Like many other people, I savour a good hotel – the heady rush of luxury distilled into a tastefully furnished space; the joy of being swaddled in 500-thread-count sheets and giant marbled bathtubs.
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Yet here I was, staring at the spectacular view from one of these rooms and feeling… lonely. I couldn’t sense anything outside of my elegantly outfitted cube.
My deflation reminded me that many hotels, even at their most luxurious, truly are ‘non-places’ – described by anthropologists as transient, anonymous spaces that inhibit human connection.
From the uniformed staff to the boxed toiletries, their elements have been subsumed into seamless homogeneity (although admittedly they’re a balm for those who want to ignore the time zone until they draw their remote-controlled curtains).
So it’s not surprising that all over Asia, hoteliers are on a mission to do things differently. In the Philippines especially, a handful of creatives is leading the way in building accommodations that foster a real sense of belonging.
Through careful renovations of heritage properties and genuine engagement with their communities, these innovators are creating a new class of stays: Defiantly unhotel-like hotels that are living embodiments of culture, resilience, and human connection.
Photos: Fundacion Abad
Fundacion Abad: Art, architecture and altruism under one roof
“Batanes is a place where time seems to stand still,” says Raul Manzano, host of the homegrown travel show EIC on the Move and editor-in-chief of Metro Society. “The ancient stone houses, crafted from local materials to withstand the harshest winds and typhoons, reflect the ingenuity and resilience of the Ivatans. Everywhere you look feels like discovering a piece of paradise.”
It’s true: Here in Batanes, there’s nary a mall or fast-food chain in sight. The city’s once-a-day flights from Manila, as well as laws limiting land ownership to those with Ivatan lineage and strong community ties, have preserved the natural allure of the landscape. And for design buffs, more beauty awaits in the form of a stay at the home of one of the region’s most famous residents, contemporary artist Pacita Abad.
Perched on a mountain, brashly facing the sea, Fundacion Abad is much like the artist herself: a maverick who broke glass ceilings with a rockstar’s insouciance.
Now a non-profit hotel, its 14 rooms are unique, designed by Pacita and her brother, Florencio “Butch” Abad, a lawyer, politician and social activist.
“The traditional use of stone, the openness of the space, and the simplicity of its design reflect the values of Ivatan architecture,” says Patsy Abad, Butch’s daughter and general manager of the Fundacion.
“Like its original form, the property’s expansion has remained true to local craftsmanship and shows a deep respect for traditional building techniques and design. Certain rooms are intentionally designed to withstand strong winds and typhoons. Trees are planted in key areas to help protect the buildings and prevent soil erosion. Endemic plants are also grown to support the local ecosystem and maintain the natural character of the area.”
The Fundacion’s Cafe du Tukon restaurant is just as entwined with the environment, its menu a study in new applications for native ingredients from local farmers and fishermen, such as root crops, sun-dried dorado and tubho, a fern unique to Batanes that can only be harvested when dry.
In 2024, the property launched Fabulous Borloloy, an exhibition dedicated to Pacita’s personal expression through the “daring clothes she wore, the chunky shoes she owned, the bedazzled bags she used to carry, and all the big accessories she loved to pile on unapologetically” at the Fundacion’s Galerie du Tulaan.
A collaboration between Patsy and her brother, Pio, it’s a masterstroke of place and poignancy, and necessary viewing for anyone interested in the late, great Pacita Abad.
Despite the artist’s legacy looming large at the Fundacion, its greatest impact, perhaps, is how it supports the Batanes community. Through the Jorge, Aurora and Pacita Abad Memorial Foundation – named after Pacita’s parents, lifelong civil servants with storied histories of their own – 100% of the hotel’s profits go to conservation efforts, programs for local artists, medical aid and educational scholarships.
Photos: The Henry Resort
The Henry Resort: Restoration of an icon
If the Fundacion resembles a church devoted to civil society and art, The Henry Resort in Dumaguete is like a sprawling playground supporting similar aims. The 32-room hideaway is a homecoming of sorts for Jaime Ponce de Leon, founder and director of Manila’s Leon gallery, a premiere destination for Filipino masters and more contemporary artists.
When news broke that the iconic 1980’s South Sea Resort – built by renowned architect Rene Armogenia and widely regarded as the area’s top hotel in its heyday – was to be torn down, Jaime couldn’t let a piece of his hometown’s history disappear. He bought the property and set about restoring it as carefully as he would a painting, bringing in interior designer Eric Paras and landscaper Alan Tan to preserve its beauty while expanding its lush gardens and facilities.
Today, the structure’s original designs have become the soul of The Henry Resort. The old brutalist concrete structures buzz with cafes and laughter; the bamboo trusses have been immortalised in steel.
“Jaime and I shared a vision: to revive these structures functionally with minimal interference while preserving their sense of place.” says Eric.
“Walking the property, I often wonder: What would [Rene] think of how we’ve cared for his work?”
This ethos is extended to the rooms, which are paved in reclaimed marble from the original property and decorated with a treasure trove of pieces shipped from Manila: Rattan wicker chairs, mid-century armchairs, Spanish wrought-iron loungers and carved wooden beds.
Mindful additions are exemplified by the Bamboo Pavilion, a multi-purpose event space. The largest bamboo structure in the Philippines, it was built and designed by Kawayan Collective, a local agricultural group that sustainably sources its bamboo from within a 20km radius.
Meanwhile, the resort’s rich gallery, expertly curated by Sandra Palomar, former director of the Metropolitan Museum of Manila, cultivates young local artists.
Dumaguete city itself has stoked many an artistic imagination: It’s the home of Silliman University, the first Protestant and American university in the Philippines, and a main port to Siquijor, an island of white-sand shores and crystalline water infamous for its open practice of shamanic traditions.
Walking through the town’s boulevards lined with impeccable examples of 19th century Filipino architecture feels like a form of time-travel grounded in the real and the magic, with everyday bustle sharing the stage with the grandeur of history and the promise of enchantment.
Photos: Nuuk
Nuuk: Scandinavian-Filipino chic
About an hour’s drive from Manila is Tagaytay, a mountainous region with the jewel of the active Taal Volcano at its centre. For a luxurious home away from home feel, visitors can check into an ancestral Scandinavian-Filipino home that has been transformed into boutique hotel Nuuk.
With its prime position by the lake, an excellent fusion restaurant exclusive to guests, and a quietly daring restoration, it’s no wonder Nuuk's eight family-style rooms are often booked far in advance.
“My parents bought the property in the early 1980s as a weekend home; a quiet retreat from the city. It was originally built in a Mediterranean villa style with touches of Filipino influence – high ceilings, antique bricks from my mother’s native Ilocos, lots of hardwood, and open spaces to let the breeze in,” says Katleya Nielsen, who renovated the property with her husband, Naeem Mahomed.
Her Danish-Filipino cross-cultural heritage helped shape the direction of the interiors and atmosphere – “a blend of Nordic minimalism and Filipino soul”, as Katleya calls it.
The result is a feeling of profound calmness on-site: “The views are stunning, yes, but it’s the feeling you get when you’re here – like being wrapped in comfort, with thoughtfulness in every detail – that I think makes people want to return,” she says.
It’s a serenity that was hard-won through Taal’s 2020 eruption and the Covid pandemic.
“In many ways, the circumstances shaped the soul of Nuuk,” shares Katleya.
"The wide open spaces and the way the property is laid out meant that guests rarely crossed paths. Families could book multiple rooms and finally spend quality time together in a safe, peaceful environment. It became a sanctuary for people – not just a place to stay, but a place to breathe, to reconnect, and to heal.
“Those early challenges taught us resilience, adaptability, and the importance of intentional design. They also showed us the true value of what we were building – not just a hotel, but a refuge.”
