73- I Am This Close

I am THIS close to booking a trip to Taipei. I have heard a lot about how Taipei is a foodie mecca, and how the prices of goods, and of accommodations, are quite reasonable. Why not go to Taipei? After having gone to countries that can be dubbed as Taipei's "close cousins" (China, Singapore, Malaysia), why not go to this country that is a fusion of strong Chinese and Portugese influences?

One thing is for certain- I could use a getaway. I would rather not complicate things on this blog. Keeping things simple is the way to go. I need a vacation without breaking the bank or allowing myself to gain any weight. Above all things, I think I just need to refresh my mind- and my spirit. I need to keep !y soul in check.

Whether I end up flying to Taipei or some other exotic locale, it will be a welcome occurrence. It's about time I dove into the sea of tranquility again.

MC

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72- To, and Fro

I've been going back and forth about where to go for the holiday season. While the decision is dependent, in part, on the prices of airline tickets, I too have found myself wanting to go somewhere which offers an experience that goes beyond the usual.

The company of people I appreciate is also something I have factored in.

So where to go? What to do?

The clock is ticking.

MC

71- Decisions

I still can't decide where to travel to to escape the craziness of my current state of being.

Decisions, decisions.

MC

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70- Rise

Power to the people.

With a twist.

"What's life without a hint, a tinge of color?"

---The Birdcage, Albert

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69- Mom, I Spilled Some Ink

Okay. Quite frankly, I am perplexed. 

How does one go from feeling an optimism defined in large part by a very real sense of purpose, backed by a very real, tangible, notion that everything CAN happen because ability exists behind every word, to feeling absolutely lost, in a span of a year? 

Try going for gold in an arena you don't belong in, or, in simpler terms, trying claiming you can cook a 5-star duck dish, when in truth, your hand needs ro be held when you fry an egg. 

I started this Travel Blog in the first quarter of this year as a venue wherein I could pay homage to the gods of travel and adventure with whom I have been privileged to have "break bread" with. Lately, I have not really managed to travel very much. The only excursions I have had have been excursions in my mind. I admittedly have a very active mind and so, the imaginary trysts have been quite a thrill. 

Those aren't enough to satisfy my thirst for adventure, though. It's like drinking wine while at the beach in the middle of summer. Liquid is meant to quench thirst, but my goodness, please, choose the right kind of liquid to guzzle down. 

I need to travel. I need to find myself. I need to take my creative reins back. I have become complacent. I have let "The Man", win. I should have placed him in a pinning predicament a long time ago when I had the chance. 

It will not be easy balancing a dream with the concept of pragmatism. No sir. But it can happen. I've seen it done before. Is it a simple matter? Not by any stretch.

If I don't find my inspiration, I might as well die like a snail- crushed, devoid of a very real idea of radiance, and of transcendence- of being more than just a mollusk without any real purpose, seemingly, other than being basted and served in a Gordon Ramsay restaurant. 

I've spilled ink on white linen. 

You may call it a mess, but I call it "beauty" not even a gallon of Didi Seven can remove. 

MC

68- The Boss

Before you run through the fields, don't forget to don your leather jacket and crank up some stuff by The Boss.

Thunder Road indeed.

MC

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67- Voyager

Journeys are often defined by- intent, and purpose. 

I have constantly failed to understand the intent and purpose behind working in an office- not because there is no sense to what people in an office actually do, but because, often times, the work loses meaning when viewed from the greater scheme of things. 

What does this all mean anyway? 

So we ask. 

Would you rather explore the world on foot- go on a run through the continents- as opposed to donning a suit? 

A part of me, unequivocally, says yes. 

MC

66- Ageing

We hear the phrase all the time.

"Time flies."
"Tempus fugit."

I am 31 years old. I was driving to the gas station today and for the first time, I felt really old. I am not sure what the triggered the thought. I just really felt it. Maybe it was me having seen some youths crossing the street, or, me forgetting exactly what I needed to buy at the supermarket. Whatever the case, it isn't really all too hot to be numerically the inverse of "naught".

It has been 9 years since I graduated from college, and I will be the first to admit that I would have wanted to have been able to do a bit more with my time as a student. Discovering one's self being an almost "default" thing? I hate that. I detest the fact that "most people have to experience it to be able to grow". All in all, it can serve as a monumental waste of time. Find yourself while the rest of the universe evolves into a truly multifaceted species, will you?

This post is not necessarily about regret. It is more about pondering on where the heck all the time's gone. If we were to look at the subject from the perspective of traveling, think of it as being shocked that your magical vacation's just concluded when really, it seems like it had only just begun. Imagine the best meal of your life, finished before you could even imagine ordering seconds. It's one of those things that people forever wonder about, complain about, and discuss, but never really quite understand, or, dare I say, remedy.

For the first time in my life, it feels like the "scenic" leg of the "trip" is on its way to completion. Many great things could very well still arrive, but things will never be the same.

You can always be great.

But kid, you can't be 18 forever.

My goodness, do I feel like an old man who has a million and ome musings today, or what?

MC

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65- The Itch.

I see a wall.

A very tall barrier, this one. 

The ground is swollen- rife with anger. It has becoming a demanding monarch- this fragment of Earth, this, a symbol of what it meant to be real. 

Around me, there are sirens blaring, people staring. The hopelessness is palpable. The colors fade slowly as the streets are bathed in twilight's morose blanket of haze.

In the distance, a woman weeps. I approach her, and inquire about how I may be of assistance, of comfort. She gazes upon me blankly. I turn around and walk away- perplexed by everything going on around me. I wonder why, but do not ask how.

The wall is imposing. The wall is covered in thorns, pure evil unsheathed. Beyond the wall, is salvation- or at least, that is what the tall tales purport.

I feel a yearning, an itch, to climb. I feel an itch to climb over the wall- cuts, bruises, pain, be damned, just to see the sun.

When to start?

Where to begin?

Here. Now.

**

MC

64- Good Morning!

Good morning!

I'll keep things simple.

If Manila had a train system like Singapore's, or that of any other nation with bureaucrats with enough sense, and political will, to get things done, then, we'd be all be better off.

Still Looking for Answers,
MC

63- Calm

A Little Slice of Calm in the Middle of the Big City- Gardens By the Bay Singapore

I won't lie to you guys. I am absolutely dying to travel again- and not care about much else. Sitting in an office cube, worrying about numbers, timelines, and other things which, all in all, can be classified as mundane, just don't cut it for me. Corporate life is murder- murder on the spirit, that is. Corporate life pays well- that's for sure. One must always be wary, however, of his/her soul being compromised. 

During my 2013 trip to Singapore, I can remember walking, and walking, and walking, and walking, until my feet, actually, screamed for more. The smells of culinary masterpieces wafting through the city streets, concrete Goliaths patrolling the skyline, renovation after renovation, after renovation. Singapore, at times, seemed like one huge, ultra-modern, obstacle course of a metropolis. The moments when a bloke from a country that honestly, can't even get its train system down pat, was in absolute awe, came in waves- constant, unrelenting. 

When I travel, I tend to have a hard time letting go. I have a hard time going home. I end up wondering what, and where, home is in the first place. 

It all comes to a boil then, I realize, that home is never where I thought it was, in the first place. 

Home is what tugs at your heartstrings. Home is what has meaning which transcends all the inane worksheets and meetings. 

Home is a state of being. Home is a state of calm. 

Underneath all the blinding lights, all that matters is calm. 

Move towards the calm. Surrender to it. It's what really matters in life. 

MC 

62- The Climb

When the world gets me down, I end up looking for ways to work out.

From the time begun this blog, I have lost around 20 pounds. Quite an achievement, considering that I fancy eating, and fancy traveling. I needed to take the reins again after letting myself go a wee bit.

I am curious to see how I will manage traveling and eating my way through a country's culture with being fit. Let's face it- saying no to a plate of Char Kway Teow is nearly as hard as saying "no" when you are handed a blank cheque with an open-ended caveat- for whom, and for how much.

Of course, we know that the "for whom" is likely going to end up being written out to "you". As for how much it is all going to cost, maybe a bit of your soul, and, the sky's the limit in cents and dollars.

The last few months have been mind-numbing. I have not been able to stretch my creative muscles and open my eyes for wanderlust because of WORK. Yes, work. I don't mind working. I do mind WORK taking over my mind, heart, and life, though.

This is THE climb. My climb.

This climb needs to end-one way or the other.

Until then, off I go for a run.

MC

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61- The Start

I've been to the United States 4 times in my life. It fascinates me that pictures I take while in the United States seem to come out brighter than photos I snap elsewhere. 

Is it just my eyes, or, is it where I am at? 

Traveling, discovery, is all a matter of perception. 

MC 

60- Travel Journals, Part 2

A few hours ago, I found myself lunching with some family members. It's my aunt's birthday today so it was only natural that we celebrate in some shape or form. 

Had me a great cappuccino to soothe the soul and awaken the nerves. 

I now find myself in a basketball arena full of rabid fans thinking of two things:

1) A win for my team.

2) Traveling. 

I can't help but daydream. After all, this past long weekend was supposed to have represented a new entry in my travelogue if not for the threat of overtime work and considerations related to expenses. 

To inspire you to volley the ball as far as the end line would allow, one has to be aware of how far one has come from hardly being able to carry a ball, to being in the best position to send it home for a rally point. 

So here I go. 

After San Diego, came...

The Netherlands, 2013:

Oh my goodness, this place was cold. Lots of sexual innuendo- as expected. Great food in modest portions. An amazing hostess in Miss Greet and Mr. Niels. Little cars, and smaller streets. Albert Hejin (or I think that's how I remember the spelling to be). Produce so fresh that one can't help but want to eat healthy. Hail. Tourist friendly locals. Bikes, canals, and the red light district. Legalized prostitution-lord have mercy. 

Terry O'Leary- an amazing tour guide. City tour on foot- like traveling through time. Laurie and Bert Engels as walking tour buddies. The Anne Frank House. Lijnbansgracht (forgive me if I have spelled that wrongly). A great prelude to Italy. Schipol is what NAIA in the Philippines should aspire to be like. 

Italy, 2013: 

Ah, Italy. Jospehine, Carl, Sarah, Ed, Giuseppe, and many others. Cosmos. Hotel Buenos Aires. The cobblestone streets of old time Florence. Countless, beautiful, churches. Piazzas that tell thousands of stories over what seems to be thousands of years. La Vaticana. An encounter with Pope Francis that was not to be. Getting lost in Rome at night- scary. Piazza Della Republica- witnessed changing of the guard. Making every moment spent being suspended in time- count, forever to be remembered IN time. Wacky kids on a field trip in Poggibonsi. The Amalfi Coast. Cable Car-ing in Ana Capri. Chinese Food in Naples with Kelly and Rita. Shootout near our Naples Hotel- a close encounter with Italy's answer to Cee-Lo Green. Tearful farewells to people you hope to see again. 

One final shot of caffeine to come. 

MC

59- From the Travel Notebook, Part 1

It's been too long since my last trip.

As I lie in bed this morning, I have decided to let my mind soar a bit.

No way did I ever expect to travel so much over the last 4 to 5 years. Perhaps the last 4 to 5 years had happened to make up for lost time.

Here are some thoughts on some trips I have had over recent time...

A few pounds, dollars less, dollars more, later...

Chicago, 2009:

Clapton, Clapton, Clapton. An amazing Eric Clapton and Steve Winwood concert at the United Center. Museum hopping. Subway and hotdogs off the street sold by kababayans to keep me alive. Visits to parts unknown on foot. Lost in Greektown. 10 days was way too brief.

Hong Kong, 2010:

This was a fun trip. Being billeted at a branch of the Hilton in the New Territories had its pros and cons. Good because it gave us a chance to see another, less congested, side of Hong Kong. Bad because the hotel was far from most attractions, and there was not really much to do in the vicinity of the hotel.

SnoopyWorld became my happy place. Yes. Snoopy. An entire building dedicated to Snoop Doggy Dogg. Absolutely brilliant.

Bangkok, 2011:

Royal Palace. Shining, shimmering days and nights. Gold everywhere. Family friends in my midst.Centara World Hotel and Mall a great place to crash amidst the urban chaos of Bangkok. Missed the Bangkok floods and protests by a hair during my 2011 tryst. Amazing noodles in foodcourts, and at the hotel. Late tour guide on day 2. Big fopah, but shopping made up it.

Iowa, 2012:

Amazing trip. Wide open spaces. Iowa State

Fair was a nice contrast to what I had gotten used to in the Philippines. Amazing company. Amazing food. Green, green, green, everywhere.

Las Vegas, 2012:

Training. No clubs, gambling, or MGM Grand for this boy, but a great trip nonetheless. Lost my camera on this trip, but Hakuna Matata. Hakuna Matata means no worries. Overwhelming in that nobody does it like Vegas.

San Diego, 2012:

Family reunions. Best Buy. Oh yes, Best Buy. Home cooking. Julian Apple Pie. Enough said.

More notes to come...

MC

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58- Teresa Teng

Who else from my generation listens to the late Cantonese Music great Teresa Teng? The CD boxed set you see above is something I bought in, of all places, Singapore Chinatown (one might expect a fan to be able to purchase this in a place like Hong Kong, or, Beijing maybe).

From the first time I heard Teng's music- through watching the heart-wrenching Peter Chan classic, "Comrades: Almost a Love Story", I was moved. I was hooked. It happened in a snap. I cannot understand, nor speak, Cantonese, nor do I speak and understand Fukien. It doesn't take an expert linguist to know, however, that what this lady sings comes from the soul. Not the heart. Her music comes from the soul.

Here's a bit of a story.

In "Comrades", a young lady meets a young man. They both fall in love. They are separated by fate, and brought back together by fate. They know all along that the tides of heaven are meant to ebb and flow in their favor. They doubt the veracity of destiny's to and fro, but are eventually consumed by it. To love one another is inevitable. To love one another is all they know.

That is the kind of emotion, of fervor, of unbridled joy, of untamed drama, that Teresa Teng articulates in her work. It's creative genius, really. The power of her music possesses bounds only in meter, timber, and tempo. Beyond that, we hear such music, and see that the impact of such music. Both go far beyond the sheets the music is written on.

I love Hong Kong- the country most associated with Teresa Teng. The food, the cultural diversity, the mish mash of East meets West. All amazing. Maybe I've always been enamored by the chance to be immortalized in film by Hong Kong harbor, with me proclaiming my undying affection to a Faye Wong or Ming Na looking lady. I could do that while "Tian Mi Mi" is softly playing in the background. Perhaps the soothing melodies of "The Moon Represents My Heart" could whisk us off into the horizon. Whichever way you look at it, it all makes for a truly beautiful mural of feelings, stories, hopes, and dreams. It's a Tsim Tsa Tsui diorama on a Hallmark Greeting Card.

It's a shame that Teng died so young. Damn you, pneumonia. As with many who leave us way too soon, they leave behind remnants of greatness which ultimately live forever in our collective consciousness. Teresa Teng has left behind music so poignant, so capable of sketching up images of places, people, times so lost among ideal- and idyllic- thought that we need art so pristine, so unfettered by the stresses of time, to once again be able to touch, experience, be absolutely consumed by a burning desire to be "alive".

In the music video for "Nights in Hong Kong", a huge artificial moon is shown illuminating the island state, with its glow reflecting resplendently upon its fragrant harbor. It serves as a reminder that, during even the darkest throes of twilight, there exists the possibility of joy, of faith, of love, of new perspectives, taking shape, and flourishing. All things considered, life can still be beautiful, even if we do tend to play the part of the lonely fisherman out at sea sometimes.

While out in the god-knows-where, the fisherman hears his heart beat, and is guided by the poetry and cadence of the "being" brought forth by the endless waves that lie before him.

MC

57- Drums. Cheers. Chants.

This has become a weekend habit. 

Filipinos love basketball. That's a given. But collegiate basketball? There is a special place in Pinoys hearts for that. 

This snapshot of a Sunday afternoon hoops tiff crowd at the fabled Araneta Coliseum is evidence of the love Pinoys have for amateur basketball. No big money contracts here. All heart. I'd like to still believe that it is still mostly about passion rather than anything else. 

Sports columnist Rick Olivares recently did a feature on past and present members of college basketball's mainstay squads. The feature on Ateneo De Manila University focused on a pair of wingmen- Von Pessumal, a wiry Forward who does Reggie Miller impressions better than most, and Wesley Gonzales, a bad boy swingman who this writer remembers best for his block on La Sallean Mac Cardona's hook shot in the 2002 UAAP Finals. Let's not forget his taunt once Cardona fell to the floor. That was classic material. 

Wesley unabashedly advised Von to "enjoy his college career". It's when you're a college baller that things are mostly about pride, and when the name of the game is fighting for the name of your school, and not peddling some cola, beer, or paint brand with your jersey. We all know that Pinoys have been plagued with ill fortune many times in history, and that it has taken heart- tons of it- along with an unrelenting will to win, to overcome the odds. It only follows, then, that a lot of Filipinos still choose to go the "passion" route as opposed to go for the money. 

If only politicians could fully grasp this concept, then we'd be better off. That is another story for another time, though. 

MC

56- Leave Me Some Flowers

I like flowers. I particularly believe that they are charming, pleasing to the eye, and yes, they smell very good. 

I remember a time when life was simple. An amazing meal was Spaghetti with Hotdogs, or, two slices of wheat bread covered in toasted cheddar or Edam Cheese. Awesome. 

Austerity must be at the core of all good things. I remember going to Singapore in 2009 and being fed the idea that the best food, the most pleasing gastronomic treats, could be found in hotel cafes, and 5 star restaurants. Glamour and palate ecstasy does not necessarily follow. 

Flowers. You give someone flowers and you realize that the act of giving flowers to a girl you like, for instance, has tied to it a presumed set of returns. Perhaps a date? Perhaps a bright future full of promise, full of fields of gold and folly. 

Instead of always thinking in too grandiose a fashion, try to imagine simply. With your dream girl, just be real. Be honest. When in Rome, seek for the simple, quick, wins- lest you overspend and be overwhelmed by tourist traps and ordinary things clad in gold trimmings. Chicken rice by the street over chicken rice at the Ritz. 

Give her real flowers and she'll give you her heart. 

And so it goes. 

MC

55- Raju

Look at me, and my girl. Nothing phony about those expressions, and what we are eating. Raju- Petaling Jaya, Malaysia. Anyone with a wedge of reason in his/her mind would know that it would be perfectly reasonable to go to Raju instead of some foreign-transplant type food in Malaysia. Think wasabi in KL. Think creamed spinach and hash browns at the hotel. Not cool in a country teeming with uniquely Malaysian, uniquely Asian, flavors. Why bother with the blandness of anything else? 

There were tons of Roti Prata, lots of Roti Tisyu, and curried meat. Our friend Sharon had so kindly brought us over to Raju so that we could get a clear understanding of what typical Malaysians would chomp down on a typical Saturday. 

I yearn for real hawker culture to unabashedly invade my home country. We have street food here in Manila, but there does not seem to be a method to the madness. As much of a kaledioscope of chaotic sauces, of tangy insanity, what I had seen in Malaysia tended to be, it all made sense. Those from my generation who had been exposed to the Super Nintendo and Playstation games from our collective childhoods would probably remember Mai Shiranui of "Fatal Fury" fame. What she is packing defies gravity, defies sense. Not everything that is illogical is wrong. So much food, outdoors, on leaves. More food you can finish. 

It's crazy. It's absolutely correct. 

Like any good restaurant you go to with people who matter to you, the feeling you get once you leave, tends to point to when you will actually have the chance to return. 

And return we shall. 

MC

54- Views

                A Snapshot of Marina Bay Sands from Gardens By The Bay

I have been grounded for several months now. I have not had the chance to travel due to my day job. It has been frustrating, to say the least, to watch the world evolve from a Global Webcam App, and to live vicariously through Bourdain, Seetoh, Zimmern, and other food and travel hosts.

What does the Marina Bay Sands Hotel have to do with this feeling of stagnation?

The Marina Bay Sands Hotel is a towering structure in the Singapore skyline. It's an architectural marvel. This one, a Moshe Radhe creation. A glittering symbol of the magnificence of an island state often maligned as one lacking in soul, but teeming with a truly admirable, progressive, forward-thinking, attitude.

As with many beautiful, grand, things, it is traveling is an experience best, well, experienced. No proxies, no stand ins, no BS.

For now, I can only look behind a double pane, bulletproof, window.

When I will be set free to see and feel the world again will be the day when I will feel most at peace.

MC

53- Run

I have always enjoyed exercising. During my first few years of working out, I noticed, though, that no matter what I did, I could never get my cardio right. I would have the endurance to do certain things that would allow me to engage in sports such as full court basketball, tennis, and other activities which would require a bit of running. Running had never been a primary focus, though. 

Until recently. 

Where I work, people love to travel, and love to run. At first, I would use our company gym based on workouts which I had grown accustomed to, routines involving a lot of weight training, and in many ways, not enough cardio. I went about focusing running little by little. Sneak a bit here, sneak a bit there. Eventually, I discovered that the running bug had taken over me like a virus in a world without Penicillin. I had become hooked more than I ever thought I would or could be. 

Running has become a part of my competitive and leisure personas. I am currently training to run farther distances so that I can join big races. I also run for better health, to shatter stress, and yes, jusr have tons of fun.

No wil-o-the-wisps in the form of KFC, McDonalds, and general laziness can stop me now. Health is wealth. That is a meaningful- albeit overused- quote. It might be better to say that, "Health is like a slot machine on your lucky night in Vegas. It just keeps on giving."

You get my point. 

Here's a goal- how's about running a foreign trail, or better yet, a foreign race?

Now there's something to look forward to. To fly through the air, and soar across land, would be unlike anything else in this world. That would be THE absolute thrill ride. 

MC

52- Wandering and Wondering.

I found myself wondering about many things this morning.

I found myself looking at some old photos from my various trips around the world, such as the one pasted here (from 2013, of me on the viewdeck of the Marina Bay Sands Hotel), and thinking, "So, I'm just going to be a tourist forever, I guess." Being a tourist in this case would mean doing my 9-5 and traveling, on occasion, to soothe my weary soul. That's well and good, but, on some days when you've had good Korean food, and have just had an education on the ways of the world care of a challenging corporate project, you can tend to think of what lies beyond your nearest galaxy.

Succinctly said, I believe that people, at some point, tend to wonder what lies beyond the horizons they had gotten used to seeing over time.

Your body, your mind, feel comfortable- but what about your spirit?

I remember being in Rome in 2013. My legs were tired. I was jetlagged because of all the flying I had done within the span of a little less than a week. My mom and sister thought it prudent to spend time in our hotel- resting, reading books, watching television. I, on the other hand, opted to walk, walk, walk, and walk- and get lost. It was my spirit, my thirst for adventure, that egged me on. It was the knowledge that I might not ever return to Rome (due to more practical factors- economics, time, obligations back home, etc.) that pushed me explore and find god-knows-what along the way. It was an amazing experience, the thrill of a lifetime. Ironic, really, that to find yourself, you need to "lose yourself".

What is the top of the world like? Is it about the money? The fame? The high you get from "winning" a competition?

What if all the energy one spends on "getting ahead" in life's rat race should instead be channeled towards enjoying the scenery as you plug away?

Maybe the mere act of wondering points to asking too much of life.

Or maybe not.

MC

51- MeltDown

It has been quite a while since I have been able to do a refresh here. Since my last post on "finger food", I have seen friends go to Singapore, Japan, and other parts of the Philippines. Work commitments have hindered me from traveling. I still feel hopeful, though, that sooner rather than later, I will be able to lace up my boots and stomp my way around the world again.

This entry is entitled "meltdown" not because I am on the cusp of losing my sanity, nor is it because it is warm outside. What is melting is fat! Yes, the fat's been melting and melting fast!

I have gotten back on the fitness saddle and have gotten hooked on to running. It is because of the combination of running, gym work, and a better diet that I have managed to shed off some unwanted pounds. I am still a mural waiting to be fully painted, but hey, the anticipation for the completion of the pretty picture exists- and is well-founded.

Yes, I have not been able to run off to some remote island on the other side of the world as of late, but I have been able to log some miles in a different- and I must say-fulfilling, way.

Maybe if I run hard and long enough, I will end up in China- just like in the Bugs Bunny cartoons of yore.

MC

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50- Hors D'Oeuvres

                                         Yup, we're all stuck in a sheet pan- together. 

                                       (PHOTO FROM: http://www.foodgloriousfoodbayarea.com)

We are all hors d’oeuvres, appetizers, in the eyes of the powers that be.

When was the last time you had a go at trying to “make things happen” in your life? Did your efforts go forth in vain? Well, if your attempts at success failed to meet the mark, did you not feel crushed? Devastated? Driven to eat? If we are hors d’oeuvres, then, do we not, metaphysically speaking, “eat ourselves”? When we feel saddened by a chain of events, we tend to pass around the “blame baton”, but at the end of the day, we blame ourselves for our mishap ridden lives. We “consume” ourselves by insisting that we are to blame for the disintegration of what we incessantly claim to be an existence worth mentioning in a broadsheet byline, a squall, soaring high above the mundane valleys of life.

At the end of it all, we realize, while immersed in life’s struggles, that yes, we are but bruschetta, cupcakes, crab cakes, a bowl of mixed nuts which, despite being fundamentally flawed in taste and overall quality, tend to be eaten again, and again, and again, either when people are inexorably depressed, or, when they are ridiculously blissful. There’s a plateful of irony for you.

And so goes, this moment of candour about the inner workings of human existence- and walnuts, pistachios, and peanuts swimming in salt, in a bowl that your local barman probably hasn’t washed since, well, “Frasier” was in its 5^th season.

MC

49- LOST: Rome

Rome. April 2013. 

I need to write this to cleanse myself of the microbes of off the traditional capitalist tomfoolery, tasteless humor, and unending cycles of shattered creative glass. No more. 

What was that? Perhaps it was just an odd run at being part of the herd. Not this time. Not for this entry. 

So I was walking around Villa Borghese on a Sunday afternoon. I kept walking, and walking, and walking, until I found myself in Piazza Della Republica. No deal. Not for going home. I found myself wanting to absorb as much of Rome as I could. Why not, right? It was destined to happen. 

By 800pm, I decided to walk home. Walk I did. Walk I did. Walk I did.

"Wait, where am I?"

That is what I exclaimed after a while. No taxis. No buses going around. No tricycles, jeepneys, or their first cousins. No way. I had gotten lost in Rome. At night. 

I am no human compass. Not by a mile. I needed to rely on my crumpled tourist map, and the powers of geographical common sense, to, at the very least, get me onto a main road. Laugh all you want. I wasn't laughing. I was nervous- but excited. I was excited, and all scrambly trying to get my GPS to work. This had become an adventure- albeit, a dangerous one. 

Some bums doing POT began approaching me. I kept my cool. Were they going to rob me? Mug me? Stab me? Kill me? 

Turns out they were too "high" to do any of that. Fortunate goat, I was. Fortunate goat indeed. 

Via Clitunno. A little later into the night. A block from the hotel. Relieved. So yes, my mom was mad about me having checked in late. But hey, the entire ordeal was worth it, in a way. 

Had I not gotten lost, this article would cease to exist. 

I did an Audrey Hepburn. I had gotten lost in road. Migi the adventurer. Migi goes Hollywood. Migi goes to his roots. Migi goes home.

I am not a robot. I am a wanderer, in a positive way. Why bother knowing the way, when getting lost can be oh so exhilarating? Even life changing? 

Lose the GPS. Get lost- but bring some guts (and brains) while you're at it. 

Roma. Charming belle. 

Let's get lost. 

Again. 

MC

48- Progress: Denied?

 
Here's a quick snapshot of Tanah Merah MRT station in Singapore. What most people I know don't understand would be just how VALUABLE a train line to a country's airport really is.

Where I live, we do not have a train that goes straight to our local and international airport terminals. I live in Quezon City, in the northern section of Metro Manila, in the Philippines' National Capital Region. If I were to take a taxi from my place of residence to our "Terminal 2" (where, if memory serves me correctly, I could catch a Delta Airlines flight to Detroit via Narita, for example) on a weekday afternoon, it might take me 1.5-2 hours to get to my plane stop. To travelers who fancy last minute sojourns to catch flights that WILL NOT wait, this sort of route is a death knell.

In Singapore (and in some other countries I've been to, for that matter), there is a train that goes to the airport. Trains going to other major transport hubs need not be luxurious. They just have to be efficient, clean, and relatively affordable. From what might be the same distance as Quezon City to Pasay City (where Manila's major airport terminals are located), I managed to get to Changi Airport in less than an hour. Yes, you read that right.

It is said that a nation's transport system reflects how progressive it is. I love my country, but honestly, our transportation system leaves much to be desired. The fact that we still have jeepneys that stop on a dime at any point that passengers dictate, and the fact that we still have tricycles (sort of like Bangkok's "Tuktuks") which clog up city streets and are most times the cause of unforeseen road mishaps due to their drivers' insistence to enter major thoroughfares for what may only be described as something akin to the Wacky Races with sweat and gore on asphalt, says that we still have a ways to go before we can say that we are truly "global".

The Department of Tourism is perceived as a government office that is often the proverbial landing strip for politicians at the "end of their rope" in so far as their respective terms as Mayors, Congressmen, and Senators, are concerned. Nepotism is the problem here. The tendency is that the powers-that-be appoint these woebegone politicians to head the DOT to repay personal debts/favors, and not because those whom they appoint are skilled practitioners in the field of Tourism. I know of career officials in government who have the sufficient skills, experience, and morals to be in certain key posts. I feel bad for them. I feel disappointed that they get overlooked in favor of people with just a little more clout and influence than the next guy. It is disgusting that our country's readiness to accommodate tourists is compromised because of greed.

I am not saying that the Philippines is the only fertile breeding ground for corruption. Other places face similar problems. It is just increasingly frustrating that we can't even get a train system going for those who, ironically, want to fly out of the country- and come back. The fact that these people come back, or, "go home", to Manila says that there are people who still love the Philippines.

These people love the Philippines, but maybe, not the goons and debauch agencies that run it.

MC

47- Boracay

There will be no fancy photos here.

Maybe this entry comes on the heels of the summertime in the Philippines slowly descending into the bottom of the sea.

Or maybe not.

Boracay is one of the Philippines' crown jewels for tourism. Granted, it does have pristine beaches and the island does have a 24 by 7 vibe to it.

This brings me to my main point- why am I not interested?

Okay, perhaps I am all about boring and all about ennui. Or maybe, there's something else about it.

People watching can be fun, and heck, there is extra incentive tied in to people-watching especially when the people you watch are pretty, pretty, folk. Partying can  be fun, a lot of fun, but where do we set limits to this? When does partying, being whimsical, become laughable?

Maybe I just tend to eschew "mainstream" in general, that's why I don't consider myself, or ever want to be, fully indoctrinated into the "Boracay" crowd.

Call me old fashioned, but, I'd rather go on cultural treks and go museum hopping rather than partying for 3 days straight.

If Boracay's the best of our tourist spots, then, we've got a lot of work to do. There's so much more to our nation's culture that people shaking wildly to Arman Van Buren.

(In some ways, the Arman Van Buren reference is, in itself, old school)

MC

46- The Singapore MRT

                                                     From my 2013 Singapore sojourn. 

Whenever I think of Singapore, I can't help but gush about the city's train system.

Metro Rails may be a mundane subject to many, but, for a kid who's grown up and lived in a country which is still working to sort out its public transportation system, an engineering and urban planning feat such as the Singapore MRT is something I can't help but marvel at.

Singapore is not a large country, relatively speaking. The fact that the island has MRT stations at what seems to be every corner makes it all the more simple and convenient to navigate.

The Mass Rapid Transit of Singapore opened in 1987. Next to Manila's LRT system, SG's train network is the oldest in Southeast Asia. According to Wikipedia.Org, 2.6 million people ride the Singapore MRT on a daily basis. Manila's trains are also packed on a daily basis- despite being far more unreliable than their Singaporean equivalents.

Before I get too "stat crazy", do allow me to get "experiential" about this subject.

I love the fact that the Singapore trains are usually on time, and that stations are usually packed with signs which help guide commuters as to where to go, to get to what part of town. I also like the fact that there are ushers around (at least in some of the stations I managed to visit) to assist commuters who look (or are) lost.

It is also a plus that Singapore MRT trains and MRT stations are usually immaculately clean and organized. Commuting in a country as warm as Singapore is no joke, so, being able to do so within an environment that is more or less comfortable and easy on the sense is a big motivation for many to just keep going, and not do an about-face and head on home. Believe me, chaotic train stations in Manila turn off many a commuter. They find it more prudent to turn around and take the bus to go to work, or, pack up and go home altogether.

This isn't an advertisement for the Singapore Tourism Board. This isn't a paid advertisement, period. This is merely a statement of truth, and me appreciating the fact that a little organization, and social vigilance, goes a long way.

I know the Philippines is an archipelago, and by virtue of it being so, it then becomes difficult to organize a transportation system which covers the entire country in one go.

This doesn't mean we can't start small, and dream big, though. Not by a mile.

MC

45- Freedom

Death is life, and life is somehow defined by the finality of death. I find myself today at a loss. One of my grandparents has passed on. Having learned of her final days made me think.

Freedom is soul less the burdens of the flesh. In her last few weeks on Earth, my grandmother was not in the best of health. Illness had made it hard to even breathe, much less do anything we who are young, vibrant, full of strength, deem to be part of routine. We take too many things for granted while we patrol this realm. Ironically, life itself, living, is one of those things.

This is supposed to be a travel blog, peppered with the usual stream-of-consciousness stuff that is meant to make observations hold water before the Jury of Meaning. As I have been faced with the reality of death, I have been reminded of the significance of the ultimate journey- of trying to go through life "doing" Carpe Diem, and not just wearing the words on a t-shirt.

My grandmother- and all the others I have had (we are a big family), for that matter- are absolute gems. I use this term to describe them because it is through them that I have recalled the brilliance of living, and living fully. Times were not always easy for these women, no way, but in their own individual ways, they persevered. One was a nurse, a few homemakers, and another, well, could kill sea snakes with her bare hands- or so she told wide-eyed little me when I was very young. They all have managed to weave a brand of magic that I don't think I will ever cease to appreciate.

Whether I find myself in Manila, Kuala Lumpur, Los Angeles, Rome, or, well, at the bottom of a well somewhere, I know the spirits, the virtues, of my kin will always be with me, helping me navigate through life. I would be so much less without these amazing guiding lights.

Life is defined by death, and death, by life. True freedom is also defined by the treasures rendered by a life lived, and while life is lost as the journey ends, the life is never, ever, forgotten.

Love knows no death. Love lives free. Love flourishes upon which radiance would normally never be.

MC

Posted via Blogaway

Posted via Blogaway

45- Memory

Have you ever gotten sick and tired of how your coffee tastes like in the morning? How the city traffic gets under your skin? How life's conundrums which ultimately boil down to money and power rape your soul of dignity?

Yes. I thought you'd say yes.

Here's a thought.

People surf the internet for fun. Sometimes, we skim through cyberspace for work, but most of the time, we do so for fun. Some people surf the web and search for pictures, beautiful pictures. Of places. Of things. Of the stuff dreams are made of.

Beautiful scenery like this, for example, is Google-d, and marveled at very, very, much.

           A shot of Singapore's many buildings and thoroughfares from the Marina Bay Sands                                                                                    view deck. 
                              (Take note of the magnificent Singapore Flyer on the left hand side!)


I believe that many times, people tell themselves that they "want to travel" because they "can't stand being idle" or "can't stand being stuck in one place". Perhaps, a slight change in dialogue, would be in order. Maybe we should tell ourselves that we should travel so that we can heal the malaise known as seeing life from a single perspective.

Paste a thousand eyes on me, will you? While you're at it, make those eyes look in a thousand different directions so that I can see things better, so that I can make sure that I am able to take note of every single beautiful detail that makes up the WONDER that is YOU.

                         A picture of a serene Monday afternoon in Camarillo, California.

"Getting away from it all" shouldn't just be a buzzword. It should be a fully comprehensible, tangible, part of one's lifestyle. Explore. Invent. Create. Have vision. Live life with an infallible zest. The value of all this can't be overstated.

I've been fortunate enough to have been able to take the photos above in person. The pictures here came from my own camera. I clicked the darn thing, and it snapped up a memory, forever frozen in time.

I encourage people to make memories during their every waking moment. I encourage them to do so because every memory you create, and subsequently cherish, are things which never really fade or wither. Memories only become more deeply embedded in our spirits with time. They are gifts that go from womb to tomb.

To close, I would like to thank you, the reader, for taking time to read my blog. The thought that a handful of folks take time to read my thoughts is, in itself, a memory I hold dear.

MC

44- Amsterdam

Amsterdam. April 2013.

It was cold, really cold. I am a kid from the tropics, and so, the weather in Amsterdam at that time of year totally gave the expression “shiver me timbers” a whole new meaning.

Within my first 2-3 days in Europe, I felt like I couldn’t- and shouldn’t- ever leave to go back to the life I had left behind.

Of course, I did still ride my KLM and Korean Air flights on April 30^th. I still did go home to my dogs, my sister, my dad, and my warm bed after a few weeks in the clouds. It was inevitable that I did. This life does not look upon spur-of-the-moment choices with much aplomb- even if some spur-of-the-moment choices end up being the best choices one ever makes.

I stayed with my mom and youngest sister in Amphora Bed and Breakfast. The owners of the place, Greet and Niels, provided us with everything we needed for a few intrepid Filipinos to be able to survive the Amsterdam cold- and then some. My sister had all the Nutella she could eat, and I downed some really good apple and cranberry juice on a regular basis. We never opened the television during our stay, maybe because we always felt like we had so many things to talk about and stuff about the city which we had to look up online via our tablets and Smartphones.

Here are a few snapshots of the place. Quite simple, tastefully decorated, and homey. No wonder it has won best B and B in Amsterdam once before. 

The fascade of Amphora. My face looks really pale here. No accident. I was freezing my nose off here. Cryogenic treatments, anyone? 

                          A quaint little dining area. I love the eclectic and whimsical decor. 

                                                             Again, simple elegance.

I initially noticed a number of things about Amsterdam that might surprise the first timer. The city's Red Light District, interestingly enough, was populated at night by tour groups with participants ranging from senior citizens to, gasp, pre-teens. Well, I guys that's just how open and liberal they can be over there. It's a matter of how you regulate and contextualize things, I suppose. 

Speaking of how things are regulated and contextualized, marijuana is legal in Amsterdam. One of the first things a tour guide (Terry) I met over there told me was to be wary about taking coffee in just any coffee shop. The reason? There are apparently a lot of coffee shops that mix in weed with their offerings as a staple practice. I don't mind a caffeine high, but the other kind of high? I think I'll pass. Maybe not on a regular basis at least. 

Apart from having a Sex Museum, a Museum of Modern Art, a Museum of Medieval Art, and a museum for everything else in between, there were, surprisingly, a lot of Medieval Torture museums in Amsterdam (and in other parts of Europe that I managed to visit). Above is a photograph of me at one such place in Damrak 33. Ironically, this place was just a stone's throw away from a coffee shop, a local tourist center, and, a Sex Museum. That kind of layout makes for an interesting exposure trip for Little Johnny. Have some coffee, see Phallic Symbols and Bare Bosoms, and Heads on a Stake, all in one go! How exciting! 

I love being exposed to different kinds of culture. That's why I love travelling. That's why I love being part of a good adventure. 

One of the things I miss most about Europe would probably be the fact that every street corner seemed to talk to me. Every street corner, every building, every home, seemed to have a unique voice that spoke to me about enthralling, bygone eras, I could only marvel at previously through books, movies, and yes, general daydreaming.

Yes, Amsterdam was fantastic. The city, as did Rome, "spoke" to me. It's a shame I only a few days to soak everything in. 

I've said this a lot on this blog, and yes, I will say it again here. I will be back. 

My passport and visas have been in hibernation lately. Best I rev up the traveling man's engine again and strive to get lost- to go far, far, away from all things judgmental and unrelentingly cynical and weak. 

MC

43- Flipped 1

                  A photograph of me and my adopted brother, Stay Puft. Hollywood and Highland,
                                                             Los Angeles. August 2013.


Apart from getting to watch WWE Summerslam 2013, part of my US escapade last from August of last year was a chance to actually "take in" LA.

One thing I love the US in general is shopping. There is a lot of the usual "Made in China' fare, but honestly, there is a lot of stuff you just don't see back home in the Philippines, or in Asia, for that matter. During my last morning/afternoon in the City of Angels, I got around to spending time at Hollywood and Highland, a mecca for tourists in search of the best view of the "HOLLYWOOD" sign, and some overpriced souvenirs to take home to Ma, Pa, and Little Jimmy and Jane. \

First, there was Hot Topic. First impression was that, well, there were a lot of odd looking fellows in there with piercings and all that jazz, but, I was there for something else- WWE T-Shirts. Two days prior to my hot topic visit, I was at the Staples Center for Summerslam 2013. For those who are US-based, this might not seem like a huge deal, but, to this Filipino lad, travelling halfway around the world to witness a pro-wrestling spectacle in person is pretty darn significant. WWE Summerslam Axcess made Miguel's inner kid go bananas too. I got to meet some of the current crop of wrestling stars (Yoshi Tatsu was extra friendly), and got a truckload of shirts. $25-$30 a shirt? Quite steep, yes. But for someone from my neck of the woods, I said, "What the heck, right?". So I whipped out my greenbacks and bought, bought, bought.

Hot Topic sold the shirts for $15-$20 less. Did I lose sleep over the dollar duping? Not really, but here's a note to all tourists- don't think like when when you need to make souvenir purchases. I've usually adhered to this philosophy. So I slipped once. Not the biggest tragedy.

                                         
                                                         Photo Courtesy of Elirose Borja.

Los Angeles where Hollywood is after all, and so, celebrity sightings are not unusual, whether you're strolling around near the Nokia Theater, or, having a Cappuccino in an LA suburb. Broadcaster Larry King has always been known to be Professional Wrestling fan, so, it was no surprise seeing him at WWE Summerslam Axcess 2013. The great thing was that I got to "tail" him for a little bit. As seen in the photo above, I got to snap a few shots of one of the most renowned talk show personalities in the world. I really was on full tourist mode in LA, eh?

                                     Chilling at the Staples Center with my new friend, Phil Reyes.                                      
                                                  Photo courtesy of Tin Franco/Rose Borja

When seen purely from the standpoint of a wide-eyed fan, being at the Staples Center was an amazing experience. I have never been a Clippers nor a Lakers fan, but having been able to go into a building with so much NBA history tied to it, was breathtaking. Put on top of that, the fact that I had gotten to watch some of the best wrestlers ever- upstarts, and vets - go at it on a Pay-Per-View stage/level, and what you get is an awestruck Migi.

Man, Brock Lesnar was HUGE, but cat-quick. Daniel Bryan was a dynamo in the ring, and had the crowd in the palm of his hand. Dolph Ziggler's athleticism did not fail to captivate, and one can only wonder why he hasn't been pushed more as of late. Kane was, well, Kane. Bray Wyatt, in his first Pay-Per-View contest, shone like few others before him.

It always has amazed me how "hardcore" wrestling fans can be. Signs, chants, t-shirts, you name it. Wrestling fans will always think of ways to express their views, negative or positive, much to the delight of those in charge of Marketing for wrestlers and the promotions they represent. At the end of Summerslam, there I sat, voice strained (from all the shouting and chanting), and with a full stomach (the buffet at the VIP suite was quite good). I even got a WWE Action Figure, and a Summerslam Cap, courtesy of one of WWE's PR guys. Indeed, the weekend was any wrestling fan's dream.

As rambling as this entry seems, it does prove something about amazing travel experiences. Sometimes, all that remains after a few months, or a few years, are the salient points, the key events. My trip to Los Angeles in 2013 was one that left me with a choc full of memories, so much so that I can't help but ramble about them in little bits. It's tough to know where to begin when an entire week for you was sensory overload from start to finish.

If tossing fish bits in a bucket is what it will take for me to tell people more about certain travel experiences I've had which are tough to share via a perfectly flowing narrative, then so be it. It's not a knock on the writer as a writer. It's more of, the natural shape of the experience as shared by one who wants to work according to it, and not against it, or with the purpose of reinventing it.

Just the same, you could view it as a cop out and dump a bucket of noodles over my head. Either way, if it makes for good entertainment, I'm all for it.

More stuff soon.

MC


                                                   

42- Time After Time

Above is a shot of the clock tower adjacent to the Opera House in Tsim Tsa Tsui, Hong Kong. I snapped this while I was walking to the MTR to go to Mongkok in 2013. I didn't choose to paste this particular photo on this particular entry because of a desire to talk about Hong Kong. I just figured that it would help embody something that's been rumbling inside of me for some time.

No, I'm not talking about an angry stomach because of the absence of a decent meal, nor am I talking about
a baby. I am a guy, just so you all know.

I am talking about desire. I am talking about a "wanting" to do things. I am talking about feeling understood and actually being understood. I am talking about being able to know and actually act upon, your passions.

Lately, the last part of the previous paragraphs been tough to grasp.

Over a period of several years, years which have felt like forever, I have, like many others out there, set my passions aside in the name of "making it" in the "rat race". Ah yes, the rat race, that competitive exercise which leaves many successful, some unsuccessful (or vice-versa), and many drained of their sanity, or, well, their strength, any which way you define it.

I would like to raise my hand and say, yes, I have sold my spirit to the rat race many, many, times before. Am I proud of it? Well, yes. There are merits to putting a lot of your energy into your office job. The sense of fulfillment which you obtain from "doing what you do" can be quite special.

Then, there's the other side of the coin.

Where do you draw the line between doing what you need to do, and, doing what you love to do? Some people get to do what they love to do to address needs. Sometimes, I envy those people. Hey, if a camel driver loves what he's doing, and if he gets paid enough for it to feed his family, then, all the best to him. This entry is not dedicated to everyone who's ever wanted a shortcut to the top, to stability, to prosperity. Not in the slightest. It is more of a stream-of-consciousness ode to those who simply want balance. There is nothing wrong with overtime "over time", but hey, one needs to nourish his/her soul in as much as he/she nourishes his/her body and mind.

This entry is dedicated to all of us who have found ourselves to be too busy, too bogged down by stress, too tied up by the rat race that we feel like we may have let what really matters in life, slip from our grasp. One set of enduring images that comes to mind would be the many mental photographs I've taken over the years during trips abroad, or around the Philippines, with my friends and family.

The crazy card games with my grandmas (yes, you read that right) during Holy Week in the province. We'd eat as many steamed peanuts as is humanly possible, and would laugh to our hearts' content. Those were good times for all of us.

The field trips I used to take with friends from school. Eating, singing, shouting on the bus. Fun memories from my youth, for sure.

Long talks in coffeeshops with friends- some long gone, others, who now reside far from me. It all makes perfect sense now. Starbucks, Coffee Bean, UCC- they're all in the business of relationships, not coffee and snacks.

Trips to who-knows-where with significant others, best friends, and other happy people. I will never forget those times.

So, I suppose that sometimes, we need to sleep on pain and hardship not because we want to escape responsibility, but because, we occasionally need to recharge and get ready to fight another day.

No one knows what tomorrow will bring. All we can do is try our best to be ready to thrust, parry, thrust, parry.

Never forget to, once in a while, dream of great views of glacial peaks, the sounds of animal life in a lush forest, and yes, the sounds of tolling clock signalling that its time to....

Wake up.

No snooze option this time.

MC

41- Whenever I'm Down...

                            Traveling is as much about "seeing" as it is about "tasting", "smelling",                                                            "touching", and ultimately, experiencing. 

Lately, I have found myself drowning in a sea of work. Yes, work. That is a four letter word which many people dread, in the same way some dread taxes, Mondays, traffic, and angry ex-wives screaming for their share of the king's fortune.

I think that I've established that I love to travel. I love to dream, to create, and to ponder, to philosophize. Whenever I am down, I tend to turn to these things to try and perk myself up. People say that they think "Happy Thoughts" whenever they feel bogged down by the daily grind.

Some people attribute their "happy places" to a new Porsche, a new house, a new iPhone, or, having the girl of their dreams with them, arm in arm. Those things appeal to me- no doubt. For today though, as I rummage through the stacks upon stacks of "deliverables" (that isn't even a word...it is a term the corporate gods thought up) I have pending, allow me to gush about Hainanese Chicken Rice from Tian Tian Chicken Rice Hawker Stand at the Maxwell Road Food Center in Singapore. What's the fuss about boiled chicken and white rice, say you? Was Anthony Bourdain mad for declaring this spartan dish a "must eat" before you kick the bucket?

Last November, I hauled ass to Maxwell Road, and experienced what all the fuss was about.

There existed, on a green plastic plate, a perfect orchestration of flavor and texture, meat and sauce, rice, and stock. Flawlessly done. Add chili sauce to the mix (I am a sucker for anything spicy) and what you get is even more sensory pleasure. Insane stuff. Perfect stuff.

So that, that kind of satisfaction which comes attached to something so austere, so unassuming, is my happy object for the day- or longer.

The "Rat Race" makes us chase for so many things which tend to reside "in the clouds"- wealth, fame, influence.

Sometimes, all it takes is a plate of good home cooking (and a Heineken) to remind us that all it takes to give our souls a smile is something closer to the ground than your parents, teachers, or bosses will ever teach you.

Yum. :)

MC

40- Sha Tin

Was this me? I look so different here! Here is a shot of me from 2010, while on the Lek Yuen bridge in Sha Tin, Hong Kong.

In 2010, the world was different. The iPhones 3g-4 were still in fashion. President Aquino (Benigno) had just assumed office in the Philippines, and in the NBA, Kobe Bryant had just won his 5th NBA title. Different times, those were.

2010 for Migi was a tough year. Left a job, left the universe hanging, a strange reality spanning. When the noise became too tough to bear, I decided to accept a chance to go to Hong Kong to clear my head.

This is not the first time I have written about Hong Kong on this blog- and it might not be the last. In 2010, tensions were high between the Philippines and HK because of an unfortunate hostage taking fiasco that took place in Manila's Quirino Grandstand that left many dead, and many questions about peace and order, processes, and the Philippiney Bureaucracy, so much so that it didn't matter whether you were a member of Congress, a street food vendor, or a banker. This was an issue that would likely linger for a while, just like smell of grilled meat from the best Teppanyaki joint in town.

Hong Kong, at this point in time, was, then, a fascinating choice for a travel destination.

I did not spend a single second in Tsim Tsa Tsui, or Central, during this particular sojourn. Now, before you bestow a "untouristy" crown upon me, take heed. I did go to Disneyland HongKong with my mom. This, I think, you can forgive me for. Hey, who would not want to go to Disneyland with his mom? Especially it is your first time to enter Mickey Mouse's house, period? Whether it be in Paris, Anaheim, or in Asia, Disneyland is Disneyland.

Then, there was Sha Tin. The casual tourist might say, "Sha what?"

Prior to the British reeling Hong Kong in as a British territory, Sha Tin was known as Lek Yuen, or, loosely
translated, a "source of pristine water". It used to be widely known as a market town and was, incidentally, the site of the first flight of a powered aircraft in HK (1911).

If I recall correctly, Sha Tin had its own MRT station (part of the East Rail Line), and low and behold, its own Snoopy World. Oh yes. Snoopy World.

As with a lot of places in Hong Kong, parts of Sha Tin were also once vast agricultural farm lands. Exploring certain quieter parts of Sha Tin led me to see couples strolling to and fro Lek Yuen bridge, and senior citizens doing Tai Chi. There were also vast gardens and public parks available to locals and tourists. This felt like a nice respite from the Hong Kong of concrete and flashing lights which I had gotten used to from previous visits.

Yes, I did go shopping in Sha Tin in 2010. I got a shirt, and a pair of pants. Most people do go shopping when in Hong Kong anyway. This particular trip was more about going forward opposed to going sideways. I stayed at the Hilton, yes, but this was a 5 star hotel near University MRT station. Simply put, it was a grand palace of a hotel- albeit, in the middle of nowhere.

Sha Tin was fascinating to me because in many ways, it looked like a part of Hong Kong that was in a state of flux. You had a smattering of ultra modern structures, along with some structures which you know must have been around when your mom and dad were still very, very, small. I suppose that, while this entry is as much about recalling very personal, somewhat innocuous details about Sha Tin as it is about taking up 10 minutes of a reader's time, this too is about conveying a key message. Traveling is about personal experiences, looking at people, places, and things through very distinct lenses. This is not about what Tripadvisor per se, would say. It is more about what YOU think, what you consider gold, and what consider guano.

On the side of all that, is the wonder that comes with diversity, the amazement you feel when you find something so different that you, oddly enough, find that you have a strong connection to whatever that concept, that place, that item, of a different hue, is. That is what my journeys over the years, have been defined by.

I suppose this is why a place as seemingly nondescript as Sha Tin would make a blip on my radar. This is why Hong Kong, for everything that has been said about it, will still be as engaging as a Teresa Teng song is, to this old bloke from a nearby archipelago.

Unity in diversity. I have always believed in the principle and I am not about to let it relinquish its hold on me anytime soon.

MC

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