May 18, 2016

Dear Isa: It Is All Right to Not Travel

My name is Isa, I’m  also from the Philippines. I discovered your blog through your recent travel essay on leaving everything behind to travel the world. Consider me a new follower of your blog; while I envy that you have seen as much of the world as you possibly can (a goal that I’m setting for myself); I’m also thankful for the piece you wrote which echoes my own thoughts on the constant in-between-ness of indulging one’s wanderlust and the constraints that real life presents. I used to share the same mentality of filling one’s passport with adventure and what-not, […]
November 15, 2015

PHOTO ESSAY: Why I Did Not See the Petronas Towers

It takes time to love big cities. Its character is not fixed, its face varied, it is or can be unpredictable. To love a city is to linger, to stay for months or years perhaps. It is not meant for place sniffers, those who can only afford to stay for three days, a week utmost: visit the Petronas Tower on the second night, go to Batu Caves in the morning, haggle at Chinatown in the afternoon. To fully love a city is to abandon the self’s restlessness, the self’s hunger for the places one has never been to. To love […]
February 20, 2014

My Essay “Placed” on Cruising Magazine

We live in words—some beautiful, some painful, some hopeful, some gnawing, some dark, some lucid, some heavy, some light. We live in words. This one was for a certain someone. I gift words—but sometimes they don’t come out right. More than three years ago, I quoted Mary Oliver on one of the letters. To live in this world you must be able to do three things: to love what is mortal; to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it; and, when the time comes to let it go, to let it go. *** Yes, yes. […]
July 10, 2012

Moalboal Memories

The hands of Ang Suga | Moalboal, Cebu, Philippines  “Te Jo, paita gyud diay aning atong kinabuhi,” said Wang. We were sitting on the shore, with my thoughts being carried away by the waves and reached the ranges of Negros. However, other serious matters occupied Wang. “Tan-awa, magsuwat ko,” he said and drew a line on the sand. Not later than five seconds, the waves claimed the line. I kept on staring at the place where the line was once. Stared. Stared. And his point sank in my feverous head.