Every
year for Halloween, I collect scary stories for some serious re-telling. This
time around, I have decided to share some places I have visited which felt
really weird and where I had some strange experiences. No, I never go
“ghost-hunting” or intentionally seek out haunted places. But there are some
tourist spots, museums, hotels or lodging houses that really creeped me out. This
is the reason why for some time I avoided travelling alone and managed to
convinced Wifey to come with me on some of my work-related trips.
Hotels
Long
before the big 1990 earthquake, Baguio has had a “haunted” reputation. During
one of our Leonin Clan vacations in my youth, I had the misfortune of falling
sick with a very high fever. While the rest of the cousins toured Burnham,
Mines View, and Wright Parks, I got left behind in our hotel. The old wood and
stone cabin design of Inn Rocio was luxurious and grand, but felt like it held
too many memories of the past. I was sleeping inside our family suite room,
darkened by the heavy curtains and the gloomy weather, when I woke up with a
start. I stared into the darkness, listening, aware that someone or something
was with me in the room. I was drawn to a pitch black corner of the room as if
someone was standing in the shadows. FortunateIy, my aunt, Tita Emma decided to
stay behind too and she entered the room just as I was about to scream my head
off.
Fast
forward 25 years later, almost a decade after the big quake, and I was on one
of my official travels in Baguio. I was doing a talk for the Cordillera senior
citizens and was billeted at the same venue for the 2-day lecture. Right-smack
in the middle of city, surrounded by the market, Burnham Park, and the shops, you
would not think Hotel Veniz could ever be haunted. But one night during a power
outage, my room suddenly felt very heavy -
as if the room was so full of people standing around in the dark. I got
so freaked, I opened my door and stood in the hallway until the lights came
back on.
One
time, I was sent to San Carlos, Pangasinan where we were doing a research on
Social Pension for seniors. I asked my Toni to accompany me and we took a night
trip on the bus, so we can start early with the interviews. Arriving close to
midnight, we asked the tricycle driver to find us a 24-hour lodging house where
we could sleep for the night and take a shower before the next day’s
activities. The man took us to a nearby motel which was relatively cheap, but
looked like it had seen better days. A small window near the bathroom which
looks out unto a vacant lot outside kept giving me the creeps. My eyes kept
drifting to that window as if someone outside was looking in from the darkness
because there was a big tree right beside it. I was glad we only stayed for one
night and left right after our interviews on another night trip.
In
2015, I returned to Davao for another round of lectures on senior citizens’
rights and privileges. Having tried out almost all the big hotels in the city
proper, I was very happy that we were billeted away from the hustle and bustle
of the city, at the posh Waterfront Insular, a once-popular hotel in its
heyday. I was informed that new owners renovated and refurbished most of the
facility, but some of the old accommodations remain. We were offered a
suite-size room in the old wing, but just walking along its corridors felt
weird. There was something “off” the minute you climb the stairs and turn the
corner into that old hallway. It felt like “forever” walking that space to
one’s room, as if that corridor “lengthens” with each step you make. So after
checking it out, I declined the room and asked to remain in the original
lodgings assigned to me.
But
my worst experience was at the medium-range, Days Hotel in Tagaytay after an
office training activity. Our rooms were fortunately triple-sharing, but
located at a lower level near the doors leading to the pool and garden area.
This place was admittedly “old” by our standards since it has been around for
quite some time. But because of its rates, we figured it still gets a fair
amount of business every so often. I felt strange passing by the side doors
when I wanted to go see the gardens, and one of my roommates complained
something seemed to brush pass her one night. My other roommate fell sick
before me, but just as we were preparing to leave and packing our stuff, I
began to feel sick and weak. I was stricken down by a slight fever and a bum
tummy. I felt so crummy the whole trip back to Manila and then I remembered
that the night before, as I went to the bathroom to pee, I felt a gust of wind
seem to rush at me.
Museums
I
usually make the most of my official trips, and as soon as my business is done,
I try to take in the sites as well. I go around seeing the tourist spots and
museums, and most of these old, historical places from before or during World
War II.
Now,
I know my previous experiences in Baguio were mine alone. But recently, during
one of our visits to Camp John Hay, I was with my wifey and little girl. We
went inside the Bell House, the former residence of the commanding general of
the American Forces in the Philippines during the early part of the century. As
we went around the museum, I noticed some parts felt “colder” than usual.
Granting the front doors were open and the air outside was indeed chilly, I
wondered why the living room area which was nearer the doors weren’t as cold as
the inner bedrooms. I didn’t know that when my Wifey was herself checking out
each of the rooms, she felt as if someone was behind her. She later said, she
thought that it was me all the while, following her around, but I was at the
fireplace near the dining room all that time.
This
happened again when we were in Vigan a few years ago. No matter how many times
I have gone around Ilocos in my youth, I make it a point to visit familiar
places and show them around to first-timers like my Toni. It was late in the
afternoon when we arrived in Vigan after a round of senior citizens-related
media interviews in Ilocos Norte. We tried to catch the last open hours of the
museums and last on our rounds was the Crisologo Museum. It was late and the
regular tour guide, a distant relative of the family, wouldn’t accompany us
upstairs anymore. She said to just go on ourselves since she knew it wasn’t my
first time. As usual, after a few joint photos, Wifey and I started to go on
separate Photo-Ops for selfies. Suddenly, Toni wanted to leave immediately, so
we left even if the museum was still open for a few more minutes. She said she
felt like someone was staring at her, following her around. I didn’t tell her
that time felt different since we were alone and it was nearing twilight.
Unlike my previous visits, it felt kind of eerie to me, as if someone was
urging us to leave already because it was nearing dark.
Years
before, I had a stranger experience at another Vigan museum – the Burgos
ancestral home, the original government-operated museum of Vigan and probably
the oldest. Once more, I wasn’t going around alone, I was with a group of
family and friends. Unfortunately, it was again late in the afternoon because
it was cooler to be walking around in the summer weather. We were scattered,
busy looking around, each of us taking photos. There was an open, veranda-like
area at the side and from the corner of my eye I noticed a man sitting out
there, smoking. He was in one those white or light-colored, pajama-like suits
of yore, sitting with his cane in front of him as he smoked what looked like a
cigar. All that wispy-white, smoky image merging in one scene before I turned
to look directly at him and he wasn’t there anymore!
Recently,
we went to see Tayabas which was on my bucketlist ever since because I wanted
to see its ancient basilica and an old Spanish period bridge. I heard they
transformed their old municipal building into a museum called Casa Comunidado
and I remembered that this was already featured on GMA-7s “Misteryo”. I decided that this shouldn’t be scary because it was
the middle of the day and there were government employees still working inside
around that time. When we asked where the nearest restroom was, the guard
kidded us to be careful of the “black lady”. While the CR was a bit creepy, it
wasn’t as eerie as the old wooden staircase at the back. That part was not open
yet since they were still renovating and refurbishing the space. As Toni and I
took our photos, I wasn’t sure if the shadows there really were just a play of
the lights.
But
the scariest experience Wifey and I had was at Balay Negrense in Silay City. We
just squeezed in a quick tour of the famous city of Silay for its famous
ancestral houses. We covered most of them already when we were told at our last
house that we shouldn’t miss Balay Negrense, so off we went. As we arrived at
its gate, I knew it was worth the visit even if it was already late afternoon
and we were going to catch an evening flight for Manila. The few guests were
already leaving as we entered, but the tour guides seem to be prodding each
other which of them should take us around. From the grand staircase, to the
large rooms, and its opulent furnishings which we were informed were already
greatly depleted from clan quarrels, we were clearly awed by the place. It
truly captured the era when sugar was king and these rich families of the South
lived like royalty of Europe. But as we headed to the back, where the servants
quarters were and where the old carriages, bicycles or motorcycles were stored
in an “extended” garage area, the lights began to flicker and the guides
blurted out, “hayan na sila..”
Exiting through a side door to the gardens, I noticed a large rubber tree
facing two of the second floor bedrooms. Already appearing creepy, that tree
particularly bothered me because it felt like something was actually living
there.
Old
Churches and Cemeteries
They
say churches and hospitals are much scarier than cemeteries because that’s
where the ghosts actually are. And as much as I loved going to see old
churches, rarely did I feel anything weird in them. Except for that remaining
bell tower of Taal basilica aka St. Martin de Tours, which my sister and I
should never really have tried to climb in the first place, I haven’t felt
anything strange in known “haunted” churches like Tuguegarao aka Sts. Peter and
Paul Cathedral. On the other hand, I would not know about old church ruins like
the one in San Pablo in Isabela or Pindangan Ruins in San Fernando, La Union.
And even if they were probably known to have ghost sightings in the past, I
didn’t feel anything during my visits. Since the local parishes have decided to
build new chapels or churches nearby to be used regularly, any dark forces
would probably have been “exorcised” already.
Meanwhile,
in old churches like that in Pan-Ay in Capiz, or Sta. Maria, Ilocos Sur, it’s
their old, forgotten Spanish period cemeteries at the back, which are rumored
to be “haunted”. Old folks in Capiz claim that even after the Spanish friars
had people buried there, both Americans and Japanese soldiers used those areas
as dumping grounds for dead bodies, with or without religious ceremony, which
probably explains the “restless” souls.
However,
my personal experience at Paco Park and Cemetery was of a different variety
though. Coming from one of my weekend lectures in the Manila area, we passed by
the historical site and I convinced my driver to stop for a while. It was
nearing high noon, bright and sunny and all, but with few visitors since masses
were held every Sunday. I was going around, and I decided to go up the stairs
to the elevated portion rarely frequented by visitors except probably for
lovers wanting some privacy. This walkway goes around the complex and always
ends by the chapel itself. I was almost completely the whole way around already
when I heard footsteps behind me. I thought these were just echoes of my own shoes
on the cobblestones but echoes are impossible in an open air area like this
where even the noise of passing vehicles outside could disrupt any sounds. I
knew the guards and gardeners were at their respective posts, and I didn’t see
any other visitors climb up with me. Then I suddenly felt the hairs on my arms
and nape rise, and my back felt so cold under the heat of the midday sun. I
hurried down from there and found my driver so we could leave.
Lighthouses
Of
course, part of Cape Bojeador’s popularity is its notoriety as the “haunted”
lighthouse of Ilocos Norte. There have been many stories from locals and
visitors alike, so it’s no wonder people still flock to see it. But of the few
times I visited, I can honestly say that there is that particular inner room in
the main building which feels strange to me. Whether it was dark and unopened,
or when it was already well-lighted and refurbished as a museum, there is just
something “unnerving” about it.
Cape
Engano in Palaui Island, Sta.Ana, in Cagayan is of different category because
while more and more people visit it, no one regularly stays there to maintain
it unlike Cape Bojeador. When we visited it a few years ago, I was with wifey,
my little girl, my sister and her boyfriend, our driver and our guides. I
avoided the tower leading to the lighthouse itself because the darkness there
seemed too spooky for me.
I
didn’t feel anything at Cape Bolinao in Pangasinan because it is
well-maintained and quite modernized already, although Cape Santiago in Calatagan
looked sinister from outside the gates even. However, it is actually Malabrigo
in Lobo, Batangas which is haunted by a “crying lady” or so they say. Again,
this has been featured on GMA-7s “Misteryo” show. But this is still on my
bucketlist though..
So
there, that’s my list of haunted places which I had never really sought for
their reputed “ghostly sightings”, but had the misfortune of having an
“experience” as a visiting tourist. So much for “Dark Tourism” eh?
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