Travel
SENSING HONG KONG: SOME ART AND CULTURE PIVOTS
Published
2 months agoon

HONG KONG—It wasn’t my first time in Hong Kong. But prior opportunities to visit had been sporadic, brief and few.
My memories of the city consist of one trip in my childhood, one during my twenties, and a particular journey where—in an effort to recreate an extremely budgeted version of “The Amazing Race”—my friends and I flew to Kota Kinabalu, crossed to Penang, then to Bangkok, onward to Xiamen, and eventually to Hong Kong. I have only a fuzzy recollection of riding an overnight bus from Shenzhen to the Hong Kong border.
Succeeding physical connections to the city simply involved its international airport, being the layover hub for elsewhere. In 2015, on my way to elsewhere, an intense typhoon caused us to get stuck on the HKIA tarmac for hours. Eventually, all planes were grounded and we deplaned.
A decade later last month, I got a chance to make (better) sense of Hong Kong as a participant of a workshop organized by Para Site, one of the city’s oldest and independent art institutions.
Coming to Hong Kong was to be expectedly regaled by its high-rise architecture, bridges, harbors and skylines. Topographically, it is a city of islands and mountains, with real estate so pricey that the cost of living is steep. Progress is amply demonstrated in the highly wired city, with new structures constantly being built. MTRs, ferries, scheduled buses and double-decker trams (locally known as ding-ding) efficiently transport the population of citizens, migrants and tourists to their destinations. An artist who grew up here told me that the cityscape practically undergoes transformation every three years.
Cultural spaces seemed like clear products of this transformation. From a carceral space to displaying art, Tai Kwun Contemporary was once the biggest prison in Hong Kong. M+ Museum, one of the top art centers in Asia, sits on reclaimed land. During my day and evening walks, it was common to view old and new buildings seemingly merge into each other—the past and present narratives melding into undigested forms. One can also say that either the structures were converging or one was being co-opted by and slowly disappearing into the other.
It was easy for the visitor to marvel at the everyday being translated into a turn to convenience—fast internet, cashless services, and modern transport system. But surveillance cameras were noticeably everywhere. To sense a city when one was equipped with awareness of its history was to also be tempered by degrees of caution and care. Always bring your passport (which one should always do, anyway) advised one Filipino graduate student. Spot checking for no reason happens here, he said.
In line with the exploration and discussion of writing as infrastructure (this year’s theme for the Para Site workshop), observing the ebb and flow of the physical and social system was inevitable.

Display Distribute collective from Hong Kong as guest facilitator
Throughout facilitated and casual discussions—some of which were about the ways we/they have created alternative (or not usual) conduits in order to distribute or “make public” various modalities of writing—I also speculated and generated more questions when exploring Hong Kong as a space:
How does one feel welcome in a new place? The inclination to make sense of how the body is regulated by new interfaces and infrastructures is what often shapes our feelings and memories of a prescribed “somewhere.” Places dictate our movement and our positions. So, what will make a place feel safe? How does one attempt to thrive in blocked channels? What will make a certain somewhere charming or ordinary, intimate or impersonal, or, worse, unexpectedly hostile?
Day 2 activities brought us to the Crip Future, Queer Market at Eaton House on Nathan Road, the oldest street in Hong Kong. Upon leaving the event, I heard a familiar language and observed a group of Filipino migrant workers convening nearby. A woman smiled and spoke to me. Printed on her t-shirt was the text PROTEKSYON HINDI KOLEKSYON (protection not collection).

Guest facilitator KUNCI Study Forum and Collective from Jogjakarta, Indonesia
It was on Day 5 when the guest speakers from the KUNCI Study Forum and Collective from Jogjakarta, Indonesia, tasked us to each take turns leading a group for 5 to 10 minutes around Hong Kong (or at least an area of it). It was a shifting of our focus from taking a precise path made easy by our guides and phone apps to randomly walking our way to “see” the city for a certain period of time. The temporary power to steer the ship was a process that required collaboratively navigating and negotiating an alien terrain.
The starting point was Asia Art Archive at the Sheung Wan area; the finish line was at the Para Site headquarters in Quarry Bay.
First to pilot our group was Y, a curator and writer from Hangzhou. She set the mood by instructing us to take only one photograph during her 10-minute leadership. It was an interesting handicap: a measurement on restraint. Y took us to climb several staircases, and Hong Kong’s hilly landscape was made more apparent to our leg muscles by this unscheduled workout. Within this cosmopolitan radius, we soon found ourselves in a public square where the neighborhood elderly hang out. We took time to appreciate the small turtles in the park’s pond.
I was next to lead, and my mantra was simple: Follow the path of least resistance by walking down inclines and slopes. And only on streets where there was shade, I added. We zigzagged toward the direction of the shadows, along pathways where the sun didn’t shine, and we eventually ended up in the bodega sections of herbal and medicinal shops. If we had earlier witnessed turtles lounging in the park’s pond, there we saw the next sad fate of a turtle’s life. Dried turtle shells were tied together and ready for selling, and on the floor of another shop were big fish tails being prepped for wrapping—shark tails, I was told.
R, a designer and artist from the United Kingdom, soon took over my reign and instructed us to zoom in on the city’s typography. My eyes darted from big signages to the smallest of texts—a combination of Chinese and Cantonese characters, Roman alphabet and images. As if on cue, we (or, at least, I) became more attuned to how the city absorbed its people, and even how the public was visually directed and seduced to consume.


At M+ Museum learning about its publications and the art museum texts
P, a HK-born and UK-based artist, had us observing building facades: dilapidated and sleek structures functioning and standing beside each other. We stopped at an unused playground and later in front of an old apartment which, P explained, was once a pawnshop. As we marched our way to more non-touristy, inner pathways, I noticed details that I had neglected to see in the past few days in the city. We collectively saw (and gushed) at the prices of food far cheaper than in where we individually stayed. We saw less of the “contemporary” and more of the “lived” spaces, which made me think of movie scenes reflecting Wong Kar Wai’s (or even Stephen Chow’s) urban environment.
By then I was beginning to hear the “what if” questions that life likes to throw at us: Can you imagine living here? Will the concept of you have space here?

Tai Kwun Contemporary—from carceral place to cultural space

Exhibition at Tai Kwun Contemporary
The cultural theorist AbdouMaliq Simone’s musings on how a city pulsates was the thought process that D, of KUNCI, had referred to us. To observe a place was to understand that much of an individual’s personal and social involvements is never without conditions. Our mobility is calibrated, mediated, encouraged, and even controlled by the governors of such infrastructures. The people also affect the landscape, but as the marginalized Asian in me had always experienced, my ability to roam freely was always informed by such troublesome factors as passport, financial capacity, color, gender, and appearance.
On Day 9, Typhoon “Wipha” entered Hong Kong around dawn and a Typhoon Level 10 warning was issued. With the city practically closed, the transport system was suspended and everyone was advised to stay indoors.
It was during this interim that three of us—Y, artist and writer from Chengdu; L, writer and archivist from Manila; and myself—slowly and methodically braved the weather to make the roughly 100-meter walk in search for the nearest open food stall. With the grim reminder that travel insurance is considered void in moments of force majeure, we witnessed the strong winds rolling garbage cans across the street, shaking lampposts, and ripping tarps from buildings.
By evening Wipha had exited. And, like clockwork, the stores reopened, the transport system was immediately up and running, and even the shirtless male joggers were back on the streets. In our area, the bits of debris left on the ground served as small reminders of the typhoon that had just passed.
On the day I left, check-in at the HKIA entailed facial recognition at practically every step of the process. The exchange for the fast and safe flight back to my rain-battered and flood-drowned country was the maddening three-hour period I spent just to book a cab home from the Ninoy Aquino International Airport. I was just glad that I actually got a ride.

Hong Kong cityscapes and sights and scenes




First published in CoverStory – August 10, 2025
Travel
DALIPE RIVER: ANTIQUE’S CASE FOR TOURISM WITHOUT DEVELOPMENT
Published
2 days agoon
May 26, 2026
PANDAN, Antique—In a province known for its rugged coastlines and rising ecotourism spots, one inland destination continues to stand out by remaining largely untouched.
Dalipe River in Barangay Guia in the municipality of Pandan offers a quiet alternative to the more frequented attractions in the area. Free from commercial development and large tourist crowds, it has steadily gained attention by word of mouth, particularly among travelers seeking a grounded and nature-oriented experience.
For locals, however, it is not a “hidden gem” but a familiar and essential part of daily life.
Clear waters
Getting to Dalipe River involves a short trek across an open field, a transition that separates it from the roadside accessibility of other destinations. The effort, though minimal, sets the tone of simplicity that the river offers.
At its entry point, shallow waters show smooth stones in varying earth colors—brown, red, muted gray. According to local accounts, the name “Dalipe” is derived from “bato nga buhi,” or stones that appear almost animated in the clear current.

Earth-toned stones of Dalipe River shine beneath the current.
The waters’ clarity allow full visibility of the riverbed even as it gradually deepens. Farther downstream, the river forms natural pools with a distinct emerald hue, a defining feature that invites visitors to wade in and swim.
The current is generally calm even in the deeper sections: a comfort to the casual swimmer. Even those maintaining the river admit to often pausing to rest here and there, drawn by its quiet and steady flow.
Dalipe River is part of the broader Bugang River System, a network of freshwater sources in Pandan that includes the Malumpati Cold Spring, Dumagat Spring Resort, and Bugang River.
This interconnected system has been repeatedly recognized for its water quality, and is often cited among the cleanest inland bodies of water in the Philippines. The natural filtration within this network contributes to the consistent clarity and cool temperature observed in Dalipe River.
Largely untouched
Unlike other inland water attractions in Western Visayas, Dalipe River remains largely underdeveloped. There are no permanent commercial structures, organized recreational facilities, or motorized activities in the area.
Instead, visitors find an environment defined by natural elements—tree canopies providing shade, open spaces for picnics, and silence broken only by the sound of water flowing and wind blowing through the foliage.

The river gradually deepens from shallow, stone-lined waters into emerald-green pools.
Local officials attribute this condition to both circumstance and intent. Land ownership limitations have prevented large-scale development, and Barangay Guia has implemented measures to maintain environmental quality.
These include regular cleanup drives, monitoring during peak visitation periods, and guidelines for nearby agricultural activities. Farmers are prohibited from leaving pesticide containers in the area, and washing in the river is restricted to designated hours to minimize contamination.
According to Barangay Councilor Charline Toboso, preservation is a shared responsibility between the community and its visitors. “We ask everyone to help protect Dalipe River by practicing responsible tourism and leaving no trace,” she said. “Its beauty depends on how well we take care of it—not just for today, but for the generations coming after us.”
Toboso described the river as a “dunang manggad,” or natural wealth, underscoring its value not only as a destination but also as a resource that must be sustained.
For now, the absence of large-scale development continues to work in the river’s favor, preserving the authenticity that defines the Dalipe experience.
Access and timing
Reaching Dalipe River typically begins from the town proper of Pandan, with a 15-to-20-minute ride toward Malumpati Cold Spring. A small roadside sari-sari store in Barangay Guia serves as a landmark.
From there, visitors descend a short set of concrete steps before walking approximately 10 to 15 minutes across a flat, grassy field. Along the way, the route becomes more immersive: Visitors must cross three small creeks on narrow bridges improvised from bamboo and scrap wood. Modest in structure, these crossings are part of the experience and reflect the area’s rural character.

Walking across the open, grassy plain that leads to the hidden river.
The path remains informal but navigable; locals provide directions when needed.
Visitor traffic is relatively low compared to other destinations in the area. Weekdays, particularly mid-mornings, offer less crowding, while early mornings on weekends provide a balance between accessibility and quiet.
Seasonal conditions also influence the experience. During the dry months, the river typically shows calmer currents and more pronounced coloration. Late afternoons offer softer lighting conditions preferred by photographers.
Sustaining the community
Beyond its environmental value, Dalipe River plays a role in supporting local livelihoods.
Elvin Vejarasco, a former tour guide at Malumpati Cold Spring, now runs a small sari-sari store near the river’s access point. He notes that visitors to Dalipe often stop to purchase food and basic necessities, providing a steady, if modest, source of income.
In this way, tourism in the area contributes directly to household-level sustainability.
For residents of Barangay Guia, the river also functions as a communal space for recreation, daily chores, and small social gatherings.
As tourism in Antique continues to expand, destinations like Dalipe River highlight an alternative model—one that prioritizes preservation over development.
While it lacks the infrastructure and visibility of more established sites, its appeal lies precisely in its restraint. The absence of commercialization allows it to maintain ecological integrity and cultural relevance within the community.
For visitors, the experience is less about curated activities and more about immersion. The river does not offer spectacle in the conventional sense; instead, it provides space—for stillness, for observation, and for a different pace of travel.
In the context of increasing tourism demand, Dalipe River serves as a reminder that not all destinations need to be transformed to be valued, that it remains most significant when left as it is.

One of many moments of quiet.
First published in CoverStory – March 26, 2026
Featured Stories
‘KASADYAHAN’ VS ‘DINAGYANG’: A BATTLE OF FESTIVALS IN ILOILO
Published
2 months agoon
March 24, 2026

ILOILO CITY—Ilonggos and their guests can expect a double treat of weekend revelry when the “Kasadyahan sa Kabanwahanan” and “Dinagyang” go centerstage one after the other on Jan. 27 and 28 in this city, in what looms as a face-off of festivals reflecting the dynamism of local culture, faith and tradition.
“This year’s Kasadyahan is something to watch out for, like a dish with plenty of ingredients that will undoubtedly delight your taste buds,” local foodie content creator Lyca said on Thursday.
“Just as our Dinagyang used to be seasoned only with vinegar and fish sauce, it has now elevated its flavor!” Lyca said. “Let’s see … which performance will truly fill our hearts.”
Organizers are expecting thousands of people to crowd the city streets in both events which, though differently themed, offer a similar spectacle of merrymaking with performers in colorful indigenous attire dancing their best to the beat of drums for prestige and cash prizes.
For the first time, provincial and city officials are hosting the festivals separately, for still unclear reasons. The decision has nonetheless sparked excitement and debate, as both local government units strive to showcase their interpretation of Ilonggo culture and character.
9 towns

A festival celebration of the Santo Niño
According to Provincial Board Member June Mondejar, the province of Iloilo has allocated P1 million to each of the nine towns, mostly in the second district, that will participate in Kasadyahan’s Festival of Festivals to highlight their unique products. Iloilo has a total of 42 towns and 18 festivals.
Donut, a student of Iloilo Science and Technology University, believes that Kasadyahan is “poised for significant improvement, especially with the province allocating a generous budget for the event. The competition among municipalities is expected to be highly challenging.”
A common strand binding the town festivals is the Kasadyahan theme: “Fun, Foodie, Friendly Iloilo.”
Leon’s Kaing Festival, named after the native basket “kaing,” is a tribute to the town’s bounty of farm produce and natural resources, and vibrant farming traditions. Banate has the Kasag Festival, named after the “kasag” (blue crab) shell, which was once used as local currency.
In Leganes, the Saad Festival is a religious celebration derived from the Hiligaynon word “saad” or faith. Oton has the Katagman Festival, a cultural event steeped in history (Oton’s old name is Katagman) and heritage.
Maasin’s Tultugan Festival is a mesmerizing display of rhythm and melody, featuring traditional musical instruments that echo the town’s musical legacy. Anilao’s Banaag Festival brings forth the radiant spirit of the town, illuminating its history and traditions through dazzling lights and colors.
New Lucena’s Cry of Jelicuon Festival commemorates significant events in the revolt against the Spanish colonizers that shaped the town’s identity. Calinog holds the Hinirugyaw-Sugidanon Festival to honor the Santo Niño and promote the culture and identity of the Panay Bukidnon indigenous people.
Zarraga has the Pantat Festival to present the town’s top marine produce, the “pantat” (mudfish).
Devotion to the Child Jesus
With this year’s theme “Pagdayaw kay Señor Santo Niño, Padayaw sang mga Ilonggo,” the Dinagyang Festival highlights the Ilonggos’ devotion to the Child Jesus and commemorates the arrival of Malay settlers in Panay Island.
It started in 1968, when a replica of the original image of the Santo Niño de Cebu was given as a gift to the San Jose Parish in Iloilo City by Fr. Sulpicio Enderez of Cebu. The people welcomed the image by holding a street parade.
The city’s festival celebration has evolved into one of the country’s top tourist attractions, with street dancers in colorful tribal wear and sooty bodies drawing inspiration from Cebu’s Sinulog Festival and Aklan’s Ati-Atihan Festival.
This year, eight groups representing school-based “tribes” are competing in the street dancing contest. These are Tribu Taga-Baryo (Bo. Obrero National High School), Tribu Mandu-Riyaw (Mandurriao National High School), Tribu Paghidaet (La Paz National High School), Tribu Pan-ay (Fort San Pedro National High School), Tribu Salognon (Jaro National High School), Tribu Sigabong (Ramon Avanceña National High School), Tribu Ilonganon (Jalandoni Memorial National High School), and Tribu Silak (Iloilo City National High School).
Dinagyang has boosted local businesses, promoted economic growth and fostered a sense of pride among Ilonggos. Through the years it has established a reputation as a crowd-drawer and built a strong sense of community.
On the other hand, Kasadyahan sa Kabanwahanan 2024 brings fresh energy to the festival scene in Iloilo but faces the challenge, as a newcomer, to prove its authenticity and ability to capture the essence of Ilonggo culture without overshadowing the Dinagyang.
Jeorge, a frequent Dinagyang visitor, recalled the Kasadyahan’s beginnings: “Ever since the opening of Kasadyahan, I’ve consistently found it captivating, as it holds a unique charm compared to Dinagyang, which the province truly cherishes. With this constant comparison, I have high expectations for an even more elevated Dinagyang experience!”
Cheryl M. Luis also writes for OpinYon Panay.
First published in CoverStory – January 19, 2024
Lifestyle
IN ILOILO’S MUSEUMS, YOU FIND PIONEERING PHOTOS AND ROCK STARS
Published
4 months agoon
January 23, 2026By
TJ Burgonio
ILOILO CITY—Surely there’s more to this city than molo, batchoy, biscocho and tablea tsokolate.
The city’s gastronomic haunts are well-known and all over. But in between hopping into these pit stops, you can take leisurely strolls along its esplanade, in the old downtown, in plazas outside churches and, yes, in its museums—the better to get to know the old and new.
They say the gems are those places rarely seen. In Iloilo, some of the treasures worth exploring are those in American-era buildings and houses that have been scrubbed clean, fitted with ACs, and turned into modern museums.
One revelation is Iloilo’s provincial jail that was transformed into the Regional Museums of Western Visayas. Built in 1911 a stone’s throw from the provincial capitol, it housed prisoners for decades. It was shuttered in 2006 and its inmates moved to another jail.
It underwent a makeover and opened its doors as a museum in 2018.
Save for the marker on the facade and the doors and windows of iron bars, nothing much reminds you of its past. Once you get past its massive gate, you are greeted by a neat, well-lit central courtyard topped by a metal framed glass dome.
Rocks, fossils, artifacts
The first-time visitor will find it refreshing to find fossils of the region’s prehistoric beginnings, as well as striking black-and-white stills of Manila and Iloilo taken by a homegrown photographer toward the end of the 19th century in its galleries on the ground floor.


The museum showcases rocks of different sizes, shapes and colors, but the centerpiece is the tooth fossils of the elephant and its extinct cousin, stegodont.
Rocks, fossils and artifacts are the main draw at the Geology and Paleontology Exhibition Hall, beckoning visitors to take a closer look and discover how geological shifts shaped present-day Western Visayas in the last 250 million years.
A note on the region’s oldest rocks reads: “The islands of the region once lay beneath the bottom of the sea. While dinosaurs roamed the Earth, Buruanga Peninsula in Northwest Panay is originally part of the continental shelf of mainland Asia over 250 million years ago.’’
Precious stuff such as gold, copper, iron, manganese, chromium, which the region is blessed with, are also on full display at the gallery.
(Trivia: The ancient Bisayans were obsessed with gold and thought of it as having a spirit of its own. Datus were buried with gold ornaments and their acceptance into the afterlife depended on the amount of gold they were adorned with.)
And there’s more. As you go farther, you’ll encounter two odd-looking, ribbed rocks each encased in glass, propped up by metal rods for better viewing.
They’re the gallery’s “rock stars.” They are tooth fossils of an elephant and its extinct distant cousin, the stegodont, that were unearthed in the foothills of Cabatuan town in the mid-1960s. Imagine them tramping around Panay Island 750,000 years ago.
Pioneering photographer
Obviously, the region takes pride in the pioneering work of Felix Laureano, who studied photography in France and opened studios in Spain in the late 19th century. It has devoted a gallery to his black-and-white photos.
Having lived at a time when trade was flourishing in the country in the latter half of the century, Laureano took snapshots of ports as well as churches in Manila and Iloilo. These and a host of others, including family portraits, are on display at the museums.
His works saw print in Spain and in the Philippines. He also mounted exhibits in Madrid.
Laureano published “Recuerdos de Filipinas (Memories of the Philippines),’’ containing 37 photographs of Iloilo and nearby areas, in Barcelona in 1895, a year ahead of the Philippine Revolution. He dedicated the book to Juan Luna.
It may yet be the first coffee-table book on photography published by a Filipino.
“The picture book departs from the Orientalist photographic output produced by foreigners on and about the Philippines by virtue of the “insightful essays that could only have been written by a local with ample knowledge,’’ reads a gallery note.
Laureano was born to Augustinian friar Manuel Asensio and Norverta Laureano delos Santos in 1866 in Patnongon, Antique, and died in 1952. Not much else is known about his life. He is considered the first Filipino photographer.
‘Hablon’
A third gallery transports the visitors to the art of weaving “hablon,” the handwoven textile known for its bright colors, stripes and plaids. It’s made of banana fiber (jusi), pineapple fiber (piña) and silk threads, cotton, rayon and other indigenous materials.

‘Hablon’, the handwoven textiles known for its bright colors
Thankfully, the heritage is kept alive by a smattering of hand-weaving households and establishments, including Arevalo Handwoven Products which is tucked away at the end of a nondescript alley on Sta. Cruz Street in the city. Here you will meet two sisters, both in their senior years and still at it. They learned the art at home.
Arevalo Handwoven Products is known for producing the “sablay,” the official graduation garment of the University of the Philippines.
Yet another museums worth a visit is the Museum of Philippine Maritime History. It is located at the ground floor of the Customs House (or Aduana, built in 1916), across from Iloilo River.
Through videos, photographs, paintings, illustrations and boats, it retraces the Philippines’ involvement in maritime affairs, from the galleon trade to the establishment of the first nautical school in the country, from the South China Sea row to the Paraw Regatta Festival.
“I’ve not seen anything like it. I’ll be coming back with our kids,’’ a father, who lives in the city, remarked as he exited the museum.
First published in CoverStory – March 30, 2023
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