“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]