He was a Newscaster and Former Palace Communications Chief. Now He’s Living the Slow Life as a Barista in a Quieter Part of Siargao

Most people who arrive in Siargao via the main airport in Del Carmen head straight east to check-in at their hotel or AirBnB in the tourist town of General Luna. The surf town with the famed Cloud 9 surf break and boardwalk attracts a lion’s share of visitors, making it the most developed and most commercially progressive of the island’s nine towns and municipalities.

But after I make my way out of the airport, pay the P20 environmental fee and meet up with my driver, we head north past rice fields, green pasturelands, and humble homes by the side of the road. Our destination: the town of Sta. Monica, located near the northernmost tip of the Island. Instead of sharing space with all the other tourists making General Luna their base, I put my bags down at Bahay Homestay, a small lodging place facing the Tangbo surfbreak, a view of the Dinagat Islands to the west, and the great Pacific Ocean further north and east.

Bahay Homestay is a three-room bed-and-breakfast located on one end of one hectare of land owned by former newscaster, media personality, and perhaps most famously, former chief of the Presidential Communications Operations Office Martin Andanar. He stays in the room downstairs and rents out the other two rooms to guests. Adjacent to the two-story lodging place is Martin’s most recent venture, and one where he gets to practice and show off his relatively newly acquired barista skills: a tiny coffee shop called Ora Kafé.

Dominated by a long wooden bar with just three stools, the main café space is at the ground floor of a two-story concrete building; an art gallery and small events space is located upstairs. The café is just big enough for two or three baristas working on orders from maybe four or five customers at a time. The bar faces a large picture window framing a view of the small grassy field with coconut trees swaying in the breeze and the beach and ocean further down. However, there are other spaces where customers can take their orders: a large table with about six seats on the right just beside the entrance to the café, and a bigger space with more tables and comfortable chairs on the left. Both are al fresco and enjoy the same tropical views as the main café.

Behind the bar is a small dimly lit room which Andanar spruced up to show off another one of his interests: high-quality sound system blasting some of his favorite music. There’s a turntable, a stack of vinyl records, and fancy speakers facing the café. When I arrive, songs from Harry Styles’ latest album Kiss All The Time. Disco, Occasionally are playing while Martin himself is busy preparing the coffee orders from the small contingent of customers, most of whom are twenty- and thirtysomething Westerners.

“Will be with you in a bit,” he tells me.

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While it does attract the occasional tourist, Northern Siargao doesn’t get nearly as many visitors as General Luna or even Pilar or Del Carmen, primarily because it’s just so far away from those more popular destinations. The few who do make it are lured by the promise of surf spots with far fewer people and a generally more peaceful and laidback vibe.

“Sta. Monica today is what General Luna was 20 or 30 years ago,” Andanar tells me when he finally has time to step away from barista duties and join me in the café’s dining area. “It’s the perfect time to visit now because in about a year or two, this place is going to be completely different and maybe unrecognizable.”

Full disclosure: Martin and I were colleagues over 20 years ago when we worked at the same broadcast TV station. We’ve kept in touch over the years as we pursued different paths; I went into publishing while he moved to a different media company and eventually joined the communications team of former President Rodrigo Duterte. Martin was with Dutere’s team from his inauguration in 2016 to the day he stepped down from office in 2022.

Needless to say, those were some of the most stressful years in Martin’s life. After his stint in government, there were offers to return to media as a newscaster and pick up right where he left off. But he took his time and chose not to rush into anything. Instead, he took a year off and spent the time traveling with his family (He’s married to the former Alelee Aguilar and they have two kids together). He pursued an 80-hour culinary arts program at the Center for Culinary Arts in Manila and also enrolled in short courses with his family while vacationing in cities like Paris and Boston.

Martin did spend a year working as a TV news presenter for the English-language channel of Chinese state TV CGTN, but after his contract was up, he chose not to renew and flew back home to be with his family. In 2025, he took his interest in coffee culture a step further by enrolling in and eventually completing a two-day barista certificate course at the London School of Coffee. It was in preparation for his ultimate next act: opening a café in his home province of Surigao Del Norte.

Martin comes from a line of public servants in this corner of Mindanao. His grandfather was a mayor of Sta Monica in Siargao, and his father served as a governor of the province. Martin himself spent part of his childhood years in the island, spending summers with his siblings at the home of their grandmother. He eventually moved to Cagayan De Oro where he finished grade school and high school at Xavier University. He spent a year enrolled in an Agriculture course at the University of the Philippines in Los Baños before he flew to Australia to study at the University of Ballarat (now the Federation University of Australia).

In between studying for a degree in Bachelor of Arts in Social and Political disciplines, including Film and Media Studies, he worked part-time jobs, including as a carpet installer, a waiter in a Chinese restaurant, and radio producer. He joined GMA Network as a news anchor soon after graduating in 1999. He moved to TV5 later on before being recruited to join government.

“Yeah, those were stressful years,” he tells me. We’re sitting at the beach under towering coconut trees next to an abuhan, or a traditional ihawan, where the resort staff has a fish and several sticks of pork barbecue grilling over hot coals. There’s a makeshift table covered in banana leaves, on top of which rests freshly cooked rice and tuna kinilaw prepared by the chef. The sun is beginning to hang low on the horizon and our vantage point allows us to see it sink lower and lower over a cloudless sky that goes from blue to purple to orange and red. Presently a bucket of beers on ice appears and Martin and I each grab a Pale Pilsen as we continue to shoot the breeze gazing at the sunset.

“This is what it’s all about now,” he says.

The next day we make the hour-long drive from Sta. Monica to General Luna. It’s not my first time in the island, but I tell Martin that the last time I was here was exactly 20 years ago, in 2006. I don’t remember much from that trip, but I’m pretty sure rapid development has transformed much of the island from sleepy province into a bustling tourism magnet.

There was no mistaking the moment we entered General Luna: lush forests and green fields gave way to rows upon rows of commercial establishments like restaurants, cafes, hotels and resorts, banks, pawnshops, markets, and gas stations. It’s not quite as busy and as congested as Boracay’s D’Mall and Station 2, but it’s a town as alive as any other in the country.

We first head to Saint Thomas, a coffee shop that Martin professes to be one of his favorites in the island. It’s at the end of a dirt path away from the main road, across from a rec center where a pickleball tournament is underway. After a quick cuppa and banan

bread, we check out the town’s main attraction: the boardwalk and Cloud 9. Instead of paying the P100 fee to access the boardwalk, we turn right and sit down at Shaka, a beachfront restaurant, where we order pizza and fruit shakes and watch the surfers in action. Shaka isn’t exactly full, but there’s a good number of customers who have the same idea, including an entire family with toddlers sharing a pizza with their parents at the next table.

Next we try our luck getting a table at one of the most popular restaurants in town: Cev, which is short for ceviche. Known for its unique take on the classic fresh fish or seafood dish, we were initially told that dinner service is by reservation only and it was already full that Saturday evening. But the restaurants accepted walk-ins before the first seating at 7 p.m., and our party was quickly accommodated along with about eight or nine other hopefuls. Seated in the open dining area styled like an old Spanish-era house, we ordered the house special and it was served in under 15 minutes. As expected it was succulent and fresh and certainly deserved all the accolades. By the time we left at a few minutes past 6 p.m., the restaurant was quickly filling up with more customers waiting in line outside.

The trip back to Sta. Monica felt much longer than one hour, and by the time we walked past the gate of the property, the bright lights and insistent sounds of “big town” General Luna were nothing but a distant memory.

When I make my way to Ora Kafé the next day at around 10:30 a.m., the café had been open for about an hour and a half. Its hours of operations is posted on the door: Open from Friday to Monday at 9 a.m. to 1 p.m.

“Four hours a day, four days a week,” Martin tells me. Unlike most other establishments, Ora Kafé isn’t chasing volume and turnover; it’s very deliberate in its goal of serving quality coffee to those who can appreciate it and providing a space for visitors—surfers and non-surfers alike—to relax and enjoy the sunset and listen to good music.

That doesn’t mean Martin doesn’t care about turning a profit. “If I earn (a certain amount) every day, then that’s enough,” he says. “I know I’ll have enough to pay the staff and keep going. But this isn’t about just making money.”

Maybe passing the big five-zero had something to do with it. The milestone can often be a reckoning of sorts for some people; maybe they buy a sports car, quit their job, travel the world, or finally decide to get married. Martin admits that may have had something to do with his decision to go back to his roots in Siargao and indulge in his love for coffee. But clearly, it’s also about sharing that deep respect and love for the dark brew. Anyone with more than a passing interest in coffee will see it first in the equipment behind the bar: gleaming Italian brands that communicate a seriousness in preparing topnotch drinks. There’s an Izzo Valchiria Lever three group, a Lamarzocco Strada three group, a Rocket Milano R cinquantoto, electra micro casa, and MHW-3Bomber lever. There’re also a few bean grinders: a Rocket Fausto, Webber workshops, Mazzer and Eureka Mignon; and and roasting machines: a Santoker R 300 and Santoker Q10 for small batch and micro batch roasting. In the back, Martin also roasts his own beans, which he sources from a specialty supplier from Bukidnon.

But more than the fancy gear, it’s how he relates and interacts with his customers, most of whom are foreigners who made the effort to come to his little café on the northern edge of the island. I see it firsthand when I park myself on one of the stools. Three girls come in and order the café’s bestselling coconut latte.

“Where are you ladies from?” Martin asks as he starts working on the order.

“Switzerland,” one of them says.

“Nice. Expensive country, isn’t it?”

“Yes it is,” they answer in unison. “Very.”

He proceeds to chat with them about how long they’re staying in Siargao, about how the waves are up here in Tangbo, and where else they’ve been on their trip. The conversation is light and easygoing. I can’t imagine it happening in a busy café where the next customer in line is waiting to place his order.

Besides coffee, the café serves a selection of eats: rice meals (silogs), and sourdough bread and bagels baked fresh daily,

The café has a few regulars, whom Martin has come to know and become friendly with. Many of them squeeze in time at the café in between surf sessions out on the Tangbo surf line, but some just come to pass the time with a book or chatting with friends. Barely a month and half since it opened, Ora Kafé has become a hub for the community of surfers and tourists in this corner of the island, and its proprietor has established a name for himself as a coffee connoisseur, far removed from his old life in the hot lights of TV and media.

“Nakakatuwa din magbakasyon dito,” he says. “You hear about what’s going on in the community and sort of become involved in their lives while they’re here.” I tell him that it probably helps that he has roots in Siargao and isn’t some transplant out to displace locals. He shifts easily from English to Bisaya depending on who he’s talking to, and it’s clear the locals are tickled when the six-foot tall mestizo talks to them in their local language.

When the café displays the Closed sign at 1 p.m., Martin and I change into our surfing clothes, grab our boards and walk a few meters out into the ocean. I tell him I used to surf regularly in San Juan, La Union when I was much younger, but in time, the visits to the surfing town became less about surfing and more about just chilling by the beach with a drink in hand.

I try my best as I paddle out into the surf line and try to catch some waves, but it’s clear I’m out of practice, and out of breath much quicker than I had anticipated. Barely 30 minutes later and I was dragging myself and my longboard back onto the sandy beach, every muscle in my body screaming. Martin, though, stays on the line and keeps up with some of the other surfers. The 51-year-old gets a few rides in and surfs for about an hour.

“Nice waves,” he says.

Must be nice, I think to myself, to get to live a life where the most taxing decision of the day is whether to spend the afternoon listening to vinyl records in your own high-tech listening room or go out and catch some waves on a surfboard in the ocean. Martin spent years in the demanding, fast-paced world of media and went on to add even more years on his face when he signed on to do communications work for one of the country’s most divisive and controversial chief executives in history; no one can fault him if he’s now choosing to step away from all the craziness and indulge in pursuits that are close to his heart and better reflect where he is now in his life.

We should all be so lucky.

Ora Kafé is open until April 30, 2026 and will be closed during the surfing off-season in Sta Monica. It will re-open in late September, or whenever Martin feels like it.