It is the body Ā that knows first that summer has arrived. Sweat trailsĀ the scalp, the spine, the forehead.Ā It is the exposed skin that turns a shade darker. It is the nape that feels the uncomfortableness of of the heat. It is the body that screams for an escape to the mountains, islands, beaches, and perhaps even the city.
Summer has a way of surprising us. It is the place, the time where, whenĀ everything seems pleasurably doable without the usual bout of guilt and remorse. We bask in summer warmth, glorify the equal blueness of the sky and sea, celebrate the postcardness of everything.
Summer is scaling mountains. Ah, mountains, trailsāthey remind me of us, humans. They can be unpredictable, predictable. Ā They can be selfish, unyielding, indifferent.
Climbing peaks can be romance strengthening. Or unfolding.
ForĀ S1Expeditions, summer is a fling with his GPS.Ā Ā The tracks are his treasures, the roads his guides, the seas his comfort, the mountains his Ā ambitions, and the sands as uncountable as Ā memories.Ā Travel mapping is something that intrigues me because how can you trace something asĀ deceiving, honest as a map.
I saw a couple atop a peak with the soft light on their faces, Ā a husband holding the umbrella for his dear beloved. Perhaps a relationship tested byĀ Mountains and BeyondĀ comes out fortified like a citadel, a natural citadel like a proud and tall mountain.
Soles of MissyĀ have indeed touched, kissed, rendezvoused too many mountains that her soles can be considered as treacherous as some summits she has peaked. But mountain climbing reminds me a lot of love, of an affair. One wants to finally give up but simply can’t.
Summer is having the saltwater kiss the skin. Summer sea is serene, welcoming with its shades of blue: translucent, cerulean, indigo. The beach strikes me as the place where sins can be executed, washed away, forgottenĀ especially an island’s. For islands are metaphors of the heart, no matter what poet says otherwise.1
But forĀ Traveling Morion‘s Siargaoāas beautiful as any secluded island can beāis the place for poets, writers . . . the place where
can find serenity. But not only serenity, I might contend, since Siargao is an island of contradiction: the island where the banal and the exotic are merged.The beach is a place to take a dip in our trivialities, to not take life oh so deeply. Say, forĀ Layover to Life, summer beaching isĀ an act of emptying the mind from worries, lounging, letting the saline breeze graze the sun-kissed skin. Summer beaching is like polaroids, so dreamy, so romantic.
Summer, Ā forĀ Ava Was Here, Ā isĀ a happy assault on the senses,Ā a short yet much-needed disconnect from the world, an intimacy with islands. Indeed, an island with its sense of isolatedness can be a refuge from the desolateāand oftenācynical world.
ForĀ Journeying James, Ā [summer] is full of life Ā and it is all blue. Oh, it was Jason Mraz’s, not James’. Mistaking freedomĀ for summer is forgivable. James cruised the bay, displayed his half-nakedness while Jason crooned “I see birds fly across the sky /Ā And everyoneās heart flies together.”
For Nomadic ExperiencesĀ , love is as uncertain as turbulence, but as assured as touchdown. Summer is not a season but a place where love is confirmed, strengthened. I find it rather interesting how a place contributes to the blooming of a new romance.
Falling in love with the place itself is a feeling, giddiness all travelers share. It is a kind of love where remorse doesn’t wag its tails in front of one’s face.Ā Contour BlogĀ fell for the summery, crowdless Gumasa. It is an affair between a traveler and a place. We know the story all tooĀ well.
Whereas I take freediving as an act of submerging, surfacing, gasping for air for dear life, the veterans see it as an act of going as deep as possible. Doesn’t it sound erotic? Perhaps it does, sinceĀ The Travelling FeetĀ and Lakbay DivaĀ are obsessed with exploring depths and drops. They test the boundaries of deepness, they push the boundaries of themselves.
A similar pursuit, scuba diving and beyond filledĀ My Comings and Goings‘s summer. Because summer should make one feel hot, steamy, sexy, like a woman in a wetsuit. Yes, summer has a way to make Ā us change the way we see ourselves.
The sea, a festival, flower photographing, and an inked pointer are indications of a summer well-spent. Ā Rj ‘D ExplorerĀ explored places, painted purple hope on his fingernail, Ā and perhaps awaited that hope to turn into a summery reality.
There is nothing heavier than Pinoy Adventurista‘s summer. Places, memories, smiles, faces swirled underĀ “the warmth and sun that beats everyone down.” His summer is like the sun: everywhere, bright, beaming.
Gloom, frustration unpredictably convulsed one summer night for a solo traveler.Ā ButĀ Pinay TravelistaĀ had someone a ring away to chase the doom away. And summer can be like that, a feeling or a someone who can brighten a morose trip.
Summer can be a love story between a girl and the big, big world. It can be a love story with a forked ending yet to be determined. Ā It can echoe AnaĆÆs Nin‘s words thatĀ Traveling LightĀ epigraphed. Summer blooms are the most beautiful.
Summer makes some unheard-of, untouristy places accessible forĀ Edmaration. The kind of places that worthy of a long travel narrative. Because northern Luzon—except for Baguio, I might say—has not marred by tourism yet. His summer is my kind of summer.
And yes, summer is a transition, a happy one. Just like Lakwatserong Tsinelas, I see nimbus hovering over the city—the city which is much-ready for the rain. But I conceded to Ā him, summer is eternal.
Because, I’d like to believe, summer is an attitude. Just like any trip, a summer one, is a “travel to stumble into the unvisited corners of yourself.”2
This is Pinoy Travel Blogger’s May Blog Carnival.
1 Jeanette Winterson
2 Pico Iyer
Hi there, Iām Jona! Iām in my early 30s and is currently based in Ha Noi, Vietnam.I primarily write poetry and short stories in Cebuano and lengthy travel essays in English. Blogging has become an outlet to think out loud. I live the life I set for myself. I try to live an unapologetic life. For collaborations, projects, and other things, please email me at backpackingwithabook@gmail.com. Find me somewhere else!
10 Comments
it’s the body that knows what steamy, hot and oohh, oh, oh, it got me turned on to plunge deeper! the orgasm of soaring high, higher than the mountains, above the clouds, and into eternity!
love the poetic and erotic writing š
agree.. great poetry.. thanks for the include š
Thanks for submitting! Glad to know another couple climber!
And among the entries, you and Doi are in one description. Haha! I don’t know but you two are inseparable in my head already, ‘Dwin! Well, the pictures of you guys going down should be blamed of the erotic thoughts!
ooohhh i should master the art of going down and bubbling. especially when very wet. š š š
Very poetic writing and the first photo is awesome!
Thanks, Ms. Nancy! I’m excited to post my Gabii sa Kabilin! But I have to do the writing assignment first.
thanks for the compilation.
you are a great poet.. love how you “tagpi-tagpi” the blog entries.
Thanks, James! It was rather hard to stitch everything. But I had fun reading and rearranging the entry. Thanks for joining. š
Beautiful poetry. š Thanks for hosting all of us!