Lines In My Head

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...