The Unexpected Charm of a City I Never Planned to Visit

the first thing i noticed stepping off the bus was the humidity-thick, like walking through warm soup. the weather app said it was 26.77°C but felt more like 28.33°C, and honestly, i didn't argue. i'd just come from a city where it was raining sideways, so this sticky heat felt almost luxurious. the pressure was holding steady at 1013 hPa, humidity sitting at 68%, and the sea-level pressure matched the ground-level pressure almost exactly-something i only noticed because i'm weird like that.

i didn't have a plan, which is how i prefer it. no itinerary, no "must-see" list, just a vague idea that i'd wander until something caught my eye. and it did-almost immediately. a tiny alley, barely wide enough for two people to pass without turning sideways, smelled like frying garlic and something sweet i couldn't place. i followed it.

*the food here is unreal.* i heard that from three different people before i even sat down to eat. one was a guy selling coconut water from a cart, another was a kid on a scooter who almost ran me over, and the third was a woman hanging laundry who just shouted it across the street. so i trusted them. and they were right. i found this little place-no sign, just a plastic table and a woman with the fastest knife skills i've ever seen. she made me something with noodles, shrimp, and a sauce that made my eyes water in the best way. i checked TripAdvisor later and couldn't find it listed anywhere. guess some gems stay hidden on purpose.

if you get bored, manila and baguio are just a short drive away. i didn't go, but i heard the traffic is a nightmare and the views are worth it. someone told me that the best time to drive is at 3am when the roads are empty and the mountains look like they're floating. i didn't test that theory, but i like the idea of it.

"don't trust the taxis after dark," a guy in a bar whispered to me. "they'll take you to their cousin's restaurant and charge you triple." i didn't have a bad experience, but i also walked everywhere after that.

the architecture here is a mess in the best way-colonial leftovers next to sleek glass towers, street art covering walls that look like they might collapse if you leaned on them too hard. i kept seeing the same symbols spray-painted around-a bird, a sun, sometimes a face i couldn't quite make out. i asked a local artist about it and he just shrugged. "it means something different to everyone," he said. i liked that answer.

i stayed in a hostel that smelled faintly of incense and old books. the owner was a retired sailor who told me stories about storms and sirens and ports i'd never heard of. he gave me a map with half the streets mislabeled and told me to get lost. i did. and found a bookstore that sold only books about plants, a café that only served coffee grown on one specific mountain, and a park where people gathered every evening to dance like no one was watching-except everyone was, and no one cared.

the thing about this place is that it doesn't try to be anything other than itself. it's loud, it's messy, it's alive. and if you're the kind of person who needs everything neat and predictable, you'll probably hate it. but if you're okay with a little chaos, you might just fall in love.

i just checked and it's 26.77°C there right now, hope you like that kind of thing.

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