Cloud 9, Siargao Island, Surigao del Norte, Philippines When the Pacific Ocean’s little furies subsided, locals surfed the shore. They were totally unaffected of the threatening waves in front of them.
Travel allows me to witness a moment of love. But love is too strong a word, too beguiling. For a lover of literature, an entry won’t be enough to enumerate—much more argue about—the myriad discourse about love defined by my preferred writers, from Julian Barnes to Toni Morrison. But the ones dearest to me are Kiran Desai’s and Alice Munro’s. She decided that love must surely reside in the gap between desire and fulfillment, in the lack, not the contentment. Love was the ache, the anticipation, the retreat, everything around it but the emotion itself. —Kiran Desai, The Inheritance of […]
“Asa diay mo manaog, day?” the conductor asked. “Sa kanang naay beach.” Clueless as we were, Virhenia and I rode the bus bound south with the hope of finding emerald water, tempting enough to yell “manaog mi!” to the bus driver. The provincial road in southern Cebu constantly hugs the coastline. The view on the right The towns we passed by looked like framed pictures in a digital media frame. From the bus window, the view automatically changed in a millisecond’s span. The view on the left: Santander’s Puerto del Sur
San Juanico Bridge, Leyte, Philippines We made a mountain out of a molehill. Tourism is no skin-deep, it is light; hence, it is fun. Some dig tourism since they want to escape from their immediate lives and responsibilities and seek refuge from the not-so-familiar.