By Michael Acebedo Lopez

“Those who never believe in magic will never find it,” declared the legendary wordsmith Roald Dahl. This has always resonated deeply with me because I’ve experienced magic in different forms throughout my life. From the big miracles from heaven above to the little things, the everyday synchronicities, signs, and serendipity, there is no doubt—I believe in magic!

In my view, these magical moments are God’s universe playfully winking at me. It’s this unwavering belief in the divine, in unseen energies, in the invisible hand that guides, that has compelled me to traverse the globe in pursuit of my childhood obsessions: the magical, the mystical, the mythical, and the macabre.

From the misty shores of Loch Ness in the northernmost reaches of Scotland to the land of the Nosferatu in Transylvania nestled within the Carpathian Mountains of Romania, from the darkly enigmatic streets of Salem, the epicenter of the witch trials in the New World, to vibrant New Orleans with its voodoo and hoodoo subculture, from the jungles of Siem Reap to the very heart of Mt. Bandilaan in Siquijor, I’ve dedicated a substantial part of my adult life to this peculiar pilgrimage.

But today is about Salem. Let’s embark on a whimsical journey through this picturesque and storied New England town, affectionately known as the “Witch City,” in celebration of my recent visit. 

My first visit to Salem was in 2017 and even then, I was left spellbound and vowed to return on Halloween. As promised, I returned last year, on Halloween, and it’s undoubtedly the best place to celebrate the holiday because they take it very seriously over there. Halloween is their Sinulog! (If you plan to spend Halloween in Salem in the future, be sure to book your accommodations months in advance.)

My third visit last month was the personal leg that followed what was, in fact, a US State Department program. I requested permission to extend my stay for personal reasons, allowing me to rent a car in Boston, spend a few days in Salem again, and then drive to New York on my own, where I would catch my flight back to the Philippines.

Essex Street, a central thoroughfare of Salem’s charming downtown, serves as a gateway to a unique world. Lined with specialty shops, it invites curious travelers to a place where the boundaries between the ordinary and the extraordinary blur, where history intertwines with the mystic, and where every corner whispers ancient secrets. Here, in between the Samantha statue (from TV’s Bewitched) and Sanderson sisters cosplayers, you’ll discover an array of items, from the curious to the macabre, each hinting at the promise of the unknown.

In Salem, it’s hard to escape the pull of the past. My latest visit happened to coincide with the 30th anniversary of a beloved childhood film, Disney’s Hocus Pocus, a Halloween classic about three witch sisters set in 1693 and 1993 Salem. Incidentally, I watched the Hocus Pocus sequel set 29 years later on All Hallow's Eve last year, while I was in Salem! By now, I’m sure you can see that I take these things a bit too seriously. To further reinforce my strange predilections, I chose to spend two nights at the notoriously haunted The Salem Inn! 

The Salem Inn is almost always fully booked during the autumn months, catering to those who share this very niche interest in the arcane and otherworldly. We are a unique demographic, you see. Initially, I had reserved only one night in the West House, one of the Inn’s three historical abodes, all from the 1800s. To my chagrin, I was told that there might not be room for me on the second night. Undeterred, I expressed my belief in the benevolent magic of Salem. True enough, something remarkable happened: A last-minute cancellation opened the door for me to stay in The Salem Inn’s Curwen House for my second night.

Curiously, the West House, where I had spent my first night, was reputedly older and more haunted than the Curwen House. It was, however, within the walls of the Curwen House that I encountered something eerie.

In my room, there was a closet door with a knob that I had securely closed before going to sleep. In the middle of the night, I awoke to find the closet door wide open. I closed it again and even placed my luggage in front of it, hoping the weight would keep the door more firmly shut. When I woke up at 6 a.m., however, the closet door was wide open once more, and my luggage was still in its place, but it was now open. It felt as if someone had gently moved my belongings, opened the door, returned them, and opened the luggage. I took a photo of the door and then went back to sleep.

At the West House of the inn, you’ll also find guest journals near the reception where previous visitors have left messages expressing their gratitude for a memorable stay, as well as accounts of ghostly encounters.

Of course, no visit to Salem is complete without indulging in Maine lobsters at Finz restaurant by the marina where wiccan and occult shops could also be found. This Finz tradition, established six years ago, has become an essential part of my Salem visits, thanks to the gracious company of Coco and Peter, who first introduced me to this delightful place because they know lobsters are my favorite. Coco Alinsug, married to Peter Cipriano, is a fellow Cebuano and the first Filipino city councilor in all of New England.

One of my favorite places in the US, Salem has truly embraced the macabre branding and has profited immensely from the tragic events of the late 1600s. A far cry from being burned at the stake for even the slightest suspicion of witchcraft, now they celebrate their dark past and attract tourist dollars while at it. 

One store owner greeted me as I entered her witchy shop: “Do you already know what you’re looking for, young wizard?”

In the playful spirit of the moment, I responded, “Yes, my abs. They’ve been missing for a good 15 years! Any spell to bring them back without much effort?" She laughed and looked at me with pity. Gosh. 

In Salem, where the ordinary and the extraordinary meet, I revel in the grand spectacle of life’s mysteries. As I journey through this bewitching city, I am constantly reminded that those who believe in magic are the ones destined to find it, no matter where they may wander in search of it.

On that note, I can’t wait to stay in another very haunted hotel in Salem, The Hawthorne Hotel. Hasta la vista, Salem. I’ll be back!