My journey in the City of Pines
A former student’s reflection on the hardships, friendships, and lessons that transformed Baguio City into a second home.
The headline flashed on my feed like a signal fire: Face-to-Face classes were being implemented across the country. After two years of staring at classmates through a gallery of digital boxes, the mere thought of breathing the crisp Baguio air felt like a dream. I packed my life into my tito’s pickup truck, and as I stepped out into the mountain breeze, the cold settled deep into my bones—a bracing “welcome home” from the City of Pines. Moving into the third-floor boarding house was my first trial by fire; it took an hour of hauling boxes and breathless climbs, but sitting down for that final meal with my family at the Jollibee on the University Belt made the exhaustion sweet. When my tito’s truck pulled away, leaving me at the entrance of my unit, I knew the “adulting” phase had officially begun.
My first day on campus was a battle against a literal giant: the main gate staircase. Gasping for air halfway up those twenty steps, I realized that my academic journey would be as much about physical endurance as mental focus. Navigating the halls was a maze of unsettling statues, high vision panels I had to tip-toe to see through, and the awkwardness of recognizing faces from Google Meet in the actual flesh. Initially, I was a nomad, finding solace in the gushing sounds of the campus fountain when the solitude of being “the new kid” felt too heavy. I spent those early weeks learning the silent rhythm of the city, often wandering the slopes just to feel the scale of my new world.
As months bled into each other, the “student” in me merged with the “provider.” I learned the delicate dance of budgeting, grocery shopping, and laundry, all while balancing a part-time shift at a fastfood chain to keep my head above water. It was exhausting, but it stripped away my hesitation. I met people from every corner of various provinces through the university halls. Some friendships flickered out like candles in the wind, while others became the “clique” that finally made Baguio feel like home.
Today, as a board-certified professional working in La Union, I look back at those steep climbs and cold mornings not as hardships, but as the forge that shaped me. Baguio wasn’t just where I got my degree—it’s where I found myself.
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