There are places in Davao that you visit because they're trendy.
And then there are places you keep coming back to because, somehow, they became part of your life.
For many Dabawenyo millennials, Taboan at Matina Town Square—or simply MTS—was one of those places.
Before the coffee shops, food parks, aesthetic restaurants, and carefully curated Instagram spots became the usual places to meet friends, there was Taboan.
And honestly?
Taboan was never really just a place.
It was a chapter.
Maybe you remember the feeling.
It was late afternoon.
Someone would send a message:
"Asa ta later?"
And somehow, without much planning, the answer would be MTS.
No elaborate itinerary.
No Google Maps.
No reservation.
No need to dress up.
Just, "Kita-kits sa Taboan."
And that's it.
You'd arrive, look for your friends, find a table, order something to eat—or maybe just a few drinks—and let the night figure itself out.
Sometimes you'd come there with a full group.
Sometimes just two or three friends.
And sometimes, you'd say you're only staying for an hour...
...then suddenly it's already past midnight.
Classic.
There was something different about Taboan back then.
Maybe it was the open-air setup.
Maybe it was the sound of conversations mixing with live music.
Maybe it was the smell of food coming from different corners of MTS.
Or maybe it was simply the fact that we were younger.
We had fewer responsibilities.
Our biggest problem might have been an exam the next morning, an unfinished school requirement, a shift at work, or figuring out who was going to pay for the last round.
Life felt lighter.
And nights felt longer.
Taboan became a meeting place for different versions of us.
College friends.
Office friends.
Barkadas.
New acquaintances.
Someone's cousin.
Someone's officemate.
Someone you hadn't seen in years.
And sometimes...
someone you secretly wanted to see.
For those who grew up around that era, MTS wasn't just about eating or drinking.
It was about being there.
You could sit for hours.
Talk about everything.
Talk about nothing.
Laugh at jokes that weren't even funny.
Listen to someone tell the same story for the tenth time.
Complain about work.
Talk about relationships.
Make plans for the future.
And make promises that sounded so certain back then.
"Next year, we'll be somewhere better."
"Soon, we'll have our own business."
"One day, we'll travel together."
"Bawi ta next time."
Funny how we don't realize we're already making memories while we're busy living them.
And Taboan had its own soundtrack.
The sound of a live band somewhere nearby.
The clinking of bottles.
The occasional burst of laughter from another table.
The familiar voice of someone singing a song everybody knew.
Then you'd look around and realize that almost everyone was just there to enjoy the night.
No one was rushing.
No one was checking if the place was Instagram-worthy.
We didn't need a perfect photo.
Sometimes, we didn't even take photos.
We just remembered.
And maybe that's why those memories feel so different now.
Taboan has actually been part of MTS for a long time. MTS itself opened around 2000, with Taboan following in 2001. Over the years, it became a venue for live entertainment, homegrown music, arts, food, and cultural performances. Historical accounts even document cultural nights and musical events held at Taboan in the mid-2000s.
But ask a millennial Dabawenyo what Taboan means to them, and chances are, they won't give you a historical answer.
They'll give you a story.
"Dira mi ga-inom sauna."
"Dira mi magtambay after class."
"Dira mi pirmi magkita sa barkada."
"Dira mi nag-celebrate sa birthday ni..."
"Dira mi nagkaila."
And maybe someone will suddenly smile and say:
"Grabe, dugaya na ato uy."
And that's when you realize...
It really has been a while.
Because somewhere along the way, we grew up.
The friends who used to say "laag ta later" now have families.
Some are busy with their careers.
Some moved to Manila.
Some moved abroad.
Some are no longer part of our everyday lives.
Some friendships survived the years.
Others became memories.
And some people we used to see almost every week...
we now only see through Facebook stories.
That's adulthood, I guess.
People move.
Cities change.
Priorities change.
And suddenly, the places that once felt ordinary become incredibly precious.
Maybe that's what makes Taboan special.
It reminds us of a version of ourselves that we don't always get to visit anymore.
The younger us.
The carefree us.
The version of us who could spend an entire evening talking to friends without worrying about tomorrow.
The version of us who didn't need a reason to meet.
We just wanted to.
And somehow, that was enough.
Today, when you pass by MTS, you might notice how much the place has changed.
New establishments.
New faces.
New generations creating their own stories.
And that's okay.
Because places are supposed to evolve.
MTS has continued to be part of Davao's food, entertainment, arts, and cultural scene for decades. In fact, when MTS celebrated its 25th anniversary in 2025, Taboan was still part of the celebration, hosting events that paid tribute to artists and performers.
But for those of us who were there during those earlier years...
Taboan will always feel a little different.
Not because the place hasn't changed.
But because we did.
Maybe that's why nostalgia hits differently when you hear the word Taboan.
You don't just remember a location.
You remember the people.
The conversations.
The music.
The food.
The laughter.
The late nights.
The random plans.
The friendships.
The crushes.
The heartbreaks.
The celebrations.
The stories we thought we'd never forget.
And the people we thought would always be around.
So if you're a Davao millennial and you've ever found yourself saying,
"Mingaw ko sa una..."
Maybe this is your sign to remember.
Remember the nights when we didn't need much.
A table.
Good food.
A few friends.
Music in the background.
And nowhere else to be.
Because sometimes, the best memories weren't made during grand vacations or expensive dinners.
Sometimes, they happened on an ordinary night...
at a familiar table...
with people we loved...
in a place called Taboan.
And years later, when life has become a little more complicated, responsibilities a little heavier, and everyone a little busier...
we look back and realize:
Those ordinary nights were never ordinary at all.
They were our youth.
They were our people.
They were our Davao.
And for a little while...
they were home.
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