A Weekend in Western Visayas

The clock had barely struck dawn when I boarded the first flight to Bacolod, my heart racing with the kind of anticipation that only a weekend adventure can bring.

Upon landing, the first stop was the Silay Public Plaza, where the air was thick with the scent of history and the promise of breakfast. I settled down with iced coffee to give my jolt for the day, some Ilonggo kakanins such as baye-baye and kalamay hati; and the famous guapple pie from El Ideal. It was a pastry like no other: sweet, tangy guava filling cradled in cinnamon and a buttery crust that seemed to melt in my mouth.

With the flavors of breakfast lingering in my mind, I headed to my hotel in Bacolod, a city that wears its history like a badge of honor. Soon, hunger gnawed at me once more, leading me to a dish that is as much a part of Negros as the sun that rises over its mountains: cansi. This savory beef soup, rich with the tang of batwan fruit, is a local specialty that warms the soul.

After lunch, I found myself wandering the halls of the Negros Museum, where artifacts and exhibits painted vivid pictures of the island’s heritage. The tales of sugar barons and revolutionaries echoed in my mind, grounding me in the rich tapestry of history that is Negros.

Yet, my exploration didn’t end there. I had planned to visit The Ruins, a stunning old mansion that stands as a testament to love and loss, but fate had other plans. It was closed. Disappointed yet undeterred, I strolled through the Plaza, where laughter and life thrummed in the air. There, I discovered freshly made piayas—crispy pastries from my childhood, that warmed my hands and my spirit.

As the sun began to set, dinner became a delightful culmination of the day’s culinary adventures. La Paz batchoy, a hearty noodle soup brimming with tender meat and savory broth, filled the bowl in front of me. Each slurp evoked a sense of nostalgia, the flavors whispering memories of countless visits past. And to cap off the night, I savored chicken inasal at the famous Manokan Country. Indeed, namit ang manok sa Bacolod.

The next morning brought a new adventure. I boarded a boat to Iloilo City, the salty sea breeze wrapping around me like a comforting blanket. The journey lasted an hour and a half, yet it felt like a passage through time. Upon arrival, I headed straight to Roberto’s for lunch, where the famed siopao beckoned. 

My day continued at the Museum of Philippine Economic History, where the artifacts danced before my eyes, telling the story of a nation’s journey through trade and culture. The rich tapestry of the Philippines unfolded in layers, each thread woven with care and history.

As the weekend slipped away, I found myself walking that fine line between solitude and discovery. This solo journey had been more than a series of stops and meals—it was a peeling back of layers, revealing parts of me I’d forgotten or maybe never really knew. It was the rush of stepping into the unknown, but with the comfort of slipping back into something familiar—like finding yourself both a stranger and at home in the same breath. There’s something about Western Visayas that does that to you: it wraps you in its history, its food, its quiet whispers, and leaves you with the sense that no matter how far you wander, you can always find a way back.

Permi ko mabalik sa imo.