I arrived in Baguio City at about 4:30 AM. It was still dark outside. I got off the bus and took my backpack from the luggage compartment. Near the bus station, there were Dunkin’ and Jollibee, both of which are open 24 hours. I assumed there wouldn’t be any coffee shops open at that time, but I found one on Google Maps that was open 24 hours. So, I decided to head there. Other passengers from the same bus were walking in the same direction. As I walked, I realized I was heading toward the downtown area.
Eventually, I couldn’t find the coffee shop, so I ended up settling into a different Dunkin’, where there was a sweet young girl working. I ordered a brewed coffee and went upstairs, where there were more tables and chairs. Surprisingly, there was another cash register on the second floor where customers could also place their orders. There was only a security guard and another worker who looked to be in their 40s. Since they seemed close to each other, I thought they might be a couple.
I ended up ordering a donut, which I didn’t really like. I started organizing the videos I had taken, which took a couple of hours. As it gradually became brighter outside, I saw a group of young students with buzz cuts wearing training gear and running. I wondered if they were judo students. I had heard from some judokas on the national team that there is a judo dojo in Baguio City.
I probably left around 7:30 AM and moved to another nice-looking coffee shop called Hatch Coffee. When I entered, there were only one or two customers. A friendly female staff member took my order, and I ordered another brewed coffee. I started updating this blog there.
About 30 minutes later, the coffee shop became packed with a massive group of young people who started taking lots of pictures of the interior before and after ordering. I asked one of the staff members if they were university students, and she told me they were tourists from different cities. According to her, the coffee shop is busy with tourists on weekends and with local students on weekdays.
They started talking loudly and laughing, so I put on my headphones and continued updating my blog. I stayed there until about 10:30 AM before leaving. It was a 5 out of 5 in terms of the coffee, ambiance, and staff.
After leaving, I needed to make sure I could get a ticket from Baguio to Sagada, so I went to the bus terminal to check. The downtown area was very busy with random street shops, fast-food restaurants, and vehicles. Like Manila, there were so many fast-food restaurants, especially Jollibee and McDonald’s. The streets were also packed with pedestrians.
I arrived at the bus terminal, where there were jeepneys, cars, and buses everywhere. I found the ticket window, where several people were waiting. Right next to the window, the bus schedule for Sagada was posted on the wall. The earliest departure was at 3:00 AM, and the latest was at 5:00 PM.
I asked the woman at the ticket window, who wasn’t particularly friendly, if I could buy a ticket. However, she told me that tickets are sold only on the day of departure. Since I wasn’t leaving until a different day, I left and decided to come back later.
Near the bus terminal was GoodTaste Cafe and Restaurant, which I had heard was one of the most popular restaurants in Baguio. Although I had planned to eat somewhere else, I decided to have lunch there instead.
Quite a few people were waiting outside on the chairs. I approached one of the workers, and she kindly gave me a menu along with her recommendation. I ordered a combo meal consisting of fried rice with lechon, the Philippines’ famous roasted pork.
She wrote the name of the meal and my table number on a small piece of paper, handed it to me, and told me to go upstairs. Since I wasn’t sure how the system worked, I followed her instructions. Upstairs, I found a huge cafeteria that reminded me of a high school cafeteria, filled with people enjoying their meals.
I handed the paper to a staff member wearing the restaurant’s apron, and I was guided to my assigned table. Although it was still early for lunch, the restaurant was already busy. I noticed a few people dining alone, which made me feel a little relieved since the restaurant is known for serving large dishes that are meant to be shared.
Wherever I travel, I find it a little intimidating to eat at restaurants where most people are dining in large groups.
While I was waiting for my food, I noticed a few families who looked frustrated as they waited for the servers. It was obvious that they had been waiting quite a while for their meals. After seeing that, I expected I would also have to wait a long time.
However, my meal arrived almost at the same time as theirs. It took only about 15 minutes.
The meal consisted of a bowl of fried rice, vegetables, and lechon. It tasted so amazing that I could immediately understand why the restaurant is so popular. While I was eating, I saw an enormous dish being served to one of the family tables. I thought it would be very affordable per person if several people shared those dishes. I hope I can come back someday with someone so we can share them together. The desserts also looked amazing.
The meal cost only 155 PHP (about $2.50), which made me think I would definitely come back again.
After leaving the restaurant, I happened to find a shoe store, so I bought a pair of shoes since I had only brought sandals and was planning to visit the Mountain Province, including Sagada.
Next, I headed to a hostel called Capsutel, located next to the Central Public Market. You can find almost anything at the market, and the local atmosphere was actually my favorite part. However, the smell wasn’t very pleasant.
I struggled to find the hostel entrance because it was surrounded by market stalls selling seafood and raw meat, which gave the area a very strong smell. The old-looking entrance and a small cockroach made me a little worried about the hostel.
The entrance was on the third floor. There was a laundry shop with a small service window on the second floor. I rang the bell on the panel attached to the front door. A man who looked to be in his 30s opened the door and welcomed me.
Suddenly, I realized something I had never experienced during this trip. The front reception and the dormitory were in the same room. About ten beds were located right next to the reception desk.
I handed him my passport, but he told me I couldn’t check in yet because it was still before 2:00 PM, the official check-in time. So, I left my backpack in the storage room and headed back out.
After that, I decided to go to Mt. Kalugong Cultural Village, where you can enjoy panoramic views of the surrounding mountains and Baguio City.
I had asked ChatGPT how to get there, and several transportation options came up. The first and easiest option was to take a Grab (which only offers cars). The second was to hail a taxi from the roadside. The third—and the most challenging—was to take a jeepney, the cheap and popular form of transportation used by locals.
I chose the third option because I wanted to save money on transportation.
Luckily, it wasn’t difficult to find a jeepney heading toward the mountain. I went to the jeepney terminal, where dozens of jeepneys were lined up waiting to depart. I asked a woman who seemed to be organizing the terminal which jeepney I should take. She kindly helped me find the right one.
I got into a fairly empty jeepney, which gradually filled up as we drove. I told the driver my destination and asked how much the fare was. It was only 19 PHP (about $0.30).
Since it was only my second time riding a jeepney, I paid close attention to how people behaved. I noticed a few interesting things.
The first was that passengers often passed other people’s fares to the driver, which is probably why many people prefer to sit near the entrance to avoid doing so.
The second was that a few passengers didn’t seem to pay at all, yet the driver didn’t appear bothered.
The third was that neither the passengers nor the driver asked how much the fare was. Everyone seemed to know the exact amount.
Finally, I noticed that passengers simply signaled the driver whenever they wanted to get off.
While riding the jeepney, I even passed other passengers’ fares to the driver, which made me feel like a local. However, I completely ruined the illusion when I said, “Para po” (“Please stop” in Tagalog). As soon as I said it, everyone looked at me as if they were thinking, “What did this guy just say?”
Still, I successfully got off at the correct stop.
I entered a narrow road and started climbing the steep hill. As I walked uphill, I saw some people riding motorcycles or driving cars, while others were walking downhill. I was the only person climbing on foot.
Although it didn’t take very long to reach the top, I was sweating a lot.
The entrance fee was 120 PHP (about $2).
After entering the village, I saw only a handful of visitors. Just a few minutes later, I reached an open viewpoint overlooking Baguio City. Although it was cloudy, the view was absolutely stunning.
As I started walking back, it began to rain, just as I had expected.
I asked a young man working at the entrance, who was checking tickets and having visitors sign the registration sheet, whether the rain was going to get heavier. He simply replied, “No,” so I continued walking down the same road.
However, only about five minutes later, the rain became much heavier, forcing me to take shelter at a small roadside stall.
As I wondered how long I would have to wait, I saw a taxi driving uphill with passengers. As I expected, the taxi came back a few minutes later after dropping them off and started heading downhill. I waved it down and asked for a ride.
The driver told me he couldn’t take me all the way to downtown Baguio because he wasn’t allowed to, but he kindly offered to drop me off at the main road where many taxis and jeepneys pass by.
By then, the rain hadn’t eased up at all.
I got out at the roadside, where several people were already waiting for transportation. About a minute later, a jeepney arrived. After confirming that it was heading toward Baguio City, I hopped on.
During the ride, the rain became even more intense, accompanied by thunder and lightning.
When the jeepney reached downtown Baguio, I ran toward the nearest place I could find for shelter. It was one of the heaviest rainstorms I have ever experienced.
I have no idea how long I waited—probably at least 30 minutes.
Eventually, the rain became lighter, so I sprinted to the same restaurant where I had eaten lunch earlier. It was only a few minutes away.
The damage wasn’t as bad as I had expected. My sweater and short-sleeved T-shirt were soaked, and the small shoulder bag I was carrying was pretty wet as well, but thankfully all of my valuables stayed dry.
Even though it was only around 5:00 PM, I decided to have dinner. I ordered pork ribs with white rice for 215 PHP (about $3.50).
Since it wasn’t nearly as crowded as it had been during lunchtime, my food arrived much faster.
The ribs were incredibly tender. The meat fell apart with just my fork and spoon. I was very satisfied with the meal.
By the time I left the restaurant, it was barely raining, so I walked back toward the hostel while enjoying the atmosphere around the public market. Along the way, I bought a pack of strawberries.
Unfortunately, they weren’t very good, just as I had expected.
When I bought them, the vendor told me, “Make sure to wash them before you eat.”
I think some of the strawberries had already gone bad because they were slimy and tasted strange.
I also tried another street food, which was okay.
When I finally returned to the hostel, no one answered when I rang the doorbell.
I sent a message to the hostel through WhatsApp, and they replied, “I’ll be back in about 30 minutes.”
I was a little frustrated, but I tried to stay calm. Instead, I bought an ube pastry from a nearby bakery to get rid of the unpleasant taste left in my mouth by the rotten strawberries.
The pastry, by the way, was delicious.
About 30 minutes later, the host, a woman who looked to be in her 30s or 40s, returned. She opened the door and apologized.
I completed the check-in process, received my room key, and rented a towel.
I couldn’t believe I had paid almost $10 for this hostel, but there was no point regretting it or getting upset.
While waiting, I met another guest, a young English traveler named Ben, who was also waiting to check in. He was 19 years old.
He had spent the previous two months traveling around Bali, Indonesia, with a friend before coming to the Philippines alone.
We talked for a while before he returned to his bed, while I took a shower.
The water pressure wasn’t as strong as I would have liked, but after not being able to shower the previous night, I felt much better.
Since I hadn’t slept well on the bus, had climbed the steep hill, gotten caught in the heavy rain, and eaten rotten strawberries, I went to bed before 9:00 PM.
The Bus Terminal
Public Market
My Favorite Restaurant: The Good Taste Restaurant
