There’s a story that i will tell.
Quite unlike any other tale that ever existed, unless you count awesome sci-fi stories by Kurt Vonnegut or Gene Rodenberry. And like all the awesome stories that you know pretend you’re too good for but you secretly love. It’s about a boy who loved a girl and that girl who also loved that same boy who is in love with her. ad infinitum.
That boy for all intents and purposes is just a human. Let’s say he has brown hair, or absolutely black that it’s the color of jet fuel. The kind that he uses to move spaceships. He’s an aerospace machinery technician and being a human, considers earth as his home but mars as his office.
The girl is just a girl. She has soulful eyes you can drown in and that’s all you will ever have to know.
The boy and the girl lived a very happy life spent in sunny days holding each other’s hands.
Common sense tells us only idiots buy into that fictional idea of happiness.
Looking back at 2012 which was spent like a hyped up Pacman 2-bit game munching and munching until i get to the next level. I tried to satiate my insane hunger and wanderlust for places packed with beauty, mystery and tuna. Most days were spent having quiet evenings at home to Compare prices and find cheap hotels because that year i was on a mission. the start of my Level 45 Mage to Wizard Quest.
Like a delicious 5 star hotel breakfast buffet, i gobbled up the year and filled it with memories of plane rides, grueling hikes, weird cuisine, amorous trysts, heartbreaks and romance, mosquito bites, cuts, bruises and a lot of mornings in a stupor all because i wanted to savor all the things that my country can offer and be proud to say that hey i’m Pinay, i’m an insane backpacker and i’ve seen my country, the Philippines *cues* Lupang Hinirang.
The problem with writing about something that has already happened is that you go through a filter.
Your memories morphs into an exuberant saturated color or fades to a deep sepia, depending on what you remember from that trip and how you currently feel now.
Which is why travel writers hate backlogs.
But for someone like me, it’s impossible not to have any.
It was 9:30am when me and my sparring partner arrived in the chilly City of Pines last Saturday. Coming from the successful launch of Travel Massive Manila the night before and having to wait at the Victory Liner bus terminal for 4 hours before boarding was tiring, so we were a bit saddened by the fact that we couldn’t avail of the early check-in feature of Azalea Residences. Instead of waiting at the lobby and inflicting a Cruciatus Curse upon the guests who checked out late, we decided to have breakfast first at PNKY Travel Cafe.
I have a 10 digit (#CL) Client ID Number for a Canadian Permanent Resident Visa Application courtesy of my amazing Mother.
We’ve been at it since 2009? Or earlier if you ask my Mom.
From that time til now i can count exactly:
560 minutes spent on phonecards.
380 email attachments
25 embassy visits
4 application fees paid by bank notes
and countless of I-Miss-Yous from my Mom and I.
There’s no sign on intelligent life form here. and that’s because i don’t consider myself as personifying the definition of that word.
2nd shift. Clocked in at 19.45.
Ferris Wheel #3, FantasyLand, Gloria de Dapitan.
Zamboanga del Norte
Security Guard #1
Are you there God?
It’s me, Lauren.
And i’m broke.
It’s the premise of a Comedy movie, going against the grain in the most awkward moment possible. Unplanned and no holds barred.
Like the day i went to Basilan.
I had a depressing Jollibee breakfast in Zamboanga, and called Dong Ho to report my status. If only i knew then that he had to convince his brother to take me out on a tour that day. I’d probably get shy. Or maybe– most likely not really.
Of course it made me sad. But not enough to make me regret anything.
Sorry if i haven’t written to you in a while. I was busy, okay, i wasn’t i just didn’t really know what to say. Or maybe i did and i didn’t know whether saying it would be a good idea or not.
I just came back from an awesome trip recently, it’s in a place called Coron, in Northern Palawan a 55 minute propeller plane flight off Manila. I wasn’t very sure that this trip would happen and purchased my tickets just a few days before and my return flight on the same day as my departure at the airport, and even then sitting at the frighteningly unstable seat i didn’t really think i was there. After all i did have plans on doing Palawan on a different time.
“No ma’am. The announcement was last call for boarding. You can’t check-in anymore.”
Like a lover chasing for her last chance at love I chased my plane like a madman dashing through airport and zipping past the security officers but to no avail. I heard those words as a broke traveling student who was 781 miles away from home. It was the last thing i needed and the scariest thing that could happen. My legs felt soft and i was so angry at myself for being late. Sick or not, i had a flight.