One More Sunset, Philippines
“One More Sunset”
by an elderly couple who wish to remain anonymous
We’ve stayed in five-star hotels, boutique hideaways, even a castle once — but none of them felt quite like Alesea Baroro.
Maybe it’s because we weren’t looking for grandeur this time. Just quiet.
Just time — time that felt ours again.
We hadn’t planned to stop in La Union. We were on our way down the coast, just two old souls (and one very sprightly German shepherd named Max), chasing the sun in semi-retirement. But a friend had whispered about this place — “Private. Peaceful. Pet-friendly. You’ll love it.”
They were right.
The villa itself was hidden behind a simple gate, almost like it didn’t want to be found. But the moment we stepped through, we felt it — that sense of calm, like a deep breath we hadn’t realized we needed to take.
Stone paths curved gently through lush gardens, blooming with tropical flowers that swayed lazily in the breeze. Birds chirped somewhere in the trees. And there, just beyond the garden, the sea stretched out — vast, glittering, and impossibly blue.
And in the middle of it all: our villa.
Just for us. Just for one night.
It had everything. High ceilings. Cool tiles under our feet. A fully equipped kitchen that actually made us want to cook. The kind of place where you can leave the doors open and let the wind wander through like an old friend. No neighbors. No traffic. Just waves, rustling palms, and Max barking happily as he tore across the garden like a puppy again.
He loved it there.
He ran until he couldn’t anymore. Then jumped straight into the pool.
We hadn’t even unpacked yet.
We just stood there, laughing, watching our dog splash and swim with more joy than we’d seen in years. And suddenly, we were kids too — shoes off, sleeves rolled up, following him in. Sun on our faces. Salt on our lips.
That afternoon, we cooked together. Chopped fresh mangoes. Grilled fish we bought from a roadside stand. He played music from his phone — old jazz we used to dance to in the kitchen back home. I made him dance with me again. Right there, barefoot on the cool kitchen floor. He groaned. Then laughed. Then twirled me anyway.
As the sun began to set, everything turned golden.
We sat out on the terrace, wrapped in towels, sipping wine and feeding Max bits of leftover chicken. The sky went from gold to peach to pink, and then… that soft, deep blue of twilight.
“If this was the last place we ever stayed,” he said, “I wouldn’t mind.”
I smiled. “It’s not. But it’ll be one we never forget.”
That night, the three of us curled up in the giant bed, windows wide open. The sound of the ocean was our lullaby.
And in the morning, as we loaded up the car, Max sat at the villa gate and refused to move. He turned his head toward the garden, toward the sea. And then, toward us — as if to say, can’t we stay just one more night?
We kissed his nose. Promised him we’d come back.
And we will.
Because there are places that wow you — and then there are places that welcome you.
Alesea Baroro didn’t try to impress us.
It simply gave us one perfect night of peace, joy, and love —
and a memory that glows a little brighter than the rest.
Alesea Baroro, La Union, Philippines
Bring your partner, your pup, your past… and feel at home for one unforgettable night.
[Discover this pet-friendly hideaway]
The Sound of Silk, Vietnam
The Sound of Silk
by Jill & Carl
We’d already been married for three weeks. But it wasn’t until that night — that one night — that it really felt like the beginning.
Hoi An was like a dream from the moment we arrived. Lanterns floating down the river, old streets scented with star anise and jasmine, laughter echoing from the tailors’ shops. But it was the Four Seasons The Nam Hai that stole our breath.
Our villa was silent but alive. Draped in silk and shadows, with a private pool that spilled into the stars. The bed was a cloud, surrounded by flickering lanterns and the hush of the South China Sea just beyond the doors. Even the air felt sacred.
We had dinner barefoot on the beach, just the two of us. Candlelight dancing on the waves. The chef brought out something special — grilled lobster, papaya salad, banana blossom, all spiced and balanced like poetry. He surprised us with a bottle of wine older than we were. We drank it slowly, watching the moon rise like a pearl over the horizon.
We didn’t talk much. We didn’t need to.
Her hand found mine across the table and held it like she’d never let go.
I kissed the inside of his wrist — where his heartbeat lived — and felt mine echo in response.
Back at the villa, the staff had left a note on the pillow:
“In Vietnam, silk is the fabric of celebration. Tonight, may you wear joy like silk — smooth, glowing, unforgettable.”
There were petals on the floor. Soft music playing from somewhere. The kind that doesn’t come from speakers, but from memory. From moments you didn’t realize you were writing.
We stayed up all night. Talking. Touching. Laughing quietly in the dark.
At one point, we danced — naked and ridiculous — under the moonlight that poured through the garden windows. We whispered promises we hadn’t thought of during the vows. New ones. Wilder ones.
And when the sun rose over the water, we stood together in the outdoor shower, warm rain pouring over us. Our hands intertwined. Our foreheads touching.
It felt like the entire world had disappeared.
And all that was left… was us.
That morning, as we watched dragonflies flicker above the garden pond, she said,
“If we ever forget how this feels, let’s come back here. And remember.”
I said nothing.
Because I knew I never would.
Location inspired by Four Seasons The Nam Hai, Hoi An, Vietnam
Your honeymoon deserves to feel like this.
[Book your own one-night paradise]
The Glow Between Us, Koh Phangan – Thailand
The Glow Between Us, Koh Phangan – Thailand
by Rony M.
They say the Full Moon Party on Haad Rin is just chaos — a mess of neon paint, buckets of booze, and bad decisions. And sure, it’s all of that. But it’s also something else.
If you know where to look.
I didn’t come for love. I came to disappear for a while. To lose myself in the noise, the tide, the strobe of fire dancers spinning time into glowing circles.
But then I saw her.
She was standing alone at the edge of the beach, toes buried in the sand, watching the waves ignore everything behind her. Her hair was pinned up with a chopstick and streaked with powder-blue paint. Her eyes were dark, and quiet, and tired in the way you get when you’ve seen too much too soon. She looked like she wasn’t trying to be found. Which, of course, made me want to find her.
I didn’t say hello. Not right away.
I passed by once. Twice. Third time, I offered her a drink from my bucket — Sangsom and Coke, the unofficial cocktail of every bad decision made on this beach.
She smiled. Took a sip. Didn’t flinch.
We didn’t talk much at first. You don’t need to, not on Haad Rin. The music is too loud, the crowd too wild. So we danced instead. Close. Then closer. Our bodies said everything words couldn’t keep up with.
We painted each other with glowing streaks — symbols that meant nothing and everything at once. A crescent moon across her collarbone. A broken sun on my chest. At midnight, we jumped into the sea in our clothes and let the salt water strip us of everything but the moment.
She told me her name, but I forgot it instantly. Not because I didn’t care — but because something told me I’d never need it again. She said she was leaving in the morning. Heading north. No plans. No number.
We sat on the rocks until the music faded and the first pale light of sunrise painted the sky behind Koh Samui in soft gold.
She rested her head on my shoulder.
She said, “Let’s pretend this was a dream.”
I said, “Then I hope I never wake up.”
When I blinked, she was gone.
Just a faint trail of blue on my shirt, and a glowing crescent moon on my chest — cracked now, faded, but still there.
Every full moon since, I return to Haad Rin. Not for the party.
For the possibility.
Because sometimes, the best nights of your life don’t need to last.
They just need to be real — for one night.
→ Koh Phangan Full Moon Party 2025: What Nobody Tells You About Thailand’s Biggest Beach Party
Story location: Full Moon Party in Koh Phangan
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→ Explore one-night retreats in Koh Phangan, Thailand