Samar and Biliran should have christened my 2013. But with the arrival of a ball of white fur named Mango two days before my supposed trip, I canceled it to supervise her in my small place, to make her feel at home. It is amazing to note that it only needs a day to homify a kitten, unlike us humans. It sometimes takes us years, even an eternity, to feel at home.
Don’t ignore your I-might-get-lost worries. Acknowledge them. Take the bus. Get off the moment you see a place that makes you eureka-faced. I tell you, the most adventurous and rewarding trip is unplanned. 😉
We were fortunate the minibus bound for Moalboal was about to leave. Virhenia secured a good seat in front while I was stuck in the inconvenient middle. Yes, window seats are the best. It gives me the feeling of being confined yet continually moving. The life outside the window only lives for a split second. It makes me think that moving—to move on—is not for the self to decide; rather the place dictates oneself to move on. The bus conductor handed the ticket.
These past few months, I was alienated from mountains because of stupefying vertigo attacks—a migraine aftermath, I hope, and not something life-threatening such as brain cancer or tumor. Vertigo made me incoherent—or to put it bluntly—plain stupid. But the body and the mind longed for the beauty of restlessness, and beachineering and townhopping temporarily substituted for the mountains. To Camotes at Four in the Morning For nocturnal creatures by habit, Pie and I had to force ourselves to grab an hour sleep before heading to Camotes. Partially unprepared, we didn’t know White Gold Terminal doesn’t have a 24-hour operation, so we […]