PLAYLIST: Moving On and Moving Up

On May 6, 2015, I made the biggest decision of my life. I sat my boss down (figuratively; in reality, I asked her to come take a smoke break with me) and told her that I had decided to quit my job. These are not words that you speak; these are words that you hurl. As much intention as you've had, all those months of imagining the day that your lips, your tongue, and your teeth all manage to muster up the courage and the calmness -- in perfectly equal parts -- to consort with impeccable timing, and fluidly say "Thank you for everything. I  would like to work on my life now," you are never really ready to say them. Until you finally do.

Scraping yourself out of bed, trudging to tend to something that you no longer understand, existing through the day, and coming back home with a full bank account, but with a lifeless soul and an empty heart -- at some point, it will get exhausting. Sure, you stick it out to prove your strength, but you could be strong enough to break.

But then breaking isn't necessarily a bad thing. It could mean a welcome, yet bittersweet detachment from many things: from your less study pieces; from the weakest links; from the ball of your chain; from the darkest time of night to daybreak; from Walter White The Cancer Victim, to Walter White The Crime Lord.

Now with the freedom and privilege to comfortably saunter through the world, there has been an earthshaking tectonic shift within myself. It felt like five hundred years, those two months that I spent rearranged and rearranging, being thrown in all directions while keeping my feet nailed to the ground.

But it has become very clear to me that as far as an ordinary life is concerned, I am either not made for it, or I am simply disinterested. It has been a little over a month since my last working day, and it has felt like rebirth. Both my body, and the cogs in my brain have been more well-oiled and busier than they have been in a while. I'm seeing so many new things, and seeing the world with a completely new set of eyes.

























Eight years ago, I went skydiving. It was an impulsive decision, as I am clearly inclined to make. Much like the dive that I made to drop everything to pursue living my life. The only difference between then and now is that it was at a dingy flight school in some far-flung Podunk town in the outskirts of San Francisco, with the landing field in front of me, and I was strapped on to a parachute guaranteed that I would land on my feet (I landed on my knees, kissing the ground) and an Australian instructor who jumped on my behalf. All I could see was a whirl of blues and greens, and all I could hear was the wind whizzing past my head, nothing else.

This time, I've jumped all by myself, all on my own accord, with no parachute to break the fall, nor landing field in sight. But I needed to get my heart racing. To stare the open sky in the face, dare myself to spring off my feet, and free-fall! I'll be screaming the whole way, but I'll be moving so fast, I'll barely hear it.

I confess though, that I feel as if I might be crazy to be doing something so out-of-the-blue and unconventional. To conjure up some tall order of a dream and be crazy enough to create it with my own hands. But then again, everybody I admire is a little crazy. If quitting your job to do something completely wild and unexpected is any testimony, I very well may be. And at this point, I am more than ready to own up to my maniac of a mind -- to tend to my topak and do as I dream -- because I am no longer settling for anything less than that wild, sickening, stomach-churning, heart-in-my-throat feeling that I got from jumping out of a plane at 13,000 feet to fly.

I'm formulating so many plans and figuring out how to make them all work. I wake up a solid 4 hours earlier than I did when I was working, and with gusto! My skin is turning brown. I'm handing out every spontaneous "Yes!" I could give, in every possible direction. I've had so many beautiful conversations with beautiful people whom I have neither seen nor spoken to in far too long. There may be a new romance in the works, we'll see! I am meeting new people, placing myself in their shoes and finding how excellence can be born in the middle of nowhere. I am putting a new language in my head, and then perfecting the ones that I already know. I am filling my head with words of the authors of yore, and streetside poets, who have spoken more truth than anyone at a witness stand. Business ideas are flying off the handle, and wow, how feasible they all are!

My compass has begun to point me towards the direction of what matters. There is so much out there that I've been holding out on, and I am ecstatic to see, hear, touch, taste, smell, and speak to and love, all the colors, sounds, surfaces, flavors, odors, and people that I never have before.

And as the world outside starts to become clearer, the answers to questions of who I am are becoming more lucid as well. I seem to have turned into some sort of hard-ass. All those years of doing events for ABS-CBN was both humbling and empowering, but it was always someone else's shot to call. I was someone else's hand. But now that I am allowed the time and the space for the rest of my body to grow. I can afford to have my heart beat freely and act upon it. Sure, there are things that I am willing to apologize for, but catering to my wants and needs, and not complying to expectations are no longer on that list. I am quicker to recognize four things: What I love; what I excel in; what is good for me; and bullshit. And now that I have the cojones to establish these, and stick by my guns, I can proceed accordingly. Time to show 'em who's boss.

I've said too much. On to the music. These are just a few of the tracks that I've been listening to, to sort of soften the blow of everything that is going on. Enjoy!


1. Alabama Shakes, "Sound and Color"
From what will easily be my personal pick for the the best album of 2015, the carrier single of Alabama Shakes' Sound and Color is a heartbreakingly beautiful existential piece on rediscovering life -- all that is beautiful and strange about it -- in an otherwise dark world. The video complements it so well.

2. Mayer Hawthorne, "In A Phantom Mood"

Detachment anthem! I had this on loop as I was picking things out of my shelves and throwing half of everything I own into boxes. Also, great for sunny, early morning drives on Roxas Boulevard. Try not to get into that infectious bass line! 

3. Alanis Morissette, "You Learn"
Being reckless with yourself never sounded so good.

4. Belle and Sebastian (featuring Norah Jones), "Little Lou, Ugly Jack, Prophet John"
Inspired by the work of Lou Reed, Jack Kerouac, and John Lennon. Difficult to listen to if feelings are raw, but do it anyway because they are raw.

5. Erykah Badu, "Bag Lady" 
Pack light; leave your baggage. That mess will weigh you down, and crowd your space.

All you must hold on to is you.

6. Fleetwood Mac, "Gypsy"

Lightning strikes maybe once, maybe twice
And it lights up the night

7. George Michael, "Freedom '90"
Sure, this one is about George Michael coming out of the closet and breaking free from what everything that he was known for -- being a hotshot sex symbol to teenage girls in the 80s -- but the same sentiment applies to quitting your job, figuring yourself out and being proud of it, no?

But today the way I play the game has got to change, oh yeah
Now I'm gonna get myself happy

8. Rodriguez, "To Whom It May Concern"

9. Hole, "Malibu"

Why are you so burned when you're barely on fire? 

10. Alice Russell (feat. TM Duke), "Hurry on Now"
Killer lady, killer pipes.

11. Jimi Hendrix, "Somewhere Over The Rainbow"

12. Esperanza Spalding, "Precious"

But I'm not going to 

Waste my precious, divine energy,

Trying to explain, and being ashamed

Of what you think is wrong with me

13. FKJ (feat. Jordan Rakei), "Learning To Fly"

14. FKJ (feat. Madelyn Grant), "Waiting"

It is rare that I would allow an artist to make repeat appearances in my public playlists, but clearly, I love this guy. It was crucial to have this particular track on this playlist, because, well, a girl gets impatient, too. And when she's done, you can bet your bottom dollar that she. Is. Done.

Conquering Mount Pinatubo, Among Other Things

Per the request of Brice -- a French friend whom I've met quite recently, but have grown to love immensely -- our friends and I booked ourselves a trip to Pinatubo as his last hurrah, as his three-month stay comes to an end. 

Of course, we oblige. After all, the guy has been nothing short of a sweetheart, and it was such a pleasure to have him. It was too short of a stay, but it's been a good run.

Pinatubros!

Other than that, I am often disappointed by how much of the Islands I haven't explored, despite being a homegrown Filipino. There was always some excuse not to do things -- brought about mostly by the people around me -- but now that I've pooled up resources and smarts, I see no excuse not to do it now.

And I'm afraid I've caught a bad bug, but I'll save that for another time.

===

We got in touch with RJTours.ph, as recommended by friends from Chalk Magazine, who gave RJ Tours rave reviews as a service. I am inclined to do the same, because they did make the trip so easy, and they did treat us very well. 

They picked us up at 5 AM, at our designated meet-up point. It was dark on the way out, but I did catch the sunrise. I missed out on everything else, as I was running on 2 hours of sleep from the night before.

By 7 AM, we had arrived at Base Camp -- Alvin's Homestay -- where we were greeted by Alvin, himself. Being a homestay, naturally, they would be accommodating, and have a warm, familial feel about the place. We were served breakfast, coffee, his dogs, his sleepy cat, and a couple of eagles. Yes, eagles. 

After breakfast and signing our lives away on waivers, we were off! 

Of course, I chose the red 4x4. It wasn't the most comfortable ride, but driving over all that volcanic rock, you really don't expect any other ride to be. I suppose our car's lack of suspension and jeepney-type parallel seating didn't help, but it is what it is. You'll only have to do it once... in your life. (There's still the trip back, so maybe twice today.) And if you've seen Mad Max Road Fury, I will say that it was exciting because it reminded me so much of the movie. "I live! I die! I live again!"

More than anything, I was surprised that the nausea that I normally get from bumpy rides did not act up. Like Penelope Cruz's character in Woman on Top, I have terrible motion sickness, unless I am in control (of the vehicle). But that is besides the point.

As you can imagine, the scenery of Crow Valley Canyon was dynamic in texture and color. There were wide planes of lahar, set against a background of green and ash mountains. Rocks came in varied colors, testament to the richness of minerals in the area. The rocks and the creeks that trickled through them were so ferrous, they looked like rivers of blood.

We arrived at the foot of the trek site, 28 kilometers away, about an hour and a half later. After settling our shaken heads, stomachs, and legs, we immediately began our trek. Apparently, there was a new trail that had opened up, which would take all of 30 minutes. This is the longest trail they offer now, and of course we took it; the Senior Citizen trail (this exists) was not an option. 

And then we arrived to this magnificent view:

I was awed by the view, obviously, but also by its significance. When Pinatubo erupted in 1990, I remember waking up in my house in Pasig City, and our floors were covered in volcanic ash. And now here I was, 25 years later, at the mouth of an historic volcanic eruption whose reach was so widespread and powerful that it helped patch up the ozone layer, and cooled global temperatures by 3 degrees. That's an amazing thought.

On another note, when I say that RJ Tours treated us well, I mean it. I was told that they would provide all of our food and refreshments, but coming from a Production background, I've always had low expectations of packed meals. But check this out: all that rice, 3 hearty pieces of super tender roast beef, veggies, and the best banana I've ever had. Plus, sturdy utensils. Nothing fancy or anything, but I am nothing but full of appreciation.

===

Perhaps it was because I was running on adrenaline to compensate for my lack of sleep, or caffein, or because I was surrounded by all that nature, or all those things combined, but I was so happy yesterday.

Of course, it brought up some points for reflection, as what I seem to be so keen on doing these days. Especially now, as I am at such a significant turning point in my life, I think of so many things, and try to dig up whatever truth I can from my experiences.

Being a speck in the vastness of Crow Valley Canyon, and looking out at its overwhelming size, it came upon me that you could be a free radical at the moment, but any direction you choose to go will take you somewhere, eventually. Hopefully, it will be where you need to be. I will be the first to admit that at this point, I am spinning around in circles, trying to figure out which way to go. Although I am narrowing down which directions seem viable, and looking at paths which might seem barren now, but show some semlance of promise for greener pastures. It doesn't make me any less nervous; in fact, it is giving me cold feet being so close to having to make a decision. But I'm going to have to move, and I'm going to have to do it soon.

On another note, it was at this very moment during the trek, when I took this photo was when it also dawned on me that the whole time I was hopping from rock to rock with my head downcast, my eyes sharply watching out for any loose ones that might cause me to lose my footing. Although I was agile with my footwork, all I could really see were my feet, which is not exactly what I came to enjoy the great outdoors for. We are often caught up with looking out for rocks to either skip, to avoid a problematic slip; or rocks that are stable enough to step on. So much thought goes on into what it takes to move forward. So much so, that we forget to look up and appreciate the bigger picture -- where you are, where you came from, what you are working towards. There is life all around you, and it flows freely, while you stand there whether, holding out, watching out or stepping out for your next move. You've already elevated yourself from the foot of the mountain. It will only be a matter of time until you get to the top. Just keep going. But remember to look up.

The end of our trip brought us back to Alvin's, where I was told the story of Fultro. He is a wild eagle, which an Aeta brought to Alvin for some care after he was left bloodied, with a broken wing. Because of this, Fultro has been grounded, and unable to fly. But has that robbed him of his true nature, his wilderness? No. Here he is, devouring what's left of the serpent he caught earlier in the day.

And that is Invictus, William Ernest Henley's words brought to life:

Out of the night that covers me,

      Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

      For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

      I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

      My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

      Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

      Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

      How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

      I am the captain of my soul.

===

At this point, I will continue to explore different directions. Some may seem barren for now; others might seem to flourish from the onset. Either way, I wouldn't really be able to tell until I explore them further. But what can I offer? How do I go about it? Can I endure the journey?

But I suppose you never really know your power until you are put to the test. Pinatubo is not my first mountain, nor will it be my last. However, it is the one that has taught me the truth of being so good at being who and what you are, that your fire, greatness, and beauty will be spewing out from the deepest of your cores, and the world cannot help but stop, stand back and behold it. 

Reflections: The Mirrors of Myanmar

Normally, I have to think long and hard, and consider too many factors before I can commit to a travel invitation. But I was presented with the opportunity to go to Myanmar, and I could not pass up the chance. I believe my exact words were, "Fuck it, let's go."

I suppose I was so ready to go on this trip because, more than the thrill and the wanderlust, I have been yearning for that overwhelming feeling of something greater than myself, which, I've realized on the different degrees of my solo excursions, I get from traveling.

First, the journey. If you've never been there, here is an idea: A shoestring budget, limited time and unpredictable airline circumstances will create you a monster of an Amazing Race experience, if you'd like to imagine being on the show.

We flew from Manila at 7 AM, stopped with a 5 hours layover at Kuala Lumpur, and then landed at Yangon at around 7 PM (Myanmar time). Air Asia had rescheduled our flights to a later time than we had anticipated, so we had no choice but to deal with very little wiggle room. It took us literally 10 minutes to zip through all the other tired passengers on our flight, charm our way through Immigration, and have money changed to Kyat (the local currency). Why the rush? Well, we had to catch a sleeper bus, which was leaving at 8 PM, which was at a bus station not so far away, but with Yangon rush hour traffic, we were kind of pushing it. I may have bitten off a quarter of a nail from panic. We made no arrangements to lodge in Yangon.

After wading through all foliage of cars, people, puddles, and mud, clearly the bus hadn't left us. We sat ourselves in our surprisingly comfortable, fully-reclining seats, and woke up in Bagan at 5 AM, the next morning. If you've kept up, and are doing the math, that was 24 hours of being en route, alone.

Two full days of temple running in Bagan, and put the whole process in reverse (and barely 45 minutes, amidst a very complicated system of connecting flights at the KL airport), and that was the whole, arduous, exhausting, heart-pounding, trip.

No kidding, I lost 3 lbs. 

Clearly, Myanmar was beautiful. I loved it all -- 

its flavors, odors, and colors; 

the heat of its air, and the chill of its people; 

Its abundance of culture, and its absence of noise;

the humility of its monks, and the pride of its pagodas.

But of the many things that this trip was to me, it was mostly --

An Exercise in Detachment

For the cosmopolitan Manileña, it is difficult to comprehend having to go 24 hours without showering, or brushing your teeth (which should be simple and quick enough to do). But we really just did not have enough time to get any of these done. A superficial concern, I know. But consider the very image-conscious/-driven industry which sustains my livelihood, where I drown in messages of vanity and gloss. I've been a slave to it long enough to say that "looking cute" is an imposed priority.

But we were running through airports, unbrushed, unshowered, uncombed. And it was great.

Firstly, I like not having to put make-up on -- big words for someone who used to be a makeup artist. I no longer want to care about who cuts my hair -- big words for someone who has spent over 10 years with the same hairstylist, and whose mane is indicator by which she is spotted in a crowd. There is not another party that I feel the need to go to where I have to dress up to impress anyone -- big words for an events planner.

We observed the Buddhist monks. They live on nothing much but their robes and prayers. While they roam the city for food, I live a life of numbing excess -- I have more of everything than I know what to do with. Has it made me happy? Is there joy in suffocation?

When traveling, you are afforded the very special privilege of being self-reflective without looking at a mirror. You are alone with yourself, at your own devices, to face your own demons. You have not the time nor the facilities to care about appearances. And running through airports, riding through dust, falling from a bike on a dirt road -- It was such a welcome change, and for someone who is commencing the next chapter of her journey towards self-discovery, this concern in valid. I can drop the facade; strip off the masks of makeup, gloss, smoke, mirrors, and all my guards.

That brings me to a question of authenticity. Who am I, underneath it all? My passions (or are they past times?) dwell relatively on the surface. But, what drives me? What do I live for? When all the noise shuts off, what does my heart ache for? What's it going to take for me to fight for it? What is my truth? I am determined and excited to find out who I will discover within myself after I've rid myself of all my forged, but ultimately unnecessary attachments. 

An Exercise in Patience
One of the most notable things that I took away from Myanmar is: as beautiful as it is, it is HOT. It is sweltering. We went to tour Bagan on bicycles, and the wind blowing against our faces felt like we were standing in front of a fire. We also noticed that the cars that drove past us, all had their windows rolled down. Outside of the hotels, there is no air conditioning. And there were no electric fans anywhere in the middle of the desert. I asked our cab driver, Theung, why this was so. All he did was shrug and say, "There is no need for it," which was both much less and much more of a response than I expected. It was such a simple, ready answer, but it bore the full weight of all the "problems" that really don't need to be.

Not that I had any right to complain; I come from the tropics. I learned a long time ago that complaining will get you nowhere. Especially if it is the heat that you're complaining about. You will never hear me complain about the heat. In some ways, Myanmar has it better than Manila, because at least over there, it isn't humid. But that's besides the point. What good is complaining going to do?

I will be the first to admit that I am quite impatient. Being that my world is frenetic, I sometimes have no choice but to rush. Alas, instant gratification is an addiction.

In the same vein of Detachment, and having not wont for material possessions, is the value of Patience -- accepting situations as they are, and allowing them the time and the space to unfold. So what if it is a little hot? Not everybody has the privilege of adjusting their indoor climate.

Don't get me wrong: I don't denounce pro-activity. I do take pride in being able to take the reigns of situations and adjusting them according to my liking and comfort. The point that I mean to drive at is that when situations are uncomfortable, instead of fighting it, take reign over the factors that you do have some control over, let the rest happen naturally, and take a learning away from the experience.


===

Admittedly, these are difficult pills for me to swallow. Only because it will require such a drastic shift away from who I believe I used to be -- my priorities, my beliefs, my daily habits, my world views. Being at a personal crossroad, the constant battle these days is between fighting and free-falling -- Which battles will you fight, and which do you walk away from? Which leaps will you jump, and which falls will you take?

The irony is that the absence of literal and figurative mirrors is possibly the most effective catalyst to self-discovery. That begs the question of whether or not who you seem is, in fact, who you are. Is it? The resolution is to perhaps cultivate a mindset that is less concerned about how things seem, and leave room to just let them be. Put the mirror down. Let nature run the show.

PLAYLIST: Summer Soundtrack -- In Flight

Given the expanse of my music collection, I am inclined to sift through it all (often out of necessity, so as not to drown) to weed out tracks that I either particularly like, which would play well with others. Hence, a looooong list of playlists, with themes that go as specific as "The Ancient Japanese Art of Karaoke," or "Black Girls (and Girls that Sound Black)", and my most requested list to date: "Lagkit" -- a collection of the stickiest, sexiest, most syrupy stuff I have.

I figured I'd start doing a thematic playlist series. And since the summer is upon us, it only makes sense to make the first few playlists about the summer.

Everyone seems to be either flying in or out of town this weekend (myself, included), and I had been listening to some of these tracks already anyway, so I'll start with a flight-themed list. Here we go.

1. "Window Seat," Erykah Badu

   So, in my mind I'm touslin'
   Back and forth 'tween here and hustlin'
   I don't wanna time travel no more
   I wanna be here, I'm thinking
   
   So can I get a window seat?
   Don't want nobody next to me
   I just want a ticket outta town
   A look around and a safe touch down

   
   
   Consider this video an urban political interpretation of your walk to the beach. Yes or no?
   
   

2.  "Fly," June Marieezy (FKJ remix)

   For obvious reasons. Albeit, this is one of those cases wherein I personally prefer the remix to the original.
   Much respect to Ms. Marieezy for property testifying to the magnificence of the Philippines, by way of her shout out, and her talent. But it took France's FKJ (French Kiwi Juice, a self-taught multi-instrumentalist whose style includes live improvisations) to really make the track effervescent, giving you "float" instead of just "fly." Plus, their chemistry both on-stage (at last month's Malasimbo Music Festival), and on record is off the charts.
   

   Wrap my head around:
   The whole world is a blast
   If you open up to magic

    Exactly.
   
   



3. "A320," Foo Fighters

   Although there's a slightly morbid undertone to this fear-of-flying anthem, doesn't the journey get a little uncomfortable sometimes anyway? Metaphorically, sometimes you are hesitant to take flight, for fear of crashing. Flying is just a risk that you have to take. The point is, you're already up there. You've already done what it takes. You're already on your way. You're already soaring.
   
   I found a fan-made video of the song, with clips from LOST to accompany it. Because, why the hell not? We have room for a little dark humor around here, hahaha!
   
   
   
   

4. "Drops of Jupiter," Train

   To anyone who flies away to find themselves, and to the ones that they leave behind. This is for you.
   
   
   
   
   

5. "505," Arctic Monkeys

   Not necessarily a "flight" song, but I'd always imagined this song to describe James Bond flying out to meet a dangerous lover of some clandestine love affair, in a secret paradise, with a surprise (*wink, wink*). On that note: Why haven't they been commissioned to do a Bond theme?

   The middle of adventure, such a perfect place to start

   
   

6. "Take Me Somewhere Nice," Mogwai

   Just. Listen.
   
   
   
   
   
   
   

7. "Paris (Aeroplane Remix)," Friendly Fires (feat. Au Revoir Simone)

   No real reason. Just feels nice.
   
   
   
   

8. "Cry, Die, Fly," Drew ofthe Drew

   Recommended by a friend from Berklee College of Music, because they went to there together. This said friend linked this to me once when I first started learning the bass, because Drew ofthe Drew (that is right: forget the space) is one bad bassist. Also, their vocalist, Joanna Teters, has got some pipes on her, doesn't she? Bass: check. Vocals: check. Two birds, one act. Sold.
   
   I have listened to this on flights. I have to warn you: it's not easy to pretend that you don't want to sing along or play air-bass (or banjo, if you prefer) with all those people watching.
   
   
   
   

9.  "I Gotta Be More (Take Me Higher)," Al Green

   Again, not much of a reason here, except that I remember listening to Al Green on a relatively long flight once, and this is one that stuck.
   
   
   
   

10. "Curbside Prophet," Jason Mraz

    Just waiting for my rocket to come. Ties in with investing in experience (such as travel) more than your checking account, "because it all amounts to nothing in the end."
    
    

    
    

11. "Heaven," Bitter:Sweet

    Bitter:Sweet is an LA-based electronic/trip-hop band, whom I appreciate immensely because of Shanna Halligan's wispy vocals, and Kiran Shahani's penchant for Latin beats. This one's got a sticky samba groove, which all-in-all reminds of cocktail martinis and 1960s flight attendants.
    
    
    
    

12. "XO," Beyonce

    It is an interesting thing to that there was a bit of controversy around this track, when they used that little sample in the beginning of the song. It just happens to be the last spoken words that were recorded just before the Space Shuttle Challenger blew up into pieces.
    
    To me, it means flying in the dark, towards the light of a beloved place, or a lover's face. 

     

BONUS TRACK:

"I Want You," Erykah Badu

Perhaps this belongs in the to-be MOMOL Playlist that I will, of course, be putting together (or shorten, because there is a loooooong list) but I am putting this on here because this song reminds me of my first kiss. It was the height of summer, and happened right before I hopped on a flight to Bohol. Incidentally, I had just downloaded Erykah Badu's Worldwide Underground album, and this was the first song that came on. I had it on loop the whole flight, the whole weekend, and the whole month after. I still love it today, and is one of my go-tos for when I start to feel the butterflies.

What do you listen to when you're flying?

Solo in Siquijor

Note that the environment that I call home is relatively restrictive. Manila is, for the most part, gray with concrete and smog, and offers little easy respite for the weary. True, a lot goes on, but this jaded Manileña can only make her rounds so many times. Compounded with parents who over-worry, I think it it was only a matter of time that my enclosures start to feel like cages, and I know why the caged bird sings.

As a small act of rebellion, I booked myself a roundtrip ticket to Siquijor. Technically, I'd fly to and from Dumaguete, but the destination was Siquijor. By myself.

Don't get me wrong: I've traveled alone before, but to places where I would have a relative's house as home base, and into territory that my parents are familiar with. This is my first "out of nowhere" trip (i.e random, baseless, without agenda), which I've done absolutely on my own -- that I financed, researched, planned, fulfilled, and completed with my own money, courage, and wit.

I had gotten to the point where there was an unbearable feeling of inadequacy that I have from not being free to test my mettle. And how unfair, because most of these factors are merely circumstantial. Hence, an overwhelming pressure to do things that inspire me, and to be more amazing; obviously, lately, I feel as though I am not. I could use more of an education on the ways of the world, more so than what I have under my belt today.

And so, I did it!

Overall, it was a wonderful experience! I feel empowered by it, and encouraged to do it more, and often.

I got on my Cebu Pacific flight to Dumaguete at 6 AM, and arrived at approximately 7 AM. I took a 15 minute tricycle ride to Dumaguete's Sibulan port, and then got on the earliest available roro (barge) to Siquijor. There is an option to take a fast craft, but I don't do well on boats, so the slower, steadier, open-air roro was going to be less problematic for my sensitive stomach. The fast craft would have taken 45 min-1 hour; the roro took me an hour and a half. A small price to pay for the assurance of not vomiting.

By around 11 AM, I had made it to Tori's Backpackers Paradise in San Juan, where I roomed in a dorm, along with five other people. The couple who owns it -- Tomas (a Czech) and his wife, Ria (a Filipina) run a steady hostel, and make you feel right at home. And the food was great! I had some of Tomas' Czech Goulash with dumplings, which I thought was perfect comfort food after a long day of running about.

Tori's Backpackers Paradise

I had put together a detailed itinerary for my trip, but as soon as I got there, it was obvious that I wasn't going to follow it. I rented a scooter, for Php 350/day, (not a bad price, but if you ask the right people, you can get it down to Php 150) plus gas at Php 50/liter, and ticked off all my noted locations one by one. I even managed to add a couple more of side trips.

In one afternoon, I hit both the Old Enchanted Balete Tree, and Cambugahay Falls. The balete tree is about a half hour scooter ride to the east of San Juan. You can expect to pay a very small fee of Php 5, and a donation, if you like.

Old Enchanted Balete Tree, known in Filipino folklore to be the home of fairies and dwarves

A fish foot spa, at the Old Enchanted Balete Tree site

Another half hour away, eastward, are the three tiers of Cambugahay Falls. In October 2014, some locals volunteered to be guides, and unofficially act as watch guards over guests personal belongings. The amount of people that go there make it difficult to keep track of everyone, and everything, and things get stolen. It was apparently a good idea to go in the afternoon, because when I got there, there were only ten of us tourists, at most (not including the locals).

Cambugahay Falls

I assigned Day 2 to be exclusively for the beach. Again, I headed east of San Juan, and about 2 hours later, I arrived Salagdoong Beach. I had heard that this was a developed area, but I had imagined a longer stretch of swimmable beach, and less people. I suppose I would have enjoyed it more if I had gone during a low season.

Salagdoong Beach

I headed 45 minutes southeast, and found myself in the secluded Kagusuan Beach. I liked it here so much, I came back the day after. Some locals, who were there for a picnic, made friends with me. Even for a Filipino, I am amazed by how friendly the Siquijor locals are! Is it my cosmopolitan upbringing? I don't remember it being like this in the other parts of the Philippines that I've visited.

Locals that I made friends with at Kagusuan Beach

The day after, I thought I'd drive up to Mt. Bandilaan. Oh Lord, what was I thinking. It was manageable, but for most of the drive, I was alone on the road! It got pretty steep at times, and some segments of the road were either not yet paved, or under construction. One particular section closer to the foot of the mountain was both steep and unpaved, and I did have difficulty managing it on the way up. It had the potential to be problematic on the way down. 

Anyway, I went up there to check out a Healing Festival, which is an annual event, and held for 4 days during Holy Week. I found booths were different kinds of healers camped out to offer their services. Later during the day, I was told that these are "commercial" healers, and that the legitimate ones are found in the forrest. 

"Gayuma"

Later, I ran into a fellow dormer -- a Hungarian named Peter, and together, we managed to squeeze in another site. Lugnasan Falls is only 10 minutes away from Tori's, and is smaller in area than Cagbuhayan, but slightly higher and equally majestic.

Lugnasan Falls

Salamat lagi, Siquijor!

I could have stayed another day, just to get everything out of the way. Siquijor is a relatively small place; you can round out the island in a day, if you wanted to. And really cheap, too! For everything, including lodging and flights, I may have only spent less than Php 6,000.

Along the way, I picked up a couple of things:

1. I am completely capable of managing entirely on my own, despite others thinking otherwise.
   I live a life wherein everything is pretty much handed to me. Not that I am complaining, but I've always hungered for reality. A lot of my frustrations at this stage in my life have come from struggling to prove that I am smarter and more capable than what I've been given the chance to. For this, I am grateful, for it leads to more, and grander dreams that I am now sure that I can accomplish. I have barely scratched the surface of my capacities, but the jump is always the most daunting part of the dive. And I fully intend to dive blindly, and head-first from hereon out. Nothing can stop me now.
2. When traveling alone, you are at the mercy of yourself, and of others. 
   I had no one to baby me and give me anything and everything I either needed or wanted during this trip. I had to figure everything out for myself, and that included a LOT of planning, and convincing my parents to let me do it. There were times when even I was not sure about how I was going to manage. But, before anybody else can be convinced, I myself had to be. It requires mental resilience and determination on my part to even conceptualize the whole thing, let alone fulfil it successfully. I was at my own mercy, but I trusted myself despite my demons.
   
   Obviously, when you travel, you don't do it in a vacuum. On the one hand, you travel because you want to expand your knowledge of places and people. On the other hand, there are some real dangers (and there were), the chances of which are exacerbated because I am a girl.
   
   However, I honestly would not have been able to manage as well as I did without the help of strangers. I relied heavily on this, being forced to assume that they might be willing to help at the minimum, and trust that they are good people at best.
   
   Turns out, you can't trust everybody, but you can't not trust anybody. There are more good people than there are who will take advantage of your vulnerability.
3. Vulnerability invites the world.
   When traveling in a group, you get comfortable, and don't necessarily have the opportunity to lay your defenses down enough to meet new people. Even if you do, you could get lost in the shuffle and miss out on genuine connections.
   
   Going it alone afforded me the vulnerability to meet, and personally converse (often in depth) with so many people whom I would not be able to meet, otherwise.
   
   I'm generally a pretty friendly girl who does not have qualms about striking up a conversation with a stranger (depending on their demeanor). Holding one up is a different story. On the other hand, people don't normally initiate conversation with me because, so I have been told, that I am quite intimidating. But being by myself proved to be a different experience. I could be sitting by myself on a secluded beach, and little girl will come up to me to ask for my, name, and where I am from. She and her friends will gather around me, and as me genuinely inquisitive questions, born out of a sincere interest in the new and different.
   
   That being said --
4. Adopt a sincere interest.
   Being a citizen of Manila, I'll admit that I've developed a mindset of believing that everyone here as pretty much the same story. Obviously, this is far from correct, but it seemed that way for a very long time. And I got complacent.
   
   More than places and things, I need to develop a sincere interest in people again, and dig deep enough to recognize the delicate nuances among them.
   
   Often, what holds me back is fear -- to be rejected, or that I might be inadequate to continue what I've started (which seems to be a recurring pattern in my life story), but I must trust that I myself may be someone worth getting to know. Keeping that in mind, I must accompany that with the thought that these people might be vulnerable, too. And it really wouldn't hurt to be the first to extend a hand.
5. Be present.
   Being mindful of surroundings -- of people, and places, and the life that transpires between the two. Also, be actively participative in people's lives. Come out from the wings, and take the stage. Assuming a passive role does not make memories out of you. What is enthralling about being in the background? Contribute. Say something. Say yes! 

I had intended on writing separately about birthday resolutions, but they've all seemed to blend in together. Regardless, they all come from the same place -- the pieces of walls that I break down, which have barricaded this free spirit for much too long.

Renewing Beginnings

Hello!

Here I go again, apologizing for a lack of documentation. Today, I return for necessity, and not out of sheer boredom, unlike in, umm, 2013. This blog will soon be linked to a new project that I am ecstatic and proud to have been chosen to be part of. And so, I feel I must prepare.

A little spring cleaning here and there;
An identity redefinition;
Some graphics updates --
Housekeeping, for anyone who might choose to take on this off-road path.

Also, keeping up with the internet traditions of yore -- a cool decade ago, more or less -- I hark the coming of age battlecry of my generation: "I will start a blog!" Although, technically,  I am only revamping and then reviving an existing blog; I've started way too many to keep track. (How many of you do I know from LiveJournal and Tumblr?)

The milestone that we commemorate in this here revival is: I turn 28 today.

Hardly the age to still be blogging like I used to on LiveJournal ("Ooohh woe is meeee, the feelings!") and on Tumblr ("I'm cooler than the fucking internet, motherfucker!"), I feel that this prompts an entirely new style of blogging: just being myself. I have other, more substantial things to talk about now.

Obviously, I had a three-year headstart with the 50-something entries I had posted between 2011 and 2013, but upon backtracking, I spotted the cringe-worthy dregs of LJ and Tumblr. For the most part, I've kept most of my personal writing very personal. As in, locked in a safe, behind steel-enforced concrete, among molten hot magma, 100 miles beneath the surface, on Mars. (Don't quote me on the anatomy of Mars.)

But, today is my birthday, and on your birthday, you think of things. Today, I thought about my new year in relation to a trip that I just came back from. Initially, I had started fleshing out some thoughts on all these lessons that I learned from the trip, it being my first completely solo travel experience; the birthday resolutions were to come later. I rambled on until eventually, they all just melted into each other, and I couldn't tell the difference anymore. Going it on your own and growing up are essentially the same thing. And that includes coming out from the wings, taking ownership of who you are, trusting that who you are is someone worth getting to know, and then giving yourself the chance to enjoy and be enjoyed by the world (screw your issues with vulnerability).

So, here we are, taking stage. Don't worry; this new style will not be about juvenile drama, nor any feeble attempts at making myself seem cool. I didn't make it to 28 to still be concerned over those things. Also, because I've resigned myself to the fact a very long time ago that I am not, and will never be cool. It will be about what I'm eating, where I'm going, what I'm listening to, and what I'm seeing. It will be my aspirations, my fears, my joys, my goals, things I've learned. Between the tips of my wild hair and of my currently-unmaintained toes; between the music of the 75 year old New Orleans jazz instrumentalist, and that candy-coated guilty pleasure; between my left and right ear; in all the glory of my sunburnt skin -- just me.

This may or may not complement the aforementioned project, I'm not sure yet. It probably should. For sure, though -- will have a lot of food, a shitload of music (thanks to the suggestion and the encouragement of a friend), and a whole lot of honesty. I used to keep this blog a secret, but I think we're ready to come out.

Appropriately, at the end of this evening I found myself here:

At an intersection between 28 and wherever the hell, waiting to cross to the other side.

And so, here we go! May this be the start of something good.