Five days in Lian made me want to stay forever
I gave myself five days—five days to check out, do nothing, burn a little under the sun, and maybe, eat my weight in grilled squid.
It was the Holy Week and we decided to spend it in Lian, Batangas. Famous for its beaches and laidback vibe, this coastal town is close enough to Manila for a quick escape, yet far enough to feel like we’re in a different world. What I didn’t expect, however, is that five days wouldn’t be enough—not even close.
Fresh catches and pink sunsets
We stayed in a private beachfront house—two floors, spacious, modern, dressed in a palette of soft creams and warm beiges, with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out to the glistening waters of the West Philippine Sea and blush-pink sunsets that lingered over the horizon.
A sleepy fleet of fishing boats moored along the black sand shores of Lian became a familiar, comforting sight. They often returned in the morning with a fresh catch of lapu-lapu, tanigue, talakitok, and squid—which I regretted not bringing back to Manila.
By 6 a.m., the beach would begin to stir. Families from nearby towns arrived in droves, with coolers, makeshift grills, and portable videoke microphones in tow. Some would be staying in the local resorts for a night or two, while others would set up tents on the beach for a day’s worth of sun, sea, and shared meals. Kids rushed to the sea, splashing in the shallows while the older ones opted to play volleyball before taking a nice, warm dip.
Slow, easy days
As for us, we mostly stayed at home—save for the occasional runs to the local market and that one unforgettable outing to a nearby cove, where lunch turned into a feast of fresh lobsters, grilled meat, hamachi, and more.
We spent our days the way all good beach days should be spent—grazing on light conversations, savoring meals that somehow tasted better with salt in the air, and slipping into lazy dips in the two pools as we watched the sun melt into the sea. Evenings were for movie marathons and snacks, sprawled out on couches with skin still warm from the day.
Time truly passed in the best way possible—a slow, easy, sun-drenched kind of luxury I rarely get to enjoy back home.
And all this serenity existed amid the buzz of beachside life. Actually, it never felt overwhelming—the shrieks of the kids, the occasional off-key videoke chorus. It was a public beach, after all, alive and unapologetically local. But there was comfort in chaos. And in that warmth, Lian felt more like a community where you want to belong.
Heading home
On the day before I was supposed to head back to Manila, I wistfully wished to have a home like this, here in Lian.
I actually don’t know how to swim, and if I’m being honest, the water scares me a bit—especially when the waves start to growl and tumble like they’ve got something to prove. But there’s nothing quite like waking up to the sea—the sounds, the sights, the feels; the vibe, the calm, the peace.
In Lian, time stretches out like a hammock in the sun. And eventually, so would you. Fortunate for me, I got to enjoy that luxury in the five days I spent in this beautiful town.
What’s even better is that Lian still sits in a sweet spot—accessible enough to the metro but blissfully untouched by its noise.
In my thoughts, I was already sketching blueprints of a summer home by the beach—nothing too grand, just a space to breathe, built not for show but for stillness and rest.
Hopefully next time I won’t just be visiting—I’ll be returning with a blueprint and a dream.
