random memories p4

Entry 37 – Palawan

With Ms. B and Carla Quimsing.

Ms. B has three German friends who own a beach house in Palawan. We stayed there for several days while she helped them purchase property on the island.

I was in awe of that beach house, facing the West Philippine Sea and the South China Sea. The sunsets were breathtaking — vast, golden, endless.

Looking back, I think that experience planted a seed in me. Perhaps that was when I first dreamed of owning a beach house of my own — and eventually, a hostel. A place by the sea that feels like both escape and home.

Entry 36 – High School

My allowance was delayed because my father didn’t renew his contract.

There was a time when bread was my only meal. I felt deprived and convinced myself it was the worst kind of meal — because, to me, a proper Filipino meal had to have rice and viand.

Now that I’m in Europe, my perspective has changed. Bread is no longer a symbol of lack. It isn’t bad after all. Sometimes, it’s more than enough.

Entry 35 – Julio

My last visit in Danao.

We went to Catmon together. I rode on the back of his motorbike. We had coffee by the beach. For a moment, it felt as if we were lovers again.

It was a beautiful, tender day.

But when I got into the van to head home, I cried heavily. It was as if all the happy memories we once shared — all those bygone days when we were still together — came flooding back. They crashed against the new waves of separation, loneliness, loss, and quiet despair of what could have been.

Entry 34 – Francis Monfort

I gave him my favorite novel, Sputnik Sweetheart.

It wasn’t just a book — it was something personal. A quiet offering. A way of saying: This moved me deeply, and I want you to hold a piece of what moved me. A gift not to impress but to reveal.

Entry 33 – Misty Mornings

I started my misty morning walks with August by Taylor Swift.

I remember an ex lover, a fan of ts, who once sharing not only his favorite songs but the entire album — and all the men associated with Taylor Swift in each track. The way he spoke about the songs made them feel like living stories, not just music.

Somehow, those walks, that song, and those conversations all blend together now — soft, gray mornings filled with memory.

Entry 32 – Italy and Family

Spending five weeks with five different host families here in Italy allowed me to witness the dynamics of Italian families up close. And from what I’ve observed, it’s true — Italians are deeply connected to their families.

It made me reflect on my own.

My father is an OFW. Whenever he came home, we would go on vacations by the sea or have spontaneous hotel stays at Marco Polo. He loved giving us gifts, especially when our grades were good. He appreciated my handmade cards. He liked having us all in one room to watch a movie together.

But those moments were rare.

He would stay for only a month and then be gone for a year. He carried a military-like presence — disciplined, firm, not constantly affectionate.

Our bonding moments were few. But when they happened, they felt wonderful. Rare, fleeting, but deeply felt.