To Mt. Babag by Claire “Kikit” Apigo BWAB bloomsed this last year. Some posts here, I confidently assume, are worthy to be explored and rewritten; some posts to be trashed. With essays left unwritten and pictures unsorted, let me wrap 2011 with happiness and gratitude. This Last year’s wanderings affirmed and strengthened some old beliefs, some were unceremoniously replaced, some were found in the ship, jeepney, bus, plane. Itineraries are useless. Traveling happens the moment you are caught indecisive and seemingly lost. Traveling happens the moment you acknowledge the fact you’re lost, the moment you accept the truth that the place is a stranger. Traveling […]
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.
“Nganong naabot man ka diri, Nong?” (What brought you here, Nong?) “Unsaon ta man, day, diri man nako nakit-an ang akong pikas sa kinabuhi (It can’t be helped, day, I found my other half here),” answered Nong Tony who has lived in Britania for 15 years. The tone he used for unsaon ta man appealed to me as a resignation: a resignation that life needs the other half to continue living, a resignation that a person must leave a place to find another for a sole reason: love.
On Memories, Drawing, Truth, and David Foster Wallace “What is drawing?” my high school TLE teacher once asked us. “It is the combination of colors,” a classmate answered for the sake of class participation. “It has shadows.” “It depicts nature and life.” “It shows emotions.” He nodded to some by-the-book tries, which sounded novel—not attempts on novelty—to the high-school Jona. I did not know the word “novelty” th.en “But, basically,” he momentarily stopped to build suspense perhaps, “drawing is a combination of lines,” he continued. We wore the look of stupidity.