From left, Dionne Cu, Totelle Dimson, and Becky Albert in Southeast Asia’s oldest golf course
The plan was simple: 18 holes and a weekend away from the Metro. But in the “City of Love,” the four lady golfers found themselves on a spiritual crossing, a synchronicity of God, Golf, and Hearts of Gold— where fairways, faith, and the warmth of the Ilonggo heart came vividly alive.
The unexpected pilgrimage began at Molo Church—formally the Parish Church of St. Anne—known as the country’s famed “Feminist Church.” Sixteen female saints line the nave, their stone gazes leading to the altar where St. Anne stands with the young Virgin Mary, her hand resting gently in guidance.
On the hallowed aisle of Molo Church, the entrance procession of the Santo Niño Mass moving rhythmically forward with servers, a priest, tribal dancers, and young girl carrying the red-garbed statue of the Child Jesus.
At the close of the Mass, Father Rafael holding the Santo Niño aloft, giving the blessing to all, most especially the children gathered before the altar.
Gaily dressed Ilongga holding aloft the Child Jesus
Their weekend escapade unknowingly coincided with the Feast of the Santo Niño. Inside the neo-Gothic walls of Molo Church, history was told not in footnotes, but through movement and rhythm. A young girl in a billowy dress lifted the Santo Niño high, leading tribal dancers down the hallowed aisle in a reenactment of the image’s discovery and the islands’ conversion. As Mass concluded, Father Rafael raised the icon in joyful, rhythmic motion.
“Faith, like love, must be lived,” he reflected later, “sometimes quietly, sometimes in celebration—but always together.”
Only in Molo—from the anthropological to the ecclesiastical—the gazebo with six Grecian goddesses fronting the Church of Saint Anne with the 16 female saints in the nave
Moments later, the sacred gave way to celebration. As the massive, ornate Gothic doors swung open, the merry chant of “HALA BIRA!” from amplified voices surrounded the glittering Molo Plaza, sparkling with parols under molave trees. The air was startlingly crisp and smelled of kalachuchi blooms, thanks to the city’s “no smoking” rule. The illuminated neoclassical gazebo stood as a brilliant centerpiece, where the six Greek goddesses presided over the park, anchoring the district between mythological Olympus and the ecclesiastical altar.
Across the street, the Molo Mansion stood bathed in floodlights. Previously owned by the Yusay-Consing family, the neo-classical art deco home glowed with cinematic precision, offering a glimpse into Iloilo’s aristocratic heart—only to end with a modern thud as the foyer opened into the price-tagged racks of a Kultura boutique. The spell of the past broke at the retail counter, but the soul of the district remained just outside at the mansion’s side, where food stalls inevitably served steaming bowls of Pancit Molo.
This district was the cradle of the nation’s intellectual elite, from Chief Justice Ramon Avanceña to revolutionary statesman Gregorio Araneta. Yet Iloilo’s soul was equally shaped by women of formidable intellect. The city recently honored this legacy with a statue of Pura Villanueva Kalaw, pioneering suffragette and feminist, installed within the plaza’s graceful grounds. The influence of the Avanceña sisters endures through the Colegio de Santa Ana, which helped ensure that Ilonggo women were educated not merely to participate, but to lead.
Nearby in Jaro stands Casa Mariquit, built in 1803 by Ramon Javellana. It later became the residence of his granddaughter Maria Javellana and her husband, Vice President Fernando Lopez. Once overlooking vast open land toward the Jaro Church belfry, the house now stands amid gas stations and commercial structures—a quiet witness to both grandeur and change.
Museo Iloilo curator, anthropologist James Mozart Amsuo, emphasized Iloilo’s reputation as textile center particularly for piña, sinamay, and jusi weaving, earning its reputation as the ‘textile capital’ of the Philippines in the 19th century.
At Museo Iloilo, curator and anthropologist James Mozart Amsuo situated the city’s layered identity with calm authority. Iloilo, he explained, was the original Queen City of the South, shaped early by Chinese traders whose influence remains visible today—from the origins of La Paz batchoy to the province’s weaving traditions of jusi, piña, and sinamay, which earned Iloilo its distinction as the Textile Capital of the Philippines in the early 19th century.
The pilgrimage then moved to the Iloilo Golf and Country Club in Sta. Barbara. Built in 1907 by homesick Scottish and British engineers working on the Philippine railway system, the rolling terrain reminded them of the glens they had left behind. What began as a modest nine-hole course, expanded to 18 holes in 1958 as the town and its economy grew.
SUBHEAD: ‘It’s about time we played the oldest course in Southeast Asia, right in our country’
“We have played St. Andrews, home of golf. And it’s about time we played the oldest course in Southeast Asia, right in our country,” said Totelle Dimson, one of the golf pilgrims.
In the museum at Iloilo Golf Course are well-preserved artifacts: golf balls over a hundred years old and hickory sticks that still carry the memory of early play.
The club stands apart as the only golf course in the Philippines with a direct historical affiliation to the Royal and Ancient Golf Club of St. Andrews. Its philosophy remains unchanged: play the lie the earth gives you—no shortcuts, no artifice. A small on-site museum holds quiet witnesses to the past: century old golf balls recovered when the lagoons were deepened, weathered trophies, and photographs of an era when the game was still finding its footing in the tropics.
At Casa Mariquit, pilgrim golfers from the metro cross a threshold and walk into history.
A small on-site museum holds quiet witnesses to the past: century-old golf balls recovered when the lagoons were deepened, weathered trophies, and photographs of an era when the game was still finding its footing in the tropics.
Here, every shot became a conversation with history. Becky Albert’s early morning crisp drives echoed across the rolling fairways, answered by a crescendo of crowing roosters. The sudden bleating of a herd of goats dashing across the 15th fairway caught Dionne Cu off guard as she aimed for the flag.
The symphony of the countryside – raw, chaotic, alive – reminded golfers that they were guests in a living landscape. At the 18th hole, cameras clicked once more to immortalize the reindeer-shaped tree standing sentry in the middle of the fairway.
Beyond the bamboo fences in a few fairway holes, caddie houses line the edges of the theater of play, where families live within chip shot distance. Their children grow up absorbing the rhythms of the game long before they even carry a club. Golf at Sta. Barbara is not spectacle—it is shared space, woven into the daily life of the community.
Flanked by Iloilo city councilor Johnny Young and Iloilo Rotary president Roque Jarillo Jr., are ladies division winners Totelle Dimson and Becky Albert.
“It’s not just on the golf course,” said Iloilo City Councilor and Rotarian Johnny Young, whose Rotary Club, together with his wife Jazzie, are one of the tournament’s major sponsors. “Dinagyang lives everywhere—in the city, in the people.”
Becky Albert dons a borrowed headgear before the tournament awarding ceremony.
Totelle Dimson tees off to rooster cheers
As the two-day competition progressed, Totelle Dimson and Becky Albert rose quietly to the top of the field in the ladies division, navigating lagoons and century-old trees on Sta. Barbara’s undulating fairways.
Aside from a pen, Kat Albert has a watercolor kit in her bag, to document spaces of grace and greens.
The detailed pen-and-ink of Kat Albert who meticulously chronicled the Iloilo journey of the golfing pilgrims
Meanwhile, creation continued quietly. Kat Albert, armed always with pen, ink, and watercolors, served as the group’s silent chronicler. A Master of Fine Arts in Illustration from the Savannah College of Art and Design in USA, she sketched churches, plazas, and fairways while others took photographs— later capturing the sunset along the Iloilo River, Guimaras Island silhouetted in the distance. Her pages preserved movement with the same attentiveness the course demands of a careful putt.
The pilgrims came to play golf January 16 to 18.
They left knowing that in the City of Love, the Ilonggos beat with hearts of gold. History is not a relic—it is a living rhythm, carried in the beat of a drum, the flight of a ball, and the quiet sweep of an artist’s brush.
