Tomohon occupies a special position in the middle of Minahasa.

The city is known not only for flowers, gastronomy, churches and its highland landscape, but also as a city of students.

Young people from villages throughout Minahasa come to Tomohon to study.

Many of them spend their teenage years away from their families.

They learn.

They make friends.

They grow up.

And eventually, during Pengucapan Syukur, teachers can find themselves travelling back to the villages where those students come from.

This gives the celebration another meaning.

We are not simply visiting villages.

We are visiting the homes behind our students.

Our original itinerary was ambitious.

First:

Kiawa, to visit my student Anjelo of the Lonteng family.

Then:

Maumbi, to visit Fabian of the Sangian family.

After that:

Kolongan, where several students and former students live, including Mclarent and Stive, with planned visits to Marvel of the Turangan family and my former student Syalomita of the Korompis family.

Then:

Tondano, to finally visit my teacher friend Eko, after we had been unable to arrive in time for his son’s baptism the previous Sunday.

Then:

Ranotongkor, to visit our teacher friend Ezra Pangemanan.

And finally:

Lolah, to visit my former student Prayer.

We had chosen Lemoh as the last destination because it would keep us relatively close to Tomohon for the journey home.

It looked perfect on paper.

But Pengucapan Syukur is not a paper itinerary.

Before we could follow the planned route, we needed fuel.

It was still morning.

But the fuel station already had a long queue of vehicles.

Cars were everywhere.

People were travelling.

Pengucapan Syukur was clearly in full motion.

We realized that waiting would cost us too much time.

So we changed the plan.

Instead of going first to Kiawa, we decided to visit Lolah.

And once again, the journey began by teaching us something:

sometimes the best itinerary is the one you are willing to change.

When we arrived in Lolah, people were still in church.

The village was not yet ready for the house-to-house rhythm of the afternoon.

So we waited.

There was no point rushing.

We found somewhere to stay in the village while the church service continued.

Eventually, the village began to move again.

And we went to visit my former student:

Prayer, of the Longdong family.

As soon as we arrived, we experienced the hospitality that had already become familiar during our Pengucapan Syukur journeys.

We were welcomed warmly.

Food was prepared.

We ate.

We talked.

And, naturally, we received the gifts that had become almost a signature of this season:

nasi jaha and dodol.

But our visit to Prayer’s house was supposed to be only one stop.

It did not remain that way.

Nearby lived another student:

Marvel, of the Pangemanan family.

We were invited to his house.

So we went.

And the feast continued.

Again there was hospitality.

Again there was food.

Again there was conversation.

And again, we were given nasi jaha and dodol to bring home.

The pattern was becoming familiar:

visit → eat → talk → receive → continue.

But it was not yet finished.

Near Marvel’s house was another former student’s home.

We visited.

And once again, the welcome was generous.

Another table.

Another meal.

Another family.

Another story.

And once again:

nasi jaha and dodol.

At this point, I began to wonder whether the car would have enough space for everything we were being given.

But refusing a gift during Pengucapan Syukur is not always easy.

The food is not merely food.

It is generosity.

It is affection.

It is a message:

“Please take something from our home with you.”

From Lolah, we continued toward Ranotongkor to visit our teacher friend Ezra Pangemanan.

I expected another ordinary reunion with a friend.

Instead, there was a surprise.

We were not alone.

There were already visitors from Tomohon at the house.

And then one of them called my name.

I turned.

And suddenly the geography of the day became personal again.

The sister of Ezra’s mother had once been my neighbour.

She lived less than one hundred metres from my own house in Tomohon.

We had travelled into another part of Minahasa, only to encounter someone from almost next door.

It was another reminder that Minahasa is connected by relationships in ways that maps cannot show.

We were welcomed at Ezra’s house.

There was food.

There was conversation.

And, naturally, there were gifts.

Pengucapan Syukur had begun to feel like a continuous chain of tables.

One table led to another.

One family led to another.

One friendship revealed another connection.

From Ranotongkor, we continued to Tondano.

This was another visit that had become important because of the previous week’s journey.

The Sunday before, we had planned to attend the baptism celebration of Eko’s first son.

But we arrived around 10 p.m., after the celebration had already ended.

This time, we wanted to make sure we actually met him.

Eko lives in the church pastor’s house, because his mother is the pastor of the church.

When we arrived, the reunion felt like correcting a small unfinished chapter from the previous Sunday.

While we were there, I took the opportunity to look inside the church.

And again, I found something that immediately caught my attention.

The church was decorated with bananas and coconuts.

Just as I had seen at Pangu during the previous journey, agricultural produce had become part of the visual expression of thanksgiving.

The harvest was present in the sacred space.

Food and faith were not separated.

They were sharing the same celebration.

After seeing the church, we returned to the house.

Again there was food.

Again there was conversation.

And again, the celebration was expressed through hospitality.

It was becoming increasingly clear that the Pengucapan Syukur landscape is not simply made of villages and roads.

It is made of:

churches,

homes,

farms,

tables,

students,

teachers,

families,

friends,

and food.

Next came Kolongan.

This village is one of my favourite places along this journey because of its landscape.

From the village, we could see mountains and agricultural areas filled with coconut and clove farms.

There were also still many traditional wooden houses.

These houses are an important part of the visual character of the village.

They remind us that Minahasa is not only a landscape of plantations and volcanoes.

It is also a landscape of architecture.

Then came another surprise.

Mclarent arrived to join us.

Another student from the Tourism Business Industry.

And Stive, a former student, also joined.

The gathering suddenly became a small reunion of the school community.

But there was news.

Stive was preparing to leave for Japan to work.

He was scheduled to leave only two days later.

We talked about his plans.

About work.

About the future.

And then he said something that stayed with me:

“See you three years later.”

Three years.

A simple sentence.

But for a teacher, it carries many feelings.

Pride.

Hope.

A little sadness.

And the knowledge that students eventually leave the classroom and begin their own journeys.

There was another beautiful connection at Marvel’s house.

Marvel’s mother is also a graduate of SMKS Kristen 2 Tomohon.

She studied there many years ago.

Now she was sending her own son to the same school.

The journey had come full circle.

A former student had become a mother.

And her son was now becoming a student at the same institution.

This is one of the quiet stories behind vocational education.

Schools are not only buildings.

They become part of family histories.

From Marvel’s house, we visited my former student Syalomita, of the Korompis family.

Her family welcomed us warmly.

Her mother even proposed preparing kepiting santan, coconut crab cooked with coconut milk.

But by this stage of the day, we were already very full.

We had eaten at several houses.

So, with some difficulty, we declined the crab.

We did not want to waste such a special dish.

Instead, we accepted their gift of nasi jaha, and possibly dodol as well.

But there is another memory from Syalomita that I will never forget.

I still remember Syalomita’s graduation day.

She gave me a gift box.

Inside was a note from her mother:

“Terima kasih, meneer Alex sudah membimbing Syalomita selama tiga tahun.”

Thank you, Meneer Alex, for guiding Syalomita for three years.

Those words remain meaningful to me.

Because teaching is not only about delivering lessons.

Sometimes the most important result is the trust of a family.

Before leaving Kolongan, Marvel’s family gave us more:

nasi jaha and dodol.

Once again, the gifts were added to the growing collection in our car.

The route was becoming a journey of food souvenirs.

But more importantly, every package represented another home.

We now continued toward Maumbi.

It was already getting dark.

Our route took us along the eastern side of Lake Tondano, passing through:

Kombi → Ranowangko → Lalumpe → Tulap → Seretan → Maumbi.

This is one of my favourite routes through Minahasa.

The villages along the way retain beautiful rural landscapes, agricultural areas and traditional wooden houses.

Even after sunset began approaching, the journey remained visually rewarding.

By the time we reached Maumbi, it was dark.

But Fabian had been calling us several times.

He wanted to make sure that we would come.

Fabian is my student in the Tourism Business Industry at SMKS Kristen 2 Tomohon.

When we arrived in the village, we saw him waiting for us with his motorcycle.

He became our guide.

He led us through the village toward his family home.

His family had been waiting.

Not just for a visit.

They had been preparing a Pengucapan Syukur dinner.

Inside the house, I immediately noticed the affection between Fabian and his parents.

They were proud of their son.

They wanted to welcome the teacher who works with him in Tomohon.

They wanted to share their table.

And in that moment, I felt something deeply personal.

I made a quiet promise to myself:

I will take care of Fabian at school.

The table was once again generous.

We ate together.

And before leaving, we received:

nasi jaha,

dodol,

and cucur.

Another family.

Another table.

Another gift.

Another responsibility.

By now it was around 10 p.m.

We still had one more promise to keep.

We had not yet visited Anjelo.

So we continued to Kiawa.

Anjelo is also my student in the Tourism Business Industry at SMKS Kristen 2 Tomohon.

His parents are both pastors.

The family lives in the church pastor’s house.

It was late.

Very late.

But we had promised to come.

So we went.

When we arrived, the village was already quiet.

But Anjelo and his family were waiting.

And once again, we were welcomed with extraordinary warmth.

A hot cup of tea had already been prepared for us.

There were other dishes waiting as well.

Among them:

Sup Brenebon

and

grilled chicken.

At 10 p.m., after an entire day of travelling and eating, another table was waiting.

And somehow, we sat down.

Because this is what Pengucapan Syukur does.

It asks you to stop.

To sit.

To share.

To listen.

We talked about many things.

But one conversation stayed with me.

We talked about Anjelo himself.

I learned that he had sometimes been bullied by neighbourhood friends.

But he did not respond with revenge.

He chose not to return the hurt.

That told me something about the young person sitting at the table with us.

Sometimes a teacher sees only a student’s behaviour in class.

But when you visit the family home, you discover another part of the story.

As I listened, I thought about what it means to be a teacher.

A student may need more than lessons.

They may need someone who believes in them.

Someone who notices them.

Someone who encourages them.

Someone who reminds them that they do not have to become what others say about them.

I will remember Anjelo’s story.

And I will remember his family’s hospitality that night.

Eventually, we said goodbye.

It was late.

The road home was ahead of us.

And the car was full.

Not just with passengers.

But with the generosity of Minahasa.

Nasi jaha.

Dodol.

Cucur.

Other traditional foods.

And memories from village after village.

We returned safely to Tomohon.

Tired.

Very full.

But grateful.

Our original plan was:

Kiawa → Maumbi → Kolongan → Tondano → Ranotongkor → Lolah → Lemoh.

Our actual journey became:

Pangu → Lolah → Ranotongkor → Tondano → Kolongan → Maumbi → Kiawa → Tomohon.

The difference looks simple on a map.

But behind every change was a reason.

A fuel queue.

A church service.

An invitation.

A reunion.

A friend.

A student.

A promise.

This is why I increasingly believe that meaningful travel cannot always be planned down to the minute.

One of the pleasures of this journey was travelling through villages that still retain many traditional wooden houses.

Among them were:

Kolongan

Maumbi

Kombi

Ranowangko

Lalumpe

Tulap

Seretan

and other villages along the route.

These houses form part of the cultural landscape of Minahasa.

They stand alongside churches, plantations, gardens and modern homes.

Together, they tell the story of a region that continues to change while retaining visible traces of its architectural heritage.

The villages we passed were surrounded by one of the defining agricultural landscapes of Minahasa:

coconut and clove plantations.

These are not simply scenic backgrounds.

They are part of the food and economic history of the region.

They also connect directly to gastronomy.

The ingredients and products that appear on Minahasa tables come from landscapes like these.

A Pengucapan Syukur journey therefore becomes, indirectly, a journey from:

land → farm → household → table → memory.

This was my third Pengucapan Syukur journey of 2026.

The first took us through Minahasa Selatan.

The second took us through Minahasa Tenggara.

The third took us through Minahasa Regency.

Each journey has been different.

But the pattern is becoming clear.

The real destination is not a village.

It is the relationship.

This journey was especially connected to my work as a teacher.

Three of the students we visited are currently studying in the Tourism Business Industry at SMKS Kristen 2 Tomohon:

Mclarent

A current Tourism Business student who joined us at Marvel’s house.

Fabian

A current Tourism Business student from Maumbi who waited for us with his motorcycle and guided us to his family home.

Anjelo

A current Tourism Business student from Kiawa whose family welcomed us late at night in the church pastor’s house.

Their homes gave me another perspective on my students.

Behind every student is a family.

Behind every family is a village.

And behind every village is a landscape and a culture.

There was something beautiful about Fabian waiting for us with his motorcycle.

The teacher had travelled from Tomohon.

But once we arrived in his village, the student became the guide.

He knew the roads.

He knew his neighbourhood.

He knew where his family lived.

For a moment, the usual roles were reversed.

And perhaps that is one of the best things education can produce:

students who know their own place well enough to guide others through it.

The students normally travel to Tomohon to learn.

This time, I travelled to their villages to learn from them.

They showed me:

their families,

their houses,

their churches,

their roads,

their landscapes,

their food,

and their stories.

The classroom had moved.

It had become Minahasa itself.

After three journeys, I am beginning to see Pengucapan Syukur differently.

It is certainly thanksgiving.

But it is also:

hospitality.

reunion.

memory.

food.

faith.

community.

generosity.

belonging.

The open house becomes a bridge.

The table becomes a meeting place.

And the food becomes a language that everyone understands.