2,922 meters above sea level

There are certain journeys that you take wishing it would be worth it, and they fall flat of your expectations. Then there are journeys where you expect the least from, and they impact your view of the world in unexpected ways. Just this weekend, I've been to the summit of the 106th highest mountain in the world. At that particular moment climbing up amidst the zero-degree temperature and the dark night, it didn't seem much. I got caught up in the race to out-hike the rest of the campers and at times walked alone in the dark. But I found out it wasn't so bad, I found out I didn't really have to be afraid of myself. And it gave me a certain satisfaction to know that in all 4 hikes, despite my lack of physical conditioning, I could keep up with the best and the fastest; that despite the fact I couldn't feel my legs anymore, I could keep myself going. Reaching the summit was not the reward, the fact that I came from a 6 hour hike in 2 days with little sleep and little food, unscathed, was reward in itself. I believe that the destination is only 2nd to the journey itself.

Of course, dealing with the call of nature was uncomfortable yet memorable (as always, really) and given the chance, I could fondly recount all those hilarious momets in a novel. Haha I questioned whether or not I could deal with being out of my comfort zone, not just with the climb but with life in general, and I realized that that I could. I realized I am fine being by myself. Of course it ain't fun being alone and the hike was all the better with my closest. That kind of warmth you get from familiarity is hard to find and it helps to recreate comfort and cope with harsh environments. It helps also to prepare well too, to always have an extra garbage bag handy. ☺

Would I have lasted another night in the freezing cold, without food and almost no water left? I guess I could. Would I do it again? Umm, maybe. Hahaha

This arduous trip to Mt. Pulag helped me recognize why I still believe in myself.

Notes from the past ...

maybe you understand things in a much more serious manner

and maybe we can never always grasp what you mean

but we will never, ever mistake the joy you exude

through your smiles and the beauty of your heart

... we are extremely grateful.

from the girls.

All-in-1 Flight

“All the pathos and irony of leaving one’s youth behind is thus implicit in every joyous moment of travel: one knows that the first joy can never be recovered, and the wise traveler learns not to repeat successes but tries new places all the time.” – Paul Fussell

“For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel’s sake. The great affair is to move.” –Robert Louis Stevenson

It is with great disdain that I realize why I have traveled so much in the past 3 years. Aside from more affordable fares to neighboring Asian countries that do not require a tourist visa, it is my means of satisfying my soul that yearns to live in foreign lands. For so long I have always wanted to explore history, to explore human behavior, in the different places that I have visited. And as each travel comes to a close, I feel more and more that there is not enough time for me to connect with that country or to find my closure. It used to be that a 3-day weekend was enough an escape; now it seems not even 5 can suffice. Cheap travel has become a torrid affair, a means for me to cheat my rut, the resignation to my deplorable fate. I have become a philanderer to my own country because I am dissatisfied with the way it is managed. I am my Motherland's black sheep, tired of believing things would improve. Not that other countries I've visited are better off (perhaps a couple or so) to put contrast into perspective, but rather my own exercise of caution and restraint to moving itself, to getting out of my comfort zone in a place that surrounds me by family and familiarity. The restraint that pressures me to kill my creative ideas and leave but one -- the idea of making money. As my sense would put it, if I make money, I would be able to travel more and I would be excused from feeling sorry for myself (and for fooling myself that the end of the world is near).

So perhaps I've run out of countries to explore. Perhaps I have run out of money for my flights of fancy. Nay, I have run out of excuses to deal with the real issue -- the discontentment I feel about myself and my current state of affairs.

Until such time that things are better off for me, I fear I will continue to soar the skies and imagine the clouds lifting my worries to other places, for the sun to burn my guilt, for the flight attendant to usher me out into the new world. I will continue til I have but coins left in my pocket, I will reach for them with rabid enthusiasm for one last joyride ...

“The whole object of travel is not to set foot on foreign land; it is at last to set foot on one’s own country as a foreign land.” – G. K. Chesterton