May-June 2012. The Ilocandia Tour.
I have always wanted to go to Ilocos and experience "the old, the ancient, the history". In some days when I have less to do, I would browse the internet on must-visit places. One day, I felt everything was too much - I needed to get away from work, disconnect myself to social networking, run away from the boyfriend and try to be a different person, I decided to embark to Ilocos in the weekend.
Thursday. The boyfriend and I dined at Hawkers and we talked very casually. Then I told (not asked) him that I wanted to travel to Ilocos on Saturday. He was astonished at how absurd this idea was. He asked if I'm sure. I said yes immediately. I made up my mind and there was nothing he could do about it.
So come Saturday morning, I woke up at around eight o'clock - which is my usual first wake up call on weekends. I looked up the internet for a bus liner which can take me to the North, the schedule, rates and contact number. Turned out I had one freaking hour to prepare because the bus would leave at 9:45. I packed a few clothes, made sure all my essentials are in my backpack and hailed a cab to take me to Partas station in Pasay. I remembered it was raining like hell. But not Mother Nature stopped me. Then I got my ticket, waited with the rest of the passengers and called the boyfriend that I was there waiting already. Friends and my boss texted to remind me to take care of myself. I planned to go back to Manila Sunday night so I could still report to the office on Monday.
But no. The bus ride took away 12 hourssssss of my supposed get-away tour! I dreaded CDO-Davao bus rides and this was tooooo much. I didn't realize until my phone was on critical battery level, when my butt felt sore, my stomach was grumbling (I do not eat when on travel because I easily get sick) and there was nothing else I could do but remain seated. On my window seat, peeping from the curtains, I saw rainy Pampanga, La Union and and Pangasinan pass by. I was supposed to contemplate, meditate, ponder upon everything that's happened (and will happen) in my life but I could not. It was the worst part of the trip.
Saturday 10PM. I arrived in Vigan (but had to keep asking the bus driver and its assistant where we were already). I picked the most friendly looking driver from the line-up of trikes infront of the terminal. I was fortunate that he knew where Grandpa's Inn was and told me that it was nice and affordable. So there I checked in at the old mansion which was refurbished into a lodging house.
Wait, let me tell the story by just posting the photos instead. Then I'll just blog about THE QUARTER LIFE CRISIS.
An old coffee press (I think) at Grandpa's Inn, Heritage, Vigan.
Longganisa was a staple.
More than 10 tigers at Baluarte, Vigan.
Random bus rides. Didn't know where to go.
Vigan Empanada doesn't have added coloring.
Kesong puti cheesecake and black coffee for that rainy afternoon.
Spicy longganisa pizza at Herencia.
Laoag empanada from Johnny Moon (Juan Luna hailed from the North)
Bangui windmills going to Pagudpud.
One of the highlights: meeting The Dictator (at his Mausoleum)