Hello again, Hive family! It’s me, Seth — and today I want to take you to a place that left me with a full heart, tired feet, and a head full of stories.
It all started when my sister said, “Let’s go somewhere calm, somewhere with nature.”
I instantly thought of Manapa.
Now, if you haven’t heard of it — Manapa is a small coastal barangay in Buenavista, Agusan del Norte. It’s a place that doesn’t scream for attention, but quietly invites you to slow down. No malls. No busy highways. Just salty air, boats gently rocking by the shore, and people who treat each other like family.
From our home, it took us about 45 minutes to get there. As soon as we arrived, I felt it — that peaceful energy only nature can give. The sea stretched out like glass, and the sound of the waves was like a lullaby to my thoughts.
The first thing I noticed? The air. It was different. Clean. Real. The kind that makes you want to take deep breaths just to feel it in your lungs.
As we walked closer to the shore, we saw local fishermen pulling up their nets. One of them smiled and let us come near. I asked a few questions, and he gladly answered.
He said, “Tamban is what we usually catch here. It feeds us. Sometimes we sell it, sometimes we eat it — but it always keeps us going.”
And that hit me.
Tamban, a small fish — but for this community, it means survival.
Money. Meals. Memories.
They said when there’s a good catch, even at midnight, people gather with flashlights and baskets, helping each other haul in the net. That’s the kind of closeness this place has — like everyone’s part of one big family.
We stayed there for nearly 8 hours. And honestly? It didn’t feel long at all.
I learned how they attract fish at night. I watched how boats are prepared. I even saw how they price their catch when they bring it to shore. Here’s what surprised me most: when a fisherman arrives with tamban, people rush to buy it like there’s a fiesta — because it’s cheap, fresh, and they know they can resell it in the market at double the price. It’s business, yes… but also survival.
Then something beautiful happened.
The fishermen, along with some families, started grilling the fresh tamban right there by the sea. Others were preparing kinilaw — raw fish “cooked” in vinegar or citrus. Someone handed us a small plate, and without hesitation, we joined them.
We laughed. We ate. We watched the kids run barefoot on the sand.
And for a moment, I forgot I was a visitor. It felt like I belonged.
As the day went on, we were told to stay until sunset.
“You’ll never forget it,” one of the locals said.
So we waited. Walked around the barangay. Saw more of the people — most of them living simple lives, but you can tell… they’re content. The fathers here? They’re tough. Many of them work early shifts in APC, the plywood company, and then go out fishing at night just to support their families. No complaints. Just determination.
When the sun finally began to sink into the sea, everything turned gold. The water glowed. The sky softened. It was quiet — and it was magic.
Manapa isn’t just a place on a map.
It’s a community. A way of life.
A place where hard work is honored. Where meals are shared. And where even strangers feel like siblings.
I came home tired… but my heart? So full.
Thanks for coming along, Hive fam.
Until the next story — keep finding beauty in the quiet places.
These pictures was taken from me and edited from Canva.
