will be back. maybe.

on a blog leave, too.

at least here, in i.ph.  =)

wanderlust.

the moment my six-year-old eyes saw a map of the world, i knew then that traveling will be a big part of my life.  maybe i was an airplane in past life.  i love the thrill of flying, in taking off and landing.  i love the thrill of the journey itself, of the possibility of getting lost, of smelling and seeing and experiencing new cultures.

traveling also made me appreciate the richness and beauty of this country.  batanes still lingers in my mind.  to be surrounded by God's masterpiece, it almost felt like a spiritual journey.  and then, there's bohol that never ceases to fascinate me.  davao's natural gardens and the long stretch of white sands in boracay always, always take my breath away.   and i will forever remember the mystical charm of baguio and banaue.

i can't wait for my trip to bantayan island next month.  i've been there twice before.  there is something very peaceful about this place.  something that feels like home.  i will be going to ticao the week after my bantayan trip.  they say ticao is beautiful.  oh nature, surprise me.

i remember how i allowed myself be surprised when i first set foot in china.  i went there without expectations.  their culture is as big as their country. 

there are places i want to go back to.  like japan, because one week is never enough to really explore this country full of contrasts.  and paris, too.  who doesn't want to be engulfed by its romance and lights and art?

and there are places i want to go to.  like greece (and get spoiled with myths in crete).  like the small island of carriacou (and meet the mermaid artist, calliste).  like spain (and be inspired by flamenco dancers).  like bhutan (and be awed by this mythical, dream-like kingdom).  like the US (and be surrounded by great friends).  like the UK (and visit the queen).

summers do this to me.  i reminisce about past trips, get excited about upcoming ones, and dream about places i haven't been to.  wherever i'll go — to an island in some faraway country or to a secret bookstore around the corner — i will always see the world with my six-year-old eyes, wide-eyed in amazement and wonder.

friends are gifts.

speechless.  yes, i was speechless for a good five minutes.  noel, a friend i've known since i was 15 made a song for me.  i was deeply touched by the gesture.  people make songs for icons like marilyn monroe.  what did i do to be immortalized in a song?

the lyrics are heartwarming.  the melody, pure and simple.  so much like the kind of friendship we have — true and untarnished by any trivial emotion. 

this song fulfills my wishlist i wrote in september two years ago in my old nedj site.  who would've known?  it's nice.  it's nice when your friends honor you, think about you, and appreciate your presence in their life. 

i remember a poem my friend cesar wrote for me in 1998.  it was beautiful.

sometimes, i wonder if i deserve that poem, or the song noel just made, or even be thought about in a very special way.  sometimes, i feel like i'm not that good of a friend especially when i get engrossed with the things i do and i forget to answer emails, or texts, or mail those long overdue letters.  i must have done something good in my life to be blessed with friends who understand, who love me despite. 

two days ago, boots told me that she and jingjing were in the mall and found a blouse which reminded them of me.  "we call it the aileen blouse," she said.  "jing and i agreed we will buy one blouse each, wear it, and show it to you," she added.  how sweet is that?

reminds me of my friends here in manila.  each time they see those flat maryjanes or ballet shoes in yummy colors and designs, they'd beam: "shoes ni aileen!" 

it feels wonderful to be remembered.  to be deliberately thought about and be the muse of a song and a poem.  to be thought about even during walking-in-the-mall-window-shopping-moments.  to be assured that you are there, quietly tucked in your friends' hearts.

notebooks and writing.

i am addicted to notebooks.  when i went book-shopping last weekend, i grabbed a pretty little pink teNeues notebook.  my collection is getting bigger — from antique leather-bound to hard-bound fancy ones.  no, i just don't collect them.  i use them.  i can't leave the house without them.  i have this need to write down my thoughts before they actually evaporate. 

i love how jessica zafra, in her article entitled writing, a romance describes writing in one's notebook.  (published in metro's march 2007 issue), to quote two paragraphs –

i think the true romance of writing lies not in the suffering that's supposed to inspire it or the drinking and debauchery that are supposed to fuel it, but in the physical act of forming words with ink.  the blank sheets stare at you, mocking your fear and dread.  the emptiness weighs on your soul like an anvil.  you take up your pen and defile that blankness.  you say no to oblivion.

many prefer the convenience of a keyboard and monitor, but i like to feel the words in my hand, on the dent where my thumbnail bites into my index finger.  the notebook is an extension of my hand; i am what i write.

oh, summer!

summers hold a special place in my heart.  when i was a school girl, summers provided me a respite from math and science.  it also meant i get to do the things i like.

mom always made sure we learned something while enjoying our summer vacations.  she would enroll us to summer classes.  i went to UP fine arts, my sister abbie went to modern dance school, my sister azenith studied ballet.  all three of us studied swimming.  like it's not enough, i studied piano and guitar, too.  sadly, i never really learned how to swim or play the guitar and piano.  but that's alright, i guess.  i enjoyed those classes and made lots of friends.  i remember, i also studied voice.  but my coach gave up on me.  i simply couldn't sing the do-re-mi in tune.  and oh, there was speech class, too, which i truly truly loved.

summers meant sunday mornings at the beach.  my sisters and i would swim all we want.  and then, we'd spend sunday afternoons at my grandparent's farm, feed all the pigs and chickens and cows.   

now that i'm in the big city, away from my childhood home, summers still give me the chance to make happy memories.  it means travel with friends to uncharted paths.  it means mountain trekking and open water diving.  it means sight-seeing and shopping.  it means learning something new, like flamenco.  it means bikini, flipflops, and banana shake.  it means  ice cream in different yummy flavors.  it means good conversations with friends over chocolate cream frap.

this is why summers hold a special place in my heart.