Homesickness

While most people crave for Adobo or Sinigang, I crave for the words "sige", "tara!", and "ha?". While most people miss the company of their friends, I miss the company of Filipino speakers. While most people yearn for the comfort of their beds, I yearn for the comfort of my native slang.

Homesickness, for me, is not longing for a place or a person -- that's called missing. Homesickness, for me, is longing to speak my language -- to freely communicate without translating words and statements in my head.

The first time I felt it, was on a 5-day training seminar in Phuket, Thailand. There were junior consultants, senior consultants, and managers from all over Asia but I was the only delegate from the Philippines. Although I didn't have a shortage of company and I was continuously conversing with associates from Singapore, China, Indonesia, and Hong Kong, it was all in English. And the pressure to avoid saying something stupid and to say it intelligibly was mentally exhausting and depressing. It was so that the first Filipino conversation I overheard almost made me tear-up and drove me to initiate a small talk with them.

The second time, was during my volunteering trip with a hostel/AirBnb in Kyoto. I was on my 5th day and we were hanging out at our lounge when I realized that they were all speaking in their native language. The Japanese grandma was speaking in her Japanese dialect, the Malaysian girl was speaking in Malaysian English, and the American guy was speaking in English as well while I kept translating Filipino statements in my head and speaking out in a foreign language. It felt unfair. The next morning, I was still annoyed that I was blurting out Filipino expressions and phrases regardless of whether they understood me or not. This eased up my frustration a bit and I felt okay the succeeding 3 days before I came into Filipino company again and was able to speak the language freely.

Now, I'm planning to travel for at least 3 months across South East Asia with no prospects of meeting up with Filipino friends along the way. I know I'll feel homesick again and most likely within a week of being abroad. It will be extremely frustrating and depressing. But somehow, the idea seems irrelevant and the least bit of my worries. While most people are afraid to leave for fear of getting homesick, I am afraid to leave for countless reasons not one of which is homesickness.

Travelling with friends from home definitely brings more comfort than just company. It also offers a cure for homesickness, whether it be for food, activities, sympathy, or communication.

A Road Trip for the Discerning

On the morning of December 2nd, despite unresolved conflicts, I drove out 500km to the Ilocos province with a reconnected friend for a pre-planned birthday trip, my birthday trip. I was originally planning to take the bus alone to La Union and to meditate amidst the crashing waves and would-be surfers. But a random chat message wiped away all those plans and I'm more than thankful that it did.

She picked me up a little bit later than planned, hungry for anything to eat and flustered over her must-brings. We asked how each one was doing and very quickly found out that this was going to be no ordinary road trip but a road trip with a purpose -- a road trip for the discerning (and the romantically problematic). While she was discerning whether she is ready to chase after and to commit to a missed opportunity, I was discerning whether it's still worth it to keep holding on to something I cannot fully commit to. There was the question of commitment for both of us, albeit with different circumstances and implications. Although this was never the intention of the trip, it became the central theme, in between philosophical wanderings and natural wonders.

This car has been through a few close encounters, up and down in the mountains, and left and right on sharp turns, but never broke down on us, quite unlike our unsound relationships.

Our first stop was Vigan, a UNESCO World Heritage site that is a city born within a museum. I've walked along Calle Crisologo a couple of times before and was unfairly unenthusiastic to subscribe to anything touristy. But wifey* soon expressed her frustration so we agreed for a 1-hour tricycle tour. The driver took us to (1) Baluarte which is the unnatural home to some African animals and a yellow submarine; (2) Hidden Garden which is a private home surrounded by a well-maintained garden and opened to the public for dining and plants-seeing; (3) the Quirino Museum where I unearthed in me an interest for museum stories and displays; and, (4) the Crisologo Museum, which is wholly dedicated to Cong. Floro Crisologo and blatantly asks for donation to maintain an unimpressive collection.

The Bantay Bell Tower stands just outside the city of Vigan, in the municipality of Bantay, and offers a 360-degree view of the region, spanning from mountain to coast. It was our last stop in Vigan before driving onwards to Laoag and then Pagudpud

The sun has long set when we arrived at Pagudpud. We were within range of the windmills when I noticed how dark the sky was and how bright the stars were shining down on us. We decided to stop the car then and there, in the middle of an empty road and with only our car lights to indicate our presence, to marvel at the universe above us. The whole sky was littered with tiny spotlights and illuminated gas clouds while a soft, cold wind constantly blew on our faces. It felt magical and at the same time frightening -- not because I felt small and insignificant compared to those celestials, but because it was pitch black and I felt paranoid that someone or something would come out of nowhere and attack us. Nonetheless, nothing did and it will be one of those life experiences I'll forever dream of.

It was by this road where we stopped the previous night to gaze at the universe. I could hear the turbines spinning with the wind and see the red lights blinking from the turbine heads then but I didn't realize there were this many.

The next morning, we woke up to a failed attempt to catch the sunrise. The skies were already lit and the orange orb which is the sun was already above the horizon. We started the day early anyway, walking along the shore and watching the rest of the town wake up. We soon found a spot for breakfast where wifey introduced me to her initiative against sachets and where some local dogs patiently waited for our food scraps. All the while, thick dark clouds heavy with rain silently moved in and threatened to make the day colder than desired. Nevertheless, wifey took a dip, taunting the surging water to pull her in and discreetly swimming too close to an unknowing group of fellow vacationers. I preferred to hang back under what little shade I could find and enjoyed watching the wind make everything dance to its will.

Not the highlight of Maira-ira beach, this area of dead reefs and dried up seaweeds was where I watched the sunrise from almost two years ago on a Chinese New Year rush to a trip up north. It was the first of my solo backpacking travels and it was filled with too many doubts and fears.

It was again night time when we arrived at La Union, our final destination. The hostel was empty and we were starving so we took off to look for dinner. Under a strict budget, we had to make two rounds of the restaurant options before settling for the popular Greek restaurant which was adorned with male and female attendants in Greek-inspired outfits. We shared one yogurt shake, a serving of Tzatziki, and a chicken souvlaki to indulge on our only expensive meal for the trip. With still no potential new friends back at the hostel, we attempted to camp out at the beach but eventually retreated due to unseen insects snacking on us. A little past midnight, I woke her up from her hammock and awkwardly whispered, "ui batiin mo ako :D", to which she responded with a warm hug.

On the way back south, wifey spotted a ruin by the beach and despite my many objections, she stopped the car and hastily went down. We entered the abandoned skeletal building and stopped at this boulder fence to watch the waves crash and some goats graze.

The following day was much more social. The morning brought us Ivy, a solo traveller who frequently and impulsively goes on weekend trips, typically with strangers or with friends made during her trips. Mid-day brought us "Kuya-Girl", a local surfer who looks, speaks,and moves like a female but persistently claims to be a male. Post-lunch brought us Jane and Carlos, an ex-couple whose relationships are ending or have recently ended and who are currently discerning whether they want to get back together or not. Jane is a self-confessed bum who still depends on parental support while trying to learn Japanese and Carlos is a freelance architect with the typical boy-next-door look and a good-guy vibe. Coffee time brought us Rennel, a freelance photographer who has been conistently going back to La Union and is open to residing in the area but cannot yet find a suitable residence. And lastly, the evening brought us Emma, a British backpacker who just came from the Mountain Province and is planning to pursue post-grad studies for a certain philanthropic specialization I cannot remember after her travels.

We got up early the next morning for a guided tour to Tangadan Falls with the hostel people. It was an unfairly discounted deal that was still too expensive for our daily budget but it was our last day and a last chance to get to know other people. Unfortunately, we were bundled up with (1) a cliquish group of weekend warriors who kept complaining how challenging it was to walk on a mostly flat trail; (2) a duo of female cousins who also complained but only intermittently and could have been potential acquaintances but were more comfortable talking between them; and (3) Ivy who never complained and whom we've already met but didn't seem interested to converse with us. While wifey ended up with an intensive bonding session with kuya tour guide, I enjoyed being back on the trail, swinging from tree trunks and spotting the best footholds. After the tour, we were craving for food and invited Ivy and the cousins to have lunch at a carinderia to which they disappointingly declined.

It was drizzling and the water was cold but all of us swam in and went under the curtain of falling water. Wifey and I found goggles among our group and did freediving, which I found difficult because I was shivering and a bit terrifying because I am scared of fresh water pools.

Shortly before sunset, we were back on the road -- back to Manila and with Ivy in tow. We offered her to rideshare the morning we met her to save on expenses and for an extended bonding session. Unfortunately, she seemed more interested with her news feed than with conversation with us. I won't blame her. She wasn't aboard the road-trip-for-the-discerning train.

Throughout the whole trip, whether we be driving, eating, preparing for bed, preparing to leave, strolling, watching something, or doing nothing, wifey and I talked about love and relationships. It was mostly philosophical and theoretical. Like "relationships have a 100% probability for failure because individuals will always have differing wants and conflicting interests. So for it to have the slightest probability for success, you should give your 100%." But these aside, we also talked about random stuff like cat-calls, tourists versus travellers, Chinese history, waving competitions, etc.

I learned a lot during that trip. We weren't able to end it with concrete answers to our discernings. But maybe we came out better equipped to find those answers ourselves.