I loved Sagada when it first showed me its beautiful sunrise back in 2013. I loved it even more despite the absence of sunrise in my recent visit.
Instead of sunrise and clouds, it showed me the beauty of fog in the woods.
Underneath my bonnet, jacket, t-shirt, improvised scarf, pants, and socks, the cold weather still beats me.
We had many tiny branches of woods to burn but most of it were wet, not ready to be burned, just yet. So our bonfire had a short lifespan.
I slept the cold away. We.
Then a heightened level of cold started to make its presence felt. I checked the clock, wishing its nearing sunrise, but it says its been only 4 hours since I slept.
About thirty minutes have passed and we decided to get in the car to somehow ease the cold. And it worked. Somehow it helped protect us.
Next thing I knew, I was near sunrise already.
The moment I opened my eyes, around 4 in the morning, I saw a thick fog that envelopes the mountain.
Uncertainty peeks in.
I was waiting for the sun, wishing, hoping. Cars arrived. People arrived. Added expectations arrived but time had come and it is not as I (or we) expected it to be.
Clouds are hiding the rice terraces underneath it. Sometimes it reveals the view, and that’s how people like it better.
I love it even more when it tries to play hide and seek.
Mt. Kiltepan whispered that sometimes, no matter how difficult it is to survive a cold, December night on top of a mountain, it is a gift to remember that I am not alone.
I left Sagada wanting to explore it even more.
Every visit is a different experience. It’s a concept that I don’t usually believe in but Sagada changed it.
If only Sagada were a person, I’d be in love with him right now.
Surely, it is one of my favorite places in the world.