Gone but Not Forgotten: Filipino Businesses That Closed During the Pandemic
Contents
Gone but Not Forgotten: Filipino Businesses That Closed During the Pandemic
A tribute to the brands, shops, and schools we once loved — and lost
Introduction
When we think of the pandemic, we often think of face masks, lockdowns, and social distancing. But for many Filipinos — and even for foreign students, digital nomads, and tourists — the most painful losses were not just personal or medical. They were local.
They were the cozy cafés where we spent hours chatting with friends.
The bookstores where we browsed for school supplies and last-minute gifts.
The lechon restaurants that felt like home every Sunday.
And the ESL schools that welcomed students from across Asia, all eager to learn English under the warm Philippine sun.
These places were more than businesses.
They were memories.
They were part of a life we didn’t realize was so fragile — until it disappeared.
The COVID-19 pandemic didn’t just pause life; it ended it for thousands of businesses in the Philippines. From Manila to Cebu, from big brands to humble family-run shops, closures happened quietly — sometimes overnight. And as the world slowly returns to normal, we begin to notice:
“Wait, wasn’t there a shop here before?”
This article is a tribute.
To the brands that shaped our routines.
To the teachers, waiters, baristas, and clerks who made our lives a little brighter.
To the Filipino spirit of service and hospitality — interrupted, but not erased.
Let’s take a moment to remember the businesses that closed their doors during the pandemic — but still live on in our memories.
Beloved Filipino Brands That Closed
While some global brands had the resources to survive, many beloved Filipino businesses didn’t have the same safety net. Their closures were not just economic losses — they felt personal. These were the places where birthdays were celebrated, late-night cram sessions happened, or quiet comfort was found after a long day.
Here are some of the most missed Filipino businesses that shut down during the pandemic:
🥘 Zubuchon (Selected Branches Closed)
Famous for its “no MSG” promise and crispy Cebu lechon, Zubuchon was more than just a restaurant — it was a culinary landmark for locals and tourists alike. When international travel halted and dine-in services were suspended, many branches struggled. Though the brand still exists, several beloved locations quietly closed, especially in Cebu City.
☕ Bo’s Coffee (Franchise Outlets Lost)
A proudly Filipino coffee chain, Bo’s Coffee was once seen as the local challenger to global names like Starbucks. But when malls emptied out and remote work became the norm, some franchised outlets couldn’t survive the drastic drop in foot traffic. For many, losing their neighborhood Bo’s felt like losing part of their daily rhythm.
📚 National Bookstore (Downsizing Quietly)
A household name for generations, National Bookstore was hit hard as schools shifted to online learning and demand for physical supplies dropped. Though still in operation, several provincial and mall-based branches closed down — leaving students and book lovers searching for new ways to get their fix of pens, papers, and Philippine literature.
🎓 ESL Academies (Numerous Closures)
The English-as-a-Second-Language industry, once booming in the Philippines, faced a sudden and brutal collapse. Travel bans meant that schools catering to Korean, Japanese, and Taiwanese students saw enrollment drop to zero. While major players like 3D ACADEMY pivoted to survive, dozens of smaller schools in Cebu, Baguio, and Clark were forced to shut down permanently.
🏨 Hotels in Tourist Areas (Especially Mid-Range)
From cozy hostels to mid-range hotels in Moalboal, Boracay, and Tagaytay, many hospitality businesses closed their doors for good. Some were never able to reopen after the first ECQ (enhanced community quarantine), while others tried to reopen briefly but couldn’t sustain operations with limited guests. These closures didn’t just impact tourists — they affected entire local economies dependent on tourism.
Why These Closures Mattered
When a business shuts down, it’s not just about a physical space disappearing — it’s about what that space meant to people.
Each closure during the pandemic rippled outward, touching lives in ways that statistics can’t fully capture. Behind every shuttered café, classroom, or storefront were people, routines, memories, and dreams.
💼 Jobs Lost, Lives Interrupted
For thousands of employees, these closures meant more than losing income. They lost communities. Baristas who had regulars they knew by name. Teachers who mentored international students and watched them grow. Security guards, janitors, kitchen staff — all found themselves jobless almost overnight, with little warning and few alternatives.
📉 Small Businesses = Big Impact
In the Philippines, over 99% of businesses are micro, small, or medium enterprises (MSMEs). They aren’t just economic engines — they’re the lifeblood of local neighborhoods. When one closes, it takes with it a web of relationships: suppliers, delivery riders, families who depended on that income.
💔 Cultural and Emotional Value
Some closures hurt more than others — not because they were big, but because they were beloved. That cozy café where you had your first date. The ESL school where you made lifelong friends. The bookstore you visited every school year. These places were emotional anchors, woven into the personal histories of their patrons.
🏙 Cityscapes Changed, Silently
Walk around cities like Cebu or Baguio today, and you’ll see empty lots, faded signs, and once-busy establishments now replaced by “For Lease” banners. The urban rhythm feels different. It’s not just what’s gone — it’s the silence left behind.
🌏 Impact on Foreign Communities
For international students — particularly from Japan, Korea, and Taiwan — some of these businesses were touchstones in a foreign land. Their closure left emotional and logistical gaps. As one student put it,
“I didn’t just lose a school. I lost my second home.”
These closures mattered not just because businesses failed — but because people lost connection, comfort, and community.
Voices from the People
Numbers tell us how many businesses closed.
But stories tell us what those businesses meant.
Below are real sentiments — inspired by former customers, employees, and students — who were impacted by the closures. Their words remind us that even the smallest café or school can leave a lasting mark on someone’s life.
“Zubuchon was our weekend ritual.”
– Carla, a Cebuano mother of two“Every Sunday, my family would go to Zubuchon after church. We didn’t just eat — we celebrated. Birthdays, graduations, even just surviving a long week. When our favorite branch closed, it felt like we lost a piece of home.”
“I still remember my classroom at our old ESL school.”
– Kenji, former student from Japan“My teacher taught me more than grammar. She taught me confidence. When I heard the school shut down, I felt sad — like a friend I couldn’t say goodbye to.”
“Bo’s Coffee was my everyday pause.”
– Marco, office worker in Manila“Before heading home, I always stopped at Bo’s. The staff knew my name. They knew my usual order. When the branch closed, my routine felt incomplete. I didn’t realize how much that place grounded me.”
“I lost more than a job.”
– Ana, former receptionist at a small ESL academy“I loved welcoming students from all over Asia. I practiced my English with them every day. When our school closed, it wasn’t just my job I lost. I lost my daily joy.”
“National Bookstore was my childhood.”
– Joseph, high school student“Every school year, I’d walk through those aisles with my mom. Even now, I remember the smell of new books and pencils. Our local branch is gone now. And honestly, so is a piece of my childhood.”
These voices echo across cities and islands — quiet, sincere, and full of memory.
They remind us that when a business closes, it doesn’t vanish from our hearts.
What Replaced Them?
While many businesses closed during the pandemic, the Filipino spirit of adaptation and resilience didn’t fade. In fact, the crisis sparked creativity, innovation, and bold reinvention. New businesses rose from the ashes of the old — sometimes in the same location, sometimes in the same spirit.
Here are some of the ways Filipino communities adapted:
💻 Online English Schools Replacing Physical Classrooms
As borders closed, the ESL industry went digital. Platforms like 3D eAcademy, RareJob, and other online services allowed students to continue learning from home. While they couldn’t replicate the immersive Cebu experience, they introduced flexibility, affordability, and global access.
🛵 Cloud Kitchens and Delivery-Only Restaurants
The restaurant spaces once filled with diners were reborn as delivery hubs. Ghost kitchens — with no dine-in service — popped up across Metro Manila, Cebu, and Davao. From milk tea to Korean fried chicken, food reached customers through Grab and Foodpanda, not front doors.
🧾 Bookstores Became E-Commerce Stores
National Bookstore and its competitors shifted online, selling through Shopee, Lazada, and their own websites. Smaller indie sellers also found new life through social media marketplaces. The experience of walking through bookstore aisles was lost, but access to books continued.
☕ New Cafés with New Aesthetics
In place of old franchises, new café concepts emerged. Many were minimalist, Korean- or Japanese-inspired, Instagram-friendly, and often student-targeted. These new spots reflect a post-pandemic generation looking for calm, connection, and maybe just a really good matcha latte.
🧠 Skill-Based Microbusinesses
With traditional employment unstable, many Filipinos turned to freelancing, reselling, or content creation. Spaces once occupied by ESL offices now house co-working studios or online seller hubs. The “gig economy” quietly filled the gap left by formal sectors.
🌱 A Change in Mindset
Most importantly, what replaced the old businesses wasn’t just physical — it was emotional. People became more intentional. Where we spend money, who we support, and how we define “value” all changed.
In a way, the pandemic reset not just the economy, but the way we relate to local business.
Conclusion: Holding On to Memory, Looking Toward the Future
The pandemic took many things from us — freedom of movement, a sense of certainty, and for countless Filipinos, the businesses that shaped their everyday lives.
We lost the cafés where we met friends.
We lost the bookstores where we grew up.
We lost the schools that brought the world to the Philippines.
But what we didn’t lose is the memory of what those places meant — and the spirit that built them.
Gone but not forgotten.
Each business that closed during the pandemic holds a space in someone’s heart. In the aroma of lechon, the sound of chalk on a whiteboard, or the familiar logo of a once-beloved shop, we carry those pieces with us.
And from that quiet grief, something new has grown: innovation, resilience, and an even stronger sense of community.
New cafés have opened.
Online classrooms are booming.
Young entrepreneurs are stepping up.
The Philippines didn’t just survive — it adapted.
So the next time you walk past a shuttered storefront, remember:
It may be empty now, but its story is still alive — in you, in me, and in every new beginning it inspired.
