I wanted to be in Olongapo for this part of the trip so Jay could experience how Holy Week is observed in the Philippines. Good Friday here isn’t just remembered — it’s lived. It moves through the streets, through the voices, through the devotion of the people who carry these traditions year after year.

Jay witnessed the pabasa — the continuous singing of the Bible that begins on Holy Thursday and must be completed by 3 PM on Good Friday. The chanting fills the air in a steady, rhythmic flow, sometimes going day and night without stopping. It’s one of the most powerful expressions of devotion you can hear.

We drove to Castillejos in the morning, where the traditions are especially strong. All along the roadside, we saw people doing their penitensya — their acts of penance. Some carried heavy wooden crosses under the heat of the sun. Others practiced self‑flagellation, striking their backs as a form of devotion. And yes, the blood is real. It’s part of the ritual, part of the offering, part of the way some Filipinos choose to honor this day.

At around two o’clock, Ronald, Ella, Jay, and I headed back to Castillejos for the 3 PM crucifixion reenactment. By the time we arrived, the streets had grown quieter, the air heavier. Three o’clock is the most solemn moment of the day, when some participants are lifted onto crosses to symbolize the crucifixion. It’s powerful, unsettling, and unforgettable — the kind of moment that stays with you long after you leave.

After the ritual, we met up with the rest of the group before heading back to Olongapo. We were a big group again — a different mix of faces this time — but the feeling was the same. After witnessing something so deeply rooted in faith and tradition, it felt grounding to end the day together, each of us carrying the weight of the day in our own quiet way.