Hi there, I’m Jona!
This blog is problematically named. My affairs with the world and words started with a book. No, I do not travel as cheap as possible.
What you see and read is not a lifestyle. It is a life well-lived and well-loved
BWAB is my attempt to document and write down my ways of living this one precious life through travel, food, and books.
For real-time stories, puns, self-deprecating awkwardness, find me somewhere else.
June 22, 2022
State Street is a great place to explore on foot, and with 10 blocks of car-free space (yes, it is a pedestrian-only!), you can really take your time to enjoy all the sights and sounds. There are plenty of shops and restaurants to browse, so you can easily spend a […]
June 22, 2022
For sure, it is not only me who love going to the thrift shops on their trips. There is something about thrift shops that just beckons me— it is a window of the city’s past consumption and it gives me the chance to get unique gifts and souvenirs. And California […]
June 18, 2022
Santa Barbara, with its beachtown vibe, high-end luxury hotels, and Mediterranean atmosphere, is the perfect place to escape the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles. With its beautiful beaches, Santa Barbara is a great place to relax, soak up some sun, and enjoy the California coastline. For those looking for […]
June 15, 2022
Call it a personal habit, but when I am in a new place, one of the first places I check are the independent bookstores in the hood. What kind of books do locals read? And do they have some of the authors I dearly love? Or do they have the […]
Some years ago, I had an altar of “when you’re broken” reading list. They comprise of Michael Ondaatje’s "The English Patient," Alice Munro’s "The Progress of Love," and Andre Aciman’s "Call Me By Your Name." And the staple Mary Oliver’s “In Blackwater Woods,” Jack Gilbert’s “Failing and Flying,” Derek Walcott’s “Love After Love,” and the pseudo-poem of Jorge Luis Borges’ “After A While You Learn.” I read them. Again. And again. Cried. And cried. Soothed myself. Healed myself through their words again. Cried again. Read them again. This predictable yet painful cycle of breaking and mending. Each pain is different. Each healing is different.
