Imagine exploring Metro Manila on a motorcycle, following a thoughtfully curated route of carefully chosen food stops, each offering a distinct culinary experience. Think casual Filipino comfort food, smoky street-side barbecue, home-cooked meals at a neighborhood carinderia, and creative interpretations of Filipino cuisine.

Well, that’s SALÓ Motorcycle Food Tour, and I’m glad I decided to stay in Manila last weekend to try this experience.

Founded by Chef Ria Garcia, SALÓ combines her love for food and motorcycling, giving not just tourists but also locals like me a new way to explore Manila’s culinary landscape while beating the traffic.

I tried its flagship experience, SALÓ Signature Ride & Dine, which takes participants to four carefully selected food destinations, each showcasing a different side of Filipino cuisine, from cherished traditions to bold contemporary interpretations.

We met at UHotels in Poblacion, Makati, where I caught up with my friend Kara, who invited me to join the tour, and met the other participants. Chef Ria welcomed us with a briefing, including safety reminders, before we geared up for the ride.

From there, we headed out, leaving Poblacion’s bustling food scene behind as we made our way toward Makati’s central business district (CBD). Did I mention this was my first time riding pillion on a motorcycle in Metro Manila? I’ve always been wary of Manila traffic and its drivers, so this was already an adventure in itself!

Our first stop was Tatatito, which happens to be my client. I’ve been handling its publicity since it opened in February 2022, right in the middle of the pandemic.

The name Tatatito is a playful nod to the Filipino phrase “tara dito,” or “come here.” It is managed by McWilson Restaurant Group, the team behind dining brands such as Tokyo Bubble Tea, Gringo, and Honeybon.

Chef Ria described Tatatito’s cuisine as “Filipino food done right. They did not change it so much but applied their techniques into it.”

We were served beef kaldereta, adobong baby pusit, and tinola-infused rice, all presented on a bamboo tray. SALÓ means gathering around the table to share food, and that was exactly what we did.

I don’t recall ever ordering beef kalderata before. I usually go for my favorite, the 10-Hour Beef Kansi, whenever I’m craving beef. But I must admit, I may have found another favorite!

After Tatatito, we rode past the CBD and crossed the Mile Long Complex, leaving the busy commercial district behind as we made our way into a more residential part of Makati.

By then, I had already grown comfortable riding pillion, thanks to Romnick, who drove me safely from one food stop to another. It also made me appreciate another aspect of SALÓ: aside from promoting Filipino food culture, the tour supports its motorcycle riders through fair compensation for their work.

It’s really good to see a tourism experience that not only introduces people to local food and hidden culinary gems but also creates opportunities for the people who help make these experiences possible.

Our next stop was Aling Bebeng’s Barbecue.

I’m the kind of person who would travel all the way to Las Piñas just to get good barbecue, so I had high expectations. Aling Bebeng’s did not disappoint. We had pork barbecue, isaw, and Chef Ria’s recommendation, chicharong bulaklak. We usually have chicharong bulaklak deep-fried, but this grilled version was surprisingly good, and felt a little less guilty, too!

For me, street-side barbecue is one of the joys of Filipino food culture. There’s something about the smoky aroma of meat grilling over charcoal that draws people in. Wherever I go in the Philippines, if I see smoke rising from an ihawan, chances are you’ll find me lining up!

From the smoky barbecue stop, we hopped back on our motorcycles and crossed the South Superhighway to get to our next destination, which was yet another side of Makati.

Our next stop was Aling Nida’s Eatery, a humble neighborhood carinderia known for its sinigang na pisngi ng baboy, or pork cheek sinigang.

Some of the more adventurous participants even tried pig’s eyes. I passed on that one, but maybe I’ll be braver when I return!

From there, we headed back to Poblacion for our final stop: Lampara, a contemporary Filipino bistro tucked away in the neighborhood and recognized by the Michelin Guide with a Bib Gourmand distinction.

I’d been to Lampara before, but this was my first time trying its desserts. It turned out to be a sweet way to end the tour and a belated birthday treat for Kara, whose desserts came with candles.

We tried their Tres Leches cake, a creamy, milk-soaked sponge cake paired with Filipino flan, fresh mango, chia seeds, and a crisp honey tuile. Their Polvoron was a more inventive take on the familiar Filipino sweet, bringing together toasted corn, coconut, and queso for a delightful combination of sweet, savory, and nutty flavors.

That was where we said our goodbyes and thanked Chef Ria and Romnick for taking us on a culinary ride around Manila. It reminded me that even in a city I’ve known for years, there are still new flavors to discover, new places to try, and familiar streets to see from a different perspective.

You know that feeling when you visit a city and find yourself wishing your own could be a little more like it?

That was how I felt during my recent trip to Busan. I was there to attend the Busan International Film Festival (BIFF), one of Asia’s leading film festivals, as part of the QCinema International Film Festival delegation, representing Quezon City’s official film festival.

It was a last-minute race to Busan. One delegate had to back out, opening up a slot for me. In half a day, I prepared all my visa documents and rushed to the visa application center, only to learn that processing could take over a week. But since I already had everything ready, I figured, what the heck? Might as well apply and hope for the best.

Things moved much faster than expected. I filed my application on a Friday. By Monday, my visa was approved. By Tuesday, we'd bought our tickets. And by Friday, I was on a plane to South Korea for the first time.

Like Busan, Quezon City is a UNESCO City of Film. Busan received its designation in 2014, while Quezon City joined the UNESCO Creative Cities Network in 2025. Naturally, I was curious to see how Busan celebrates its film culture.

We took a mid-afternoon flight and arrived in the early evening. We stayed at The Bay Hotel, quite far from the festival venues but conveniently located across from a bus stop. It was also a 15-minute walk to Songjeong Beach, popular among locals for surfing, and about a kilometer and a half from Lotte Premium Outlets DongBusan.

Most of my time in Busan was spent in Centum City, where the Busan Cinema Center and BEXCO are located.

The Busan Cinema Center, the permanent home of BIFF, is hard to miss. Its futuristic design and enormous cantilever roof make it a landmark in its own right. It is also known by its Korean name, Dureraum, which means "enjoying movies together."

The center has a huge outdoor theater where BIFF holds its opening and closing ceremonies. During the festival, crowds often gather here to catch a glimpse of Korean celebrities. There are also smaller spaces for talks and events, along with plenty of spots where filmmakers, industry guests, and cinephiles can meet, work, or simply take a break.

The complex also houses cinemas, a theater for live performances, cafes, and a film library with resources for movie lovers. It is really a place where people can enjoy different aspects of cinema throughout the year.

From the Busan Cinema Center, it was a short walk to BEXCO, the Busan Exhibition and Convention Center, where the Asian Contents & Film Market (ACFM), BIFF's industry platform, was taking place.

Between the two venues is LOTTE CINEMA Centum City, which also hosted some festival screenings. The area is part of the same bustling district as Shinsegae Centum City, the enormous department store where I squeezed in some window shopping between films and industry events.

View from Shinsegae Centum City

As a badge holder, I could book screenings through the festival app, although getting tickets to some films wasn't always easy. Still, I managed to catch several films and attend a few networking events and parties.

One was hosted by Thailand at Park Hyatt Busan. Right outside the hotel was Haeundae Cinema Street, also known as Busan Cine Road. The seaside walkway features movie-themed installations, illustrated tiles, and tributes to Korean films, including box-office hits and productions filmed in Busan.

It was a nice surprise to find a public space dedicated to cinema just steps away from the beach.

QCinema also held a gathering with the Film Academy of the Philippines at Peter's Pub in Haeundae. The area is one of BIFF's main hubs, with its beach, hotels, restaurants, and nightlife drawing festival guests and visitors. It is also home to Haeundae Traditional Market, where food stalls and small shops offer plenty of options for a quick bite.

Another spot worth visiting during BIFF is BIFF Square in Nampo-dong, where the festival began in 1996. Today, the area combines cinema history with street food. The sidewalks feature handprints and signatures of filmmakers and actors, while movie theaters, shops, and food stalls line the surrounding streets.

Of course, I had to sample the street food while exploring the area.

How cool is it to see all these installations, artworks, and signs celebrating Busan's love for film? Even some bus stops feature film-reel designs. Cinema seems to pop up in the most unexpected places.

Of course, Busan has had decades to build its reputation as a film destination. Quezon City is only beginning its own journey as a UNESCO City of Film. After seeing how cinema is woven into Busan's streets and public spaces, I can only hope that one day, Quezon City will have its own place on the map as a city where film comes alive, not just during QCinema, but throughout the year.

“Bakit ang mahal?”

It is a question I’ve heard many times when people see the price of a handwoven Philippine textile. And to be honest, I’ve said it myself: “Ang mahal!”

There are many times when I see a beautiful handwoven piece, admire its colors and craftsmanship, appreciate the story behind it, and still have to walk away because I simply cannot afford it.

But years of traveling to communities where traditional crafts are practiced have changed the way I look at that price. I have visited weaving communities in Mindanao, the Visayas and Luzon, sat beside weavers, watched threads being counted and arranged, and listened to stories of skills passed from one generation to another.

Some of these encounters have been with National Living Treasures, or Gawad sa Manlilikha ng Bayan (GAMABA) awardees. Others have been with younger weavers continuing the work of those who came before them.

The textiles and techniques are different, but they have taught me the same thing: you cannot understand the value of a handwoven textile by looking at the finished piece alone.

Generations of knowledge

In Davao del Sur, I visited the Bagobo-Tagabawa community and saw the Inab’l weaving tradition up close. The community carries the legacy of Salinta Monon, the master weaver who received the GAMABA award in 1998 for her dedication to weaving and passing her skills to the next generation.

Monon died in 2009, but her knowledge continues through her granddaughter, Lovelove Monon, and other women weavers, including Estela Barra, her first student. During our visit, they demonstrated the Bagobo-Ikat or Inab’l textile process and the making of the Tangkulo headwear.

What I saw was the value of knowledge accumulated over generations. The finished textile may take hours to make, but the skill behind it took years, and in many cases generations, to learn.

Materials from the land

In South Cotabato, I encountered another textile tradition through the Blaan community and their tabih.

The Blaan use natural dyes made from endemic plants to create the colors of their textiles. During our visit, we watched weaving and embroidery inside the Gumne, a traditional Blaan house.

The tradition carries the legacy of Fu Yabing Masalon Dulo, a GAMABA awardee and master weaver and dyer credited with preserving Blaan mabal tabih ikat weaving and dyeing. Her grandson, Arthur Gulili, continues that work through a weaving center, the FUYA brand and a homestay.

The price of the textile also reflects what comes before the weaving: the materials, the preparation and the knowledge of how to turn what comes from the land into color and cloth.

Labor and precision

In Basilan, I saw just how much manual work can be hidden in a finished textile.

At a weaving center in Lamitan City, I met Ambalang Ausalin, or Apuh Ambalang, a Yakan tennun tapestry weaver and GAMABA awardee. Women and children at the center were working on colorful textiles with intricate designs.

The process begins with paghani, or warping, where threads are pulled and evenly placed through a bamboo comb. Pagpeneh follows, with the design created by counting loom threads and bundling vertical rows. Only then does magtennun, the actual weaving, begin on a backstrap tension loom.

Watching the process made me realize how much labor is hidden in the finished design. What looks like a pattern on the cloth is the result of careful counting, positioning and weaving.

A livelihood

In Abra, I visited Leila’s Loomweaving, also known as Mang Abel ti Abra, a cooperative composed mostly of mothers who are both weavers and farmers. The group preserves traditional handweaving techniques including Binakol, Kantarines and Tiniri.

We watched the women and their young apprentices weave, and we bought some of their handwoven creations.

The price pays for skilled labor. It can also help keep weaving viable as a livelihood, allowing artisans to continue practicing the craft instead of abandoning it.

More than a piece of cloth

My experiences have also shown me that these weaves carry the identity of the communities that created them and, in many cases, form part of our broader Filipino identity.

In Lake Sebu, I had the privilege of meeting Lang Dulay, the T’boli traditional weaver credited with preserving the T’nalak, a dyed abaca fabric. Visiting her workshop allowed me to see the person and knowledge behind a textile tradition I had previously known mainly through the finished cloth.

In Iloilo, I also became close to members of the Panay-Bukidnon community. I first met Federico Caballero, a Panay-Bukidnon epic chanter and GAMABA awardee, in Calinog. Years later, TREK, the volunteer organization I co-founded, returned to the community for an outreach, donating sewing machines, cloth and threads.

My connection with the community also gave me a deeper appreciation for panubok, the traditional embroidery of the Panay-Bukidnon. Keeping the craft alive is also about keeping the identity and traditions of the community alive.

This is what makes traditional textiles different from mass-produced fabric. They carry stories, practices and identities that have been passed down through generations.

Worth Every Thread

These are the things I now see when I look at a handwoven textile: the knowledge behind it, the materials, the labor, the livelihood it provides and the cultural identity it carries.

Like a painting or sculpture, a handwoven piece can be an expression of art, culture and identity, while also supporting the people who keep the tradition alive.

It is this appreciation for the people, skills and stories behind Philippine textiles that HABI: The Philippine Textile Council seeks to deepen through the Likhang HABI Market Fair.

Now on its 16th year, the fair returns to SPACE at One Ayala from October 9 to 11, 2026, with the theme “Worth Every Thread.” It brings together weavers, artisans, designers, makers and textile advocates to highlight the work and traditions behind Philippine textiles.

The fair will also feature Kwentong Kultura talks, documentary screenings and talkbacks, exhibits, workshops and weaving competitions.

For me, understanding what goes into each piece makes the question “Bakit ang mahal?” a little easier to answer.

There were wildlife sightings, time on the water, a paddle through the mangroves, and plenty of good food and conversation. It was a different way of experiencing Busuanga Island, one that took me beyond its familiar beaches and islands.

Our trip was arranged by Yunara Resort Busuanga, formerly known as Angel Garden Resort, which invited members of the media to experience how its new management, Approche Hospitality Management (AHM) Corporation, is transforming the beachfront property. A Philippine-based hotel and property management company, AHM is shaping Yunara into a place that reflects and connects with the rhythm of this quieter side of Busuanga.

We traveled from Quezon City, starting at Tribute Hotel, another property managed by AHM to Clark International Airport, where the transition to island rhythm began. Our Sunlight Air flight to Busuanga took about an hour. From Francisco B. Reyes Airport, it was another 45-minute drive to Yunara, with the landscape gradually giving way to quieter roads, coastal views and the unmistakable rhythm of island life.

Yunara, set along the coast of northern Busuanga, sits within a landscape of greens, community and sea, with the Mindoro Strait opening toward the other islands of the Calamian Group.

It is a setting that feels removed from the usual bustle of island tourism. You could easily spend an entire day doing very little and be perfectly happy about it. Watch the quiet day unfold, exchange a few words with the friendly staff, most of whom grew up in Busuanga, settle into a good book, or linger over a cocktail or two as the afternoon drifts by.

The management had other plans for us though. They wanted us to experience what Yunara could offer beyond its doors, and that meant exploring a different side of Busuanga Island.

Island-Hopping

Most island-hopping trips on this side of Palawan typically depart from Coron. It is a lovely town, and one I would happily return to, but some of the experiences we sought were closer and more conveniently accessible from Yunara.

There was no long transfer to a port or early-morning rush to get to a departure point. We simply stepped out of the resort and onto the boat, with the Yunara team taking care of the arrangements. 

Our itinerary took us to three destinations, each offering a distinctly different experience. First was Aban-Aban, a small coastal area, beach and islet off the northern coast of Calauit Island, where we set out in search of a dugong. From there, we headed to Dimipac Island, also known as Turtle Island, a local sanctuary focused on reef rehabilitation and sea turtle monitoring. Our final stop was Mantalibong Island, where Yunara had arranged a surprise island lunch for us, a fitting way to end a day spent exploring the waters around Busuanga.

Before setting off, we had a briefing from the Yunara team on our itinerary. At Calauit Island, we picked up representatives from Bantay Dugong, who then briefed us on how to conduct the encounter responsibly.

They explained that dugong watching is not simply about finding the animal and getting into the water. The experience is carefully regulated to minimize disturbance. Only small groups are allowed in the water at a time, with limited interaction time and a required distance from the animal. We were reminded not to chase or touch the dugong, to keep noise to a minimum, and most importantly, to allow the animal to decide where it wanted to go. 

I wasn't particularly hopeful at first. I had been on several wildlife encounters before, and many ended without a sighting. But I wasn't disappointed by that. After all, that is what seeing wild animals is about. They are not performers waiting for our arrival.

So, we waited.

And patience had its reward.

We eventually got to see Aban, one of the dugongs regularly encountered in the waters off northern Calauit Island. Aban is named after the Aban-Aban area where he is frequently spotted.

Researchers estimate that around 30 dugongs inhabit these northern waters, with two familiar faces. One is Aban and the other is Pingas, whose name is taken from the Tagalog word referring to something notched or clipped, a reference to the distinctive mark on his tail.

Seeing Aban in the wild was still surreal and I can now say that I've seen a dugong in the wild.

From there, we sailed to Dimipac Island. I have seen sea turtles in the wild before, usually one or two around an island. This time, I counted six. Others in our group spotted as many as 12.

There was no need to dive. The water was clear enough that we could easily spot the turtles from the surface.

And the experience was refreshingly easygoing. The Yunara staff were in the water with us, with lifebuoys on hand whenever we needed a break. We could simply stop, float for a while and take in the sight without having to worry about keeping up.

After the dugong encounter, seeing so many turtles in one place was another unexpected highlight of the day.

By then, lunch was something we were all looking forward to. We had spent most of the morning in the sea, and despite having enjoyed a generous buffet breakfast at Yunara, we were more than ready for another meal.

At Mantalibong Island, a buffet lunch was waiting for us, with grilled fish, isaw or grilled intestines on skewers, grilled pork belly, pancit, salad and fresh buko or coconuts. After a morning in the water, there was something especially satisfying about sitting down to a hearty island lunch.

With the sea in front of us, sand underfoot and delicious food on our plates, it was exactly the kind of lunch an island day called for.

Through the Mangroves

The wildlife encounters were just one part of the trip.

Just a five-minute walk from the resort is CAFA Ecoworld, managed by the Cheey Aquaculture and Fisherfolk Association (CAFA), a community-run aquaculture and ecotourism organization. The grassroots initiative brings together local fisherfolk and their families, who manage a five-hectare site while working on livelihood programs, environmental protection and community-based tourism.

I visited CAFA twice.

On our first visit, we were introduced to the organization and learned about its work, from livelihood programs to efforts to protect the coastal environment. They welcomed us with traditional dances, meryenda and refreshing nipa shakes made from the nipa palms that grow in the area.

The highlight was a mangrove cruise, which I did by kayak. For about 30 minutes, we paddled through the mangroves as the afternoon slipped toward sunset. The changing light transformed the landscape, casting the waterways and foliage in increasingly warm hues.

I came back to see more of CAFA and the second time, there was more food, more conversation and more time to simply listen.

They served their sinugbang alimango, a mud crab grilled with garlic, cheese, lemongrass and other local herbs. The recipe was developed by one of the members, who also prepared it herself. 

Over the meal, we talked about the community, their work and life in Busuanga. Without the rush of an itinerary, the conversation became less about tourism and more about getting to know the people behind the place.

It reminded me that the best kind of travel can be unhurried, leaving room for conversations, connections and the chance to see a place through the eyes of its people.

The Rhythm of Yunara

Yunara is still young and evolving under its new management, with a clear focus on building stronger connections with the community and environment around it. Many of its staff grew up in Busuanga, and their knowledge of the island is part of that direction. At the same time, the resort offers a comfortable and quiet place to return to. That balance is the rhythm of Yunara, and one worth experiencing for yourself.

Almost two decades after Trails to Empower Kids, or TREK, started, we continue to travel to communities that are not always easy to reach. These are places where help does not always reach, and where even simple things can make a difference.

For our 46th mission, we found ourselves back in San Luis, for our third outreach in the municipality and our seventh in the province.

Getting to San Luis

One of the challenges of organizing these outreach programs is logistics. Transporting donations has always been a challenge for us. With the volume of donations we collected, even after already sending two batches to Aurora, we still had so much left to bring.

It was a happy problem, though, and we solved it by going ahead of the group two days before the outreach. My mom, on her second TREK, and my baby dog Aeon came along with me. We took the bus, which had enough luggage space to accommodate the extra donations, something we couldn't manage as easily with the three rented vans we would be using for the rest of the group.

Going ahead gave me the chance to bring my mom to the beaches of Baler, which she was visiting for the first time. It also gave us time to help our Team Leader, Noel Dulay, with the preparations before the rest of the volunteers arrived.

On outreach day, the volunteers started arriving as early as 4:30 a.m.

We regrouped in Maria Aurora, where we had breakfast before continuing to San Luis. From there, the adventure really began.

Reaching Dibut Beach, our jump-off point for the boat ride to Diotorin, was not exactly a straightforward drive. The roads were steep, and some portions were unpaved, which became quite a challenge for our rented vans.

But thanks to our drivers’ skills, we reached beautiful Dibut Beach safely and immediately started loading the donations onto our boats.

From Dibut Beach, we continued by boat toward Diotorin, the remote coastal community where the outreach would take place.

We were relatively blessed with good weather. Although the boat ride took more than an hour, it was a beautiful way to see the San Luis coastline. 

As we approached the community, the first thing we saw was the students. As soon as they spotted our boat, they started waving.

When we reached the shore, they ran toward us, took our hands, and greeted us with mano, a Filipino gesture of respect where one takes an elder’s hand and gently brings it to the forehead. Some of the children hugged us, too. A few even walked with us to their school, which was just a very short walk from the beach.

It was one of the most heartwarming welcomes we have ever received.

A Day with the Students

Once we reached the school, it was time for our usual TREK program.

Diotorin Integrated School is located in Sitio Diotorin, Barangay Dibayabay, San Luis, Aurora. The school has more than a hundred students, from Kindergarten to Grade 7. Some of them are from Indigenous Peoples communities.

The school recently became an integrated school, which means students can now continue their education up to Grade 7 without having to leave their community after elementary school. This is especially important for families here, as continuing their education used to mean sending their children to schools farther away, something that not everyone could afford.

We had been researching Diotorin Integrated School for years and had wanted to include it in one of our outreach programs. It just took us this long to finally find the time and opportunity to get there.

During out turnover ceremonies, while our kitchen team was busy preparing lunch, we handed out cookies to the students. After that, we had games, with the usual running, laughing, shouting, and competitive spirit that somehow appears whenever TREK kids and volunteers get together.]

After that, we distributed their gifts. 

Before the outreach, we had asked each of them what they wanted. As always, the wishes ranged from practical school items to simple things they had been hoping to receive.

This has been my favorite part of our outreach programs. These kids live in geographically isolated areas and have very little access to some of the things they wish for. Most of their wishes were very simple. There was even a kid who asked for nothing more than bread. Seeing their reactions when they finally received what they wished for was precious.

After the wishes, we distributed school and personal essentials. The students received umbrellas, backpacks, school supplies, tumblers, and hygiene kits.

We also turned over supplies for the teachers, solar panels, and a few AM/FM radios for the parents.

Then it was time for lunch. The kids had spaghetti and chicken, while the volunteers had something just as special. The parents prepared a spread of local dishes for us, including fresh fish and shrimp.

It is something I always appreciate about these outreaches. We arrive thinking about what we can give, but the communities always find their own way of giving back.

School Head Sir Mark Anthony Neypes also shared his gratitude to TREK and the volunteers for bringing much-needed support to Diotorin Integrated School, a “last mile” school.

“Sa tagal na pong nakatayo ang aming paaralan, ngayon lang po sila nabigyan ng napakarami at nag-uumapaw na gamit.” (In all the years that our school has been here, this is the first time that our students have received such an abundance of supplies and things they need.)

His words were a reminder of just how much these simple things can mean to a community that is far from the usual sources of assistance.

Staying a Little Longer

With the outreach done, we had time to enjoy the other side of the trip: exploring new places and spending time together as a group.

We spent a night at Dibut Beach. For our group of around 30, we rented one big cottage and six smaller ones at Israel Beach Camp. The big cottage had an open kitchen and dining area, which became our common space for the night and the perfect place for everyone to gather.

I always miss these moments when everyone is simply together after a long day.

Our volunteers prepared dinner, we ate well, and we shared stories about the day's adventures. There was no rush. Just good food, good company, and that familiar feeling of being together after a successful TREK outreach.

Breakfast the next morning was just as good.

Afterward, we continued our Aurora adventure with a visit to the newly opened National Museum Baler, followed by a buffet lunch along Sabang Beach, before making our way to Villa Aurora Eco-Tourism Area, or VAETA.

Discovering VAETA

The drive took us deeper into the Sierra Madre, along winding, dizzying roads that seemed to go on and on.

From the parking area, we crossed a hanging bridge and followed a moss-covered cement trail to reach the villas. Others in our group took 4x4 vehicles that crossed the river.

VAETA is still relatively new and developing, and the accommodations are simple. Some villas have private toilets and baths, while some rooms have bunk beds. There were very few mattresses available.

There is electricity but no cellphone signal, and there are no food outlets.

For us, though, none of that was a problem. For our group, having a solid roof over our heads instead of sleeping in tents was already a luxury. And we came prepared, with our sleeping bags, food, and other provisions for the stay.

One of the highlights of our overnight stay at VAETA was the trek to Ubot Falls, a 14-meter waterfall that drops over a rocky wall into a natural pool. 

After the trek, we got to swim and spend some time by the river.

I also liked that VAETA is locally managed, with members of the Egongot Indigenous community helping manage the area, protect the forest, and guide visitors.

VAETA was a fitting way to end the trip. After spending the weekend giving back to a remote community, we got to slow down, explore somewhere new, and simply enjoy being together.