It was late in the morning when we arrived at the village entrance. It was almost an hour’s hike from the Saddle where the jeepney had left us in the hands of our wiry local guide. As we trudged the last few meters into the village and past the entrance, a sight until now hidden from our view suddenly emerged: an amphitheater of rice terraces almost yellow-green from ripening rice stalks.

The sun was peeking out in a small gap of the window curtains as I got out of bed. Weather was fine that day after a heavy rain that engulfed the whole city the other night. It was my last day on that Baguio City trip and I have nothing in mind to do for that day. I decided to reach for my phone and consult my friend Google for other attractions to visit in Baguio. Camp John Hay turned out to have the most number of search results, and I’ve never been there.