How Travel Helped Me Breathe Again

After months of feeling like I was drowning in gray days, I booked a trip to Cebu. I didn’t know what I was looking for—maybe just an escape. What I got was something much deeper: healing in little plates of seafood, the golden silence of sunsets, and paintbrushes dipped in salt-kissed breeze.

Cebu City: A Jolt of Flavor and Color

Our first stop was Cebu City. We stayed at Seda Ayala Center, which gave us easy access to food, shops, and some nostalgic favorites—yes, including Shakey’s Pizza. I hadn’t had that fried chicken and mojos combo since childhood, and biting into it again brought back memories of after-school treats and birthday parties in noisy pizzerias.

Nostalgic moment with mojos, fried chicken, and pizza (plus a peek at the menu).

We had dinner at the House of Lechon, where I finally introduced my husband to Cebu’s pride: crispy, juicy lechon. Watching him taste it—with skin cracking between his teeth—was one of those funny, quiet victories I didn’t know I needed.

Shared a great group dinner and that glorious close-up of lechon!

We explored Yap-San Diego Ancestral House, walked among the blooms of Sirao Garden (the so-called “Little Amsterdam”), and visited the Temple of Leah, where marble grandeur meets heartbreak and devotion. And of course, we ended one night at Sugbo Mercado, hopping from stall to stall like kids in a food carnival. From grilled isaw to juicy ribs, Red Horse beer to an overloaded mango float drink—it was a sensory overload in the best possible way.

Beautiful heritage home with antique furniture, religious icons, and your photos from both outside and inside the bahay na bato (House of Stone).

The giant hand photo op at Sirao Gardens.

Classic cultural experience!

One moment I’ll never forget: my white husband eating balut. I documented it all. From the curiosity in his eyes, to the hesitant crack of the shell, to the surprise—and pride—when he finally slurped it down. A cultural rite of passage? Maybe. A bonding moment full of laughter and “I can’t believe you did that”? Absolutely.

Moalboal: Quiet Mornings and Saltwater Dreams

But it was Moalboal that truly soothed my spirit.

We stayed at Ancelle Cristo Re, a serene sanctuary run by nuns. Every morning, they prepared breakfast like a love letter—fresh fruit, garlic rice, eggs, sweet longganisa, and crispy danggit. We’d eat outside with the ocean just beyond the garden fence, and the sound of waves became our prayer.

Each day, I brought out my watercolors. I painted sunsets, flowers, and fragments of peace I hadn’t felt in a long time. The breeze tangled my hair and lifted something heavy off my chest.

One afternoon, while I painted a pink hibiscus, my son snorkeled with sea turtles. The photos he came back with—him suspended in turquoise above a slow-gliding turtle—felt like scenes from a dream. That kind of peace, that connection to the earth, is hard to describe but impossible to forget

Our evenings in Moalboal were full of laughter and seafood. Lola Tanciang’s Sutukil became our second home. Fresh oysters with spicy vinegar, sinigang na hipon that made us sweat and smile, sizzling tuna jaw in garlic sauce… and always, always, a toast with cold Red Horse beer.

Reflections

I didn’t realize how much I needed this. To paint under a nipa hut. To share silence with the sea. To laugh over fried chicken. To watch someone you love try something new and maybe even weird. I left pieces of myself in Cebu—but I also found pieces I didn’t know I’d lost.

Travel didn’t fix everything. But it reminded me how to breathe again.

And I get to write more about it with my pen pals…