People often ask me, “Why do you always go to Sagada?” and of course without thinking I would reply, “It feels like home”.
5 years ago, as I search for healing and meaning, I found myself drawn to its beauty. The crisp, cold air was warm and the pine trees became refuge. I remember a friend commented out of nowhere as we walk along the road going to the town proper early in the morning, “Dito masarap mangarap, parang lahat ng hiling mo matutupad kasi parang ang lapit ni God” [This is where it’s good to dream. It seems like all your wishes will come true because it feels like God is near]. It’s even funny to think that this comment came from a non-believer… See what God did there.
Maybe he was right. Maybe God was indeed near. Maybe it was the closeness of mountains to the sea of clouds, where fogs seem inviting and comforting and the cold weather does not feel gloomy but tender.
Ever since, I made it to a point to go back there. It’s my “charging station”… to put it bluntly.
A year after my first trip, I went back in search of clarity. After that I went back again. And just last summer, I went back as closing salvo of my discernment retreat. But this time, compared to all other trips, I came back alone… and it made all the difference.
This is why I write this.
Misty Lodge
Everytime I go to Sagada, I stay at the same place. I couldn’t imagine going there without staying in Misty Lodge. I discovered the lodge when I joined a video-making contest 5 years ago (where I backed out the last minute because I was too scared to lose. I know, TMI). I told myself, I have to see the lodge. I have to stay there ! 7 months after, I was there because of a wonderful happenstance (Check out the first Sagada entry to understand what I’m saying).
I arrived late past lunch and I was greeted by Bogan, the chef and co-owner of Misty. With a warm smile and inviting energy, she welcomed me but the next question dropped like a bomb. “Mag-isa ka lang ? Asan na ang kasama mo ?” [“You’re alone ? Where’s your companion ?”], referring to the companion/s I was with last time. Maybe it was the tiredness that made me speechless. I was exhausted after the 6 hour trip from Baguio and uncooperative stomach pains brought by the anxious feeling of going back to a place I’ve known for long… alone.
I settled down, got surprised by how much the place transformed into a more beautiful, homey lodge.
In the evening, I found refuge in the warmth of crackling fire in the chimney. Jazz playing in the background.
I went out and basked in the beauty of the place. The moon was shining shyly, it’s crescent shape seducing me. “Thank you, Lord.”, I caught myself sighing in ecstasy. It’s a wonderful, wonderful place.
But then, why such joy gives me a sudden sadness ? It’s as if something inside tells me, “but you are alone, how can this be beautiful?”
I wonder why beautiful things bring us in a state of sadness ? I felt like tearing up, but it’s not because of joy, it’s because I was, once again, alone. And this was triggered by a question “Mag-isa ka lang talaga?” [“You’re just really alone?”]
I was looking at the bits and pieces inside the lodge. Every corner, there was a message of hope, of love, of life. I was thinking maybe it was too much ? Maybe not.
Out of nowhere, I saw this beautiful passage:
“Love cannot be reduced to the first encounter, because it is a construction. The enigma in thinking about love is the duration of time necessary for it to flourish. In fact, it isn’t the ecstasy of those beginnings that is remarkable. The latter are clearly ecstatic, but love is above all a construction that lasts. We could say that love is a tenacious adventure. The adventurous side is necessary, but equally so is the need for tenacity.
To give up at the first hurdle, the first serious disagreement, the first quarrel, is only to distort love. Real love is one that triumphs lastingly, sometimes painfully, over the hurdles erected by time, space and the world.”
– Alain Badiou
It’s a house full of owls. Owls were everywhere. Cups, shapes and figures. They’re scattered everywhere.
I took my beer in the hopes of falling asleep easily so that maybe, just maybe, the feeling of solitude slips away.
It’s a shame. A scandal.
It’s a waste to spoil such lovely and magnificent moment over a feeling that’s not supposed to be there.
This pink heaven will always be a home to me.
Lake Danum
It was during my second trip in Sagada that I was able to see the beauty of Lake Danum. It’s also the place where I first met Joaquin and my faith was awakened like wildfire (The story is here.)
After hours of trekking and talking [mostly] to myself, I arrived in Lake Danum. I was sad with what I saw: A lake once deep green now turned into brown.
Lake Danum 2014:
Lake Danum 2017:
There were few tourists when I arrived but they left after taking several photos and selfies.
I stayed for a while, made myself comfortable in front of the dying lake and started writing. Moments later it started to drizzle. I had to move, or else I’ll suffer from coldness and wetness in the middle of my trip back home.
Before leaving, I asked a man selling yogurt just few meters away from the lake.
“How long has this been like this?” I asked him.
“For a couple of years now.” He replied.
I got to know him more after several exchanges. He’s a native of India, went to the Philippines when he was in his 20s out of sheer luck and novelty, he arrived first in Mindanao and now in Besao. He’s living with a friend, rent-free and sells nice, yummy yogurt for a living.
I bid good bye to the nice old man and as I walked back, I was singing my lungs out and suddenly, I found the beauty of being there, alone. Somehow the feeling when I arrived slowly dissipated.
I was singing, laughing, adoring the beauty of nature.
Then a local on his motorbike stopped. He offered me a ride but I could see his fear that I might take it weirdly. With a smile, I gladly accepted. It made my hours of walk into a 10 minute ride.
The man was from Laguna who started living in Sagada with his wife. They were making good money in Laguna, in fact. But when his wife expressed her desire to live in her hometown, he agreed. And life couldn’t get any brighter. He seemed happy. It was a nice ride down the mountain. It was even nicer to share it with a stranger who holds priceless stories of his own.
I found myself after that heading back home and discovering a cafe hidden in between big rocks. No wonder it’s called Rock Cafe.
I was the only guest here as I write on my journal. But before that, a drunk old local approached me and we had a very nice conversation.
I guess it’s also a skill, not to look guarded and sound defensive when a stranger (drunk at that) approach you. We talked about everything and nothing… About Low-Raine and Faith, about Gin Bilog and Quadrado, about travelling and staying in one place.
I guess it was the waiter who was scared for me. But the stranger was solitary, he needed someone to talk to… Just as I needed someone to talk to at that time.
The Mystery ?
As I’ve mentioned in the beginning of the post, this trip was meant to close the discernment retreat I’ve had and the whole discernment process. And as I’ve mentioned too, it’s a place where I feel the closest to God… A place meant for contemplation and re-centering.
Before I even arrive, I had intense anxiety coupled with nostalgia of moments gone by. I feared the whole trip will be spoiled by lingering thoughts and memories that formed the whole image of Sagada.
But thanks be to heaven, it didn’t.
This time, as it was everytime, I was surprised how the whole trip unfolded. I found comfort in alonedom because in fact, I was not alone. I was never alone. All this time I was surrounded by people – strangers – who were creating and sharing their own stories. I was surrounded by the beauty of nature, of children innocently playing on the streets, of passers-by giving their warmest smiles.
In the end, as it is for all of us, we find meaning in the things we do and discover, as long as one is open to the wonderful mystery and surprises of life.
I always liked the idea that love feels like home.
Maybe it’s the reason why Sagada feels like home to me. Love, in its purest, truest form, that is sharing connection with strangers and nature, can be felt in each corner of this paradise.
What’s saddening is as years pass by, some tourists exploit it but I guess this deserves another post. What I’m thankful for now is to see the locals fighting seriously and passionately to preserve their heaven and to educate the tourists to observe sustainable eco-tourism (okay, this just killed the sentimental tone of the whole post. haha)
and so, if one would ask me, why do I always go to Sagada ?
I will always, always reply… because this is my home. 🙂
Lou x Raine 
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