Oh, Roma!

Travelled alone to the Eternal City...this was the perfect solo trip ever! Okay, this is just my second solo trip ever :D Everything went smoothly, walked miles, met interesting people, and ate a lot of delicious food!

The Pantheon

I found the invisible man at Piazza Navona

I love Trastevere!

view of the St. Peter's Cathedral from the keyhole of the Knights of Malta gate. Absolutely lovely and enchanting!

What is Rome without pasta?

And Pizza?

The beautiful Trevi fountain

View from the Vittorio Emanuele monument


Get drunk with art

View of the Vatican from Castel Sant Angelo

The Sistine Chapel

Colosseo

It's Been A While...A Long While.

I think blogging is not for me not because I can't put my thoughts into writing, but because I'm usually afraid to write them down for fear of revealing too much. So I decided to make this post mostly about photos, and if some random thoughts about the images pop up, I'll share them to you.

I'll pick up where I left off...entering England to start my 2012 'big vacay.' This is what happened after that.

Here are some photos taken in Northeast England: Newcastle Upon Tyne, York, and Alnwick.

Jumping for joy at the coast

Millenium bridge shot taken from Sage Gateshead

Scone with clotted cream and jam

Staring at the hog sandwiches. Yum, yum, yum!

Still carrying my hog sandwich all the way to Yorkminster :D

Took the ghost hunt tour by Andy Dextrous. It was hilarious!

Hats, anyone?

Afternoon tea


Me and my sister


Outside Alnwick Castle. Loooove flowers ;)

Day 1: Takeoff

Armed with excitement and anticipation I boarded on the plane to Amsterdam that Friday night. After two years, I was going back to the continent that is subject to my current infatuation: Europe. I was lucky to have a very considerate couple sitting next to me. They were the perfect plane seatmates - quiet and not overly-friendly. Even with this advantage I had a hard time sleeping. Maybe it was the excitement. Maybe it was the cramped economy seat space. Or the in-flight entertainment choices. I would doze off for minutes that seemed like hours and wake up for meals and parts of the depressing but great movie My Week With Marilyn. Not even airline food or the film could dampen my spirits.


Sometimes when I opened my eyes and looked outside, I would see what appeared to be a sunrise... or was it a sunset? I lost all orientation of time and space while inside the pressurized interior. It was a confusing but refreshing feeling as well, like you're in limbo just floating. You're literally and figuratively suspended in the air with no idea to which direction you're headed. You only know the destination written on your boarding pass.


As we neared landing in Amsterdam Schiphol a feeling of familiarity welled up inside of me even if I've been there just twice prior to that moment. Looking out into the little buildings and the airport below I could hardly wait for the 'fasten seatbelt' sign to go off. And when I stepped inside the airport I felt that feeling all over again...I was a citizen of the world. I was no longer in my small bubble of Philippine comfort. I was in transit with all these other travelers from every corner of the world imaginable. After that profound thought came another: I have to buy stroopwafels.

After my purchase I proceeded to find a charging station for my Ipod. Once online I got to talk to a friend who was set to move to the U.S. while I was away on my trip. I wished him well and thought about how someday I'd like to do the same thing. I would love to live in another country for once in my life. But let's save that for another blog.


I went to the Newcastle waiting lounge after checking out the small museum at Schiphol. By that time the excitement had tripled as I thought of seeing my sister again and good old Guelder Road where her little flat was. I was hoping for sun but wasn't expecting much from British weather.


Once seated in the plane I discovered I had more legroom than usual and then saw I was near the emergency exit. The attendant explained the responsibility of being in that seat to me and my seatmate. When she was gone, the guy seated next to me said in a Geordie accent, 'You want to do it?', referring to opening the emergency exit. And I told him, 'Hopefully, I won't have to.' After that was an awkward silence which usually infiltrates small talk between strangers.


But my curiosity and newfound confidence (it seems to come out whenever I'm on trips) prompted me to ask him if he was from Newcastle. He answered that he was. I found out that his name was John and that he lived in NCL all his life. He had just come from a trip to Texas to visit friends. When he saw my passport he noticed that I had quite a few stamps and so I asked him which places in Europe he'd already visit. To my utter shock he said he hadn't explored his own continent yet. I felt like he was wasting an advantage that he was born with. He didn't need a visa and it wasn't that expensive to go around yet he hadn't done it. So I ended up telling him about my previous trips and the countries I had been to. It felt strange that I was selling his own continent to him. He had been to Asia once but that was basically the extent of his travel experiences. The talk went on until the plane had landed. It was a great way to start my trip to Newcastle, and what made it even better was the fact that the sun was shining! I was ecstatic.


But then came the dreaded immigration check. I have no worries except for one, which is the cause of my anxiety: my hands. They get really dry in cold weather and that makes my less readable prints even difficult to read on the machine. I had no problems except for that. So after rubbing my fingers on my chin or behind the ear (where there's bound to be some oil) I passed immigration check and proceeded to get my luggage.


I was surprised to see that John was waiting for me on the other side even after I spent quite a time at Immigration. I was so ready to go through the doors that say 'no return beyond this point' and thinking to myself, hey, i don't mind. My sister hadn't arrived yet but John's parents were already there to pick him up. I told him that he could go and I'll be alright and so we said our goodbyes. Soon after that I saw my sister walking to me and we both got so excited. I swear at some point we squealed like little kids in delight. I looked over to the side and saw John was still there with his parents. He saw that I was with my sister and I waved goodbye.


We got into the car and my sister right away relayed her story about how she forgot to pull up the handbrake and her car slowly rolled into another car (haha!) Luckily the damage wasn't that big. It was my first time to experience my sister's driving in the UK (she didn't have a car yet when I first went)and so a simple thing such as sitting on the left side was fascinating and disorienting to me at the same time. We chatted nonstop and I forgot how hungry I had gotten. I was at my destination and I was soooo happy. YES!!!

I looked around and was beaming at how familiar everything was. Oh, I remember that pub. Right, that was where we had Indian food. Hey, the Sainsbury's has gotten bigger. And when the car pulled up in front of the house, I felt I was home again.
When I went inside I immediately recognized that familiar smell, the smell that would stay in my suitcase and clothes until I go back to the Philippines. I was immediately introduced to my sister's Greek flatmate, Oz. He was very nice and friendly and I felt like I knew him well from all the stories my sister told me.

I sat down in the living room as my sister prepared my Indian lunch. It was already noon. I couldn't resist going on Facebook and putting a shoutout, of course making sure I added my location. As the sun's rays streamed through the window I couldn't help but take a look around. I was back. Almost a day ago when I got on that plane the adventure had already started and it was right before me. I couldn't wait to find out what would happen.

About Travel Blogging and Why I Haven't Done It

The last time I blogged here was January, trying out Blogger from my Itouch. I thought I'd be able to blog as I travel, write and recall each moment of my trip. It was a brilliant and fairly easy idea that I was really excited about. But alas, nine months since that time I haven't written a single thing about one of the best trips of my life. Come to think of it I haven't been able to write too much about the trips prior to that as well. And now I ask myself: Why? While you're on vacation you get caught up in the whirlwind of activities and sights especially when you've got only a few weeks. And when you're making your way home you're just exhausted and inflicted with a bad case of post-vacation depression.I blame both. They're the reasons why I haven't been able to share the amazing things I've seen and experienced during my trips. And now that I've been bitten by the writing bug I want to share the adventures I've had in places I last visited, my encounters with the people I met, and the experiences I've had that will never be forgotten. I'm pretty excited! I hope you enjoy reading and discovering as if you got on the train with me to London, had couscous at a rooftop restaurant in Morroco, and got oggled at in Rome. It's going to be one happy ride so hop on and hang tight.

Trying out blogging from my Itouch

I just downloaded blogger for my iPod touch. This will come in handy for when I travel this March. :)

Crunch time - Churros con chocolate

I've been thinking about how little detail I paid to some things in Barcelona. I've forgotten the name of some great restaurants I've been to, which is unusual for me. So one rainy morning, I did research about the churreria I visited.

It was a slightly cloudy morning on my way to Museu Picasso (that's another blog subject) and I passed by a churreria. It was perfect timing, since churros were on my list of things to eat in BCN. But I just had breakfast at the B & B so I opted to go back after the museum. After my art fix it was time for a food fix.

I entered this small, hole-in-the wall restaurant, which according to my research is called Churreria Granja Ruz. An old man was behind the small counter. I now wish I took a picture of him. I was the only one in the shop, as it was already past breakfast. I peered over the glass case containing freshly-made churros and saw two types- the curved ridged one we usually see and the long one which had no ridges. Because I didn't know the difference I braved the language barrier and asked the old man. He couldn't speak English so with a combination of Spanish and sign language he made me understand that the ridged one is more crunchy. I ordered the two kinds of churros con chocolate of course. There's no other way to have churros.

As I was served my fare I was excited. I've always wanted to say I've been in some corner of the globe, eating this and eating that. And now I can say I ate churros in Barcelona. As I took a bite of the sugar-sprinkles fried pastry dipped in thick, dark chocolate I savored the flavor. After all, it's not everyday you get to be in Spain, eating authentic Spanish food. When I finished eating I stepped out feeling giddy and chocolatey inside. It was an experience like no other, as were other experiences I had in the place.

Now it's been past a year since that time. I find myself craving for churros. Where will I get ones as good as those in BCN? Well, that must mean I have to go back soon :)

It was afternoon and I remember sitting by the River Wear, staring at the Durham Cathedral and wishing time would stand still. The water was flowing under Prebends bridge and to say the whole scene was picture-perfect is an understatement. I found my corner, a small bench farther up the riverside footpath. If I could I would go back and stay there.

I was on the last stretch of my European adventure so that morning I took off to explore the city of Durham on my own. With hand-written instructions in hand I took the bus and the train (which I loved doing there) and walked to the Durham cathedral. I strolled down the cobblestone streets, checked the food stalls, and vowed to go back later. I bought myself a cup of coffee and I was all set.

When I got to the cathedral, the wonderful lines of the interior just took my breath away. The past few days of my vacation I saw beautiful architecture but this church still didn't fail to amaze me. Giving myself just a few minutes to get a first impression, I decided to take on the challenge of climbing the stairs up to the tower and enjoying the view. Two charming old women by the tower entrance asked me if I was physically fit to climb up the 325 steps and I told them proudly, 'I just did Notre Dame last week,' forgetting to mention that I huffed and puffed with what seemed like a French Herculean task.

So I made my way and started what seemed like a relatively easy job. But halfway up I started to feel the sharp, cool, piercing air enter my chest with every breath. It didn't help that the stairs got narrower with every step. I held on to the cold metal railing for dear life because my boot could just slip anytime. I know I was so happy with my vacation I thought I could die right there, but I didn't want to take things too literally.

When I finally got to the top, wind brushing over my face, a magnificent view greeted me. It washed away my exhaustion. From the tower I could see the river flowing through the numerous beautiful storybook bridges, quaint shops and buildings. Everything seemed so peaceful. I took in all of the beauty around me and then started the journey 325 steps down. The sticker that says I went up all of the steps at Durham was the cherry on top.

Before I got out of the cathedral, I sat down on one of the benches and said a little prayer. I thanked the Lord for giving me the chance to see another side of the beautiful world I'm in. I was brimming with joy that I got to see these all places and people. Every waking day of my trip I was filled with excitement and I realized it has been a long time since I felt that jolt. The thought almost brought a tear out of my eye. That moment, I was genuinely happy.

I took a quick lunch al fresco. A French guy who called me mademoiselle was selling prawnies and taters and by that time I thought I could use a huge serving from him. Funny, when I looked around that market square I saw pieces of my trip brought altogether in one place – French bread and pastries, Spanish Paella, British fish and chips. I've come full circle.

As my trip to Durham came to an end, I sat on that bench by the Prebends bridge. Thinking about my last few days in Newcastle and in Europe, I was sad that my adventure was close to done. But with the beauty that was surrounding me, I could only smile. The sun even glimpsed out of the usually cloudy British sky. It's as if the warm rays were telling me to cheer up and be happy. I took everything in, put my hands in my warm pockets, and made my way down the footpath. Like my hands, I was all warm and fuzzy inside too.

I'm not sure how I remembered it or how i happened. All I know is that when it dawned on me, I was genuinely surprised. But somehow I realized that for the first time I left Cebu without shedding a single tear.

I'm not sure how I remembered it or how i happened. All I know is that when it dawned on me, I was genuinely surprised. But somehow I realized that for the first time I left Cebu without shedding a single tear.

Should I be alarmed? Is this a sign that my emotional attachment to the place has diminished, therefore making me immune to bouts of separation anxiety? Does this lack of the usual drama signify that I have come to terms with the fact that Cebu is no longer my home?

Should I be relieved? This may mean that finally I have overcome the nervous energy surrounding every goodbye. If that is true then it's about time. I have been coming in and out of Cebu for 11 years now and it's right that I learn to deal with it.

Does this simply mean that I had a terrific time?
Maybe the happy moments were enough to overpower the sadness of leaving everyone behind. And the prospect of going back someday can certainly help in making leaving easier. No goodbyes, just see you soon's.

Maybe it's not just one of those reasons, but all of them rolled into one. I may not have shed a single tear that one time but that doesn't mean I'm not sad. I just keep on remembering, no goodbyes.

February 9-10, 2011
MRT

Sent from my iPod

En Route

I love airports. There's something about them that makes them all alike wherever in the world they are. I'm always filled with anticipation and excitement whenever I enter one, with a bag (or a couple) and plane ticket in hand.

There's something about people-watching in an airport. I sit and wonder about other people's destinations, their upcoming adventures, the business they have to take care of at the next stop. Families, friends, lovers, lone travelers are all brought together by trips of different intents and purposes.

And when the passengers have gotten off, the luggage claimed, and the plane cleared for another takeoff, it's wonderful to see excited tourists drive off to their escapade and families happily reuniting. As I step out of the airport and into a new or familiar place, I realize the trip is just as thrilling as the destination.

As I sit here waiting for my flight I realize why airports feel like they're all the same. It's the feeling I get facing the prospect of new experiences, visiting foreing places, being with old friends again, or going back home. Sure, the waiting can be a bit tiring but it's only because a destination is awaiting my arrival.

February 4, 2011
NAIA terminal 3
Waiting to get on a plane to Cebu :)

In the Land of Fish & Chips

My sister and I were in search of a fish and chips place in London and so we had to rely on good old google to find one. One chilly afternoon we found ourselves getting on the Underground and getting off at Covent Garden. Our quest was temporarily derailed by all the interesting shops around so when we finally got to searching for out real destination, it was time for dinner.

Off we went to Rock and Sole Plaice along Endell St., just off the theater rows at West End. It's nothing fancy, just a small eatery with movie and play posters scattered around the walls, coupled with non-appetizing flourescent lighting. We ordered, what else? A plate of fish and chips with some mushy peas. The huge battered fish were crisp on the outside and soft on the inside. They were perfectly paired with huge potato wedges and a serving of mashed peas. Don't forget to squeeze a lemon slice over the fish and pour some malt vinegar on it as well. Simple, but delicious.

I thoroughly enjoyed, along with the flavors, the experience of tasting my first authentic fish and chips. I always say that one of the higlights of travelling is the food, because it gives you a glimpse into a people's culture and everyday living. Plus, I just love to eat. We left Rock & Sole with full stomachs and a postcard to remember it by. Someday I plan to relive the experience...Does this means 2012 Olympics?