2014: Traveling to the Heart of Travel

That one still day became the cornerstone of my rebirth as my wanderlust father’s wanderlust daughter, a once-free spirit that’s been restrained for a decade.

February. Abe’s Farm, Magalang, Pampanga.

Much of my weekend decisions from then were made on the fly. Every 6 to 8am on a Sunday, I made my way to roads with a half-asleep toddler, lugging around whatever I can from home: P800 or less, water, knick knacks, wet wipes, a sense of adventure. Many times, I didn’t know where I was heading. I just knew I wanted to go. 

March. Did a birdwatching jaunt to Balanga Wetlands, Tortugas, Bataan…

The randomness thrilled me beyond belief.  The arbitrariness of thriving solo on the road, of being lost and swarmed with possibilities filled me with renewed contentment – that which exists outside of work, words, motherhood and friendship. 

March. Angeles Forest Park. Ate soot and met biking champ Ariana Dormitorio.

Being out there with my child on our own, away from any influence and expectations, schooled me hard on so many things (things that could pass up for a “Why I Love To Travel Solo With My Tot” listicle).

April. Cured next-day hangover after Lia’s birthday second year birthday celebration with a trip to Bustos Dam, Bulacan.

I love knowing that it’s a dangerous  and unkind world, then being proven wrong by the small acts of kindnesses of complete strangers on the road: teens who, without conditions, insist on sharing the weight of my bags as I carry an 18-kilogram on the hip. Townsfolk in primitive towns who get by hand to mouth, yet volunteer their food and shade. Drivers who give cheapo you a free ride so you wouldn’t endure a miles-long walk. 

April. Sariaya, Quezon, en route to Bicol. I love how these kids are beaming with happiness despite the fact that they have to beg strangers for food. April. Coming home to Daraga, Albay in Bicol.

These acts don’t make it to newsstands, nor become conversation items in buses. Yet these are the untold stories that turn life in this world of dirty politics, inequalities and chaos into something to be appreciated than detested.

April. Lia’s post post-birthday celebration. Big Rock Farm Resort, San Rafael, Bulacan.

I love that I am able to see at least 1/10 of what toil hard for not magically disappear in seconds in bill payment centers; be transformed into something my daughter and I can look back on 5, 20, 50 years from now. 

May. Villa Conception Resort, Pandi, Bulacan. Neighborly trip of 30.

Often, by the tail end of our trips, what little money I have gets deduced to a few pieces of coins that I make last for a couple of weeks. But I felt accomplished. Content. Grateful knowing that the money I had was spent on moments, on experiences that plant seeds of humility, resilience and awe of the oft-forgotten side of life; moments that grow inside us and become the marrow in our bones. 


That it had been used for a much grander scheme of life, not just on everyday survival or expensive objects whose value slowly disintegrates over months and years. 

June. Aching for ice cream and old times shared with my stepdad. Roxas Boulevard, Manila.

June. Aquino Museum, Luisita, Tarlac. First museum to have made me weep.

I love that it keeps me grounded and more open. Interactions are perhaps the most humbling part of trips. The road teaches you that even the most well-equipped travelers need others to survive whether they’re lost or not. 

July, Sisiman, Mariveles, Bataan. Rugged beauty. The kind of charm that would have Kris Aquino scampering away.

This year didn’t just give me plenty of opportunities for that, but it also made me more open to sharing journeys with others  – neighbors, fellow bloggers – something I normally avoid. It took me out of my introverted cocoon and showed me a new brand of fun. 

I love that my daughter and I are able to put away the years and for once, be more than mother and daughter bound by rules and schedules. Be simply two spirits seeing the world with similar eyes, running silly toward the tides. 

September. Mt. Arayat National Park, San Juan Bano, Pampanga. September. Rediscovering Bulacan. Dona Remedios Trinidad.

I love finding that I can be capable of greater tensility, of temperance, of independence more than what I presumed – as a woman, as a mother, as a human. The road fortifies you in ways beyond physical. Out there all alone, with a small child to safekeep, it demands from you inexhaustible smarts, heart, and spirit. 

October. First zipline cum cable car experience. Tagaytay, Cavite. October. Went to Ayala Museum to see Frida Kahlo’s one painting with fellow mom blogger, Gay (Pinay Travel Junkie). That’s her on the left, trying to squeeze herself out of the picture. LOL. And above all, I love being able to extend all of that to my daughter, hoping that the roots be planted deep enough for her to appreciate the land that bore her and will give birth to her dreams despite its ragtag ways. November. Post-31st birthday celebration at aunt’s shack in Manila. I hope that one day, when I’m old and ragged, these things we learned together on the road will teach her that life consists of many detours, sharp curves and roadblocks that aren’t on the map (or even on Google!) and getting lost is part of the journey; teach her that in those times she ought to trust her capacity as a woman and forget the rules, forget what they say she can’t do;  and that often, the path you walked and the people you meet along the way are far more valuable than the destination itself. November. First-time visit to Newport City’s Resorts World Manila complex. And I felt so susyal. LOL. Travel, at its core, imparts that.  To rediscover our first impressions of life and celebrate it as it is – raw and prettified, fragile and rugged, pristine and beastly, beautiful and grotesque, painful and happy – all at once. It’s about taking a step back to ourselves, to that part that is often spirited away by the drabness of life.  December. Walking tour of Santa Ana, Manila with fellow bloggers Kim (Indie Escape) and Sol (Traipsing Chronicles). It reminds us to draw inspiration from the smallest grain of sand, the blades of grass, the warm and unassuming smiles from people with uncertainty sitting on the dinner table, the kindness of strangers, the faith and humanity that’s awakened among a thousand moments of unraveling. December. The play after work. Hundred Islands, Pangasinan, a mere 10-minute trike ride from my boss’ office in Alaminos. I have 2014 to thank for all that. Here’s hoping you had a 2014 as meaningful as mine. December. Sunset at Bued Mangrove Forest and Salt Flats, Alaminos, Pangasinan.