Lines In My Head

*This is the last part on a series of posts detailing our trip to Ilocos. Now, read!* With the Vigan expedition done, we proceeded to the bus terminal to start the last leg of this northern adventure. Upon arrival to the terminal though, we learned that the trip back to Laoag was already fully booked and we will be accommodated as chance passengers only. Ugh. Luckily for us, a helpful security guard (people in the provinces are always waaaay too kind) gave us a nice, little tip: we can try our luck on the highway where all kinds of buses pass through on their way to the capital. And indeed, just after a few minutes of waiting, we caught a Farinas bus headed to Currimao, our final destination. Bless you, Kuya Guard! Probably due to the walking and strolling around the Vigan plaza, the ride to Currimao was a very sound one. A sound sleep for both of us, that is! If not for the good-hearted bus conductor waking us up at the junction, we, sleepyheads, would have probably ended up ba

This is not in the Philippines. Right? After a well-deserved and much-needed sleep the night before, the warm sunlight seeping through the high curtains welcomed the lovebirds to the touristy phase of this Northern adventure: a stroll around the infamous Calle Crisologo and the hunt for the crunchy Vigan empanada. After a homey breakfast, consisting of Vigan longganisa, fish bacon (remember these two dishes) and leftover Felicitas rice, preluded by the two Cs bumping into a hotel staff meeting along the staircase, the best-couple-ever, hands clasped together, happily hopped out of the hotel and into the heritage-themed streets. Relying mainly on their undeniably accurate navigation skillz and unmatched sense of direction, the geeky lovers marched along the Vigan-text-engraved sidewalk, turned around a corner, strode for a couple of steps, and voila, found Calle Crisologo, replete with Spanish-era designed houses and horse-drawn carriages! No wonder Hotel Felicidad had such g

After getting our beach fix care of the rough waves and clean waters of Pagudpud, it was on to the next stop of this 5-day vacation: the heritage city of Vigan. With our bags repacked (and I'm telling you, repacking takes some serious skillz) and ourselves refreshed, we were off to another three-wheeler adventure that landed us to what looks like an unused police outpost-slash-bus stop. Here, C noticed yet again the carefree provincial life in the form of a waiting passenger just leaving his belongings in the outpost while he chatted away with some of the tricycle drivers stationed there. A shout of "Ma'am" alerted us to an incoming bus bound for Laoag, readying us for the next phase of our Northern stroll.  Waiting for a bus on a Sunday. But before heading to Laoag City, we decided to have a quick stop into another fabulous site, the Bangui Windmills, which C, and in her adorable geeky fashion, termed as the "Isengards of the Wild North". Very clever

If I remember correctly, it all started with a simple conversation while on a cab ride going home after a fun trip around Mind Museum (my birthday!). The talk centered around where 'C' wanted to spend her birthday this year. While we floated around several ideas like Bali (!) and Boracay (we have a thing about 'B' destinations, you see), nothing was settled that day except for the fact that we absolutely had to be together for her day, a marked difference from a year ago where our only connection was from a single FB greeting on her wall. *kilig* Fast forward to the 28th of September and we find ourselves at C's favorite Terminal 2 meal source, feasting on an early morning breakfast of french toasts, soft-boiled eggs, a tea, and an iced milo while discovering and being surprised that the light-colored soy sauce (?) is much saltier than the darker variant. So much for stereotyping our eggs' companions. We then proceeded to our boarding gate, and after a sho