian Vilar, who brings four decades of theatrical experience to the production, having performed in almost every Sining Kambayoka production, where just like Collado, Vilar is also a part of. “Beyond that home stage, I found another family in the Kaliwat Theater Collective, where I joined almost every production and took part in numerous domestic and international tours,” Vilar added.

“The stage, it seems, was not done with me yet,” Vilar reflected. His career has spanned directing, storytelling, playwriting, and design, earning him the Kambayoka Gador Award in 2000 and, more recently, a 2024 recognition for Outstanding Cultural Work in theater and Storytelling. “Call it a call for a continuing practice—or perhaps, destiny,” he said of his role in Bagani Hong Lawod, where he served as director and main storyteller, underscoring theater as a vessel for preserving and communicating local identity.

In addition to being one of the pillars of Balangay Repertory Theater, Vilar also serves as the head of the Tourism and Cultural Development Division of the City Tourism and Cultural Affairs Department of Butuan. This role strengthens his desire to promote Butuan’s history as a core part of the city’s identity, with theater being one of the most effective mediums to achieve this.

The village of artists that comprises the Balangay Repertory Theater illustrates the relevance of theater as a cultural force. Each curtain call celebrates the city’s heritage and establishes the important role of artists in keeping both local culture and creativity alive.

Fifty years after the unearthing of the remains of the balangay boats, the success of the Balangay Repertory Theater demonstrates how theater can connect generations, bridge gaps in understanding, and promote a unique cultural identity.

My first visit to George Town, some years before the pandemic, was little more than a quick fix; a shore excursion on a cruise that sailed along the Malaysian coast before returning to Singapore. I had barely three hours on land, just enough to sense the outlines of something intriguing: the smell of spices and coffee in the air, the pastel shophouses, the street art that tells a unique story. Ever since, the city has lingered in my mind like an unfinished conversation or an itch I’d been meaning to scratch.

As karma would have it, I eventually returned. This time I came not as a visitor in transit, but as a traveler with a few days to spare and no itinerary beyond walking. George Town, that storied mosaic of Malay, Chinese, Indian, and colonial influences, revealed itself slowly as a city layered in color and time.

Along with Melaka, it forms part of the Historic Cities of the Straits of Malacca, a UNESCO World Heritage Site where stories doesn’t rest behind museum glass but spills, richly, into the streets.

The capital of Malaysia’s Penang state, George Town, began as Britain’s first foothold in Southeast Asia, a modest trading port established in 1786 by Francis Light, the English explorer who also founded the colony of Penang. Located strategically along the Strait of Malacca, the city offered promise of commerce and survival to immigrants from all over Asia.

Soon, Malays, Chinese, Indians, and those from European countries with colonization aspirations tangled into the society of George Town leaving bits and pieces of influences into its culture, architecture and daily life. By the time Britain’s rule faded and Malaysia gained independence in 1957, Queen Elizabeth II had already declared George Town as the nation’s first city.

Today, after centuries of cultural mingling, George Town stands as one of Malaysia’s most visited destination. It is a city where history is told through every narrow lane. Its UNESCO World Heritage Site core, a labyrinth of light-hued shophouses and street art, draws travelers eager to sample its renowned mix of Malay, Chinese, and Indian flavors, and to wander through a living museum of colonial and local heritage.

We touched down in Penang on an early evening flight from Da Nang, Vietnam. After a quick check-in and a moment to shake off the travel fatigue, curiosity got the better of us. We wandered toward dinner near the Central Fire Station, a historic building standing at the intersection of Beach and Chulia Streets. Built in 1908, the building wears its history with flair, an unlikely but elegant blend of Mughal, Edwardian, and classic architectural styles. More than a century later, it still claims its title as Malaysia’s oldest operational fire station.

After a filling plate of Nasi Lemak Ayam and Beef Rendang for my friend Katie, we ended our first night in George Town at a place we stumbled upon called “China House.” It stretched deep beyond its narrow entrance: desserts at the front, tables framed by an art gallery and a small library farther in, then a quiet garden, and finally, a dim bar where live music intertwined with recitation of poetry. “I love the artsy vibe of George Town already,” I told my friend, not yet realizing how much more the city would reveal the next day.

Covering 259.42 hectares (109.38 in its core and 150 in its buffer) George Town’s heritage district holds 4,665 historic buildings, each a testament to centuries of cultural exchange that began with Penang’s earliest settlers. For someone from a country that has long struggled to preserve its own architectural past, the scale of such conservation is almost difficult to grasp but amazes me at the same time.

If in Vietnam on our earlier destination between Da Nang and Hoi An, my friend and I logged 20,000 steps a day, in George Town we reached 25,000 with ease. Every street and alley seemed to pull us in, a coffee shop here, a thrift store there, an art gallery, a Michelin-starred or Bib Gourmand restaurant, or a wall alive with murals. Our first morning’s goal was simple; to find and photograph the city’s celebrated street art, much of it created by the Lithuanian artist Ernest Zacharevic.

Many of the city’s most recognizable murals cluster around Armenian Street such as Zacharevic’s Kids on a Bicycle, Boy on a Chair, and Girl and Her Brother among them. Others appear nearby: Indian Boatman by Siberian artist Julia Volchkova, Brother and Sister on a Swing by local artist Louis Gan, and a scattering of whimsical sculptures tucked into street corners. Together, they lend a distinct liveliness to already storied streets of George Town.

Between meals at the half-dozen eateries we tried, we paused to cool off with Penang’s famed Teochew chendul, especially at one stall so popular the line seemed never to end. The dessert, a mix of shaved ice, coconut milk, palm sugar syrup, red beans, and pandan-flavored green jelly noodles, offered the perfect balance of sweetness and relief from the afternoon heat.

George Town, ever the city of curiosities, is home to an eclectic mix of museums. Along our walk, we stumbled upon several and among them the Ghost Museum, the Upside Down Museum, the Wonderfood Museum, the Pinang Peranakan Mansion, and the Indian Heritage Museum, each one providing a small window into the city’s layered art and history.

Getting around never feels like a chore here. The sidewalks are wide and safe, the rows of muted-colored shophouses turn every walk into a presentation of history and architecture, plus a free bus loops through the heritage district with clockwork precision.

“If only we had a heritage quarter this well preserved back home,” I found myself thinking. But as so many of our own historic buildings have slipped away, George Town stands as a reminder to us and to travelers from everywhere, that within its walls and timeworn establishments, the past continues to speak, to be reimagined, and to persist.

In my travels, I’ve found that when it comes to accommodation properties, some try to be everything at once. The result is a mixed bag: some succeed, while others fall flat. Then there are those that take a simpler approach, creating a space that is exactly what a traveler needs. P&B Residences Legazpi belongs to the latter.

This bed and breakfast appears more like an ideal home-away-from-home than a checklist of amenities. Upstairs, a handful of rooms—fewer than fifteen—offer a stay that feels private and more personal.

I have always leaned toward smaller properties, the sort that trades dozens of hectares for character. Here, that preference is rewarded with a vibe that recalls an ancestral home in the province—the kind I experienced growing up, when we would visit my grandmother; that feeling of having somewhere to return to each summer.

Downstairs, everything you need is within sight. At Seadog Diner, the menu doesn’t overwhelm you with choices. A simple scan leads you to their artisanal burger, which does not disappoint, along with a few other options that go well with offerings from next door, Oragon Craft Brew House.

Here, the owners of P&B Residences Legazpi pour their own brews, crafted to their taste and rooted in their expertise in beer appreciation, best enjoyed without ado after a day outside.

What makes the place particularly refreshing is how self-contained it feels without ever seeming small. FunDiveAsia, their in-house diving shop, handles dive excursions with efficiency, while Bicol Beyond Travel and Tours (one of the region’s more trusted travel operators) can arrange everything from Bicol road trips to cultural journeys. FunDiveAsia, however, caters to guests with a penchant for diving, guiding them to the best dive sites in the region.

On my first night here, I met again Junery, one of FunDiveAsia’s dive masters and guides. He told me he is set to bring a group of Italians to Ticao Island for ten days of non-stop diving with the manta rays

Step outside, and the landscape reminds you exactly where you are. Mayon Volcano can be seen on a clear sky in near-perfect symmetry just a short walk away. On two of the three nights I stayed, I watched lava trace its descent from the crater.

P&B Residences Legazpi also shares a theme with its sister-properties: Casa Simeon, an ancestral home reimagined in the neighboring town of Bacacay, and Ticao Island Resort, a favorite among divers who prefer their escapes laid-back and simple.

Staying here means being near the remnants of Cagsawa Ruins, the view of Daraga Church foregrounding Mayon Volcano, and the greenery of Lignon Hill Nature Park. But even as you spend most of the day exploring, you still look forward to returning to your bed.

Because returning feels easy. Before you sink into rest, dinner here becomes a quiet ritual, paired with a cold craft beer. In a city that moves at its own pace, it’s rare to find a place that aligns so naturally with your own. I suspect I already know where I’ll be staying the next time I’m in Legazpi.