Socially distance yourself from the hustle and bustle of Manila by taking a three-hour drive to this part of Nueva Ecija, where one could wake up to a sea of clouds and the humming of birds. Nestled on the slopes of the Sierra Madre mountains and overlooking the calm waters of Pantabangan Lake were a set of cabins that gorgeously blended with the surrounding nature.

Looking for where to eat in Zamboanga City? One restaurant had become almost synonymous with the city's culinary identity: Alavar Seafood Restaurant. Best known for its legendary Curacha con Salsa Alavar, the restaurant had been welcoming travelers for decades and remained one of the first stops for food lovers visiting Zamboanga.

“Naka hain na ang pagkain sa hapag kainan”. Most of us eighties kids would attest that these words were enough to get us running into the dining room from playing games on the street. "Hapag Kainan" was the Tagalog word for "dining table," which was probably the most significant fixture in a Filipino household. It was the place where family members came together to talk about the day's events while enjoying a delicious homecooked meal.

Mountain bikers and motorcyclists alike were flocking to the rugged hills of Colosboa in Cuyapo, Nueva Ecija. This was because of the terrain's snaking dirt tracks that would delight any two-wheeled rider, as well as the beautiful countryside scenery. However, as the host of a TV shopping show would say, "but wait, there's more." Because Colosboa Hills was also home to a bike and souvenir shop, a rustic bar called Hill's View, and a foodie hangout place called Tambayan ni Berto.

A few days removed from being graced by the presence of National Living Treasure awardee Apuh Ambalang—a Yakan master weaver who unfortunately passed away at age seventy-eight in February 2022—in Lamitan, Basilan, we continued our discovery of the 'Habi' (weaving) culture of the Zamboanga Peninsula by making an educational stop at the Yakan Village in Zamboanga. Despite the fact that this was my second visit to this Yakan cultural hub, I was immediately captivated by the vibrant woven creations displayed in the rows of stalls that greeted us after we alighted from our vans.

While in the midst of our culinary exploration of the Zamboanga Peninsula and on our way to more Hilom (wellness) and Habi (weaving) discovery, we passed by a province I’d never been to before: Zamboanga Sibugay. Only a few days removed from ticking Basilan as my seventy-fifth province visited in the Philippines, I stared intently outside the window of our van, engrossing much scenery and wondering if I could checkmark it already. However, I had a personal rule that if I didn’t stop to either eat or sleep, it didn’t count. Good thing, though—despite having a hearty breakfast already—our group stopped for another round of breakfast at this hilltop property in Ipil called Stonehill Farms.

A feast of a brunch consisting of mouth-watering Tausug and Sama delicacies on a floating cottage, followed by a beachfront banquet with curacha crabs and other fresh seafood catches, made for one memorable first day in Basilan. It went without saying that I expected our lunch the next day would be equally fulfilling—and it indeed was.

After leaving a high-paying job in a Hong Kong-based exporting company more than twenty-five years ago, Helen Rulloda never doubted she was making the right decision. Driven by a strong faith that she was headed to her path of true calling, she eventually stumbled into a little-known handicraft trade in her home province. Recognizing the beauty of an industry where generation-to-generation handing down of artisan weaving skills persisted, Helen seized the occasion to answer her calling.

I woke up to the cold January weather of Rishikesh, caught between wanting to stay snuggled under my blanket or start my exploration early. Half-dazed, I forced myself to saunter across the room, feeling the iciness of the bathroom floor, hurrying to find comfort from a hot shower. Fully awake, I plotted my day, thinking about a myriad of things to do: try a new dish, go temple hopping, feed some monkeys, hang out by the Ganges, find a charming café, or rent a motorbike.

From where I sat on a balcony of a hilltop hotel, I could see the many monuments built during the era of the Bundelas—a Rajput clan of Central India who lorded over this part of Madhya Pradesh beginning in the sixteenth century. In that moment, I savored the solemnity of finding myself some quiet time in between our busy media tour. Trailing my eyes from the top of an opposite hill into the rows of houses below, I became perplexed at the sight of jam-packed edifices below.

As modern home aesthetics trended on social media via the popular Home Buddies group on Facebook, a replica of a typical 19th-century mansion in Intramuros reminded visitors that not all olden things must be forgotten. The Casa Manila Museum in Intramuros offered a glimpse into the lifestyle of affluent Filipino families dating back to a century ago. Featuring antique furniture pieces and ornaments made in China and Europe and by local artisans, complemented well by its impressive stone-and-wood structure, one could easily come to the conclusion that not even IKEA could hold a candle to home living during colonial times.

As we made our way through the vast Rajasthan desert from Jaipur and Jodhpur, the golden-colored terrain seemed as familiar as the blue skies above. The contrast of colors in this part of India added an extra layer of visual interest to our journey. We had also developed a routine which included bazaar hopping, street food exploration, and stepping inside centuries-old palaces and giant forts.

After a visit to the National Museum of Natural History failed to materialize because our online reservation was bumped a couple of hours into late afternoon, my friend Louise and I decided to just explore Intramuros. This was more than a year into the pandemic, and certain restrictions were still in place when visiting establishments such as museums.

I couldn’t remember how young I was when I first learned about the Dead Sea. I recalled having a sense of dread about its name. “Do you die when you swim in that sea?” I recalled asking my older brother. His explanation escaped my interest that time as I remained fixated on its morbid reputation. As I grew older, it occupied the top tier of my mental bucket list of places I desired to tick off one by one. Therefore, when I was assigned to join a Holy Land trip for a travel writing gig and saw our itinerary, two places other than the Walled City of Jerusalem stood out to me: Petra in Jordan and the Dead Sea.

When one mentions the “Holy Land,” the first thing that comes to mind for most Christians is the birthplace of Jesus Christ in the Palestinian town of Bethlehem, which is situated ten kilometers from Jerusalem. While this is indeed true, the scope of a traditional Holy Land journey encompasses three countries: Egypt, Jordan, and Israel. This route includes stops at a few historic locations in addition to retracing the footsteps of Christ, Moses, John the Baptist, and Mother Mary. Here are a few locations to inspire your own travel to the Holy Land.

After several days of exploring the UNESCO World Heritage town of Luang Prabang, the lure of the great outdoors took me thirty kilometers south to the village of Long Lao—the home of the Hmong indigenous people of Indochina. Accompanied by three other staff members from Tiger Trail Adventure, our truck set off under the misty fog of the early morning. After an hour of driving through small settlements and along a long stretch of rough road, we reached the trekking jump-off point for Kuang Si Falls under a still gloomy sky.

As I was letting every second of being awed linger gratifyingly, I fixated my thoughts on the massive walls of Gwalior Fort. I started wondering about the stories of resilient kingdoms and bloody battles they concealed. Like peeling off layers of paint, I surveyed the colossal architectural grandeur of the eighth-century structure before me and briefly imagined being transported in time.

Prayers often trumped all. Indeed, ours were answered after a day of failed incursion to Callao Cave due to heavy rains. A glimpse of the blue skies appeared. This meant our sea voyage to Anguib beach and Palaui Island was greenlighted and thumbs-upped by the Coast Guard. Yet, what they say about "be careful what you wish for" held true, since unbeknownst to us that time, the weather still had a trick up its sleeve to surprise us.

Standing outside the fog-covered ruins of the Old Diplomat Hotel, I found the eerie vibe hard to ignore, as I pictured a cinematic vision of a sequel to The Haunting of Hill House and of Bly Manor. For all its paranormal tales of housing wandering spirits, the history of these rundown, charming architectural remains provided a fascinating backdrop to any eight-episode horror series.

During this pandemic, I was fortunate to sandwich far in between my self-imposed lockdown at home, a few working trips that strictly followed safety protocols, to the Cordillera highlands, the organic farms in Quezon, and the picturesque Lake Lumot in Cavinti, Laguna. The only thing missing was a socially-distanced jaunt to the beach. Just when I was starting to wonder if I had to wait for this damn pandemic to end before I could dip my toes again in the ocean, a travel writing assignment arrived in my inbox.