It makes us proud when a fellow countryman makes a mark on foreign soil. I know we can name so many at this point, but this time I will introduce to you someone who, from my point of view, has so much power to wield yet has remained humble.
The last quarter of the year marks the end of the sailing season in the Philippines, and time for the last regatta of the year. For those not too familiar, a regatta is a series of races of boats, normally sailing vessels, though there have been races for engine-powered vessels.
My resolution this year is to see more of my own country. In the past, traveling abroad was the thing to do, with domestic travel reserved for those doing business or visiting their provincial hometowns.
It was to be the last full day in Florence for my mother and me. We were set to fly back to Manila the next morning. In a bizarre act which could only be attributed to jet lag, we had paid to tour Sienna at the very same time that we were supposed to be leaving. It was our hotel manager who alerted us to the problem. Strangely, we were quite aware of our departure date; yet we still made the booking. Somewhere in our brains, a synapse was obviously not working.
I visited the Holy Land for the first time in 1974, after I finished my studies in Germany and Rome. Thirty-seven years later, in January 2012, the Administrative Council of the International Organization of Benedictine Women decided to have its semi-annual meeting in Jerusalem.
It’s been said that the kouyou phenomenon, or the turning of the autumn leaves in Japan, inspires people to write beautiful poems and prose. It can even make amateur photographers produce photos like pros.
Tottering precariously in my four-inch okobo (wooden platform slippers), I strolled along the streets of Kyoto’s Gion district one drizzly afternoon, leaving a trail of admiring glances from foreigners and locals alike.
As my feet touched the Boracay sand, the aria of Grizabella from “Cats” started playing in my head as memories of old Boracay fill my weary mind. Am I getting old, or is there a new generation of tourists invading the island?
What is so exciting and unique about the art of photography? With brain and hands, photography seizes the moment, captures a fragment of eternity, and preserves it forever. We immortalize beautiful sceneries and memories.
It seems like every year, more and more beachgoers both local and foreign find their way to Boracay, so it is a little unrealistic to expect to find a beach with no people.
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