Sometimes, getting lost and the slow life are exactly what we need.
There’s a tiny pressure that comes with visiting a place as storied as Sagada. After the long way up to this mountain town, there’s a feeling that you have to “earn” the trip. Every hour and every peso must be repaid by ticking off every possible activity on a crowded itinerary. This was how I thought when I was in my early 20s.
Spelunking, catching the sunrise, and trekking the mountains— all these seem fun, yes. But there comes a time when you just want to go easy on the itinerary and ignore the checklist.
Maybe it’s the tired legs and aching back of my “auntie” era speaking, but for our first visit to Sagada, we didn’t want a packed schedule. We didn’t want to conquer the place. We just wanted to be there.
Arriving in Sagada
Coming from the highest highway point in Tinoc, Ifugao, and riding through the vegetable paradise that is Buguias in Benguet on our motorcycle, the air shifted as we crossed into Mountain Province. We went slowly and surely, tackling the twisties in Mount Data in Bauko, before arriving in Sagada at half-past lunchtime.
It felt like we were finally exhaling after an exhausting ride. We rode through the quiet streets and rested our tired bones for a while before heading to the information office to register our names. Once there, I saw the brochures for caving and trekking and thought, “That looks fun,” but my heart was already set on the view from our bed and breakfast. I booked a room facing a quiet, pine-covered rocky mountain. Since we arrived on a weekday, we felt like we were the only ones enjoying the view
Birthday Detours and Lemon Pie
Quest The next day was my partner’s birthday, and the plan was to just go around town and maybe find a pie to serve as his birthday cake. Walking a few meters from our accommodation, we saw Sagada Lemon Pie House along South Road.
This wooden house turned café and restaurant serves tangy, citrusy lemon pies, pastries, and rice meals. It’s a quiet, rustic café that feels like you’re at your grandma’s old house. We ordered a slice of lemon pie with a nicely baked buttery crust, smooth custard, and light meringue. Their egg pies looked enticing, too (my next target for our next visit).
By lunchtime, we took a one- kilometer walk to Gaia Café, fully trusting Google Maps. But Sagada has a way of humbling you. Minutes turned into a long stretch of silence; all of a sudden, there were no jeepneys, no tricycles, not even a local to point us in the right direction. It was just us breathing heavily and a map that seemed as confused as we were. We were officially lost.
We eventually retraced our steps and found a small crossing we had completely missed earlier. We hiked up a narrow street until finally, a treehouse-inspired café appeared
Gaia Café is a library café that screams art in every corner. It makes you want to spend your entire day there reading, writing, or just reflecting on life like the characters from the movie That Thing Called Tadhana (a scene was shot in the café, too!). Shelves filled with books, artistic curtains, wooden furniture, and a souvenir shop showcasing local woven products and delicacies welcome guests.
The moment we stepped inside and found a corner overlooking the sweeping rice terraces and Ambasing Valley, exhaustion dissipated into thin air.
Gaia Café sources ingredients from the community for its mostly vegetarian menu. We tried their tomato basil pasta, and the Gaia Sandwich, which consisted of their homemade burger patty, tomato slices and ketchup.
As we sipped our freshly brewed coffee, we thought about how getting lost didn’t feel like a mistake anymore. We’re here, enjoying a lovely lunch over a spectacular view of the terraces.
Continuing our little pie pilgrimage, we hailed a tricycle to Maggie’s Lemon Pie—a tiny shack near Saint Mary’s Church.
A man appeared with two slices of light, crumbly lemon pie. They were soft and airy, a citrusy treat to cap off the day. It was quite a celebration, indeed.
On the Road Again
When it was time to leave, we took the road less traveled— literally. Instead of the usual bus routes, we steered our motorcycle toward Cervantes, Ilocos Sur.
It was a descent through what felt like unending mountains. Driving through it, I was secretly wishing for a retirement home somewhere in the highlands. What happiness and peace it could be to have a place here, where the sun and heaven feel so much closer, and the cool wind blows constantly.
Did we miss out on the famous caves or the Kiltepan sunrise? Yes. We did not see the Hanging Coffins and the Marlboro Hills either. Yet, we didn’t feel like we missed a thing. Chasing lemon pies and getting lost were exactly what we needed. Maybe that’s the essence of discovering a new place. It is an experience that is uniquely ours.
