BY: VALERIE ANN DISMAYA

Some journeys don’t begin with planning—they begin with a gentle push from the universe. My trip to Bataan wasn’t planned months ahead. It was one of those beautiful surprises that knock on your door and say, “Come with me.” It came as an invitation from DOH-CAR for the 2025 Media Conference on Health Literacy. And although it was a work-related trip, deep inside, I knew it was more than that. It was a soul trip.

Bataan has always been on my bucket list for this year. A place I longed to visit, not just to explore new sites, but to feel something new. When the invitation came, it felt like the universe handed me a gift wrapped in purpose. April 2 to 4, 2025—three days that would unexpectedly bring me peace, healing, and joy. It became an early birthday celebration I didn’t even ask for—but one I will always cherish.

Welcomed with Warmth: Pan Hotel and Resort in Abucay

We stayed at Pan Hotel and Resort in Abucay, and right from the moment I stepped onto the property, I felt something shift inside me. Maybe it was the gentle breeze that greeted us as we arrived. Maybe it was the smiles of the staff or the way the trees swayed like they were welcoming us home. I don’t know, but it felt right.

Pan Hotel wasn’t a luxurious, over-the-top kind of place. But it was exactly what I needed. Cozy. Peaceful. Grounded. It was nestled in nature, with enough quiet to hear yourself think, but enough life to make you feel you belonged. And there, in one of its modest yet comfortable halls, we held the 2025 Media Conference. A gathering of journalists, media workers, and communicators committed to health literacy, something that’s often overlooked, but so deeply important.

During the conference sessions, while we were discussing the roles of media in promoting health awareness, I looked around and realized how grateful I was to be there. It was work, yes. But it didn’t feel like it. The setting, the people, the air, it all felt like part of a bigger plan. A plan I didn’t design, but was blessed to live out.

Simple Joys: Pasalubong Center, Bataan Plaza, and the Bataan Public Market

Balanga’s city charm is subtle, yet so genuine. We visited the Pasalubong Center and my heart lit up at the sight of local goods such as handmade treats, delicacies, woven crafts, and warm smiles from vendors who spoke like old friends. There’s a different kind of happiness in supporting locals, in choosing a small box of sweets not just for the taste, but for the hands that made them.

Then there was Bataan Plaza. A simple space, really—but it felt so alive. Families laughing, friends sitting under trees, lovers holding hands. There was no rush, no noise. Just people being present. I stood at the center for a minute or two, letting the scene sink in. I realized how much we miss moments like these, where nothing grand is happening, but everything feels right.

And of course, I couldn’t leave without visiting the Bataan Public Market. I’ve always believed that markets carry the soul of a place. And true enough, this one did. The smell of dried fish, fresh produce, cooked food, and coffee mingled in the air like a familiar scent from childhood. I found myself smiling when I saw the “tuyo” section—those small, humble dried fish that reminded me so much of mornings at home.

I bought some “tuyo” to bring home. Not just for the flavor, but for the memory. For the feeling. For the simple joy of bringing a piece of Bataan back with me. It’s funny how such a small thing can hold so much meaning. But that’s the magic of travel, it’s not always about big landmarks or expensive things. Sometimes, it’s the smell of “tuyo” in a busy market that makes you feel like you belong.

Healing in Nature: Balanga Wetland and Nature Park

On the last day, we headed to the Balanga Wetland and Nature Park. It was like a gentle balm to the soul after the emotional heaviness of historical places in the city. Nature has this way of making things feel light again, and this place was no exception.

The moment I saw the vastness of the wetland, I felt my shoulders drop. I didn’t realize how tense I had been. The sky stretched endlessly, the migratory birds danced above the waters, and the air smelled of salt and soil. I stood there for a while, just watching, just listening. It was one of those moments where everything goes quiet inside you, not because there’s nothing to say, but because everything already makes sense.

I’ve always loved nature, but there was something different about this place. It felt like it knew I needed to breathe deeply again. Like it knew I was carrying things I didn’t even talk about. And in the stillness of the wetland, I let go of worries, of doubts, of the weight I carried for months. I smiled, eyes closed, letting the wind remind me I was alive.

Stories That Stay: The Bataan World War II Museum

During the three-day stay, it led us to a place I can only describe as sacred—the Bataan World War II Museum. From the outside, it looked simple, even unassuming. But the moment you step in, it hits you. The silence. The solemnity. The heaviness of history pressing gently but firmly on your chest.

Every photo, every letter, every artifact inside told a story. Not just of war, but of love, pain, courage, and endurance. The Death March exhibit and diorama was the one that really broke me. I stood there, imagining what it must have been like to walk that long, merciless path. The fear. The thirst. The hunger. The hopelessness. And yet—they walked. They kept walking.

I found myself holding my breath, tears threatening to fall. And I let them. Because some stories deserve our tears. Some memories deserve our silence and grief. As someone who tells stories for a living, that place reminded me why we do what we do. We tell stories so people won’t forget.

A Birthday I Didn’t Plan, But Needed

This trip was an early birthday gift. Not from a person, but from life itself. I didn’t plan it. I didn’t expect it. But it came. And I welcomed it with open arms.

Three days in Bataan—and yet it felt like I lived an entire chapter of my life there. Abucay and Balanga weren’t just places I passed through. They became part of me. They showed me kindness, stillness, history, and healing. They reminded me to slow down, to look around, to feel deeply again.

As I sit here, trying to put these emotions into words, I find myself overwhelmed with gratitude. To the Regional News Group (RNG) – Luzon, thank you for allowing me to be the representative of our company at Bataan. To the organizers, DOH-HPB, DOH-CAR, DOH-Central Luzon, and other, of the media conference, thank you for the opportunity. To the people I met along the way—thank you for your smiles, your stories, your hospitality. To Bataan—thank you for welcoming me like I’ve always belonged.

I came here for work, but I left with something far more valuable—clarity, warmth, and peace. And in a world that often feels too fast, too loud, too heavy, Bataan gave me space to breathe, to feel, and to remember who I am.

This wasn’t just a trip. It was a blessing.

Thank you, Bataan.

Thank you for being my ‘home’.