A Detour to Bago City

By Marie. December 24, 2025

I was supposed to go to Sipalay, Negros Occidental to discover some of the province' hidden gems. Instead, life nudged me toward Bago City—just 22 kilometers south of Bacolod—to visit a friend I hadn’t seen in a decade.

The bus ride felt like stepping into a familiar rhythm. I boarded a small, non‑airconditioned Ceres bus bound for Ma‑ao, one of Bago City’s largest barangays. The breeze slipped through the open windows, carrying the scent of late afternoon. Soon, the quiet ride transformed into a gentle theatre of local humor as passengers told the driver where they wanted to get off:

“Dira lang sa kurbada, sa wala ’pre.”
(There at the curve on the left, brother.)

“Dira lang pagkatapos sang duha ka bangga halin dire!”
(There after two corners from here!)

“Sa may acacia lang sa wala!”
(Where there’s an acacia tree on the left.)

“Sa ika‑duha lang nga balay, dira sa may paho bala.”
(At the second house—there where there’s, you know, a mango tree.)

I found myself quietly giggling, charmed by how place is remembered not by street names but by trees, corners, and the soft geography of memory. Eventually, I turned to the young man beside me and asked, “Are we there yet?” The road outside was dark, lit only by the bus’s headlights. He answered kindly, “We’ll go around the Central first, then return to this road. After that, Ma‑ao is just about twenty minutes away.” I suspected it would be longer.

When we finally reached the Ceres terminal, I spotted Sandra waiting on a bench. She had come to fetch me, already worried because I hadn’t arrived at the expected time. The bus was still maneuvering into its slot when, in true local fashion, I cupped my hands around my mouth and called out, “Sandra!” The young man by the window glanced at me, amused.

And in that small, familiar gesture, I felt something settle in me—like I had arrived not just at a destination, but somewhere (a few kilometers later to another barangay next to Ma-ao) that felt a little like home.