When I was in college, all I could think of when hearing the name Sri Lanka was the place where Ravana took Sita after abducting her away from Rama and Lakshman. In my professor’s version of Ramayana, Ravana took a big leap from India to get to Lanka. In other versions, Ravana shoved Sita inside his Pushpaka vimana, man-handled a giant peacock, and used it to fly back to his kingdom. What is regarded as a discovery of something which was not sought but was nevertheless found is perhaps what makes …

I stepped out of Bandaranaike International Airport with all the soot and grime of Manila, Singapore, Kuala Lumpur, and of course, Sri Lanka. Four airports, three plane rides, damning heat of the summer sun, one 1-hour bus ride, and one 4-hour bus ride in 24 hours should be enough to drive me to pick an axe and decapitate Ron, or anybody who crosses my way. But since that was our first out-of-South East Asia trip together, I restrained myself lest be banned from going out of the country.

The bittersweet journey started …

“The brighter the sunlight, the deeper the shadows…” ~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

The long and winding road did not lead me to the significant other’s door, but to the yard of Batik Painting Art Centre by Hery’s. It was the day I met my guide who led me to the inner streets without telling me where we were going. I was so ready to show my ninja moves if he was ever going to try something. But he didn’t, and my kunai stayed hidden under my clothes.

The place is a batik …

Once upon a time, there was a guy named Bandung Bondowoso. We shall call him Hunk. And also during that time, there was a gal named Roro Jonggrang. Let’s call her Babe. Of course, Hunk wanted to marry  no less than “the” babe. So he went to Babe’s dear dad and impressed the living lights out of him that by the end of the courtship (you really have to court the parents, and not the object of your demented affection), dear dad said “alrighty!” plus thumbs up with a wicked wink in one eye. Pissed …

There is one thing that ticks me off when I travel, and that is being asked the never ending question of why I am alone (except, of course, when I travel with Ron, then WE suffer the question: “how long have you guys been dating?” Ugh!). Sometimes, people get clever and would ask me if I am meeting a friend when I get to my destination. I open a can of worms the moment I answer, “No.” Then follows the question of my civil status; of why, at my age, …

I am a selfish person. And Ayn Rand… I owe it all to you. If I wasn’t able go to Beijing, I shall go somewhere else. Hello Indonesian people! You shall have me for a visitor! Please make sure you change my perception that you lovely people exude this certain… certain, hmmm… certain… thing…

And so my journey began at Jakarta airport which felt like committing suicide every minute because I had to stay there for 18 hours (why I did not leave the airport is a testament to my laziness). At …

It was my last day in Beijing and my train ticket back to Shanghai is my last rope and if I miss it, I should consider looking for a day job to earn for an airfare back home.

With limited time and budget, my dream of tittuping around the Summer Palace burst into mist. I decided to stay in central Beijing and walk around the Forbidden palace instead–and MAN! It was so touristy (like Disneyland Touristy), I was actually anticipating an Empress Dowager mascot to come out anytime in the middle …

Make me moan, Caramoan…
~Santi Obcena

Fresh from the trip to Ilo-Ilo a week before, Ron and I decided to bring Jeff to Caramoan Islands. Together with Santi, we huddled at terminal 3 an hour before departure. As always, Ron had to be late… We had to do unbelievable stunts to keep the counters open till Ron arrived. And he did, in the nick of time…
After a short plane ride to Naga Airport, we hit the road and immediately looked for a place to eat.

Kinunot, stewed shark and stingray meat.

Pinangat, taro leaves …

Filled with loathsome La Paz Batchoy soup, we decided to move along to get to our next destination, the Beach. Finally…
We hopped on a cab to take us to the bus terminal in Jaro and labored about 2 and a half hours of sweltering bus ride to the isolated town of Concepcion. We unfortunately planted ourselves beside the window so that when we went down the bus, the skin color of our left arms are nowhere near our right’s. We were dropped off at the wet market where our contact …

April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots and spring rain.
~t.s. eliot, the waste land

It was late afternoon in 1991, when I noticed that the window in my room is covered with what seemed to be like a thin layer of flour. I went out to find out what’s happening. It was like snowing, but the falling specks was dry and not cold. I also noticed that the car parked outside was covered with what looked like confectioner sugar. I wiped a …