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Taal, a town in the northern Philippine province of Batangas, is around two hours’ drive from Manila. It was founded by the Spanish in 1572, the same year as another, better-known Spanish-Filipino town: Vigan.

Vigan’s Unesco World Heritage status and inclusion in the New7Wonders Cities list has brought it the attention it deserves – but it’s a minimum six-hour journey from the capital, making it impractical as a weekend getaway. Better to go to Taal, nicknamed the Vigan of the South, which has similar architecture – and a far grander church.

Taal’s basilica, erected in 1575, has been rebuilt several times following earthquakes and the 1754 eruption of the Taal volcano, one of the Philippines’ most active.

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The version I’m looking at dates from 1856 and was given a spruce-up in 2017. The ceilings are painted in the Baroque trompe-l’oeil style, making an already huge space look even larger.

Taal’s bahay na bato (stone houses) are of a more enduring design. The classic colonial “mushroom” structure – narrow adobe base; wide upper wooden floor – is designed to flex in earthquakes. Between exquisite heritage homes, however, are a few falling into disrepair.

“In 1989, Taal applied to be a Unesco World Heritage site, but local people didn’t cooperate in preserving the buildings, and the bid failed,” says my guide, Manny Landicho. “It was really an eye-opener for us.”

Many Taaleños cling to the dream of Unesco recognition, opposing any proposed development. Recently, Taaleño sculptor Ramon Orlina saw off Taal parish priest Alfredo Madlangbayan’s attempt to construct a pseudo-Roman arcade on the basilica’s northern flank.

Less reported – yet no less impressive – were the efforts of civil engineer and photography enthusiast Manny Inumerable. When he took on his grandmother’s ancestral home in 2004 it was on the verge of ruin, having been used as a gambling house, boarding house and bar since her death in 1975.

With the help of his brother, Bobby, Inumerable restored the house to its former glory and turned it into the Galleria Taal, which now houses his collection of more than 200 vintage cameras – including rare and limited-edition models – and personal and historical photographs.

In those pictures, glamorous young Filipinos wear the barong tagalog and the terno: the national costumes, still worn for weddings and baptisms, hustings and Miss Universe pageants.

Both garments originated in Taal: volcanic soil is fertile ground for pineapples, whose leaves provide the stiff, beige fibres from which traditional Philippine costumes are constructed.

In the occasionwear shops on Calle Ananias Diokno, men’s embroidered barong shirts form neat rows; terno dresses, with their high, butterfly “power sleeves”, bloom with hand-stitched flowers.

Demand for Taal ternos is high: Amelia Lontoc, owner of an eponymous embroidery shop, tells me she requires at least two months’ notice for bridal orders.

Foodies need not wait so long to have their fill. At the nearby B and V Lomi House, teens sit at plastic tables with anticipation usually reserved for K-pop idols. Lomi – which originated with Taal’s Chinese settlers – is a dish of thick wheat noodles in pork broth, with slices of liver and a crispy chicharrón topping.

It’s just one of many specialities here: on entering the Taal Public Market, I snap alert at the scent of Barako coffee. Named after the Tagalog word for “stud”, it’s made from the potent liberica bean, which grows all over Batangas.

“The coffee will fight for you,” the seller says, shovelling grounds into a bag.

After squeezing past stalls of tapang Taal (marinated pork) and maliputo – a freshwater fish endemic to Taal Lake – I’m now hungry, so I grab a seat at Cucina de Jardin. Don’t let the name and the checked tablecloths fool you – the flip side of the European menu offers some of the best Taaleño food in the city.

Our final stop in Taal is the Villa­vicencio Casa Regalo de Boda (Villavicencio Wedding Gift House). Built in 1870, it was a gift from Don Eulalio Villavicencio, scion of a wealthy shipbuilding family, to his bride, Gliceria.

I initially mishear the translation as “wedding cake house”, and that’s not inappropriate: the building is an icing-coloured confection of trompe-l’oeil cornices, gold-leaf transoms and narra wood chairs carved with tropical fruit designs.

Historian Martin Tinio, who oversaw the house’s restoration, copied the intricate wall motifs from a Spanish pattern book.

Most eye-catching, however, are works by two national heroes: husband-and-wife portraits by Juan Luna in the upstairs hall; José Rizal’s books in a glass cabinet.

In 1892, Luna visited the Villavicencios to raise funds for Rizal’s Propaganda movement, which championed equality between Spaniards and Filipinos. Don Eulalio donated 18,000 pesos; as thanks, Luna gifted the couple with portraits.

In 1896, the Spanish charged Don Eulalio with sedition, jailing him in Manila’s Fort Santiago. He was released after two years, but died three months later of tuberculosis contracted during his imprisonment.

Don Eulalio’s death galvanised Doña Gliceria into helping the Propagandists who, frustrated in their campaign for equality, had reformed as the Katipunan and were now fighting for independence.

She donated the family’s ship, Bulusan, as well as food and arms; her home became a clandestine meeting place for revolutionary leaders.

“Emilio Aguinaldo [the first president of the Philippines] called her the ‘godmother of the Philippine Revolution’,” says Landicho.

The guide says it with such obvious pride that I’m reminded of a question I meant to ask him. As the daughter of an Ilongga, one of many ethno-linguistic groups in the Philippines, I’m aware that Tagalog – the Philippines’ national language – is a second language for most.

“What’s the main language spoken here?” I ask.

Landicho’s expression hardens and I feel I have misstepped. After a beat, he says, “In Taal, we are pure Tagalogs. We use the ‘deep’ Tagalog words – not Spanish words, like in Manila.”

Navigating my way back, Tetris-like, through snarled-up traffic, I reflect on Taal and the idea of the “pure Filipino”.

Like many before me, I arrived expecting a second-rate Vigan, and instead – via language, pineapples and revolutionaries – stumbled upon the very origins of Filipino culture.

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