03 August 2014

Recollections: Hong Kong & Otherworldly Beginnings


It has been two years since I was in Hong Kong, but in this post, allow me to reminisce. Just recently, cleaning up my files, I unearthed this photo album of what was a very special trip. And well, I guess you all know what happens when you look at old photos. Nostalgia kicks in.


Oddly enough, as Hong Kong fades into an old memory in pictures, its worth grows only clearer. Despite the fog that enveloped everything when I was there, despite the wide-eyed trance I was in, I see it all better now.


Hong Kong is such a vibrant city. A depiction of what then was my equally vibrant young heart. Alighting the bus, the first time my feet landed on the sidewalk of Nathan Road, I felt the city pulsating under me. There was a certain energy in the streets that I loved at once. People would walk in all directions, marching in a unified pace on their way home from work. This kind of bustle was soothing for me, a lover of big cities.

29 June 2014

El Nido, The Happy Little Town of Limestone Reveries


Everyone else was leaving, but I wanted a few more minutes by myself to take everything in. I pushed my head back and floated, there, in the middle of the lagoon. The view towering over the waters was a surreal beauty you'd usually only see in films. The limestone cliffs of the small lagoon circled above me, clusters of green sprouted here and there through the rocks, the cloudy sky fixed at the center. Sunlight peeked every now and then into my face. “This is the life,” I said to myself. But I must have said it out loud because just as I did, a kayak passed by. A traveler was sitting on it, a Caucasian guy, and he looked down at me with a smile and said: “Yes. It is.”

I laughed at what just happened, but still I knew, as he did, that I was right. This is the life.

08 June 2014

The salvation in sunsets


Puerto Galera, Philippines Traveled many miles south, sitting alone on a bus which went down roads never have I seen before. When I see the ocean, I'll know I would be close, I would tell myself. And so I waited. Dozed off a bit, and then waited some more. After an hour or so, we came to an elevated road, and there it was. A few kilometers away, I could see a pristine vast of blue stretched ahead. My heart fluttered at the sight of it. It's funny because I'm a terrible swimmer, but I love the sea anyway.

I hopped on an hour-long ride on a boat to get to the island. This boat broke down exactly at half-hour, which meant I was stuck in the middle of the ocean. Took a long while to fix. Tried to suppress the boat-sinking horror stories unfolding in my head. After another hour, I finally reached the island. But then I got lost. I found our room, but then I got locked out. I was dehydrated and exteremely hungry. Eventually, I found out that the inn-keeper was mistaken; I had been knocking on the wrong door the whole time. My friend found me. I got in. But due to some act of dull-wittedness, burned a part of my hair.

"We need to turn this day around," I told my friend who went through even worse, an unimaginable fiasco, just to get there.

And so we did.

We took a stroll along the beach. Talked. We found consolation in each other's misery. We found a nice spot by a quieter end of the shore and settled there, feet buried in the sand. The sky was growing faint. Yellow was becoming orange, orange into purple, purple into blue. We sat there waiting, watching as our worries faded away—just like the daylightinto a sunset we knew we would never forget.

30 May 2014

Ahjumma


Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia I had just bought the most perfect pants with beautiful indochina elephant patterns. I got back to our hostel dorm and quickly put it on. I was so happy, I was dancing around in front of the mirror hanging on the wall. Our roommate, a middle aged Korean who barely spoke English, was lying on her upper bunk bed, watching with a smile on her face. She asked me where I got it. In Chinatown I said, for 30 ringgit. She said she has the same pants. She pointed at a piece of cloth hanging at the foot of her bed, which she said she bought from Thailand for half the price. “Thailand, very cheap, very cheap,” she said.

I crouched on the floor to get something from my backpack. CREEEAAAK. My new, beautiful pants ripped wide open—at the crotch. I was so bummed. I didn’t want to take it off; I wanted to wear it everyday. I wanted to wear it that night when we went out for drinks. Ahjumma (as we call her) peeked from her upper bunk bed again, probably to see what all the fuss was about. I took my pants off and was holding it in my hands and showed it to her. Look, I said. It ripped open. Run back to the store and have it changed, she said with her broken English and acting it out as best as she could. She talked with her hands because she couldn’t speak English well. I can’t, I said. I love this design and they only have one piece per design. Then you should sew it up, she said, acting as if she was sewing something. But I don’t have a needle and thread, I said. “I have! I have!” She got up and hurriedly went down the bed (not an easy feat for her, we wanted to exchange but she didn’t want to) and bent beside her luggage which was always sitting open on the floor. She handed me the needle and thread, and I inserted the thread into the needle. My friends poked fun at me. You can't do anything, they said. Do you know how to do that? Of course! I said. They taught this in home economics in high school, I bragged. And so I started. “No no no no!” Ahjumma stopped me, waving both her hands in the air. I was doing it all wrong, apparently. So much for Home Eco. Ahjumma took the thread, needle, and my pants from me. And she started sewing.

19 April 2014

Kuala Lumpur: An Honest Account

Two months have passed since my trip, and that is the same length of time this post had been sitting in my drafts. Countless times I tried to find the right words to talk about KL. But words evaded me. Perhaps there simply are no right words. Only the truth. And so this will be exactly that.


There is this photo I took of a side street in Kuala Lumpur. Probably my favorite shot of the city. There was something enigmatic about the way the sun was hitting the vandalized walls of the sidewalk, and the arched beams were aesthetically nice. So I took a photo. It wasn’t until I was back in the Philippines when I was scanning my shots that I noticed something I didn’t see there when I took the picture. On the ground, lying there in the middle of the sidewalk, was a person. I was surprised and for a moment I had the goosebumps. There was an actual human being there on the floor. How could I have not seen?