Saturday, August 05, 2023
12:05 AM |
We Need a Tourism Reset for Negros Oriental
On the last day of July 2023, a Monday, all the roads in Dumaguete led to the Negros Oriental Provincial Capitol where—in the forecourt of the heritage building housing the office of the governor of the province—a tourism extravaganza was about to be unveiled. It was something definitely new for the province as far as I was concerned, and when I arrived at the venue—which was jazzed up to accommodate a huge stage—my first impression was: “I’ll take this as Negros Oriental’s tourism reset after the horrors of March.”
Because there really is no denying the blood-soaked March we just had—only three months ago as of this writing. There is no denying the hellish turmoil that followed that made headlines and broadcast news—and losing two governors in the process, one to cancer and another to carnage. The damage was deep, and also impacted the way Negros Oriental was being seen everywhere: our province was now the unfortunate haven to craven politicians eager for tactical assassinations. Post-massacre, it was not unnormal for visiting friends to ask me: “Is it safe to go to Dumaguete?”
So how does one rise from that? To quote the local musician and theatre artist Hope Tinambacan: “What we artists have tried so hard to establish for Negros Oriental as a place of great culture, has been undone so thoroughly in just one day.”
It is perfectly ironic then that for the rehabilitation to come, culture and the arts are the tools being used once again in the name of tourism. The July 31 program at the Provincial Capitol was being dubbed a “tourism roadshow and cultural exchange program,” and served as a welcome program for the First Silliman University International Choral Festival, which had participants coming in from various parts of the country and the world. The tourism roadshow was working from the slogan, “Negros Oriental: Garbo sa Kabisay-an [Pride of the Visayas],” and the Negros Oriental Provincial Tourism Council was hoping to use it as a “platform to showcase and celebrate the essence of [the] province’s vibrant culture, arts, and heritage.” Everything was the brainchild of Woodrow Maquiling Jr.—RR to friends—who had come home to Dumaguete from a long and fruitful stint working at the Department of Tourism head office to find himself appointed by newly-installed Governor Chaco Sagarbarria as the Provincial Tourism Board Executive Director and concurrent head of the Provincial Tourism Council.
There was no denying the grandness of the roadshow presentation and the robust talents it was showcasing—many of them recreations of various festivals from around the province. From Gov. Sagarbarria’s keynote speech, we learned of his new administration’s recognition of the importance of local culture and the arts: “[Our program] stands as a testament to our unwavering commitment to preserving and promoting our cultural heritage as it brings together local artists, performers, and community members who share an unyielding passion for showcasing the unique identity of Negros Oriental. This collective effort encapsulates the very essence of our province, providing both visitors and locals with an opportunity to delve into our rich cultural tapestry and witness the remarkable depth of our heritage.”
Sagarbarria noted as well the importance of tourism not just as an economic powerhouse for the province, but also as a mark for local pride: “[I have] an unwavering passion for our province’s extraordinary potential as a captivating tourism destination”—noting all the tourist spots of pure potential dotting the province, and then ending with this declaration: “[I am for] embracing the delicate balance between preserving our environment and nurturing sustainable tourism. [My administration thus] is making tourism among my top priorities, and [I pledge] to elevate Negros Oriental to the forefront of global travel destinations, inviting wanderers to embark on a soul-stirring journey through our paradise.”
Truth to tell, we didn’t need the new governor to tell us of our riches—with most of them being untapped potential. Aside from culture, we do have beautiful beaches and marvelous mountains; we do have hundreds of waterfalls; we even have our own “Chocolate Hills” in Guilhungan, and our own “Rice Terraces” in Canlaon. And there’s so much more!
But how come Negros Oriental remains a “secret” to most travelers? People undeniably know more Bohol and Cebu, and even when people mention “Negros,” they mostly mean the Occidental side.
The pandemic, too, has not helped. And the numbers remind us of the long work ahead if we have to showcase Negros Oriental as a place to visit, and not a place to run away from because of bloody politics.
On a lark, I decided to calculate tourism figures provided by the Department of Tourism, primarily for Dumaguete and Negros Oriental immediately before the pandemic and then during and after, comparing them to equivalent numbers posted by nearby provinces [Cebu, Bohol, Siquijor, and Negros Occidental] and cities [Cebu City, Bacolod, and Iloilo].
I was not prepared for the stark reality of numbers, which are tabulated by the DOT from reported occupancy numbers in hotels, hostels, and resorts—but not including the numbers from Air BnB.
In 2019, right before the pandemic hit, there were 1,025,407 visitors to Negros Oriental [an aggregate number combining foreign travelers, overseas Filipino travelers, and domestic travelers], and 854,661 to Dumaguete. I used these numbers as my base for “normal times” moving forward in this analysis.
In comparison, there were 781,145 to Negros Occidental [with Negros Oriental edging out considerably]; 1,088,938 to Cebu Province [only slightly overtaking Negros Oriental]; 1,581,904 to Bohol [the clear statistical winner]; and 168,366 to Siquijor. Among the cities, Cebu City had 2,869,809 visitors in 2019; Iloilo City had 1,171,520; and Bacolod had 803,911. There were more visitors to Dumaguete than to our sister Negrense city.
And then the pandemic hit in 2020, and the numbers everywhere plummeted—which was to be expected. Negros Oriental posted 171,650 visitors, a drop of 83% from 2019, and Dumaguete posted 130,656 visitors, a drop of 85%. [That number also included returning residents who had to quarantine and stay in hotels, as mandated by COVID-19 protocols.] In comparison, Negros Occidental posted 202,147 visitors, a drop of 74% from 2019; Cebu Province posted 226,019 visitors, a drop of 79%; Bohol posted 177,341, a drop of 89%; and Siquijor posted 37,980 visitors, a drop of 77%. Among the cities, Cebu City posted 599,188 visitors, a drop of 79%; Iloilo City posted 186,980 visitors, a drop of 89%; and Bacolod posted 143,114 visitors, a drop of 82%. You could see Dumaguete and Negros Oriental taking major hits in 209198.
I used the 2020 figures as my base for COVID-era numbers, to note if improvement in tourism numbers could be seen as the pandemic progressed and waned.
In 2021, things improved for some—and worse for others.
Negros Oriental posted 91,580 visitors, a decrease of 47% from 2020, while Dumaguete posted 41,851 visitors, a decrease of 68% also from 2020.
In comparison among the provinces, Negros Occidental posted 311,577 visitors, an increase of 54% from 2020—and three times more than Negros Oriental. Cebu Province posted 387,484 visitors, an increase of 71%; Bohol posted 179,781 visitors, an increase of 1.4%; and Siquijor posted 9,017 visitors, a decrease of 76%. Among the cities, Cebu City posted 219,169 visitors, a decrease of 63%; Bacolod posted 147,582 visitors, an increase of 3%; and Iloilo City posted 211,914 visitors, an increase of 13%. Bacolod’s number is a reversal to Dumaguete’s from 2019 figures, and by a considerable stretch. What happened?
In 2022, with restrictions being relaxed and vaccinations programs firmly in place, there are marked increases across the board in terms of visitor numbers—except Dumaguete.
Negros Oriental posted 204,164 visitors in 2022, an increase of 123% from 2021, and an increase of 19% from 2020. In comparison, Negros Occidental posted 510,022 visitors in 2022, an increase of 64% from 2021, and an increase of 152% from 2020. This is a reversal in fortunes for the two Negrense provinces based on 2019 numbers—with Occidental posting 40% more visitors than Oriental in 2022.
Meanwhile, Cebu Province posted 737,163 visitors, an increase of 90% from 2021, and an increase of 226% from 2020; Bohol posted 535,803 visitors, an increase of 198% from 2021, and an increase of 202% from 2020; and Siquijor posted 99,386 visitors, an increase of 1002% from 2021, and an increase of 162% from 2020—the statistical winner among Central Visayan provinces.
Among the cities in 2022, Cebu City posted 1,063,503 visitors in 2022, an increase of 385% from 2021, and an increase of 78% from 2020; Iloilo City posted 752,301 visitors, an increase of 255% from 2021, and an increase of 302% from 2020; Bacolod City posted 618,682 visitors, an increase of 319% from 2021, and an increase of 332% from 2020.
Meanwhile, in 2022, according to DOT numbers, Dumaguete posted 48,719 visitors, an increase of 16% from 2021, but a decrease of 62% from 2022. Apparently, more people [99,386 of them] went to Siquijor than to Dumaguete [a difference of almost 50%] in 2022. And more people [204,164 of them] went all over Negros Oriental without going to and staying in Dumaguete—that’s 76% of people who went to Negros Oriental without staying in Dumaguete.
It does not make sense. Surely, the number for Dumaguete posted at the DOT website is an encoding mistake. [I asked someone from the Dumaguete City Tourism Office to clarify—and I was told there’s a mistake in the encoded number, and should be rectified by DOT.]
But let’s assume for now that it is not. One clearly sees from the overall data that Negros Oriental [and Dumaguete] has been falling behind in terms of tourism recovery compared to most places near and around it. I have no answers to explain the stillborn numbers—although local tourism diva Angelo Villanueva recently quipped to me: “Nobody is flying over because airline tickets are ridiculously expensive. So tourists will never get to see [any of our tourism endeavors] except for the usual suspects.” [I checked online and the cheapest one-way ticket from Manila to Dumaguete I could find as of this writing cost P1,482; compare that to P993 for Cebu City; P1,048 for Bacolod; P1,213 for Iloilo City; and P1,268 for Tagbilaran City—definitely, going to Dumaguete is more expensive. I know a friend who flew in from Manila to Bacolod, and then took a bus to Dumaguete—because “it was cheaper.”]
It is not for lack of trying. Over the course of the pandemic, the Dumaguete City Tourism Office released two magnificently-produced tourism videos that tugged at the heart, painting the city as a place of resilience, and then of welcoming recovery. The reception to both marketing videos was solid. And now, in Dumaguete alone, we do see a city thriving once more—even with more establishments catering to hospitality and culture than ever before in the pre-pandemic. That has to say something.
Sometime in the run of the tourism roadshow at the Provincial Capitol last July 31, an unexpected thing occurred: the power tripped while the Silliman University Dance Troupe was presenting a number, and the whole show was drenched in darkness, leaving the dancers to carry on even without lights or music. It lasted 13 minutes, RR later told me—but the show went on, as it should.
I’m positive about our potential moving forward—and I know that our tourism numbers will go up again—but using the sudden power outage of the tourism roadshow program as a metaphor, there is indeed a lot of work to be done.
Labels: dumaguete, negros, tourism
[0] This is Where You Bite the Sandwich
Monday, January 18, 2021
9:18 PM |
A Conundrum of Streets and Places
When Jacqueline Veloso Antonio took the challenge of becoming tourism officer of Dumaguete City in 2016, one of the initial projects she had in mind for her tenure seemed simple enough to carry out: make sure to update the city’s street signs and install them in places where they were missing.
It felt very much a part of any good tourism mandate. After all, how can one give a proper geographic guide to tourists in Dumaguete when street names are not readily available as convenient signposts to their exploration of the place?
Worse yet, the unavailability of proper street signs have created a native population that’s also largely ignorant of their own geography, sometimes compelling them to create convenient but “unofficial” names to act as landmarks when they traverse the city.
“Laguna,” for example, is really V. Aldecoa Drive.
“By-Pass Road” is Gothong Avenue.
No one knows that the “Rizal Boulevard” is really called Rizal Avenue.
No one knows that from the Welcome Area of the pier going northwards Rizal Avenue continues on as Flores Avenue, which ends at the corner of Lantaw. It continues northwards to Bantayan as Escaño Drive [a new road], punctuating at the Silliman Beach. When the road turns west, running alongside Silliman Farm, it becomes Henry Mack Drive. Meanwhile, the name of the beach from Lo-oc to the border in Bantayan is Piapi Beach, not “Escaño Beach.”
Sometimes, locals are so used to hearing the sounds of street names and not reading them as bona fide signs that they are surprised to know that it is “Luke Wright Street” and not “Look Right Street.”
Sometimes there are streets we didn’t know have names. Jovenal V. Somoza Street is the road passing the ROTC Office at the Silliman Ballfield. Continuing that is a road locals call “Mango Avenue,” ending at Rovira—although officially it is Route 7. [A new name is in order!] And in the enclaves of Daro surrounding its market, we have small streets like Ipil Street, Tindalo Street, Molave Street, and others. The road cutting across Claytown Subdivision connecting Veterans Avenue to Gen. Diego de la Viña Street, where Gabby’s B&B is, has no name. Google Maps say it is Filomeno Cimafranca Drive—but I’m not sure it’s official.
The main thoroughfare of Amigo Subdivision has no name. Why don’t we just officially call it Mary Davis Amigo Drive, after the subdivision’s founder, an important pioneering businesswoman? And why are we sticking to just politicians for naming streets when we have two National Artists and two National Scientists? Let’s go for Edith Tiempo Street, Eddie Romero Street, Angel Alcala Street, and Clara Lim-Sylianco Street!
There are street names that are holdouts from the past that persist to this day, still being used by people in their commutes and by businesses in their addresses. People still say “Colon Street” when what they mean is Senator Lorenzo G. Teves Street. “Legaspi Street” is really Bishop Epifanio Surban Street. And “Cervantes Street” is really Mayor Joe Pro Teves Street.
“Real Street,” the old name of the provincial highway that cuts Dumaguete into its western and eastern halves, is a street of ultimate confusion—perhaps owing to its sheer length. Officially, it’s just the National Highway, with both its ends giving specific nomenclature, hence, “South National Highway” and “North National Highway.” But actually, the stretch from PNB to the Sibulan boundary [essentially, “North National Highway”] is officially Veterans Avenue. The rest of former Real Street, from PNB to the Bacong boundary [essentially also encompassing “South National Highway”] is Mayor Ramon T. Pastor Sr. Street.
And because of the length of the National Highway, the nebulousness in the naming not withstanding, locals have taken to calling specific places within its range some special names—even if the inspiration for those names may no longer exist. There was “Sharlyn’s,” once upon a time, named after a sari-sari store that sold ice cream in front of Freedom Park—although no one uses this anymore. Still persisting is “Orchids” just a stone’s throw away. Also “Bricks,” and nearby, the “Karate Club.” These are handy destination qualifiers all tricycle drivers know. Flag down a tricycle, and if you say, “Corner of Veterans Avenue and Aldecoa Drive,” you’ll get a driver scratching his head. Say, “Bricks,” and you’re off to go.
There are also conundrums.
What to make of the two Katada Streets in Dumaguete? One is the short length that begins at the Welcome Area and ends in Hibbard Avenue, Opena’s and The Rollin’ Pin along the stretch. The other is the narrow one that goes right along the painitan at the tianggue.
And where does Hibbard Avenue end and Airport Road begin? I still think Hibbard Avenue ends at L. Rovira Drive, continuing on as Airport Road from that point on to the airport runway itself, encompassing the place we call “Golden Rule.” [And why “Golden Rule”? Because the owners of Golden Rule Store downtown—the Chuangs—had a house with a huge bodega in the area. Since there were not too many houses there back then, locals took to calling it “Golden Rule.”]
And there is the mystery of San Jose Street. The “extension” of it westwards is so long and unwieldy it serves no geographic specificity—and thus is no help to anyone. There really should be a city resolution drafted to give specific lengths of its byways their own names. At least the curve that extends to Daro, going to the Water District, has been renamed Gen. Diego de la Viña Street—although locals still call it “Kalubihan.”
I’m glad we’ve retained some of the old street names, especially those streets that follow the Spanish tradition of naming the early streets of Dumaguete after saints. From Lorna Makil, we learn that this concept of “encircle and protect” allows for the spiritual protection of the poblacion, with streets surrounding it becoming hallowed by these saints’ names. Hence, we have Calle Santa Catalina, Calle San Juan, Calle San Jose, Calle Santa Rosa, and Calle Santa Cecilia—although the latter is now Silliman Avenue.
It took three years, in December 2018, for the City Tourism Officer to finally see some realization of her “proper street signs” dream. What “proper street signs” we see now in place is just Phase 1 of the project—perhaps owing to the fact that there really was no budget for it in the first instance of its conception back in 2016, and for which reallocations of funds had to be done. Phase 1 is all about taking care of the inner city streets. “Phase 2 is all about the outer city streets,” Ms. Antonio said, “and that’s in the works. We were supposed to do Phase 2 in January 2020, but COVID-19 happened. It was put on hold. We continue this year.”
And how come the street signs for Rizal are still missing?
“I had them removed for replacement,” she said. “The manufacturer put in ‘Rizal Boulevard,’ when it should be ‘Rizal Avenue.’”
Such distinctions are important, whether one likes the idea or not. A city progresses for the better if it knows itself—and that includes geography, and street names more specifically. If we cannot agree on the name of the street we live on, how can we agree on the best way to move forward as a community?
Image by Google Maps
Labels: dumaguete, tourism
[1] This is Where You Bite the Sandwich
Wednesday, October 05, 2016
9:42 PM |
Food Roundup Dumaguete 2016: J Restaurant
I am an accidental foodie: I used to write a food column for a local paper and have written extensively about the Dumaguete food scene for national magazines and newspapers -- until I decided to discontinue the enterprise about four years ago. Still, people I know who visit Dumaguete keep asking me about the best places to go to eat, and I've found I no longer quite know the scene. A lot can change in half a decade. So I've decided to try a new approach this year and go about sampling the local food culture once more and document everything online in the course of twelve months. The city has grown and expanded enough in the years since 2011, and a significant part of what's happening food-wise has become unfamiliar to me. Consider this a personal adventure.
It is by no means a place to marvel at, or to unwind and claim comfort in. The tables and chairs are tight, for one thing, which is understandable for a place occupying what used to be the garage of the old Medina sugar house. The tarpaulin sign outside — “New Open / Japanese Restaurant” — does not exactly excite the grammatically fastidious. (“Perhaps it’s a transliteration of ‘Bagong Bukas’?” a friend of mine helpfully suggested. EDIT: “New open” [ニューオープン] is actually a popular Japanese phrase.) The name of the place itself — billed only as “J,” as in “Japanese” — indeed does have instant recall, but a lazy one that has no claim to imagination. And going in, I had wished very much to be greeted by a high-pitched “Irashaimase!” just to complete the illusion, but that was also a no-go. And yet, in the final estimation, I liked very much this new ramen place in Dumaguete, situated along the Rizal Boulevard in the shadows of Honeycomb.
J felt very much like one of those ramen shops I used to frequent in in Musashisakai, in Tokyo, when I used to live there. That recall of “authenticity” — a dangerous word — was enough to banish away my minor quibbles regarding the place. Plus there was this: I had been hankering for ramen for many months now, and couldn’t get my fix anywhere. Certainly not in Mifune, where my one-time search for the dish was squashed by a surprisingly rude waitress that made me walk out. And certainly not in Kiyosuke, where charm seems more paramount and the menu alas is lacking. (Is Wakagi still around? I really have no idea.) J’s menu, on quick glance, offers four distinct kinds of food: sushi, tempura, ramen, and something the menu spells out as “don kach,” but I have a feeling is really katsudon. We started with gyoza, Japanese dumplings filled with ground meat and vegetables and wrapped in a thin dough — which certainly made for a good appetiser. It paved the way for a generous bowl of the chashu pork ramen (“chashoyu ramen” on the menu), good for two (at P500), which transported me quickly to old Kyoto memories. (They also have four other varieties of ramen, ranging from P350 to P400.) The sushi on the menu is strictly platter-based (at P400), and includes eight pieces of assorted ingredients, each one a delight. Definitely not cheap, but the meal was worth it. On the way home, I settled with the plain joy of knowing there was finally a ramen place to go to, and that it was good. We ordered at 7:45 PM. Order received at 8:00 PM.
#FoodRoundupDumaguete2016
Labels: dumaguete, food, tourism
[0] This is Where You Bite the Sandwich
Thursday, August 11, 2016
5:19 PM |
A Cultural Mapping of Dumaguete
A number of us cultural workers in Dumaguete were invited by the National Commission for Culture and the Arts and the City Tourism Office, spearheaded by YATTA, to do an initial cultural mapping summit of the city this afternoon. I wasn't prepared to be overwhelmed by so many things I didn't even know about the culture of the city -- I had no idea, for example, that there is a ritual called "san jose" in traditional homes all over the city. But I was mostly overwhelmed by the prospect that there is still so much to do with regards identifying, researching, documenting, and preserving many of our natural, movable, built, and intangible heritage as well as strengthening many of our creative industries. We graded what we have identified so far and while a good number is still alive and existing, most are deteriorating or dead. For a city that thrives on a literary reputation, for example, we don't really have publishing houses or bookstores that sell books by local authors -- and our public library has been largely neglected. This is only our first session, and there's more work to do, and we hope other cultural workers can join us in the future.
I don't really know why this has never been done before.
Labels: art and culture, dumaguete, negros, tourism
[0] This is Where You Bite the Sandwich
Saturday, July 30, 2016
4:56 PM |
Food Roundup Dumaguete 2016: Adamo
I am an accidental foodie: I used to write a food column for a local paper and have written extensively about the Dumaguete food scene for national magazines and newspapers -- until I decided to discontinue the enterprise about four years ago. Still, people I know who visit Dumaguete keep asking me about the best places to go to eat, and I've found I no longer quite know the scene. A lot can change in half a decade. So I've decided to try a new approach this year and go about sampling the local food culture once more and document everything online in the course of twelve months. The city has grown and expanded enough in the years since 2011, and a significant part of what's happening food-wise has become unfamiliar to me. Consider this a personal adventure.
There is finally a restaurant in Dumaguete that has become KRI’s equal, at least in its clearly-wrought striving for fantastic ambience and culinary invention, and it is
Adamo. (The thing about Dumaguete food is that for the most part almost every restaurant offers mere variants of the same tired dishes, which may be due to the fact that the cycle of kitchen-staff piracy in the city has become a kind of tradition. Enter some of our name restaurants and you could taste, with every bite you take, the inevitable conclusion that a dish you’re eating has not been made by a culinary artist, but by some highly-effective craftsperson. Truly, if I have to see another lackluster chicken cordon bleu on the menu again, I’d…) It is then with such a relief that we welcome Chef Edison Monte de Ramos Manuel to the local food scene. He has transformed what used to be a carwash at the once sleepy corner of Tindalo and Molave Streets in Daro [such an unlikely venue!] into a restaurant whose aesthetic seems to suggest makeshift industrial space with hip minimalism — the grey concrete box of its interiors softened by carefully placed wooden finish here and there. The result is a shabby lived-in feel that works: it is an austerity that invites concentration on the food. And the food truly is a magnificent surprise. The efficient wait staff wasted no time in giving us the restaurant’s idea of breadsticks, a waferish thing that came complete with a tuna/sesame seed dip. And as we marvelled over the one-sheet menu, she informed us — with such a pleasant authority that’s usually absent in many local wait crew — that the chef plans to change the menu every two weeks or so, and that what we have was actually the dinner menu, and there was in fact a separate lunch menu. The prices, much to our pleased surprise, were not eye-gouging, and we were told that the market they’re targeting are students and young professionals, hence a relative affordability to their selections. There were enough of us in the table to enable us to go for a good sampling of the entire menu, and we were asked if we wanted to have our dishes brought to us by courses. (Another delight! Because when was the last time you were ever asked that question in a Dumaguete restaurant? Most have a tendency to give you your appetiser after the main course has been served, and most serve a large party in a piece-meal manner, so that no one ever truly eats together: one eats his dessert while another one is still waiting for his main course to arrive.) For our starters, we ordered the fish and pork (P125), which was basically smoked fish aioli with shredded adobo, cherry tomatoes, pickled onions, and arugula set on sliced French bread; the goat cheese and grilled apple salad (P150), with candied walnuts, salad greens, and caper raisin dressing; and the coconut and prawn pasta (P150) in crème de tête and with gremulata, which was superb. For the main course, we had the pork belly (P180), the tuna belly (P190), and the braised beef (P260) — the last one absolutely perfection, the fullness of the marrow an enticing buttery goodness that instantly reminded everyone that mealtimes with good friends are always a kind of celebration. Good food does that. The desserts — we had blueberries and cream, and a slice of fudge brownie — left a little to be desired, but it was overall a surprisingly elegant meal, and its preparation almost a performance. The kitchen is open, and it is separated from the main dining room only by a sheet of glass that also served as a board for instruction to the kitchen crew over the intricacies of the meals for the day: you could see the chef and his cooks slave over painstakingly over every dish they were concocting for all the diners. It was a fantastic meal, the best we’ve had in Dumaguete for the longest time. We asked what Adamo meant, and apparently it’s Italian for “to fall in love with, to conceive desire for, to desire eagerly.” An appropriate name. I can’t wait to go back. They serve lunch from 11:30 AM to 2:30 PM and close for the rest of the afternoon. They open for dinner at 5:30 PM and close at 9:30 PM. We ordered at 7:30 PM. Order received at 7:45 PM.
#FoodRoundupDumaguete2016
Labels: criticism, dumaguete, food, tourism
[0] This is Where You Bite the Sandwich
3:26 PM |
Food Roundup Dumaguete 2016: Healthy Bar by Chef Twine
I am an accidental foodie: I used to write a food column for a local paper and have written extensively about the Dumaguete food scene for national magazines and newspapers -- until I decided to discontinue the enterprise about four years ago. Still, people I know who visit Dumaguete keep asking me about the best places to go to eat, and I've found I no longer quite know the scene. A lot can change in half a decade. So I've decided to try a new approach this year and go about sampling the local food culture once more and document everything online in the course of twelve months. The city has grown and expanded enough in the years since 2011, and a significant part of what's happening food-wise has become unfamiliar to me. Consider this a personal adventure.
A friend of mine has one rule when it comes to choosing a restaurant, especially in another city: “Never ever go inside an establishment that’s practically empty, especially during the peak hours. There must be a reason why nobody’s there.” There you go: a distrust of empty places as functional food criticism. Sometimes, arriving in a foreign city, I do find myself following my friend’s advise — although one can easily make an argument about why a place could be empty: it could be new, and no one has heard of it yet; it could be too experimental, or too exotic, which is not reason enough to stay away. Most of the time though, that distrust is pure instinct that’s right on the mark. When we entered
Healthy Bar by Chef Twine right at the height of lunchtime, the cafe right along Aldecoa Drive seemed spectacularly empty, and the resounding chirp of greeting by its lone waitress — “Good morning!” — almost overplayed its cheer: it smelled of relief, and it made me think, “Are we their first customers of the day?” But we’ve been looking for a good alternative for Lokal Organic Cafe, which had closed so abruptly and has yet to make true its promise to resurrect itself in a better venue. We wanted a healthy option for mealtimes; we wanted vegetables! Our first impression was that Healthy Bar has none of the lovely kitsch of Lokal Organic: it reminds you in fact of a dental clinic — all done in immaculate white and dashes of brown and vegetable green — and all with an agricultural theme. It has posters and cut-outs featuring earnest quotes, some of them Biblical, about the virtues of organic farming. The tables are elegant if a bit uncomfortable, and on every tabletop is a plastic jar with greens sprouting from it, a goldfish swimming about in the clear containers. The menu, when it comes, is a sad-looking plastic binder, the kind you use for bureaucratic purposes — but it is filled with all things this “healthy bar” wants to be known for: they have oat meal flavoured with everything from carrot to chocolate to Oreo (ranging from P65 to P70), they have “on-the-go” salad (P75-79), they have organic coffee (native robusta), they have a wheat grass blend (P110), they have mango wine (P69 per glass/P200 per bottle). We asked for their lunch menu — this was, after all, a cafe that bills itself as having a chef — and we are shown a page in the menu that enumerates all manner of “logs,” from tocilog to tapsilog, but with a healthy twist: each dish is served with deep purple rice. And that’s it. I said, “I had no idea you needed a chef to think up a ‘log’ dish.” We chose the chicsilog (supposedly ginger organic chicken) and vegelog (which turned out to be three slices each of tomato and cucumber), and at P75, the dishes were fair for their price, if ultimately unfulfilling. (The eggs however were done just right.) For drinks, we had lember “infused water” (P60), which was basically flavoured water without the guilt of sugar. The slice of green tea cake (P55) we had for dessert was tiny — but thank God for that, because it was hard and tasted like cardboard. It wasn’t altogether a happy meal — but we gave its signature offering a chance to give us back our good mood. The twinebocker halo-halo (P65), a concoction without sugar or ice and just plain fruit, milk, and herbs, was our salvation, truly a delight — and this saved us from pronouncing this meal a small disaster. So, go for the halo-halo, but don’t expect much from everything else. Ordered at 11:30 AM. Order received at 11:55 AM.
#FoodRoundupDumaguete2016
Labels: criticism, dumaguete, food, tourism
[0] This is Where You Bite the Sandwich
Sunday, April 17, 2016
7:40 PM |
Food Roundup Dumaguete 2016: 2 Story Kitchen
I am an accidental foodie: I used to write a food column for a local paper and have written extensively about the Dumaguete food scene for national magazines and newspapers -- until I decided to discontinue the enterprise about four years ago. Still, people I know who visit Dumaguete keep asking me about the best places to go to eat, and I've found I no longer quite know the scene. A lot can change in half a decade. So I've decided to try a new approach this year and go about sampling the local food culture once more and document everything online in the course of twelve months. The city has grown and expanded enough in the years since 2011, and a significant part of what's happening food-wise has become unfamiliar to me. Consider this a personal adventure.
If you’ve been around Dumaguete long enough and are privy to some of the twists and turns of its culinary culture, you’d know that
2 Story Kitchen — that delightful Korean restaurant near the corner of San Jose St. and Avenida Sta. Catalina — is more or less the amalgam of two restaurants that came before it. First, there was Noriter, a playground of Korean whimsy that charmed much of Dumaguete through most of the 2000s and threatened to bedevil our calorie counting with its mishmash of uncanny desserts, including an evil concoction they called Honey Bread. Second, there was Boston Cafe (itself becoming Jutz Cafe before eventually closing down), which sampled a startling menu of old Filipino fusion favorites done in a style its former chef called “masabor.” Both were gustatory landmarks a stone’s throw away from each other along Sta. Catalina, and both are gone of course — but by interesting twists of fate, fortune, and friendship, the signature dishes of these two restaurants have been mixed up in a delightful way in 2 Story. I cannot complain. I like knowing that some of the dishes I loved from Noriter and Boston Cafe are still around, providing creature comfort. I have a story for example of beginning and ending one year of being vegetarian with Boston’s herbed pork chop, a lovely piece of meat heaven that’s drenched in an alchemy of herbs and spices — and it’s still around, in basically the same form, tantalising still. Most people go to 2 Story Kitchen these days not for the food nostalgia but because they enjoy the “adventure” of squatting around the low platforms doubling as tables in the second storey, ensconced in cubicles stacked upon each other that reminds the casual customer of childhood slumber parties. I prefer the no-nonsense tables of the first floor, where the counter is also located and I can order to my leisure without having to buzz for waitresses to take my order. Truth to tell, it took me a while to warm up to 2 Story. In the very beginning of its existence, the staff annoyed me with their bewildering uncouthness totally opposite the perceived brightness of the place. I came around three years later, happier with a more well-trained staff, and a menu that has things just right for whatever budget you might have — from the pricier pan steak menu, which includes the grilled chicken pan steak (P280), the shrimp burger (P190), the tuna bimbap (P159), the teriyaki chicken steak (P270), the grilled chicken pan steak (P280), the kimchi pilaf (P250), and the shrimp-bacon pilaf (P260), to the more affordable regular entrées like the chicken milanese (P155), the chicken cordon bleu (P185), and the herbed pork chop (P175). The Korean menu ironically almost feels like an add-on, offering just the basic jin noodle soup to the bulgogi, from the deokboki to the bibimbap. (They also have burgers.) But I go home to one dish every single time: the garlic fish filet (P195), a chunk of tuna that’s seasoned in garlic, and comes with tomato, lettuce, cucumber, and olive. It does not always come out of the kitchen perfect, but in its best incarnations, it is a guilt-free wonder that’s addictive. Ordered at 6:00 PM. Order received at 6:15 PM.
#FoodRoundupDumaguete2016
Labels: dumaguete, food, negros, tourism
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12:39 AM |
Food Roundup Dumaguete 2016: Allegre
I am an accidental foodie: I used to write a food column for a local paper and have written extensively about the Dumaguete food scene for national magazines and newspapers -- until I decided to discontinue the enterprise about four years ago. Still, people I know who visit Dumaguete keep asking me about the best places to go to eat, and I've found I no longer quite know the scene. A lot can change in half a decade. So I've decided to try a new approach this year and go about sampling the local food culture once more and document everything online in the course of twelve months. The city has grown and expanded enough in the years since 2011, and a significant part of what's happening food-wise has become unfamiliar to me. Consider this a personal adventure.
Some places just become hangouts-to-go-to organically, word-of-mouth-wonders whose popularity cannot be achieved by any sort of marketing, especially in Dumaguete. Such is the case with
Allegre, literally a hole-in-the-wall along the Boulevard, part of the frontage that occupies the old Wuttrich sugar house near Bethel that houses also an Italian resto, a Greek donut shop, and -- like a sore thumb that tells you this is where the money is made -- a pawnshop. Allegre is small, but it makes up for its smallness a convivial air that has attracted a diverse clientele, mostly a Spanish mestizo bunch. It has bric-a-brac decor that aims for cluttered charm, and it works, but it is the margarita that everybody comes for -- probably the best in the city. And in this heat, it is a perfect concoction to cool down a caloric night and get slightly buzzed at the same time. Allegre above all is a tapas bar, and it excels in its variety of these small pieces of gustatory teases, from the patata mayo tomato, the boquerones with caramelized onion, and the bonuelos de bacalao to the spicy pork bruschetta, the lengua, and the chili bombs. There's so much more, but my favorite has to be the chorizo with quail egg (P180), a concoction that delights with its inviting texture -- the spicy earthiness of the ground pork combined with the soft creaminess of the quail yolk. The place easily gets full, so it may be wise to call ahead and reserve a table. But Xenia, Allegre’s manager, can do magic by setting up a roadside table for you when the place itself gets too full. We ordered at 7:00 PM. Order received at 7:25 PM -- but with reason: it takes some time to assemble the squishy goodness of that tapas.
#FoodRoundupDumaguete2016
Labels: dumaguete, food, negros, tourism
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Monday, April 11, 2016
10:00 AM |
Food Roundup Dumaguete 2016: Y'a d'la Joie
I am an accidental foodie: I used to write a food column for a local paper and have written extensively about the Dumaguete food scene for national magazines and newspapers -- until I decided to discontinue the enterprise about four years ago. Still, people I know who visit Dumaguete keep asking me about the best places to go to eat, and I've found I no longer quite know the scene. A lot can change in half a decade. So I've decided to try a new approach this year and go about sampling the local food culture once more and document everything online in the course of twelve months. The city has grown and expanded enough in the years since 2011, and a significant part of what's happening food-wise has become unfamiliar to me. Consider this a personal adventure.
There has been of late, an explosion (of sorts) of fusion cuisine in Dumaguete -- although one is very much tempted to roll one's eyes over the word "fusion." (It's a culinary buzzword that deserves death.) In Dumaguete, it feels more like a "tandem": two national cuisines, not quite mixing, but sitting pretty side-by-side each other in another one of those bistros being set up by the city's growing number of expatriates. There's 2 Story (Korean + Filipino), of course -- the oldest among them, and still the prettiest. Then there's La Fusion (Italian + Indonesian), and Rollin' Pin (French + everything else), among others in a growing list. The latest is
Y'a d'la Joie -- quite a mouthful for a name -- and it promises to be a restaurant with a rotating menu of French and Italian dishes. (As such, they don't have a menu -- only a blackboard near the entrance that details the specials of the day. "We change it every week, depending on what's available in the market, on what's fresh," we are quickly told as we scanned the letters inscribed in chalk.) Truth to tell, we didn't know what to expect: the restaurant, situated along E.J. Blanco Drive right across the Hall of Justice, is one of those old split-level Dumaguete residences that has been converted into eating places with workable DIY charm. There are checkered tables on the lawn, and a platform has been raised to accommodate a lanai that invites a more casual gathering around uncomfortable-looking divans. (We chose the divans.) Above the grass, upturned colored umbrellas give the place a touch of whimsy -- and truth to tell, these umbrellas were what lured us to try the place. They looked definitely Instagrammable. The hostess prodded us to try the tenderloin steak -- but we opted for the pan-seared marlin, and an item they called "pasta of the chef." The dinner came reasonably quick, and the marlin steak, which came with blue cheese sauce, proved exceedingly well-made, although our expectations were low. The pasta turned out to be rotini drenched with assorted bits of seafood that made my mouth water — another surprise. Overall, it was a satisfying experience, even with the pricey tags and the unpronounceable restaurant name. The place, above all else, seemed designed to fairly accommodate even the solitary wanderer looking to curl up with a book or a laptop (the wifi is fast). Burger's on the menu, and I'd like to try that next. The marlin steak is P285. The pasta of the chef is P250. Placed our order at 7:00 PM. Order received at 7:15 PM.
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Labels: dumaguete, food, life, negros, tourism
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Monday, December 08, 2014
8:24 PM |
Ang Pinaka in Dumaguete
I meant for this to be my Dumaguete fiesta post last November 25, but uploading it to YouTube took forever. It's a major blast from the past, from 2008 to be exact, when Rovilson Fernandez and the whole
Ang Pinaka... team came to do their top ten must-see's and must-do's in Dumaguete. I looked a bit different then, hahaha.
Belated happy fiesta, Dumaguete.
Labels: dumaguete, life, memories, negros, silliman, television, tourism
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