At this time of the year, among a sea of year-ender posts, highlights and bests-of, the talk of home is inevitable. Across this sea are stories and montages of many beautiful homes: homes outside one’s native countries, homes where permanent addresses and familiar windows do not apply.
Mine is the opposite.
My 2014 was filled with a zest for playing catch-up. Every week or two, I dragged my two-year old to daytrips far from the place I’ve called home for the last six years.
But 2015 was entirely different. A third of the year, I stayed in, kept bleaching my hair working my arse, and rediscovered surprising retreats both within and outside traveling.
There are many, many times my heart cried out for saltwater, tree-fringed huts and roads, and the fragrant scent of unfamiliar territory. And many times, I simply stayed put. When I did travel, often it was only for family or work. It wasn’t what I wanted initially, but as the stars would have it, it was what was necessary.
Movement is liberating and romantic.There’s nothing more exhilarating than going out of your comfort zone and treading someone else’s. But sometimes I find when I move so much, I don’t hear anything else but my desire to move.
And of course, you have to be able to afford moving so often – an opportunity that, realistically speaking, is narrower for solo-income families.
Most importantly, there’s the inherent call of home.
Much as I love seeking the new and the arbitrary, a nomadic lifestyle doesn’t suit me. Being anchored in one place is something I crave. I love the excitement and madness that accompany the desire to be jetted elsewhere – the research, the booking, the packing- after a long house arrest;
the post-vacation romance of coming home – to thrilled cats and a dog, to the familiar scent of a house unoccupied for days, to a suking sari-sari store, to doing the laundry, to a window fronting a creek and indigenous shrubs, to a hot cuppa while beating deadlines on my old desk with Lia playing in the periphery.
2015 offered me that. It gave me the opportunity to be still for extended periods of time so I can get my life back on track. So that I can appreciate the peace and freedom that come with stillness.
If I didn’t consciously slow down movement, I would have not been as comfortable with the idea that it’s okay not to get away because it is the norm. That sometimes moving away isn’t the only way to find a piece of soul, a piece of home. That maybe home shouldn’t be something to constantly seek but something to constantly carry.
Home is the anchor that holds all transient retreats. Home is peeling myself bare and sharing stories. Home is the warm conversations with people I meet on the road. Home is being with my daughter, wherever life buoys us.
Pico Iyer said, “Home is not just a place where you sleep. It’s a place where you stand.”
At this moment, my feet are standing right where they ought to be.
Here’s wishing the New Year brings you to a place where you can sleep, stand, and grow altogether.
And here’s how our 2015 went down. How was yours?
JANUARY
That thunderous Papal Visit
January’s first journey was the very definition
of crazy. I woke up 6am and commuted all the way to Manila, carried an 11-kilogram toddler on my shoulders for 10 hours, and walked endlessly through
congested, slow-moving, and damp streets amid a typhoon – all for that one rare
glimpse of the Pope.
A first-time visit to La Mesa Eco Park
The marriage of parks and friends spells warm comfort: a thousand stories past and present, ice cream, and window shopping for dreamcatchers and rasta bracelets – all with a toddler and my childhood friend, Koni, in tow.
FEBRUARY
Sky Ranch Pampanga
Because there’s always a first time for carnivals. February was my daughter’s. Inside the Pampanga Eye, it became obvious that she is, indeed, far braver than her old lady where heights are concerned.
February also brought us our first feature on broadsheet (Manila Bulletin, Gone with The Kid) – or at least one that didn’t involve me writing a piece.
MARCH
Albay
Coming home to my mother’s hometown in Albay brings wonderful memories of childhood summers, cooking rice in a clay pot, and the awe-inspiring view of Mayon. Our 2015 Holy Week was spent exploring the usual and the unfamiliar in Camalig, Tabaco, Tiwi, Malinao, and Daraga.
Sorsogon
A side trip during our final day in Albay, the town of Pilar in Sorsogon proved to be more depressing than relieving but also eye-opening.
APRIL
Cool Waves Ranch Resort, Bulacan
If Bicol was Lia’s pre-birthday celebration with our side of the family, Cool Waves Resort was her birthday shindig with the in-laws. Packed and seriously dizzying like most water theme parks in the Philippines.
Biyaheroes in Pagbilao, Quezon
It all started with a “We want you and Lia to be our ambassadors.”
Now, because random things rock, a few email exchanges and few weeks later, we found ourselves on a boat to Pagbilao, Quezon with a family we just met that day and the coolest startup founders ever to film a Mother’s Day video.
On Mother’s Day, I received the sweetest gift ever. From Biyaheroes, of course.
Also had dinner with college girlfriends for the first time in 10 years. And jeez, that feeling of being college again, only now we have cellulite and saggy skin.
Revisiting Coron and the rest of Calamianes
July was all about friends and rebooting – and a little diarrhea on the side. Lia’s, not mine. Worst ever in three years. And we were in Sofitel, attending a kiddie party. Anyhoo. TMI.
Had the most wonderful lunch with mommy bestfriends in college (the second college, I mean), then shortly thereafter quit my full-time job to dive back into freelance writing. Should be tagged “most nerve-wracking move of the year”, considering that the reason I got a full-time online job was because freelancing was previously bad business. But also, “wisest move of the year”.
In August, I revived an old flame: DIY hair coloring – all thanks to Hillary Duff.
Been bleaching my hair from then on and haven’t looked back since.
A family of food-crazed people, September is always like winning the lottery for us. With two birthday celebrants, we get to eat discounted buffet twice too: at The Food Club and Tramway.
This bucketlist item is of special note because 1) It’s Tatay Nero 2) I went in for the tat with an old friend who also accompanied me when I got my first tattoo 16 years ago (Love ya, G!).
Lubao Church
With only three days to draft two 1,000-word articles and collate past photos for View Magazine, I initially didn’t intend to cover Lubao Church in Pampanga.
But there was something so seductive about the superlative “oldest church in Pampanga”, so I grabbed my toddler at frickin’ 4pm, commuted for the next two hours, and made do with whatever night shots I could come up with.
Benguet
The perfect example of how random random can get. Benguet was a trip intended only for my sister. But I was at their house as she packed, so I decided to come with – two hours before the 11pm boarding time. Cold weather clothes and hat for Lia bought in Baguio already.
A Birthday Climb Mt. Balagbag
Welcomed my 32nd year on earth hiking Mt. Balagbag – which was rather painful for a birthday.
That’s What Staycation Means: The Beacon/ Manila Peninsula
It was a sumptuous feast at the Manila Peninsula. I had two full days (pun intended) of luxurious fare as I went on the job for a digital assignment from 8am-11pm while Lia stayed at The Beacon close by, where she abused the pool overlooking Makati’s skyline. Mama and toddler both happy. Yawzaaaaaa!!!
Sparty
Was invited to a much needed bloggersparty with fellow Bulacan mums at Kukoco Nailbar and delicious pre-party fare at Vaneaty RestoCafe in Malolos. I’ve never done spas before and this was a truly welcome treat. I could live there for the rest of my life. Really.
Bucketlist #58: Check!
For 2015, I added “To have my work printed in a local travel mag” on my bucketlist.
DECEMBER
Food. Family. Manila. Lots of it. My tummy heart could seriously burst now.
