Puerto Azul Then and Now: An IBM Philippines Company Trip
Some trips go exactly as planned. Others leave you with tan lines, low-res photos, and stories that age better than the destination itself.
Back in April 2007, I joined an IBM Philippines company outing to Puerto Azul, a resort tucked in the coastal stretch of Cavite. This wasn’t just another summer escape. In a time before remote work, beach trips like these were one of the few chances we had to hit pause—and actually see coworkers outside of calls and cubicles.
Puerto Azul had a reputation. It wasn’t Boracay-famous, but it carried a kind of prestige—at least in the early 2000s. So even though I hadn’t planned to write about the trip right away, something about it lingered. The delays, the heat, the peeling paint, and the quiet joy of sitting beside someone you know while surrounded by people you don’t.
📚 Table of Contents
1. When Outings Meant More Than Just a Break 2. On the Bus: Sprint, eBay, and Conversations 3. First Look at Puerto Azul 4. Vibes by the Pool, and Lunch Under the Huts 5. The Ocean, the Heat, and the Exit Plan 6. What Changed—and What Didn’t 7. Where Are Those Photos Now? 8. Frequently Asked QuestionsWhen Outings Meant More Than Just a Break
Back then, work culture was wired differently. Most of us were used to high call volumes, structured schedules, and performance metrics that felt like oxygen. So when management organized a full-day outing—no laptops, no urgent escalation queues—it meant something. Even if the day wasn’t perfectly executed, it was a rare break that came with a side of beach air.
I remember arriving at PBCom in Makati while it was still dark. The call time was 5:30 AM, and for a while, I thought I might actually be too early. Turns out, I wasn’t early at all.
We didn’t leave until 8:00.
Two and a half hours passed like slow-dripping syrup. There was no formal announcement about the delay, just scattered conversations, half-awake laughter, and the occasional glance at a watch or phone. I remember thinking how many things I could’ve done in that window—slept longer, grabbed a proper breakfast, maybe even packed differently.
But instead of letting the delay define the day, I just leaned into it. Maybe it was a sign to slow down. Maybe it was just the universe’s way of saying "breathe."
💬 Reminder to self (and maybe to you): Sometimes the best parts of a day don’t start on time. Don’t write off a moment just because it doesn’t begin the way you imagined.
On the Bus: Sprint, eBay, and Conversations
Once the bus finally moved, the mood shifted. It wasn’t party bus energy, but there was a quiet relief. Finally, we were off.
Most of the attendees were from the Sprint-Nextel account. Arcy, on the other hand, was from eBay account. And while we were technically “the outsiders,” it didn’t feel cold. Just… compartmentalized. Teams sat with their teams. Conversations bubbled up, then fizzled out like soda left uncapped.
I was there as part of management, alongside Carlo Tiamzon. That came with a certain invisible pressure—be approachable, but not too relaxed. Be part of the group, but also keep an eye on things.
Arcy was the only person I truly knew on that bus, and he had this calm energy that made everything a little easier. We chatted intermittently throughout the ride, catching up on work stuff, sidestepping anything too heavy. It was comforting. Not every trip needs noise to feel meaningful.
The bus was mostly quiet aside from pockets of laughter and a few power naps. Someone played music softly near the back. Others scrolled through old-school phones, probably checking messages or playing Snake. It was 2007, after all.
In hindsight, that ride was probably one of the most low-effort ways people from different teams could actually interact. No dashboards, no client calls—just motion, road, and heat creeping through the windows.
I think back to that dynamic sometimes, especially after writing about quieter work-life transitions in posts like "10 Tiny Habits That Quietly Changed My Daily Routine." That bus was a snapshot of how people show up when structure is peeled back.
First Look at Puerto Azul
The route we took skipped the usual SLEX traffic. Instead, we cut through Pasay heading south into Cavite. The breeze shifted. The buildings gave way to trees. The coastline crept into view.
We arrived at Puerto Azul around 10:30 AM.
It wasn’t what I remembered.
The resort used to carry a kind of understated elegance—like your tita’s house that still had framed pictures from the ‘80s but somehow looked classic. This time, though, it felt weathered. There were patches of chipped paint, quiet corridors, and a surprising number of empty chairs—even for peak season.
That stillness? It was hard to ignore.
But so was the ocean view.
Puerto Azul may have aged, but the sea didn’t care. It shimmered like it always had, turquoise and teasing, hugging the edge of sand that barely held any footprints yet.
💬 Quote I scribbled in my old notebook:
“Even when places change, memories find a way to stay loyal to what we saw the first time.”
I didn’t take too many photos—I wish I had more. But back then, I uploaded everything to Multiply (yes, that Multiply), where I had an album for every adventure. That site’s long gone now, but the mental snapshots remain: the walk from the hut to the beach, the way the air smelled faintly like mangoes and salt, and the way the sun settled in like it was in no rush.
Vibes by the Pool, and Lunch Under the Huts
After settling in, we scouted for a spot to hang out and found some shade under one of the thatched huts. There weren’t any big group activities planned—which was both a letdown and a relief. No icebreaker games, no surprise announcements. Just sun, water, and whatever you wanted to make of the day.
Most people migrated toward the pool. We checked out the menu by the poolside kiosk—standard resort fare: grilled meats, pancit, overpriced halo-halo. It didn’t matter. At that point, the novelty of just being there carried more flavor than the food itself.
I ended up sticking with Arcy and a group of escalation specialists, none of whom I really knew before the trip. And yet, it worked. Maybe it was the heat, maybe the shared detachment from the main crowd, but we found our own rhythm.
We talked about life outside of work, swapped stories about account escalations, and cracked a few jokes about who was most likely to fall asleep on the bus later. That little sub-group—accidentally formed—became the best part of the trip.
💬 Quote from someone I didn’t catch the name of:
“You don’t need a perfect destination to have a good time. You just need a good seat, a good view, and decent company.”
I think that’s what most company outings try to bottle up and serve: a reset. Not necessarily grand, just enough of a break to see your coworkers as people, not just names in your queue or initials in a CC field.
And in case you’re wondering—yes, I took photos. Lots of them. The Multiply album link I shared back then is long gone (RIP Multiply), but I’m slowly digging through my archives. I might reupload some of those snaps in a future post or tuck them into The Kirktonic Archives, where all my old trip logs are finally seeing the light again.
The Ocean, the Heat, and the Exit Plan
By mid-afternoon, the heat stopped being background noise and turned into its own character—loud, persistent, and kind of rude. Some folks braved the beach, but many of us retreated into shade or slouched wherever we could find breeze.
Around 4:00 PM, our small group decided we’d had enough. There was no closing program, no final announcement—just a silent consensus that we were done. We returned to the bus early and stretched out in our seats, savoring the cold air conditioning like it was a luxury.
That early decision turned out to be a smart move.
By 5:00 PM, the bus left, and traffic going back to the city was already starting to build. We beat most of it. The bus ride home felt a lot shorter than the trip there. Maybe it’s because tired bodies tend to compress time. Or maybe it was just the unspoken agreement that the day had delivered exactly what it needed to.
We arrived back in the city around 8:00 PM. I barely remember walking into the house—I just know I passed out the moment I hit my bed.
But you know what? I don’t remember the cracks in the walls or the awkwardness of strangers nearly as much as I remember the in-between. The shared quiet. The waves. The realization that time moves differently when you’re just allowed to be.
What Changed—and What Didn’t
Looking back from today, this trip hits differently.
We live in a time of remote offices, virtual calls, Slack threads, and wellness webinars. Company outings now—if they happen at all—tend to be more curated, or digital, or transactional.
That 2007 beach trip wasn’t perfect. But it didn’t try to be. It was messy and low-tech and underplanned, and that’s why it lasted in my memory.
The people I was with—some I haven’t spoken to in years. Some, I still know. Arcy’s still in my life, though our paths have intertwined since then. We don’t need beach outings to stay connected now. But when we talk about the past, this trip always makes the list.
And maybe that’s what made it special. It wasn’t just a “Puerto Azul Cavite trip.” It was a snapshot of how we worked, socialized, and coped before everything became optimized and overfiltered.
💡 If you’re reading this and planning a company trip:
Don’t overthink it. People won’t remember the itinerary. They’ll remember how they felt.
Where Are Those Photos Now?
If you were part of that trip—or a similar one—and remember Multiply, you know the heartbreak of losing an entire archive of your early 2000s memories.
At the time, I uploaded everything to kirktonic.multiply.com (now a ghost in the internet void). Photos of the pool, the ocean, blurry group selfies with too much flash... gone.
But not forgotten.
I’ve been slowly collecting those files from old hard drives and CDs. If you’ve ever read my post: Watermelon Sugar: Harry Styles’ Sweet Summer Tune, you know I’m big on nostalgia and the way sensory memories tie us to our past.
And while Puerto Azul may not be on many travel lists today, that trip still anchors me to a time when memories didn’t need hashtags to matter.
💡 Read More: Is Bali Worth It in 2025? What We Spent and Would Do Again
Frequently Asked Questions:
➡️ Is Puerto Azul still open today?
➡️ What happened to Puerto Azul?
➡️ Can companies still organize outings there?
➡️ Is it worth visiting for a throwback trip?
Looking back, I didn’t expect this simple company outing to still echo 18 years later. It wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t need to be. Sometimes, all it takes is one quiet bus ride, a half-forgotten beach, and a few good people to turn a day into a story that lives longer than the photos.
Nice photos!
ReplyDeleteGreat photos. I hope I can go here too!
ReplyDelete