Coming Home

MBG Asia - Katipunan, Cebu and Tacloban - July 3-22, 2026

Stepping back into the cradle of time, where childhood was sweet, simple, and filled with dreams. Retracing our steps to a time when we thought little of the world, yet somehow felt bigger than it. Until the vastness of the real world humbled us, making us swallow the balloon of ego we had nurtured as we grew.

We were humbled, but also challenged, to step into that vast world and reach for the balloon we had once let go of, not because we stopped dreaming, but because insecurity made us believe we weren’t enough.

And yet, perhaps that is the beauty of growing up. We learn to dream bigger than ever. We learn to step boldly into the world that once made us feel small. This time, we will not shrink ourselves to fit into it. We will throw ourselves into that big, beautiful world, reach for what we once thought was beyond us, and remind ourselves that we were never meant to feel little.

Katipunan.

In a small town tucked snugly between towering mountains and the vastness of the ocean lies Katipunan, a brave, quiet place that carries its own quiet defiance. Narrow roads wind their way from one humble home to another, while small parcels of land sit side by side, each one a neighbor to the next. The homes are modest, simple, and still. Nothing here is extravagant, and no one here pretends to be, but me.

Katipunan is a town without pretensions. It rests quietly between the mountains and the sea, yet there is something resilient about the people who call it home. It is a place that raises folks who know how to step forward, stand their ground, and challenge the world when they need to.

But my place in Katipunan was never meant to be permanent. I love my hometown deeply, but I always dreamed of more. I longed to see beyond its familiar roads and quiet corners. I knew that, no matter how beautiful it was, Katipunan could never contain all that I wanted to become. And so, this is where it all began for me, a small step beyond the comfort of home and into the concrete jungle, where possibilities seemed endless and dreams were made. 

The Loss.

Coming back to everything that was lost is bittersweet. I’ve lost so much by spending too much time counting what was taken, what was left, and what could never be recovered.

Katipunan will always carry the weight of home because, for so long, my father was there waiting for me. But time does not wait simply because we do. It takes what we owe without warning, and sometimes, by the time we return, the home we remembered no longer exists in the same way.

My father has left the home I took so long to find my way back to.

Now, coming back a million times too late has made me realize that Katipunan is no longer home, it is a vital, irreplaceable part of my childhood. The rest of my family still calls Katipunan home, but for me, the hurt has become too heavy to return with the same fondness I once carried.

Perhaps that is the cruelest part of coming home: realizing that the place is still there, but the people, the time, and the version of yourself who once belonged there are gone.

The Gain.

What hurt me was never meant to hurt those around me. The rest of my family was happy to see me back, and so I chose to be present, to make new memories with them. It would never heal the wound, nor erase the scar I would carry for a lifetime, but I could never bring myself to take away from anyone else’s joy in celebrating my return. In honor of my father’s memory, I made a new one, just without him in it.

Day 1. Boulevard BBQ with the nieces and nephew.

Day 2. Reconnecting with high school classmates at Grandma's Best.

Day 3. Gabby and Timothy meeting again after 9 years.

Day 4. The family at Ariana.

Day 6. The extended family at Viewpoint.

Day 7. Where it all started. Home.

Goodbye, Katipunan. You will always have a place in my heart. You taught me how to dream, how to fight for those dreams, and how to love so deeply that letting go can hurt more than any mortal wound ever could. Half of my heart sank when the light that once guided me home dimmed forever. A little spark has gone out, and all I can do is hope it survives long enough for me to see it shine again someday. Coming home after so long wasn’t the happy feeling I once imagined. Too many memories, too many emotions, and too much had changed. But seeing everyone else happy made every ache, every tear, and every difficult moment of this journey worth it.

Some places are more than just places. Some become a part of who we are. And Katipunan, you will always be one of mine.

Tacloban.

Nothing embodies resilience, courage, and grace in the face of devastation, defeat, and rebirth more profoundly than Tacloban and the people of Tacloban.

Tacloban is more than a small coastal city. It is a place where the energy of a growing modern city meets the warmth, simplicity, and charm of the province. It is a city rich in history, home to landmarks that withstood the onslaught of time, and a place deeply connected to the stories of heroes of the past, men and women whose courage and sacrifices became part of its enduring identity. Their legacy lives on through the generations, reflected in the strength, determination, and bravery of the people who call Tacloban home.

But Tacloban's greatest story of courage was written not only in the couriers of the past, but in the darkest days of its own recent struggle.

When Typhoon Haiyan, known locally as Yolanda struck in 2013, it brought with it unimaginable destruction. The powerful winds and devastating storm surge swept through communities, destroying homes, livelihoods, and dreams, and claiming far too many lives. In those heartbreaking days, Tacloban stood wounded before the world. The loss was immense, the grief profound, and for a moment, it seemed as though everything the city had known had been washed away.

But did Tacloban surrender to despair? No. Tacloban rose.

Slowly, painfully, and courageously, its people began to rebuild, not simply the buildings, roads, and communities that had been destroyed, but the spirit of an entire city. From the ruins came renewed hope. From grief came determination. From devastation came a deeper sense of unity. Taclobanons refused to let tragedy define them. They chose instead to remember, to heal, to rebuild, and to move forward.

And perhaps that is the true beauty of Tacloban.

Its beauty is not found only in its coastline, its landmarks, its streets, or its sunsets. It is found in the people who continue to carry its history while creating its future. It is found in the resilience of families who rebuilt their homes, in communities that stood together, and in generations who learned that even the fiercest storm cannot permanently break a people who refuse to give up.

Tacloban rose not as the city it once was, but as a city shaped by everything it had survived. It rebuilt itself with greater strength, renewed pride, and an even deeper appreciation for life, history, and community.

Tacloban endured. Tacloban rose. Tacloban continues to thrive. What an honorable place we came home to.

The days that followed.

I had been to Tacloban long before Yolanda, and I remembered the place fondly. There was something familiar about its charm, it reminded me of my own hometown, a coastal hub, yet one that felt more progressive and full of promise. Coming back after such profound tragedy and witnessing its rebirth is a deeply proud and humbling experience. To return home and meet the people who survived the unimaginable is to be reminded of the power of faith, resilience, and the human spirit. Their stories teach us what it means to stand again amid profound loss, and what it means to rebuild when there is so little left to begin with.

I came back wanting to see Tacloban in a whole new light, to celebrate every place, every story, and every person I would encounter along the way. They have been through so much, and they deserve not only to be remembered for what they endured, but to be seen, celebrated, and honored for all that they have overcome.

Day 1. Welcoming lunch at Radiant Hotel.

Day 2. Casa Marcos- with our "sana all, rich" moment

Day 3. The nostalgic Cafe Lucia and that familiar view.

Day 4. The farm at Dulag.

Day 5. Pasqualino's

Day 6. McArthur Food Park

Day 7. Our silhouette at the Leaf Lounge.

Day 8. Bislig - the highlight!

Day 9. Farewell dinner at Tia Tita.

Goodbye Tacloban. You will always be a warmth that feels like home, no matter how far the distance takes us. You are a sanctuary, a safe haven, and a place filled with memories that we will carry with us wherever we go.

Tacloban reminds us that tragedy does not define a city. It is the people who rise after the storm, rebuild what was broken, and continue to move forward with courage and hope. Your strength, resilience, and spirit inspire us to face our own challenges and keep going, even when the road ahead feels uncertain. Thank you for the memories, the warmth, and the reminder that home is not always a place; it is a feeling, a people, and the stories we carry in our hearts.

Until we meet again, Tacloban. You will always have a special place in our hearts.

Cebu.

Cebu will always be our anchor between two waters, the place where our story began and where, no matter where life takes us, our hearts will always find their way back.

There isn’t much to say about where MBG happens, because somehow, every chapter of our story always leads back to the Queen City of the South. Our visit was short, but it was filled with immense happiness, familiar warmth, and the comfort of being home.

Cebu will always be home, no matter where our feet may take us. Now, it’s back to Canada, but not without a little side trip along the way.

Preview of what's ahead for MBG. This, we pray with all our hearts, will come to fruition next year, my heart's home - Japan! Until then, we happily fly back to Picks with lots of mixed emotions but thankful for that little bit of homecoming.

*MBGXPhilippines*    *TheMarcosesXKatipunanCebuTacloban*    *21/2Gypsies*