27/05/2025
| Waves, Winds, and Wonders: My Unforgettable Ilocos Summer Getaway with ANHS Faculty and Staff
By Ma’am C
As the final rays of the sun slipped behind the mountains of Angono, Rizal, on April 28, 2025, I found myself standing at the familiar grounds of Angono National High School, surrounded by the buzzing excitement of my fellow teachers. It was late, but nobody seemed tired — our bags were packed not just with clothes, but with anticipation. Around midnight, our vans finally pulled up, and just like that, we were off — headed north for what would be one of the most memorable 3-day getaways of my life.
Day 1: From Sidewalk Breakfasts to Sunset Swims
We arrived in Ilocos early in the morning of April 29, sleep-deprived but giddy with anticipation. After hours of winding roads, cramped naps, and bursts of laughter in between, our first real stop was at a roadside karinderya. It wasn’t fancy — just a row of simple wooden tables and chairs under a tin roof — but it had a charm of its own. The air was thick with the smell of freshly cooked rice, beef soup, and other beloved Filipino dishes simmering in large pots. There was no blaring television, just the gentle buzz of conversations — faculty and staff sharing stories from the road, laughing over funny van moments, and stretching out their travel aches. I slid into my seat, grateful for the warmth of the food and the company. That first bite — a spoonful of steaming rice soaked in broth, paired with tender beef — was deeply satisfying. It wasn’t cheap, but in that moment, it felt just right — a small comfort after the long ride.
Our first adventure brought us to Bacarra Church, where the worn bricks and silent magnificence whispered stories of resilience through centuries. I stood there, silently offering a prayer, thankful for the gift of travel and the joy of being with wonderful people. The drive through the Patapat Viaduct felt like slipping into a postcard — the road snaked along the cliffs while the sea beside us glittered under the afternoon sun, winking with every crash of the waves. The moment I stepped out of the van, I froze. I didn’t reach for my phone. I didn’t pose. I just stood there, still, letting the view sink in. The mountains rose behind me, the ocean stretched endlessly before me, and the salty breeze wrapped around my face like a welcome. Even now, as I write this, I can still see that exact view in my head — the quiet curve of the road, the rhythmic splash of waves below, and the distinct scent of the sea. It was one of those rare, grounding moments where you don’t need a picture because your soul already took one.
We reached Casa Victoria Beach Resort by mid-afternoon, and the moment we set our bags down, we changed and ran to the shore like kids let out for summer break. The white sand of Pagudpud felt warm and soft beneath my feet, like stepping into a dream. The water was perfect — cold, cleansing, and just what we needed. We swam, laughed, and let go of every ounce of stress we had brought with us.
As the afternoon melted into evening, I found myself drawn to the sunset. I took so many videos and pictures, trying to hold on to the magic of that moment, not just for the memories, but because I knew even then that this was something I’d want to relive again and again. My favorite photo was one taken on a wooden swing by the beach, where I sat quietly, watching the sun dip below the horizon. I wasn’t just smiling in that photo — I was glowing. It was a smile that came from deep within, a kind that only surfaces when your heart feels full and present.
We swam until the sky turned into a canvas of oranges, purples, and pinks. That sunset — I’ll never forget it. It felt like time had paused just for us, just for that view. After dinner, we played a round of Bingo that had us laughing until our sides hurt — voices loud, jokes flying, and joy echoing through the night. When we finally crawled into bed, the rhythm of the waves outside lulled us to sleep like a gentle lullaby.
The next morning, I woke up early, drawn to the peaceful hush of dawn. I walked barefoot along the shore, the cold sand grounding me, while the sunrise cast golden light over the mountain behind the resort. It felt like my soul was walking with the waves, flowing freely and quietly with the tide. I bent down to collect a few smooth beach stones — later, I’d turn them into a bracelet at home, a quiet keepsake of this beautiful memory.
Ma’am Vanessa, Sir Reymond, and I took a few more photos and videos together, capturing our peaceful morning before heading back to share breakfast with everyone, tired, happy, and already wishing we could press pause on the whole experience.
Day 2: Rock Formations, Windmills, and a Rush of Adrenaline
April 30 began with aching muscles but happy hearts. After breakfast, we checked out of the resort and headed to two of my highlights: Kapurpurawan Rock Formation and the Bangui Windmills. Standing before the creamy-white rock formation, carved by nature’s hand, I felt so small — and so alive. It was quiet, breezy, and breathtaking. Not far from there, the towering windmills lined up along the coast like sentinels, their blades slicing through the air. I stood in front of one, marveling at how something so industrial could look so poetic against the sky.
Our Laoag tour began soon after. From the serene St. William Cathedral to the leaning Sinking Bell Tower, every stop held its own story. But what really made my heart skip was the Paoay Church — that imposing baroque architecture, the centuries-old stone walls, and the deep, reverent silence inside. It made me reflect on the past, the people who built it, and the faith that sustained generations.
The Malacañang of the North and Marcos Museum offered a different kind of immersion — a peek into lives once lived in power. Antique furniture, photographs, and preserved memorabilia surrounded us, and I found myself quietly observing how history can both inspire and challenge.
But nothing — absolutely nothing — prepared me for the wild thrill of the Paoay Sand Dunes. As we climbed into our 4x4 jeep, I felt a mix of nervous excitement. I held on tight, not knowing what to expect.
And then — we flew.
The ride was insane. I screamed at every drop, every sudden twist, every unexpected dive. I probably made sounds I didn’t even know I was capable of making — shrieks, gasps, uncontrollable laughter. It was like being on a rollercoaster built by nature itself, with no rails, no tracks, just roaring engines and pure adrenaline.
When we reached the sandboarding area, I slid down those golden slopes like a child seeing snow for the first time. Falling didn’t matter. We were covered in sand, out of breath, and absolutely alive. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once — and even though my body ached after, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
It was the kind of experience that shakes you awake — the kind you never forget.
Before leaving for Vigan, we made a stop at the Ilocos Norte Arc for a group photo — all smiles, all sweaty, all perfectly content. That evening, we arrived at the charming Vigan Plaza Hotel, just a short walk from the famous Calle Crisologo. After checking in, we couldn’t resist heading out to explore. The cobblestones echoed with history as we strolled down the heritage street lit with warm lamps. I bought souvenirs, shared a cup of coffee with colleagues, and struck up conversations with friendly locals and fellow tourists. There was music, laughter, and the feeling that I was exactly where I was meant to be.
Day 3: Gardens, Shrines, and Bittersweet Goodbyes
May 1 came too soon. After breakfast, we began our final day. At the Juan Luna Shrine, I stood before the legacy of a brilliant Filipino artist and felt inspired — his story, his courage, his art. The Bantay Bell Tower was supposed to offer us sweeping panoramic views of Vigan — the kind that makes you fall in love with a place one last time. But when we got there, the tower was closed. No climb, no view from the top. Still, we didn’t let that dampen the moment.
We stood at its base, taking photos and soaking in its quiet presence. There was something about its stillness that felt just right — like a final pause before goodbye. I took a deep breath, letting the warm Vigan air fill my lungs, as if to carry a piece of the city home with me. One last moment to hold onto the soul of Vigan.
At Baluarte ni Singson, while others explored inside, I wandered the streets around it. I saw a child laughing with her lola, a vendor making buko shakes, and flowers blooming in sidewalk pots. Sometimes, beauty is in the small things.
Our last stop was the Hidden Garden, and it truly lived up to its name — a tucked-away paradise in the heart of Vigan. The moment we stepped in, we were embraced by a quiet, calming beauty. Plants of all kinds filled every corner — vibrant orchids, towering palms, delicate ferns — each one seeming to whisper stories of stillness and growth.
We had our lunch at Lilong and Lilang Restaurant, nestled inside the garden. The food was delicious, but what made it special was the atmosphere — surrounded by nature, shaded by trees, and cooled by the breeze. All around us were artworks: statues of women and men, bold in form yet soft in presence. They stood like silent storytellers, each one reflecting something about strength, grace, and Filipino identity.
I remember finding a quiet bench, sitting there after lunch, just… being. Letting the sounds, the smells,
we and the gentle energy of the place wash over me. I didn’t want it to end. It felt like the garden wasn’t just a destination, but a reminder to breathe, to pause, and to feel.
Reflections on the Road
This journey wasn’t just about ticking places off a list, which is something personal for me, as Ilocos is one of the places on my bucket list. It was about connecting with nature, with history, and with each other. I saw my colleagues not just as co-teachers, but as friends. We laughed over shared meals, danced in the van during long drives, and opened up in ways we rarely have time to do during the school year.
Ilocos welcomed us with open arms, and in return, it gave me something I didn’t realize I needed — a sense of wonder, a break from routine, and a reminder that life is best when shared with people who matter.
As we made our way home, the van grew quiet — tired eyes, content hearts. I looked out the window one last time, whispering, “Thank you, Ilocos.”
Because this wasn’t just a vacation.
It was a beautiful chapter in the story of my life.
đź“ť Edited by: Athanasia Nebria, Karl Chester Lucas, & James Peter Mangune.
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