My Ex called Travel

Let me tell you about my ex called travel. 

He was my escape. He took me to places I've never been before. He made me do things that I wouldn't normally to. I parasailed, rode an elephant, partied with strangers, caught my first wave, went on a scenic hike, biked for three hours, tried exotic cuisine, haggled in night markets.

Durian Sidestreet Stall, Davao 

He made me believe I'm more than who I think I am. He told me I could be anyone I wanted to be. He never judged me when I went a little crazy. He encouraged me to befriend a sweet Malaysian girl I was sharing a bunk bed with. He gave me the extra strength I needed to play foosball with a fun assortment of characters in the living room of the hostel I was staying in.

Meander Hostel, Taipei

He didn't care that sometimes all I wanted to do was stay in and lie by the beach and read, or that sometimes I followed a schedule filled to the brim. At the end of the day, we would collapse together, having ventured far and wide via land, sea and air. He didn't get confused when I lit a candle in a church, offered incense in a temple, or wrote a wish in a shrine. He tolerated me whenever I stopped to take a selfie with one of the "must-see's" wherever I was, or when I took photos of my feet in the sand. 

Nusa Dua Beach, Bali

I miss him. But there was a reason why we broke up.

Eventually, our shared fascination with seeking adventures faded away. It was what held us together back then. Perhaps I turned into Wendy, and decided to embrace my adult responsibilities. Living for the moment no longer appealed to me. Instead of spending to satisfy my urges, I’d rather save for the future. Instead of chasing the night away, I preferred to snuggle close to my comforter. But he was stubborn and remained as Peter, the boy who never wanted to grow up, who lived for the moment but remained restless as he delayed the inevitable.

Playing with Fire, Boracay

Perhaps we broke up because how I define adventure at this point in my life has changed. I am about to turn 28. Now, what excites me is stability. Routine. The ordinary. Possibility has lost its luster; owning up to my choices is now the mantra I want to live by.

That is how we grew apart.

Yet, I will never forget the year we shared. The year I spent all my savings catching the first glimpse of the sun in the empty pier of Asia’s busiest harbour. The year I always left my hometown every long weekend to be with him. The year I tried so many things, explored so many facets of my personality, as my morals revealed themselves in the different environments I became exposed to.  

Sunrise in Victoria Harbor, Hong Kong

Farewell to my ex called travel. 

I am no longer enamored by the idea of you, and the possibilities you bring. I know that the next time you come back to my life, you won’t have the same hold as you did before.Next time you’ll be with me, my intentions will be different. I am no longer running away from life because I no longer want to escape it through you. I am content with where I am. I’ve found the peace I used to searched for in distant shores, mountains and metropolises, simply within myself. I’ve finally come to terms with where I am in life, and don’t need you as a distraction. Chasing the moment is no longer a game I want to play, as I want to take the present as it is – so there’s no need to chase anything anymore.  My compass is simply honoring the things and people that bring me genuine joy and peace as I navigate the waters of this new-old world.

View from Movenpick Hotel Balcony, Cebu

But thank you for showing me another side to myself. And another side of the world. You made me appreciate where I am, and more importantly, you lead me to where I want to be.

You lead me to me.

To the year that was, New Years Eve 2014, Subic

Girls Gone Wild Abroad?

The “crazy” in every young and educated Asian woman often comes alive abroad.

Or maybe in every woman, regardless of educational qualification or nationality. 

I came to this realization when I left home to work in Hong Kong two years ago. Every twentysomething who lived abroad will have their own share of misadventures and “you should have been there” stories that people back home would have a hard time relating to, particularly if the setting is in an international city – where value systems are as transient as the people visiting its borders.

Hong Kong's Lights and Shadows

A twentysomething Asian woman will often be misunderstood once she comes back home. The stories she would share about dancing on bar tops would be deemed out of character, her experiences about her quest for independence - interpreted as boasting, and her tagged party photos, clothing choices and relationship status become favorite topics among the “friends” she had long left behind. Because of social media, the supposedly profound quest for self-discovery is up for public scrutiny and thus, devalued. You have to have really thick skin to brush off what people will think. But for some, the desire to please others still reigns. They become very careful with what they reveal online about their alter egos abroad. It’s all just wasted energy.

Just your average Ladies Night @ Wan Chai, Hong Kong

Remember that a photograph is worth a thousand words. If you were to judge at all, first try to understand. If you’re a woman, even more so.

As a young person who lived abroad, affinity was often established at the onset of meeting new people from different cultures, simply from the shared experience of being a foreigner living abroad. This is different from what happens at home, where social ties are determined by social status, educational attainment, religious beliefs, standards of beauty and other social structures. To an Asian woman, this freedom from the confines of social structures becomes an opportunity to discover oneself outside the intense scrutiny of a judgmental society, strict religious practices, embedded cultural norms, and parental supervision. You become independent for the first time - geographically (as you live on your own), emotionally (as the safety blanket of your friends is not with you) and even perhaps financially (the classic component of what it means to be independent). You can finally begin anew as no reputation of yours will haunt you in your new social backdrop the way your past did back home, where social circles tend to overlap and dictate everything - from who you could date to which companies you could work for to even something as mundane as the restaurants you frequent. You could experiment with the many facets of your personality, turn fantasy into reality, do something you have never done before, and not be judged for it.

A fun night out with friends from different parts of the world

You could be who you want to be.

And when you come to this realization, the liberation begins. Some Asian women have a few weeks or months of crazy nights partying or thrill seeking, but eventually, they revert back to who they are. Others continue on for years until they become the person they discovered abroad. Eventually, home is no longer the place they grew up in, but rather, the place where they most felt like themselves. And there is no right or wrong in whatever choice you would make. That is the greatest sense of liberation any woman could have - knowing that you always have a choice to determine which version of yourself you’re most happy with in an environment that brings out the best in you. The answer is relative to each person.

When Audrey met Ronald

In living away from home, I also discovered what spheres of influence colored my decisions and also what my sources of esteem were. This newfound self-awareness helped me discover my worth outside what typically defined me back home (i.e., what job I had, who my family was, who I was dating, where I studied, etc.) because all these imbedded structures took a halt abroad as I was free to be who I wanted to be. My esteem is firmer because I learned not to hide under the shadow of my friends, the protection of a relationship, and the stability of a job, among many other things. I learned that being true to who I was is enough. I’m lucky to have made friends along the way, who value self-discovery just as much as I do and continue to support me in my decisions without judgment.

Friendships across borders... and countless rooftops

In one’s twenties, we women fluctuate from playing “saint” and “sinner” and experiment with our identities now more than ever, until eventually, we find a happy medium. A state of being that is simply – you. You don’t have to go abroad to be able to discover yourself ala Eat Pray Love. You just need the courage to ask the question – who am I?

Tram Party!

I promise you that the journey will be worth more than the destination.

Always in my heart...
Hong Kong (2011 - 2013)

The Party in Hong Kong

The Party in Hong Kong

Originally published in: We Said Go Travel

Beep beep beep beep beep! The MTR gates shut behind me; my inhibitions waving goodbye from the window of the zooming train. I make my way through the blur of multicolored faces, escalator after escalator, in a concrete underground maze. When I finally reached ground level, the familiar sight of red walls greet me, along with the notorious sign that reads Exit D2. As people zigzag their way into each other, the Chinese characters from the print ads in the subway become a constant reminder of how different this place is from what I am used to.

As my friends and I make our way above ground and take the last step to exit the subway, the humid evening air embrace us as if expecting company. “We have arrived,” my friend said, the twinkle in her hazel eyes unmistakable. We parade into the street, welcomed by the symphony of lights that emanate from buildings, malls and bars just like stars – much like how we feel. Instead of a blare of trumpets, we are greeted by the strangely appealing discordant harmonies of bass drops, car horns, drunken laughter and alien accents. A short uphill trek take us to the heart of the place – a 711 store that both causes and nurses hangovers and broken hearts. And with a few drinks that comprise of a surprisingly pleasant selection of world beers, tropical vodka mixes, mini-wine bottles and the occasional accompaniment of noodle bowls or pork balls, I’m ready for the rest of the night – hopping from one rooftop bar to another, one club to another, one flight of stairs to another, one group of strangers to another, one set or arms to another, one side of myself to another.

Whenever I am here, I forget who I am, or who I am supposed to be. I forget about the things I worry about. I forget about what people expect me to do or how people expect me to behave. I forget the things that hold me back from experiencing life to the fullest. Like my ancestors before me, I just surrender to the rhythm of the night and forget everything but the beating of my own heart.

When you forget everything, all that is left is you. Without the influence of the past or future – it’s just you and the present seeing eye-to-eye. You freely raise your hands up in the air, dance the way you want to, befriend a random stranger, pretend you are royalty, just do what you want to do and feel what you want to feel, even for just a night – spilling over to the next, and the next and the next until life becomes just one grand party you take part of and celebrate.

To feel most alive – that is what freedom means to me. To submit to the senses and silence the mind. To have so much energy to last until sunrise. To be open to all possibilities and not say “I can’t” or “I won’t” because in this place, both do not exist. All that exists is YOU, and that is what matters most in the world.

I found freedom in the rugged rawness that reeks from the streets of Lan Kwai Fong, because this is where, for the first time in my life, I stopped thinking and started being.

Sunsets in Hong Kong

There’s something magnificent about sunsets. To describe one is to find a speck of yellow plotted across a vast sky that turns the horizon red, then a slight purple, then eventually, a mysterious black blue. Black blue is probably the color of the universe, and without the yellow speck that is the sun, we have a glimpse of just how expansively empty the universe is. It’s a dark place, but the stars bring it some light, with the “star” of the show as the sun. This is probably what explains our fixation on sunsets, knowing that its goodbye for a while to our main source of light in an otherwise dark, dark existence.

Sunsets quell us. They open our hearts to the gift of peaceful solitude amidst the busy backdrop of our lives. Our other senses surrender to the sight of metamorphosis - of an ordinary backdrop turned extraordinary as light creates colors and shadows that have the ability to evoke emotion. Witnessing a sunset is like watching a painting drawn by God everyday for all men, regardless of class, gender, religion or race. Sunsets allow us to befriend time and not feel guilty as we reminisce the past, bask in the present and dream about the future and all its possibilities. They allow us to just “be” - and even be one with something beyond our finite comprehension.

Even sunsets caught on film can captivate and inspire. I hope you become as inspired as I have been by the sunsets I have seen in Hong Kong. 

Sheung Wan, Hong Kong Island

Stanley, Hong Kong Island

Tai Po, New Territories

View from the Peak, Hong Kong Island

Hong Kong Baptist University, Kowloon Tong

Wisdom Path, Lantau Island

View from Ocean Park, Hong Kong Island

Mui Wo. Lantau Island

Hong Kong Geo Park, New Territories

Tap Mun, New Territories

Central, Hong Kong Island

Disneyland, Hong Kong Island

Dusk at Stanley, Hong Kong Island

Dusk at Sai Kung, New Territories

What to Expect when Moving Abroad

Have you taken a leap of faith and left everything to move abroad?

Part of what made this time magical was your determination to make things work in your new country. No matter what the costs were. No matter how uncomfortable or lonely it could be. Relive the growing pains of starting over somewhere in the world and laugh about the makeshift life you led as you first transitioned to your new home abroad. 

• You have that nightmare story of your first month living abroad which you laugh and tell your friends about, even if back then all you wanted to do was cry and book a flight ticket back home.
• You most likely ate in Mcdonalds during your first week abroad, where you moped a little because you didn’t know where else to find meat. Or fish.
• You bought the cheapest, most basic cell phone for your local number, even if you owned an Iphone. Because you only used your Iphone when the WiFi was free. And also to take pictures of sunsets. Or your food.
• You attempted to start your nth blog during your first month abroad, and concealed the identities of your new friends via the first letters of their names. Eventually you forgot about your blog and used brunch as your new avenue for emotional catharsis.
• You realized that living with strangers was not too bad after all. And even if your flatmates did end up being a little creepy, you weren’t home most of the time anyway.
• You actually enjoyed going to Ikea. You turned a bedsheet you bought into a makeshift curtain, used those colorful plastic plates and cups when friends came over, and bought a tacky carpet just because. In fact, you sometimes go to Ikea just for the sheer joy of eating their meatballs.
• You didn’t own a television and watched everything from your laptop. In fact, you never even bothered reading a book during your first few months abroad, because your life was too exciting to escape from.
• You learned how to budget by using meals as units in buying clothes (i.e., “that top from H&M is three meals…”).  
• You only ate properly when your family was in town. Otherwise, sandwiches from 711 did the trick.
• You hardly washed your bed sheets. No one knows why but you just didn’t.
• You changed your name at one point or shortened it so locals can pronounce it easily. It’s like having an “English name” of sorts (if you taught ESL in Asia you’ll understand what I mean by this).
• You had a friend who organized everything - from birthdays to hikes to Secret Santa. 
• You also had a friend who knew about all the deals in town (“OMG 2-for-1 happy hour prices lets go NOW!”). More often than not, this friend was female. In fact, the reason you tried Yoga was because of her persistence in selling you the deal on Groupon.
• You only went to a movie theatre for dates or because you could get discounted tickets if you went as a group (again, it’s all about the deals…).
• You had a friend who hosted most of the house parties. He/she was the one who lived farthest away from civilization, but had the most complete kitchen (“OMG you have an oven!”) and the most spacious common area, so you didn’t mind.
• You actually went to the museum for fun, even if you have never been to the one in your own country, except that time you had to go for your primary school field trip.
• You wasted so much time on Skyscanner.com or Zuji.com, comparing flights and strategizing your layover trips. Hopefully, you weren’t the person who’s browser always screwed up the minute he/she was paying for tickets. 
• You locked yourself out (or in) of your flat after going out and slept in your friends place after calling him/her in the wee hours of the morning.
• You Ikea closet consisted primarily of pieces from H&M, Zara and Forever 21, which you can easily spot on the street, because those were the only places you could get “normal” and reasonably priced clothes from.
• You suffered from a bad haircut that cost twice as much as what you got back home because of a language barrier with the hairdresser.
• You organized a pest-control or mold-control operation with your flatmates - gloves and masks and all.
• You fought about doing the dishes with your flatmates. And fought about how one of you did not replace the egg they took. The worst was when the fight was about one of them taking your ice cream without asking permission.
• Your weight fluctuated like crazy, and so did your feelings about dancing to house music (something you used to hate). 
• You religiously Skyped at least once a week with people back home. It was your portal to the alternate universe you left behind, especially if you were in a long distance relationship.
• You secretly liked one of your coworkers / co-exchange participants or they secretly liked you. Because just as your food palette adjusted to the local cuisine, so did your taste for what you found attractive.
• Your definition of the perfect gift was a home cooked meal or a well-chosen book. But giving and receiving gift cards from Zara, H&M, or even Starbucks wasn’t too bad either.
• And lastly, your definition of “luxury” changed while you first moved abroad. Luxury meant upgrading the bananas and apples in your fridge to pomegranates and cranberries. Or spoiling yourself with legit morning coffee. Or buying that sinful cheesecake slice for dessert. But regardless, you learned that best luxuries were usually the simplest of indulgences… it was always having chocolate lying around - for days when you missed home, for days when you said goodbye to another friend or fling, or for days when you just wanted to enjoy that perfect moment of sheer contentment in your own corner of the sky, living life to the fullest in your new home abroad. 

Nom nom nom at my previous workstation

The Five Stages of Self-Discovery while Abroad

 I remember writing this from my office desk around March of this year, as I idled time away on a not-so-busy day. Tweaked it a bit after coming home. Here is my attempt to demystify the stages of self-discovery while working abroad, in city like Hong Kong. 

The first stage of finding yourself in Hong Kong is novelty, just like in any other foreign city. It’s discovering how different you are by literally “sensing” your way around the place. It’s taking in your surroundings and filling your senses with the distinct smell of roasted barbeque pork, the iconic sight of Hong Kong’s majestic skyline, the orchestrated sound of footsteps rushing as soon as the beeping of MTR gates are heard, or the Panda you wish you could touch, pet and feed bamboo shoots to in Ocean Park. As soon as you enter Hong Kong’s airport you know that this city is not for the faint of heart, because here, your senses need to keep up, and so does your walking pace.

The next stage of finding yourself is called exploration. Let novelty fill you with boundless energy to explore Hong Kong through its tram system, MTR system, bus system, ferry system, or better yet, by hiring a junk boat, biking on its outlying islands, hiking its mountains, walking through its night markets, or by plain fumbling through its nooks and crannies and discovering something new every time. Explore Hong Kong and become the tease, saint, intellectual or socialite you have always wanted to be. All the world is a stage in this land of possibilities, with your backdrop and audience changing each time.

The next stage is called confusion. As you have many crazy adventures you start thinking if this is the person you want to be, and swear that you’ll mellow down. But then you do it again… and again… and again… whatever “it” may be. Wake up calls come in the form of a person from your not-so distant past– a friend, a significant other or a family member, who had been neglected as you continue living in an alternate universe frozen in time.

As your over-fatigued body catches up with the busy lifestyle you lead, you are forced into isolation, and forced into a period of reflection. Some opt for yoga retreats, others live in remote islands, some simply stay in during weekends, and others book trips home or book trips to the nearest third-world paradise. This period is crucial not just to re-energize, but also to realize the things that are truly worth it. In fact, you realize that there is an end to begin with, like many other good things in this world.

If you choose to stay or move on, either way you will reach a state of enlightenment, the final stage of this journey. It’s enlightenment that comes with knowing what you are capable of in this place of numerous possibilities, drawing your limits, and sticking with your decisions and whatever consequences they bring. Living in the present takes a whole new meaning, because now the present involves how you integrate your past with the future you anticipate, versus its old connotation of simply going with the flow.

And so, to find yourself in Hong Kong is to find a way to return to who you are amidst its many clashing values and propositions. It’s knowing that when you leave, you achieved the reason you came in the first place, from the choices you made during your brief yet wondrous stay in this city for gods and men.