by Fratri Edson Silva

I knew about this place long before I knew anything else about Batanes. I remember reading all these write-ups about this hard-to-reach spot in the country where you could find this mystical little shop. These articles would talk about how this Honesty Store portrayed what it would be like if we livedin a perfect world, and offered reflections on how greedy and self-centered society is making us, and how,if only we stripped down to the bare essentials, we could understand the value of honesty. Heavy stuff.

The store was in the realm of cautionary tales and thought experiments as far as I was concerned, and I’d written off any possibility of visiting the fabled store as nothing but daydreams and wishful thinking. I never thought I’d actually get the chance to see it in person. Until I did.

The Honesty Coffee Shop (not Store) was the brainchild of its proprietress Elena C. Gabilo, a school teacher, who decided to put the saying “Honesty is the best policy” to the test.

The store is restocked every week, and the cash from sales is picked up daily, but most of the time, it is unlocked, unsecured, and completely empty

When we finally got to the shop on the second day of our tour through Batanes, I was more than a little excited to see the place I’d placed on a pedestal in my head for so long.

The first thing that hit me was how tiny it was. It was a concrete and wooden structure painted light blue with a cogon roof. An “Honesty Coffee Shop” sign hung from a tree trunk in front of it. I could see from the outside that there was a group of people inside.

Stepping inside, I was surprised to find that the store was overwhelmingly and exceedingly normal. The preceding group had just finished paying for their purchases, so our group had the shop to ourselves.

Looking around, you could see the array of products they had: packets of cookies and chips, jars of candy, bread, a refrigerator for cold drinks, and a hot water dispenser for tea, cup noodles, and, of course, coffee. They also sold sachets of shampoo and detergents, souvenir items like key chains and paperweights, fans, bags, hats, shirts, and even shoes!

There was a table in the center of the space that could seat six, and by the door was a drop box.

I was intimidated when I walked in, I felt like I had to make the most of the time we had allotted for this place, and I’ll admit my I was confused as to how to start, but after a quick look around I found this helpful little sign board:

On the walls hung pieces of art and plenty of slogans about honesty. All sorts of prompts to remind you where you are and how to act:

There was also a wall full of post-its where people who’ve come and gone through the store left their thoughts and messages.

Now understanding the logistics, I started to pick out the things I wanted to get because there was no way I would be leaving Batanes without picking something up from the Honesty Coffee Shop – mostly cookie packets and chips, local Batanes snacks; things to bring home and share with family and friends – and a bottle of water for myself.

My tour mates finished up their shopping before I did and started listing down their purchases on the log book. As I waited for my turn, I looked around at the signs again and found one I hadn’t noticed earlier:

Caption: The Lord is my Security Guard

And I smiled. That’s when I felt the magic of the place; it’s in the simplicity. Here we have a quaint little store with a radical idea and an important moral to demonstrate, and for one reason or another – be it for the novelty of the place or our moral compass – we decide to play along, to not ruin the fun. It’s like an inside joke that everyone knows, but with a great message.

There have been a slew of copycat honesty stores popping up around the Philippines, inspired by the original coffee shop in Ivana, Batanes – tiny, tiny steps to a better country.

I wrote down all the items I intended to buy, making extra sure I didn’t miss anything. I opened my wallet, counted the money I owed, and dropped it into the cash box – exact change of course. I put all my things in the provided plastic bags and was the last one to step out of the honesty shop.

When you travel, you don’t remember every moment, you remember the moments that stand out to you –like picking out the gemstones from everyday rocks. And this was definitely a shining jewel of a moment.