Travel

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  • On inn and hotel rooms

    Sometimes I turn on the television in our bedroom while waiting to fall asleep, switching from one channel to another, and eventually settling for some news program. But I don’t pay attention to the reports at all. I just like having them in the background because they remind me of the nights I spent in hotel rooms back when people could still travel without having to worry about the deadly virus.

    *

    I’ve always been in love with inn and hotel rooms. There is just something charming about their unfamiliarity, especially if they are located in a city or province I don’t know much about. I like the fact that they perfectly symbolize transience, too, like a brief affair you know you have to enjoy because it will be over soon.

    *

    Staying in hotels and inns is one of the things I miss the most about traveling. In fact, one of my favorite parts of every trip is when I check into my room, unpack my stuff, take a shower, and enjoy a brief rest. It’s a time when I get a feel of the place I’m in and start to make more concrete plans for the days to come, and it’s usually filled with anticipation as I am left wondering what the rest of the trip has in store for me.

    *

    There were times in the past when I’d rent a room in a nearby city for a night or two just so I could sleep in a place that wasn’t my own. I liked doing it on days I had to work on something important like papers for grad school and literary pieces. And once I was done with whatever task I came there for, I’d simply lay down and watch whatever show I could find on TV, usually lifestyle shows on TLC or Filipino movies on Cinema One. Then I would take a break by having coffee, whether by briefly going out or having some delivered to wherever I was staying.

    *

    I once tried celebrating Christmas in a small hotel room in my country’s financial district all by myself, and I must say it was a magical experience. I had booked the room before the holidays and ordered a special Christmas basket containing pastries and a bottle of cold brew then had it delivered to the hotel on my check-in day, which was a day before Christmas. When the special day finally arrived, I just remained in the room, eating cookies, drinking coffee, and listening to The Carpenters. I sat on a comfy bed positioned right beside the window, through which I could see the city’s impressive skyline. I was at peace.

    *

    Perhaps one of the things I also like about staying in hotels and inns is the sense of anonymity it gives me, not that I need to hide from anyone. It’s just that, when I am in a hotel or inn, I can briefly pretend I am someone else. I can deviate from my routines. I can mess with my schedule. Plus, I’m in a place where no one knows me, except, of course, the personnel at the front desk, who usually checks guests’ IDs. Regardless of that, though, I know I’m just a mere customer to them.

    *

    In in and hotel rooms, I am not forced to make my bed. Someone else can do that for me. And though I try my best not to leave a lot of mess during checkout, I am also comforted by the fact that no one’s going to pressure me to tidy up.

    *

    I like scaring myself in unfamiliar places, and of course, I sometimes do it in inn and hotel rooms. I ask myself, “Did somebody die here?” I also think of some stories I heard and films I watched about haunted places. In the end, I sleep with the lights on.

    *

    I used to live in an inn. Well, technically, it was a boarding house that eventually became an inn. Its owner used to operate an inn in a separate building located on a nearby street. I don’t know what happened, but I just came home one night and one of the staff members told me the two ventures were merging and the inn would also be in the same building where the boarding house was. Staying there was fun.

    *

    I think motel rooms have their own charm, too. Sure, they are associated with sleazy stuff and they are usually super sketchy, but I think there is also something fascinating with them. I already tried staying in motel rooms by myself. Several times. Maybe I was just bored during those times.

    *

    Some of my favorite shows are about temporary accommodations: “Hyori’s Bed and Breakfast,” “Korean Hostel in Spain,” and “Youn’s Stay.” I really enjoyed them mainly due to the stories of the guests and their interactions with the hosts. Watching them made me feel as though I were traveling, too, which was perfect, because I saw them all at the height of the pandemic.

  • In the Church of Muji

    I’ve been a believer in Muji products for a few years now, but I won’t say that my devotion to this brand is comparable to the kind one would have for a god. Despite this, however, a recent visit to a newly renovated Muji store in my city made me think about churches.

    It’s been so long since I attended a religious service, and I haven’t prayed in years. Whenever someone asks me about religion, I simply tell them I’m Roman Catholic on paper but don’t actually practice anything. I’d rather focus on trying to be a good person or someone who treats everyone fairly at the very least.

    If my younger self could hear this, she’d probably cringe. Or, perhaps, she would even call me names. That’s because the younger me was so obsessed with the idea of finding the perfect religion that she was willing to hop from one church to another and try different ways of worshipping a god and following a set of beliefs in hopes of being saved from whatever it was she needed saving.

    Almost Mormon

    It all began when two Mormon missionaries knocked on the gate of our apartment in Antipolo sometime in 2003. When Mama came out of our home and talked to them, they asked her if she’d already accepted Jesus in her life. For some reason, she decided to let them in. Before we knew it, we were already attending bible study sessions in their church.

    The whole bible study thing fascinated me. It was something we hadn’t done in our Catholic household. I also liked the fact that we were making new friends and learning how to pray together as a family. Somehow, all those changes gave me something to look forward to. And things suddenly felt so reassuring despite the hardships our family had to regularly deal with, particularly finances.

    We were close to converting, but there was a problem: They wouldn’t allow Mama and my stepfather to become members of their church because they weren’t legally married. And they couldn’t just tie the knot, as Mama was still married to my biological father.

    It saddened me since I had already set my mind that we’d continue our journey as a family. But according to Mama, I didn’t really have to wait for them. I could simply get converted and continue going to that church if I wanted to. I said no. I realized that if the church could not accept my parents because of their circumstances, maybe it wasn’t the right fit for me.

    Skeptically Catholic

    It took me four years to regain interest in any sort of organized religion. A classmate of mine was an active member of the Legion of Mary at that time, and she invited me to attend one of their sessions. I ended up liking it.

    What I really appreciated about the meeting the most was how it gave me a deeper understanding of some things I had only been hearing about. I learned about the relevance of confession and communion, which I knew many Catholics would routinely practice despite not knowing what they were really about. I also learned how to properly prepare for a mass and participate in other church activities I hadn’t even heard of growing up.

    I learned about the saints, too, who they were, and what each of them was for. I took inspiration from what they had done during their short stay on Earth and began to hope that someday I would also make a difference in the world in my own way.

    Most importantly, I went to church almost every day and heard the mass every Sunday, even on days when we were short on cash. Sometimes I would have to borrow money from friends just to afford the trike ride to the city proper, where the cathedral was, and that was just fine with me. That was just how devoted I was.

    However, as I continued to learn more about Roman Catholicism, more questions formed inside my head. I started questioning rituals and how they sometimes seemed to matter more than people’s intentions. It just got to a point when I simply thought I should maybe take a break and explore.

    Incompletely INC

    I once dated someone who was a member of Iglesia ni Cristo. Right from the start, though, I knew it was wrong. INC members should only date people from the same church, so our relationship was essentially built upon sin.

    But according to some INC friends, my case wasn’t that unique at all. Some members simply didn’t follow the rules, and if I’d really end up with the guy, I could just work my way to being a member.

    I wasn’t thrilled with the idea. However, since I thought my thing with that guy was somehow serious, I realized I should not completely dismiss it. And, in preparation, I should start familiarizing myself with what he believed in. I was in love, or so I thought.

    Yet, the guy wasn’t—at all. A few months into our relationship, my mother caught him cheating on me with someone who turned out to be a churchmate of his. Not long after, I learned that the girl was the “ex” he had told me about, and, surprise, they hadn’t really broken up. So, technically, I was the third party in their relationship. An unwilling third party.

    I broke up with the guy immediately. But even then, some of their churchmates who’d learned about my brief romance with him began to attack me online and harass me via SMS. They called me names and told me, countless times, about my blunder. As if the guy wasn’t the real problem in the situation.

    Naturally, I stopped attending INC’s events. The way some of its members treated me was just unacceptable. Just because I was an outsider, they attacked me without even knowing the real story. I wonder if they’d treat me the same if I were one of them.

    I know their behavior wasn’t representative of how everyone in the church was, but at that time, I was just turned off.

    Foolishly provident

    Sometime around 2010, I was approached by a good-looking guy while chilling at UP Diliman’s Sunken Garden. I no longer remember how exactly our initial conversation went, but I’m sure he asked me how I was, and in turn, I told him I had been feeling so down and defenseless. It was true. I was indeed faced with a lot of problems, and since I was so young and had no means to get out of the shit I was in, things were extra hard for me.

    He then told me something that hit me: “Maybe you just need to revisit His Word, which will serve as your ammunition.”

    We had a lengthy discussion on faith afterward, and I was impressed by how smart the guy was. He was also very patient in answering all my questions. And since I wanted to learn more, I accepted his invitation to a bible study session, which eventually happened again, and again, until he asked me to meet his other churchmates and then attend services and other events at their church, dubbed Providence, along Katipunan Avenue.

    I was hesitant at first, especially how strange I found things in their church were. Their services ran for hours, and members were encouraged to minimize bodily movements while attending them. It was so intense. They also had a lot of beliefs that were rather shocking to me. For instance, they called themselves “brides of God,” and they were so obsessed with how they looked, especially during services.

    Despite my doubts, however, I continued going to that church. Besides, everyone was so nice, especially the Korean members. For the first time, I felt that I was with a community that accepted me for who I was. Everyone was so generous, too, which I appreciated at that time because I was a struggling university student. I even got “baptized,” whatever that means. And I started training for the music ministry.

    Just when things were becoming better and more exciting for me, I learned a vital piece of information about the church and why its members were discouraged from looking it up online: It was one of the most notorious cults in Asia, and its leader, “self-proclaimed Messiah” Jeong Myeong Seok, had been charged with multiple counts of rape. All of a sudden, the whole “bride of God” thing made sense. But not in a good way.

    I stopped attending the church immediately.

    Not so victorious

    I was so desperate to find the right church for me that even a cult couldn’t put an end to my quest. Or maybe that was just me being stubborn.

    A few months after I stopped going to the shady church, I began attending services at Victory. I felt so safe there. Plus, everyone seemed so nice. I also appreciated how thorough our discussions were on the bible.

    However, I easily lost interest in it after someone from our small group called me out for not being able to attend our sessions regularly. And when I told her I just didn’t have a lot of time because I had to work most days, she told me to stop worrying because God would always provide.

    I knew she meant well, but I guess she just didn’t realize how privileged she was in comparison to me. When you’re poor, you cannot just wait for God to provide.

    It was at this point that I got tired. I also became busier with my studies because I was closer to graduating. On top of it all, I had to earn more so I could support not only myself but also my family. And so, I stopped thinking about any kind of organized religion. Time to be the captain of my soul.

    Around that time, I began to realize what truly mattered: how I’d treat people around me.

    Blissfully agnostic

    Now I don’t even know if there’s really a god, and that’s okay.

    I remember, someone once asked me: “What if, when you die, you find out that there’s actually a god and that god wouldn’t allow you to heaven because you did not follow their teachings?”

    Here’s how I answered the question: “If there’s a god, then that god would probably know that I did my best to treat everyone in this world fairly and show kindness whenever possible. And if that god thinks believing in his existence would be more important than actually doing good things, then fine, I’d gladly accept his decision to deny me entry to heaven or whatever that would be called. It just means that god is an insecure god.”

    Yet, I won’t deny that from time to time, I still miss the feeling of being in a church. I miss that inexplicable sense of clarity I used to have whenever I’d enter a place of worship, especially if there was a service going on. Everything would just seem so light and bright, and the singers’ voices, as well as the sound of instruments accompanying them, would sound so good and comforting, as though they were cleansing my soul and getting rid of every sin and burden I had in me until I was light enough to float in the air and dance with the clouds. Yes, I still long for that feeling sometimes.

    But since I no longer go to church, I can only make do with what’s available: that feeling I sometimes get when confronted by beauty, like when I travel to a coastal town, and I stand on the beach while looking at the horizon and hearing the relaxing sound of the waves crashing gently against the shore. Or, when I look over a cliff and see the mountains from afar slowly being blanketed by a sea of clouds.

    Perhaps, it can even be as simple as being greeted by the nice interiors of a store while a calming track plays in the background, like when I visited the newly renovated Muji store at Shangri-La Plaza. While marveling at the beauty of how simple everything in it was and appreciating every beat of “Jos Sä Olet Minun Hellunani” playing in the background, I was reminded of the times I had entered a place of worship, feeling safe and calm.

    Muji will never be able to save my soul as capitalism is another evil to fight, but, at that moment, there was clarity. I was so at peace that I was almost convinced I could find salvation on the shelves of that shop.

    It might be foolish, but it was good enough for me.

  • Sleepless in Lucban

    Isa sa mga pinakapaborito kong lakad noong 2019 ay ang pagpunta ko sa Lucban, Quezon. Naimbitahan ako ng isang kaibigan para magbigay ng talk sa creative nonfiction sa event ng paaralan kung saan siya nagtuturo.

    Mahal ko ang Lucban. Marami akong masasayang alaala sa bayang ito, mula sa Regional Press Conference na sinalihan ko noong 2006 na siksik sa gala at ghost stories (malapit ang paaralang tinuluyan namin sa sementeryo at sa isang sapa kung saan daw may mga engkanto), hanggang sa mga panandaliang dalaw ko roon para sa Pahiyas Festival. Kaya naman, lalong di-matawaran ang pagkasabik ko a biyaheng ito.

    Maaga raw magsisimula ang event, kaya bumiyahe na ako pa-Lucban isang araw bago ang talk ko. Sakto, gusto ko ring makapasyal-pasyal sa bayan dahil matagal-tagal na rin akong hindi nakakabalik. Isa pa, marami namang puwedeng tuluyan sa lugar na maganda ang lokasyon at sulit ang presyo.

    Maaga akong pumunta sa sakayan ng bus sa Buendia noong araw ng biyahe ko. Matagal ang paglalakbay, lalo at ilang bayan din ang dinaanan. Medyo kabado ako dahil iyon ang unang beses kong sumakay ng pampublikong bus pa-Lucban. Madalas kasi, may service kapag nagagawi ako roon. Pero buti na lang at tinuruan ako ng kaibigan ko kung saan bababa sa Lucena at kung saan hahanapin ang mga jeep papuntang Lucban. Mabait din ang konduktor ng bus na nasakyan ko. Bago ako bumaba sa may Diversion Road sa Lucena, inginuso niya pa sa akin kung saang direksyon ako dapat pumunta para hindi maligaw.

    Pasado ala una ng hapon na ako nakarating sa Lucban. May kalakasan ang ulan, kaya napadesisyunan kong kumain muna at tumambay sa kung saan. Iyon nga lang, inaantok ako’t pagod sa biyahe, kaya wala pang lakas na maghanap ng magandang puntahan. Kaya iyon, sa Buddy’s ang bagsak ko. Nag-order ako ng Lucban longganisa, ang pinakamasarap na longganisa sa balat ng lupa! Sinabayan ko ito ng kanin at itlog, pati na rin kape.

    Pagkatapos kumain at tumunganga, dumiretso muna ako sa aking tutuluyan. Buti at mahina na ang ulan kaya naglakad na lang ako. Malapit lang din iyon sa plaza, kaya kayang-kaya. Doon, nagbaba ako ng gamit at nagpahinga. Pagkatapos, naisipan kong lumabas ulit para sa magpamasahe. May branch kasi roon ang paborito kong spa.

    Nakatulog ako habang nagpapamasahe, kaya pakiramdam ko ang lakas-lakas ko pagkatapos ng session ko roon. At dahil buhay na ulit ang diwa, naisipan kong huwag muna bumalik sa tinutuluyan. Sa halip, pinuntahan ko ang Pepe n Mary’s, ang kainan at kapehang nirekomenda ng kaibigan ko.

    Natuwa ako sa kape nila. Akalain mo, puwede kang mamili ng mula sa iba’t ibang brewing methods! Chemex ang pinili ko dahil iyon pa lang ang hindi ko pa nasusubukan. Madalas, French press at pour-over ang gamit ko sa bahay. Ang aeropress, nasubukan ko na rin sa maliit na coffee shop sa loob ng isang laundromat sa Maginhawa. Bukod sa kape, kumain din ako ng cheese sticks na paboritong-paborito ko.

    Matagal akong tumambay doon. Nagsulat-sulat din kasi ako, saka nag-ayos ng Powerpoint para sa talk kinabukasan. Bandang alas sais, sinundo ako ng kaibigan ko at niyaya papunta sa paaralan kung saan siya nagtuturo. Doon din ang talk ko. May short film festival daw ang mga mag-aaral, kaya may mga ipapalabas sa gabing iyon. Sumama naman ako.

    Ang galing ng gawa ng mga bata! Sa totoo lang, walang-wala yung production skills ko noong nasa ganoon akong edad. Marami ring pelikula ang may potensyal pagdating sa kuwento. At ang acting, ibang klase rin. Halatang hindi lang basta biro-biro ang proyekto nila.

    Kumain kami ng hapunan pagkatapos manood ng short films. Doon kami napadpad sa isang cafe malapit lang din sa paaralan. Crispy bagnet kare-kare yung kinain ko, at oo, nag-order ulit ako ng kape. Habang kumakain, todo rin ang kuwentuhan namin.

    Hindi ko na maalala kung anong oras kami natapos sa huntahan, pero basta gabi na. Sumakay ako ng tricycle papunta sa tinutuluyan, kung saan nanood pa ako ng TV, nagbasa, at tumunganga. Sa madaling sabi, halos hindi rin ako natulog. Hindi rin naman iyon nakakagulat dahil hindi talaga ako palatulog kapag nagbibiyahe. Pakiramdam ko kasi, kailangan kong sulitin ang bawat sandali sa lugar na dinadalaw.

    Sabaw na sabaw ako kinabukasan. Pero ang mahalaga, hindi ako nahuli sa pupuntahan. Nag-check out agad ako sa nirentahang kuwarto, naglakad papunta sa plaza para sa kaunting sight seeing, at saka sumakay ng tricycle papunta sa venue. Dumating ako roon halos kalahating oras pa bago ang simula ng event.

    lucban church

    Buti na lang, masaya ang opening program kaya hindi ako inantok. Dumating din ang ibang tagapagsalita sa araw na iyon, at nagkataong marami kaming common friends nung naka-assign sa fiction. Di tuloy namin namalayan, biglang close na rin kami. Sakto, taga-QC rin pala kami pareho noon.

    Pagkatapos ng opening program, hinati na ang mga bata depende sa kung ano ang genre na pinili nila. Dahil mas kaunti ang mga pumili ng creative nonfiction, ang genre namin ang pinalipat sa isang classroom sa baba lang ng main hall. Doon nangyari ang munti kong talk na sinundan din naman ng isang writing contest. Ako ang hurado, siyempre.

    Iniwan ko muna ang mga bata habang nagsusulat para makasilip sa main hall. Sakto pala, naroon na ang isa pa naming kaibigan na siya namang magsasalita tungkol sa poetry sa hapon. Halos hindi matapos ang kumustahan namin, lalo pa’t ilang buwan kaming hindi nagkita.

    Natapos din ang oras na nakalaan para sa pagsulat. Binalikan ko ang mga mag-aaral at kinuha ang kanilang mga papel. Oras na rin ng tanghalian, kaya dumiretso muna kami sa Sulyap sa Pahiyas, kung saan kami nakatakdang kumain.

    Maganda sa Sulyap sa Pahiyas at masarap din ang kanilang pagkain. Napakaganda rin ng tanawin, lalo sa veranda kung saan kami nakapuwesto. Para sulitin ang view (pati na rin ang libreng kape), naisipan naming doon na lang gawin ang judging.

    Samantala, ang iba naming kasama’y bumalik muna sa venue para sa lecture at contest sa pagsulat ng tula at dula.

    Nang matapos sa judging, bumalik na rin kami sa venue at doon na muna tumambay. Nakailang labas din kami sa campus para bumili ng kape lalo na’t may malapit na 7-Eleven doon.

    Bandang alas singko, nagkaroon na ng awarding ceremony. Iyon na rin ang pagtatapos ng creative writing event. Masaya ang mga bata at nakakatuwa silang panoorin mula sa pagkasorpresa matapos malamang nagwagi, hanggang sa pagpunta sa entablado para kunin ang award. Naaalala ko ang kabataan ko. Ay, tumatanda na nga ako!

    Tumambay kaming tatlo (ako, at iyong mga tagapagsalita sa fiction at sa poetry) sa Pepe n Mary’s noong tapos na ang event. Doon namin hinintay ang kaibigan naming pasimuno ng lahat, na noong oras na iyon ay abala pa sa pag-aasikaso ng mga kung anu-ano sa pinagtuturuang paaralan.

    Habang naghihintay sa kaniya, nagkape at kumain kami, saka nagkuwentuhan. Sa sobrang daming istorya, pakiramdam ko hindi kami matatapos magsipagdaldalan. Ganoon lang talaga siguro kapag nagsasama-sama ang mga manunulat. Hindi puwedeng walang kuwenta at laging may kuwento.

    Madilim na noong dumating ang hinihintay namin. Imbes umalis, nagtagal pa ulit kaming apat doon.

    Hahabulin ko pa sana ang last trip ng bus, pero sabi nila madaling-araw na lang ako umuwi. May mga van naman daw pa-Maynila na umaalis ng alas tres ng madaling araw. Mas maikli ang biyahe kumpara sa biyahe ng bus, kaya siguradong aabot ako sa pasok ko kinabukasan. Pumayag naman ako. Siyempre, ayokong mapag-iwanan. Alam kong nagsisimula pa lang ang gabi.

    Mula sa sa kainan at kapehang tinambayan, naglakad kami papunta sa plaza kung saan kami sandaling tumambay para magkuwentuhan pa rin. Nang magsawa, naglakad kami paikut-ikot sa bayan habang walang habas sa pagpapalitan ng istorya. Parang wala kaming kapaguran.

    Nang makaramdam na lumalalim na nang husto ang gabi, pumunta na kami sa tinutuluyan ng kaibigan namin na siyang pasimuno ng lahat. Akala ko’y matatapos na ang kuwento roon. Hindi pa pala! Inabot kami ng pasado alas dose dahil sa daldalan. Ang labo, dahil balak naming gumising pagsapit ng alas dos para makapaghanda sa pag-uwi.

    Pero nagising pa rin naman kami sa oras. O, hindi lang talaga ako natulog at pagpatak ng alas dos, kinalampag ko nang todo ang bagong kaibigan na siyang kasabay ko sa pag-uwi. Pupungas-pungas kami habang naghahanda ng mga gamit at sinisugurong walang maiiwan sa kuwartong tinuluyan.

    Sa kabutihang palad, nakapag-empake naman kami nang maayos at nakalakad nang mabilis papunta sa terminal ng tricycle. Doon, sinabihan namin ang driver na ihatid kami sa kung saan makakasakay ng van pabalik ng Maynila. Hinahabol namin ang biyaheng alas tres.

    Saktong dalawa na lang ang kulang ng van pagdating namin, kaya nakaalis na rin kaagad. Nagpaalam na kami sa dalawang kaibigan. Dalawa, dahil yung isa’y doon daw muna tutal taga-Quezon din naman siya. Sa ibang bayan nga lang.

    Dalawang oras lang mahigit ang inabot ng biyahe pauwi, kaya nakaidlip pa ako sa bahay bilang paghahanda sa trabaho ko sa ganap na alas siyete.

    Shet. Sabaw na naman. Pero, ang saya. Parang college days lang ulit. Saktong trip lang siguro, bago pa mas tumanda.