New York, care free days, and blue skies.

Someone please give me a reasonable excuse to go back and see New York again.

Summer is here, I can hear Donna Summer singing in the background again.

The past weekend was life-changing. I got to unwind and chillax with the bestest best friends in the world, and we parted knowing that things are *literally* never gonna be the same again in a melodramatic but exciting sort of way. What a way to start summer, yeah? :) (And what a way to start another chapter in our lives.)

Gone are my dark and twisted days. I think I’m starting to fall in love with life again. :)

2009 for me was a year of failed attempts in the travel department. 2008 had a couple of missed flights too, but at least it was the year when New York and Sydney happened, and surely, when two of your dream destinations happened in a period of 2 months, it simply trumps the stack of unused plane tickets you accumulated the whole year, right? But when you booked tickets almost every time Cebu Pacific launched an International Seat Sale and the whole year passed and you didn’t get to use every single one of them because of reasons beyond your control, then that’s a different sob story altogether.

Sadly, this photograph was the closest I’ve ever been out-of-the-country last year. I was off to Bangkok with Joni and Romela but as we checked our bags in, I came face-to-face with one of the most devastating news in all my history of travel: Sorry Miss, we can’t let you fly out, so go home and start unpacking your clothes. My passport was expiring in 5 months and 3 weeks that time, and okaaay, I kinda knew that it was expiring, but I wasn’t aware that the 6-month rule applies to Asian countries too.

Dude. I know. At least I got to experience the airport huh.

Prior to that failed Bangkok flight, I missed a Hong Kong trip with Mae and Joni (why hello Joni, it’s you again) because *cough* I happened to have acquired a disease that was too sensationalized I was sent off to solitary confinement for 2 weeks, I mean, come on, universe, are you serious?, there are 365 days in a year and you chose this weekend of all weekends for me to come down with The Flu, how freaky coincidental is that? *cough*

There were more missed flights, but those two I mentioned were the best ones. (Or worst ones, whatever.)

Cruel. Cruel was the year 2009. It’s one of those years you don’t ever want to replay over because you don’t want to be reminded of all those wasted plane tickets.

Hence I made it my personal goal to make things right this year. Chase dreams. Fly. See places. Be a ridiculously happy traveler. Fall in love in a foreign place. Fall in love with a foreign place. Get lost in a foreign place.

Oh, and NOT waste a single plane ticket again, EVER.

And hey, I know there will always be circumstances I won’t have control over, but I also know that I’m one year older and wiser now. You see, it’s just not possible to come out of a year like 2009 and not be a better person — hats off to God for making awesome things out of, well, years like 2009. And given that I’m, I believe, *ehem* a better version of myself now, I’m pretty confident that I have better judgment and wisdom to know which tickets to invest in and which are not worth wasting time and money over. (Send in your truckloads of grace, Lord. Bring it on!)

Brighter days ahead, I can see it now. This year is going to be great.

And yes, I’m really just talking about plane tickets, okay, gimme a break. c”,)

I don’t know if it’s a girl-thing, but I have this peculiar ability of attaching memories to places. I remember places by the way they once made me feel, or by memories I thought I already forgot. It’s a curse and a gift at the same time. Curse, because even when I don’t want to remember what happened here or there, I can’t help but do. Gift, because that also means that I get to contain memories in places, hence avoiding those places will ultimately make me forget and help me move on.

Exhibit A. Sometime in 2006, I had to avoid Greenbelt for one whole year because I had to forget a college boyfriend. Typical, I know, but effective nonetheless. Exhibit B. In 2007 when my Dad died, I had to avoid being in his office for a couple of months because it’s impossible to be there and not cry over the reality that we’re never going to see him there ever again. Exhibit C. In my last day in New York in 2008, I had to ask the cab driver to pass by 34th street on the way to the airport. Just one last ride through my most favorite spots in Manhattan, I thought, because I knew that after that ride I would start to forget. And that time I didn’t want to forget just yet.

In the past 5 years that I lived in Ortigas, Pasig, my moving from one apartment to another was characterized by some huge transition in my life — my Dad’s death, that big career move, a relationship that ended badly, etc — as if it’s become a coping mechanism of sorts. Consciously or unconsciously, I wasn’t quite sure. I just know that for me to be able to transition, I had to start over in a new place, akin to flipping a fresh new page in a notebook.

Six is the number of apartments here in Pasig that I moved in and out of in the span of 5 years. Anyone can beat that record? If moving is a degree in college, it would’ve been time for me to graduate by now. But I guess it’s not time to graduate from this moving around just yet.

In all this apartment-hopping, Delgado Place was where I stayed the longest. Not only was this low-rise condominium the prettiest and the most secured I’ve ever lived in, it’s also the one place that actually felt like second home to me. The guards and caretakers have become an extended family. “Adobo To”, that karinderya (eatery) across the street, has become my most favorite lunch hangout.

I loved living here. I honestly believed I would stay longer, that this was going to be my last stop, but hey, life’s funny that way. Often, the things you thought you were so sure of, you find out later, are just mere phases in your life. Nothing is certain, I learn over and over, so you’ll have to be ready to pack-up, leave the unnecessary baggage behind and go when God says it’s time to go.

Tomorrow I make my 7th move. I have been feeling sentimental about it the past two weeks, boxing up everything in this room that once made it feel like home. But I’m almost ready, and excited to make new memories in the next city I’m going to conquer.

“..and with that, we say goodbye to Delgado Place,” Mae tweeted after she & Joni spent one last night here in Delgado with me. Glad to know I’m not the only one sad to leave this place behind.

So yeah. Thank you, Delgado Place, I just had to say (and blog). It was lovely spending 2008 and 2009 under your roof.

Hi. I’m here in Cebu and will be flying back to Manila in about two hours. I thought I’d blog something before we leave, just because it sounded like a good idea to blog from some place besides my desk (or my bed) in Ortigas.

I’d like to think I’m well-traveled, being here for the second time in the past two months — I was here with Mae and Joni just last May. But really, it’s mostly because a cousin from New York is in the Philippines for a 2-week visit, and I have been one of his designated babysitters and tourist guides since he arrived. He wanted to see Cebu (and our relatives here), so here we are.

Now this has got to be my longest 48 hours ever. We landed here Wednesday morning, and tried to squeeze in two days as much of Cebu as we can.

That’s me (the one wearing the hot pink shirt), with the beautiful people I share my genes with.

It was a short trip, but it’s one of those trips that you’ll always remember and associate a place with. The secluded Mantayupan falls, the unforgetable rafting experience, and freezing cold water. The yummiest ice cream in the world made of cow’s milk from Molave — I can’t remember ever eating five ice cream cones all in one day. Sleeping in one of those bamboo gazebos and waking up to the smell of fried tilapia (that my cousins fished themselves), native tinola, and churizo. Daddy Rods’ home-made avocado ice cream, and Kuya Ginggoy’s kaldereta. Losing about 200 pesos over Majong and Poker. Cheetos, chapstick, the Terraces, cheap souvenirs, and making up funny songs on the road. And most of all, spending all of these with family.

I had to lose sleep and squeeze in work as much as I can in the middle of all of that, but it’s okay. I shall resume regular programming and catch up on piles of work as soon as I’m back in Manila, I don’t care. The past 48 hours is priceless.