The Air Malta flight from Rome, the closest major gateway to this speck of a state in the midst of the Mediterranean, arrives a little after 10 p.m. into the international airport in Luqa.
When my friend, Lory Paredes Tangonan, invited me to her beach house in El Nido, all I could think of were blue skies and the cool azure waters of Palawan.
Samar used to be synonymous with storms, while Northern Samar has some towns famous for coconut and fish produce, like San Antonio, also known as Dalupirit Island.
Mention Zamboanga, and images of colorful vintas immediately come to mind. The striped sails of this traditional fishing vessel are said to represent the diverse culture and history of the Muslim community.
The sheep farmer was rooting for New Zealand’s national rugby team All Blacks in a hotly-contested game when he heard someone at the door. It was a stranger. Could he talk to him, the man said, about a possible business deal?
Mention Argentina and, thanks to the eponymous brand sold in this country, corned beef is the first thing Filipinos think of. Still, Argentina’s affinity with beef remains strong. Per capita consumption of beef is an astounding 70 kilos a year. That translates to about 200 grams of meat a day for each person, or roughly ¼ kilo.
There are places that you run from, and places that you run to. Australia has always been a place I ran to, whether as an exchange student, a graduate student or a tourist. The place has always enriched me.
Extremely shy and low-key, casual and sporting a goatee, Manix Abrera is the last person you’d imagine leading a cult. But he is—in a sense. The 30-year-old cartoonist is the creator of the “Kikomachine” comic strip, whose books are among the country’s best-sellers.
Outside the busy streets of Manila, in a province known more for pili nuts and whale sharks, is a gastronomic heaven. Sorsogon is many things to different people, but perhaps the best kept secret for those who have never been there is the food.
Belatedly, we read the guidebook and realized that we had ignored some very good advice. Fifteen months ago, we took the sleeper train from Yangon to Old Bagan, a horrific 16-hour ride.
Bloody Mary singing about Bali Hai in the Broadway play and subsequent Hollywood movie “South Pacific” made us dream of islands in the sun, islands in the mist, an island paradise: “If you try you’ll find me, where the sky meets the sea. Here am I your very special island/ Come to me, come to me.”
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