To Intramuros: My Solo Excursion

I have long been wanting to go to Intramuros alone and just walk around, taking pictures and looking at stuff. The Walled City was a very beautiful city during its glory years, and it still is at present, in some parts. Nevertheless, as my previous post suggests, I am an all-talk-no-act person. That is, I tend to retain whatever I want to do in my head instead of actually acting up on it.

However, I am really getting tired of this counter-productive attitude and I am starting to struggle my way out of it. I am trying to fight off my stupid anxious thoughts and to just get my ass moving. And so, last Sunday, I finally got up, after much internal debate, walked the whole stretch of Katipunan Ave., casually rode two trains, and found my way inside the city.

Of course, there were also a few side trips before I actually got in the city.

I passed by Universidad de Manila which had NoyNoy's portrait posted on its entrance. I don't know how different this school is from the University of the Philippines-Manila.

Across the university is a plaza. In front of it is a huge monument depicting the KKK. I've always stared at that figure and have always wanted to walk pass it. If allowed, I would have even stared at it a while longer instead of just snapping a shot.

Behind the statue, people were singing, dancing and clapping. It seemed like a religious worship but the audience composed of dark, house-clothed locals instead of elegantly well-dressed church people. I figured the party was organized by some korean church who wanted to entertain or give something to the residents of the area.

After a hundred more steps and a couple of life-threatening underpasses, I finally reached the city.

My first stop, of course, was the Muralla. The Muralla is the road that goes around the perimeter of the city. It is lined by thick walls, studded with moss, bullet holes and brick bits. It was designed to house canyons and artillery and to allow people to easily go around the city on top of it.

After that, I aimlessly walked around trying to avoid the crowded streets. It was actually weird seeing people shooting hoops on a concrete road perpendicular to a cobbled street lined with old, historical buildings. The two certainly don't belong together and both are an insult to the other.
Anyway, I passed by a souvenir shop whose concept was pretty similar to Papemelroti's. It also sells paper products except that its material is printed with Intramuros-reminiscent pictures. There were a bunch of nice finds from notebooks to planners to bookmarks and even necklaces. I was looking for an office thing, like a pen, to give to newlycorporatebirthdayboy but couldn't find anything except for paper weights. And so, I ended up buying an Intramuros-designed rubik's cube thinking he knows how to play it.
After a few more streets, I realized it was getting late and I needed to wrap-up my trip soon. I decided I want to walk up the walls again and so I headed for the main city entrance where one can have a view of the majestic golf course and of romantic couples. On my way, I saw a peculiar thing.

A man was riding his bike with his dog perched on the handles

In less than an hour, I was out of the city again. I can’t say I was enormously joyful for conquering not only Intramuros but also myself but I can say that I certainly enjoyed my solo adventure and that I was extremely tired. It was an experience and I still definitely want to go back to the city. I believe there are still many other streets and sights to explore and restaurants to try but I’ll try dragging others with me the next time.

Cheers to solo trips and spontaneous Sundays!

Next stop: Solo climb, hopefully.

Don't Think, Just Do

I haven’t really been inspired to write anything recently. In fact, I haven’t really been moved to do anything at all. And all that I have been involved with for the past few months were just selfish, unproductive, short-lived, and senseless merry-making. I feel that I haven’t really achieved anything—that I haven’t transitioned yet from being a student to being a graduate—and that I’m actually no better than a bum, except that I’m making a little bit of money, spending more than my school allowance, and living in a so-called home.

While my batchmates are busy with their corporate jobs and making their parents proud, I’m back at home still trying to figure out what I want and how to get it. I guess this is still part of the whole “okay-I-am-done-with-school-what’s-next” dilemma. And unfortunately, this thing has been going on for an extra extended amount of time, 6 months to be precise.

The last months of my last semester were a struggle. Lessons felt like food I could no longer swallow and requirements like vacuums sucking out the life off of me. Although there was the comfort of friends and a regular schedule to anticipate, school life still seemed a needle hole which I needed to successfully get through.

Fortunately, although I barely had interest in studying and was certain to fail a subject, I survived the semester with surprisingly good grades and finally graduated.

After graduation, I became worse. I became obsessed with freedom, with time, and with having someone with me all the time. I indulged my happy-go-lucky self and began acting according to my moods. I really didn’t know where I’m going but I kept on escaping that fact by resulting to non-stable and risky but idealistically-aligned propositions. Instead of exerting full effort to create a real opportunity for myself, I resolved to the easier and more convenient option.

I have a very ambitious life-goal. Unfortunately, I am not strong-willed enough to be ambitious enough for that goal. I keep on writing it down and thinking it out in my head but never laying out steps for it. Sometimes, I know what to do. But more often, I falter. I always hesitate to take action—to actually do what I imagine to do—because fear always steps in. I am so afraid to commit mistakes and tend to remain stagnant when being stagnant itself is already a mistake.

I know I need to move, to transition. But HOW?

A week ago, I did something unusual, insane, and, maybe, brow-raising. I was tremendously hesitant about it at first, with my mind and my heart battling it out, but I eventually decided to stop thinking and just walk (don’t think, just do). I walked, and travelled, trying to keep my thoughts silent, until I no longer had a choice but to go with it. I blocked out anxieties and focused on the goal and eventually found myself two steps away from it.

Although the event was totally based on irrational logic, it actually came out appropriate in the end. So I guess this is what I have to do if I want movement in my life. I need to stop entertaining worried and doubting thoughts and just start walking and actually moving. And if a road block ends up in front of me, then at least I know it was a wrong turn. I could just backtrack and choose another.

So many roads, can’t decide which one to take

Cheers to movement! (finally, hopefully)

Same Struggles, Different Tables

An old man in tattered clothes was wearily walking along the streets of Katipunan. He was rugged and dirty and seemed homeless. His small son was with him—quietly and innocently sleeping on his back, sandwiched by a worn-out backpack which supposedly functioned as his crib.

The two peacefully entered a quaint local coffee shop. However, instead of looking for an available seat, they began approaching occupied customers in the shop’s patio. The father was presenting a small card, which seemed to be a letter for alms-begging, and was pointing to the kid hanging on his back.

The first customer, a corporate woman busy with some paperwork, upon notice of the poor man, briefly looked at him and instantly replied with an annoyed expression. She frowned and shook her head, motioning for him to leave and letting herself be consumed by her papers again.

Next, the father approached an eccentric student sitting by the nearby table. She was typing something on her laptop and enjoying her music through her enormous headphones. When she noticed the man handing over the small card, she immediately took off her headphones and courteously looked at him. After a few seconds, upon realizing his agenda, she politely said no—waving her hands and wearing an innocent look.

At that moment, a waiter finally noticed the man and quickly approached him. The waiter tapped the man on his shoulder and courteously asked him to leave. However, he kept explaining to the student and even went on to approach a third customer.

The third one was a young professional, also busy tinkering with his laptop. When the man approached him, he eagerly stopped and listened. He conversed with the man for a few minutes, even with the waiter pursuing the man to leave. He seemed to be asking questions and looked concerned with the man’s situation. He might have even given him alms and shook his hand.

A few more minutes, a knock was heard on the café’s front door. One knock. Two knocks. Three knocks. However, not a single soul inside that busy shop took notice. His knocks fell on ears deafened by the noise of bills and luxuries. The frail child hanging on his back wasn’t seen by eyes blinded by poverty and dreams. And their existence wasn’t acknowledged by hearts hardened by life’s difficulties and personal struggles.

That father and son are only two of the countless poor souls calling out to the more fortunate beings for attention. They aren’t involved with any syndicate or aren’t scheming for any theft and fraud but they are similarly ignored and scorned at. They don’t mean any harm, and are just asking for help just as a friend in need does. And yet, they are seen as evil strangers with unknown intentions.

If given a thought, all those people in that coffee shop are no different than the father and son. They are all just trying to survive and trying to perform their responsibilities to other people. It just happens that they are fortunate enough to wear decent clothes and to be sipping warm coffee.

Why then is it so difficult to heed to a stranger’s call for help when everyone is no different from him/her—struggling to survive life and looking for someone to help?

Still saying cheers for coffee shops and realizations and confusion!