My not-so-fond memories of passing through Jones Bridge were always associated with grinding traffic, so I never appreciated the bridge’s neo-classical design by architect Juan M. Arellano, nor the three arches resting on the two piers. First constructed in 1920 spanning the Pasig River to connect the Binondo district to Padre Burgos Avenue in Ermita, the bridge had undergone numerous reconstructions. The most tedious of them all was in the aftermath of the Liberation of Manila during the tail end of WWII. Another restoration was done in 1998, but still, the bridge remained an afterthought to most pedestrians. It was only in 2019 when Manila Mayor Isko Moreno injected twenty million pesos for a redevelopment of the Jones Bridge.

For two days, I experienced what it was like being inside an athlete’s village. Ever since I started following the Olympics, I had been curious about what it was like being in such a place. Fortunately, I was invited as part of a small media team to spend a night at the one the Philippines built for the 30th South East Asian Games, held at the New Clark City in Tarlac. Although that sporting event was a lot smaller in scale, I was hoping that we could further expand our sporting infrastructures so we could host the Asian Games and then the Olympics someday.

The renovated 1940 neoclassical Agriculture and Commerce Building wowed everyone when it reopened as the National Museum of Natural History in May 2018—thanks to an arresting design element addition. Not even a week later, social media was flooded with photographs of the museum’s imposing atrium, which resembled a DNA helix. Architect Dominic Galicia and interior designer Tina Periquet collaborated to bring the Tree of Life to fruition as the centerpiece of the museum.

Some of my fondest memories of Baguio City always included food—well, and the exceptional company I was with. There was Sarah giggling non-stop at Oh My Gulay, my former girlfriend Lauren giddily explaining to me the intricate elements of Spinach and Chicken Galantine at PNKY Café (now sadly closed), and the heavenly face of another former partner, Monette, as she finished her plate of signature lomo ribs at Canto.

After numerous trips to the province of Cebu and skipping the opportunity to stay on the island of Mactan, I must admit to never having heard of Jpark Island Resort and Waterpark before. I had my assumptions managed to a middling level when I joined fellow travel and lifestyle writers on a media trip celebrating the resort’s tenth-year anniversary.

More and more people were choosing to embrace the vegan lifestyle not only to become healthier but also to advocate cruelty-free eating. Doing so, believers of greener dining habits were shattering previous misconceptions about veganism, such as “vegan food doesn’t taste good,” “there aren’t many vegan options,” and so on. Thanks to them and the growing number of vegan places in the country, more people were learning that vegan food was not that bad at all. In fact, it had spawned creative dishes that provided memorable gastronomic experiences.

Facing the mighty swells of the Pacific Ocean, the teardrop-shaped island of Siargao had garnered numerous accolades in recent years, including being voted the "World's Best Island" by Condé Nast Traveler—an esteemed travel and luxury magazine—and a number of widely read travel sites. Despite the growing popularity of the island, Siargao still retained its remote vibe even in the face of increasing development. Therefore, more travelers were opting to go to Siargao over other, more touristy islands like Bali in Indonesia and Phuket in Thailand.

Every morning with daylight yet to ooze from the sky, a multitude of motorboats was heard roaring off the coast of Mercedes town in Camarines Norte. Buoyed by a prayer and a resolve to provide for their families, fisherfolks headed out to the abundant waters of San Miguel Bay, intent on taking home boatloads of fresh catch. Providentially, the body of water that opened to the mighty Pacific Ocean was not called the “fishing bowl” of the Bicol Region for nothing—as each day, the fish market of Mercedes became a bustling scene of fish trading activities.

As a melting pot of crisscrossing cultures, Mindanao was a land of diverse heritage, where one could savor a myriad of cuisines distinct to every region. In Davao City, where there were eleven known tribes, a culinary movement aimed at promoting olden traditions of preparing food was slowly partaking in the local gastronomic scene.

I had been sitting for a few minutes inside Black Scoop Café on Maginhawa Street when a towering morena lady walked through the door. I instantly recognized her as Marese Secades—a freediver whose spectacular underwater photographs had initially arrested my attention.

In this age of Filipino ‘hugot’ culture, one could easily assume the name of this mountain was coined as a reverence to such Filipino movies like “Camp Sawi” and “This Thing Called Tadhana.” The real story behind it, though, stemmed from a tragic suicide that happened a few years back right on top of the mountain. A woman—as the story went—after experiencing a heartbreak, hanged herself on one of the tree branches of the now-mowed-down Balete tree. Locals originally named the mountain Mt. Sawing Balete, as a reference to the sad fate shared by the fallen tree and the lovelorn soul.

We had been flying at above thirty thousand feet for about half an hour when a flight attendant on the AirAsia Davao-Manila flight started speaking over the public-address system. “Ladies and gentlemen, because we are celebrating a momentous occasion, we have prepared a short program for you.” The short program she talked about consisted of a dance performance by two pretty flight attendants who twirled to the tune of “Señorita” and a trivia contest that awarded six lucky winners with a round-trip domestic ticket.

At almost 5,000 feet above sea level, Da Lat dished a chill vibe—both literally and figuratively—that appealed to travelers. The cool weather coupled with an array of natural and man-made attractions made that city in Central Vietnam an ideal place for wanderers crisscrossing the land of Pho to make a pit stop for several days. To give you an idea of what to do in Da Lat, here are some of the things I did.

As my companions’ “ooohs” and “aaahs” synchronized with the sloshing sounds of the rapids of the Tibiao River, I stared at the blue sky while my tube swirled me endlessly. Lying relaxed, I let the movement of the water send my consciousness to a Zen state of mind. Occasionally, I would look ahead to see the nearing rapids. Our guide would holler “hold on” further up the stream to let us know we were approaching what they referred to as the “washing machine zone.” Every time we passed a rapid, I would hear my friends Karla and Erica’s crescendoing voices—that time in a chorus of joyous yells.

As I stared at the carved maxim of the three wise monkeys pinned on an overhead panel at Tōshō-gū, the proverbial mantra it personifies was made apparent to me almost immediately: “See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.” Recognizing where I stood at that very moment, surrounded by temples—concealed under a canopy of autumn leaves—I could not fathom how any of my senses could conjure a negative energy.

My memory of this vibrant neighborhood of Tainan revolved around the pleasing smile of Emily—the EVA Air manager who traveled with our small media group to Taiwan. Mirroring the captivating cobalt art installations at Blueprint Culture and Creative Park, her stares rapid-fired into me with invisible arrows, arresting my full attention. To save myself from (an expected) heartbreak, I remembered ignoring her as we crossed the street by focusing my eyes on the vibrant wall paintings adorning the side of the buildings nearby.

Cebu Pacific Air’s “Juan For Fun” is a premier backpacker challenge designed specifically for university students. Over the years, the program has evolved from an Amazing Race-style adventure into a profound platform where participants not only discover the wonders of travel but also use their journeys as a springboard to spread meaningful advocacies, understand different cultures, and broaden their personal horizons.

At the foot of Mount Pha Daeng, a sign that read “Unexploded Bombs, Still in this Area. Dangerous!” remained a chilling reminder of the horrors of the Vietnam War. Collectively unmindful of the warning, we reckoned every bomb ordnance buried along the trail stretching to a radius of a few kilometers had all been swept clean already. Laos—by the way—was a vastly different nation then compared to what I had first read in history books.

Despite expecting Maguindanao's blue lagoon to be concealed deep in the forest, reachable by at least an hour or two of trekking, I had still anticipated a good old surprise. When I stepped out of our van and saw a few kids dripping wet, I simply figured they had come frolicking from a nearby stream. Our friend Jeff told us, “I think these kids came from the lagoon.” I was already standing at the mouth of a wide trail on the elbow of the Shariff Aguak Road when I heard him. “You mean, the lagoon is just nearby?” Claire asked. Jeff’s reply sounded like music to my ears—as I was in no mood for a lengthy hiking activity that day—“Just less than two hundred meters ahead.”