..To Love is To..

I have endured terrible things in my life. Some of them I have trouble moving past. Perhaps, the only thing that kept me going is the thought that we are capable of becoming better, and more, despite our afflictions, our incongruencies, our defects, our blemishes, our bends. 

Seven wonderful and unnerved years of deficiencies of writing articles and into this non-profitable passion that started one cold night of December. As an underground blogger, I always feel the need of imparting a piece of myself whenever I would start blotting words into my blogs: to encourage, to inspire and to let my readers have a reflective time not only on the words but on my experiences. Afterall, this is a collection of my life's great lessons.

As I celebrate this longest running commitment of mine, let me journey with you, in love, and to love.

..To Love is To..

Grow.

And sometimes, to grow is to endure change(s). 

And changes are directly proportionl to pain. 

I enrolled in a gym class way back college years because I would buy clothes from the largest size of kid's section. Imagine how thin I was. And imagine I'm the only one on weight-gaining program while the rest are on the other way around. First week was a breeze since I'm only lifting 1-2 kg of dumbbells. Because I'm choosing my own weights. And this didn't escape from the snaring eyes of my instructor. Succeeding weeks are pain on the *ss. Sweats are forming on my forehead I can't lift weights without the help of my instructor. This has been the lingering scenario. But slowly, my muscles were form. My butt  shaped. My arms toned. I can now say the  word "figure". 

I love this analogy. Because in life, to love is to keep on growing through changes, and through pains. 

..To Love is To..

Wait.

For single people, Waiting is a terrifying word.

Because we live in a world where sipping cappuccino in a coffee shop alone makes you appear lonely, and watching movie by yourself gives an air of assumption that something's wrong with you.  But I have high regards to these kind of people, ahem, because they know waiting for the right person to share these experiences is not only worth it, but worth their time knowing their own self.
The longer you wait for something, the more you will appreciate it when it finally arrives. So when she says No, you guys should honor it. Because until such time that you unveil the mystery that covers her body, only mosquito is allowed to bite =)

..To Love is To..

Listen.

Do you really know what makes her sad? Or what makes her clench her fist? Or what makes her eyes glow in amazement? How much do you know her fears? And her stream of thoughts when she is quiet? Or the dreams that make her wake up every morning to call it another day?
How much do you know her soul aside from knowing her body?

"Thank you", he said gracefully. For what? I innocently asked.

"For  l.i.s.t.e.n.i.n.g. I feel loved."


..To Love is To..

Forgive.

First, yourself.
For giving too much. For trusting too much. For believing too much.
There's no greater sorrow for someone who genuinely love to be betrayed. Sometimes, I can't understand why good people suffer. Why people with pure intentions are the ones betrayed and cheated on. The wisdom of my Uncle strike deep: "because you are a gold. Precious. And just like gold, they have to pass through the hottest fire."

Forgiving, just like taking a bath, should be an everyday habit. Because you want to free your body from toxins. You want to clear your body from impurities. Because in forgiving, you set someone else free. You protect someone else.
And yes, that is your precious yourself.



..To Love is To..

Let someone be happy.

And oftentimes, you have to step backwards from the picture.
Because no matter what you give, even that entails your soul and all, you can never take the front seat of their life.
So allow the people you love to see the world without you in it. Let them breathe the elusive air of finding themselves not on your own accord but on their own terms. Let them spread their wings freely on the direction you two can't traverse both. Because in this life, there are roads and paths we have to trudge alone. Be strong, though.
Because who said you can't love someone just by watching them from afar?

..To Love is To..

Let Go.

Of the baggage of those memories. Be thankful instead, that it was you and not someone else. Because God is intelligent enough for choosing you for this battle. Be grateful for the good times and cheer for the ones that are on queue for you. When nights are tedious, remember that the darkest night awaits the brightest day. Why do God made our feet in a way that it face forward and not backwards? And why our eyes were put on our face and not on the back of our head? Why we open our palms when we fervently pray? And why the hands of Jesus arent't close when He was on the Cross?

It is in the act of freeing that we are freed. In the act of giving that we are given. In the act of letting go that we allow good things to come in.

Perhaps, that's loving, too.


I couldn't count the times my heart was broken because of loving. But we were orchestrated to survive. There are so many sadness along our journey, but there are also so much beauty that soothed the aches from loving. We just have to keep one foot in front of the other. Every. Single. Day.
I believe this universe has ears that captured the moments when tears rolled our cheeks. It was so loud it prompted the Lord to save every drop. Same healing tears, He used it to water the broken garden of our heart. And slowly, some tiny living thing start to sprout. You looked at God and asked, "what are you doing, Lord?" With the gentle and most loving smile that He cannot hide, God answered,

"I"m preparing your heart for God's Best."

..The Beauty That Lies in Mystery: My Morocco Travel..

The world is a strange place. The more I thought I was close of knowing what I wanted to know, the more it branched out far than to what I have known.

The grueling transit from Riyadh to Casablanca to Marrakech was something hard to believe (in addition to lost baggage) and me trying hard not to grab the arms of the man next to me when I was scared--an understatement--during the landing point due to bad weather in Marrakech. Needless to say, it was all worth it.

I was consumed of the thought that I really not have known Morocco that much despite of my focused research of where-to, the weather, the must-see places, and the warning advisory why it's not meant for solo traveler, more specifically, for women. But you see, I'm rebellious in nature. The dangerous asset I possessed, yet, the most rewarding one.

I have this beautiful conversation with someone I met along the travel. I said that when you travel, there's something about yourself that seemed to have known the place, a place where you can see a piece of yourself, a place where you understand why this place is a reflection of yourself.

Mystery.

I'm always attracted to mystery. 

At first glance, you'll be reluctant to describe Morocco. The fusion of medieval influence and the modern taste made me fell inlove with Morocco the first day. You can never tell what lies beyond the walls and doors. Is it a spa? A home? A restaurant? Or my funny thought of it where Aladdin and his magic lamp is ready to offer Jasmine's a whole new world?

It's hard to judge a beauty that has many edges and perspectives, lots of adjectives to describe it and the impression that just when you think you got what you see, you really don't. There's actually more beyond what you've seen! It's embarrassing that I blatantly miscalculated this aspect of Morocco.

I stayed in Marrakech for a week. Immersing myself to the streets of this big city, I wasn't ready and my faith in humanity.  Be prepare for your senses as it will be flooded with colorful stimuli from the hanging textiles, the smell of street foods, the peculiar souvenir items from silverware you have to haggle your way past the merchants' rants pushing their goods on you. Be strong for the catcalls, the "this way", "that way", "that's forbidden". Along your travel, the labyrinth becomes familiar each day it was one of my big achievements to conquer the mind-boggling Jemaa al-Fna, or famously known as The Square, the center of all the local goods and foods and men and wine and alcohol without the use of GPS. Only my guts. And the strong desire to communicate with humans.

After days of indulgence to smoky tagines (meat and veggies cooked without the use of oil in a special plate and charcoal) and the ruthless 45 degrees temperature, I went off to the subtle part of Morocco 2 hours by bus from Marrakech. 

The beautiful laid back little town of Essaouira.

I crave for slow life. That's how ambitious I am. I crave for simplicity. A walk-in-the-park day. To clutch to my blanket a little longer with coffee on my mind.

When I said that when I travel, there's a piece of yourself  that you recognized a close integral part of the place. I have that feeling in Essaouira. A new sense of connection lost that was found. It was like a home. It was like I'm home.

.Surrounded by the sea and the breeze of air brushing against your sun-kissed skin while licking the 1 euro cost of ice cream, I was overly passionate of the time unhurried.Without pressure. Digesting the beauty of my own pace and rhythm. Simply to put it collectively, it really is the simple things in life. 

I spent three days moving around the place amazed with the Atlantic Coast ocean view, the lined colorful boats against the glaze of the setting sun, the smell of the simple life when people are contented to keep the traditional atmosphere, yet at the same time, open enough for the changes that are inevitable. I admire how life goes well that way. 

On my last day,  I went back to the Skala to see the last view of Essaouira. I ran so as not to missed the bus back to Marrakech. I ran with some stops, hesitant if I should forego the thought of the last look over the missed chance of last bus schedule. I ran like it was a test of  faith. A test of how far I am willing to risks the chances life is giving me. I actually ran with tears in my eyes. As if the run was the race of my life.

Should I stop because I was fearful? Should I stop because what I want is so ordinary? Should I just go back instead and live with "what if's"? My choices are reflections of my hopes. Not of my fears.

I ran. 

I never stopped. 

I never looked back. 

Head's up! Thumbs up!

Still with the last thought of my marathon on the streets of Essaouira, with aching legs from the scandalous race of my life, I unpacked and packed my things again. This time, to the lesser road traveled in Morrocco: the Sahara desert.

I joined a group of travelers coming from different parts of Europe and US. It's my first  to have my itinerary trusted to an agency but the thought of going to Sahara on tailored trip seemed not a good idea considering my mom will have a heart attack of my whereabout's. Not to mention an OVERNIGHT STAY IN THE DESERT.

I was thinking that Morocco is all pinkish and dry and dusty and hot. On the way, the view of Atlas Mountain was a relief. 

It wasn't a mistake that I actually joined a group of travelers.

We passed by the Ait Ben HAddou, one of the touristy and not-so-touristy frequented places in Morocco. Our guide, who helped us with our head cover like we were Arab merchants, is linguistic and very informative. I can't count how many times I mentioned "Ohhhhh", "I seeee", and "Wowwwww" the Filipina way,haha

I can't tell you exactly how it feels riding on a camel while the sun is settling down on the horizons. We were on a caravan. I imagined countless times of the book I was reading during the entire journey, The Alchemist, of how Santiago, the shepherd boy left everything he had on the pursuit of his dream: to travel. So, this must how he felt.

Transcending the cultural differences and languages, we gathered around the fire set on the middle of the desert while all of us sat on the large mats holding our glass of mint-tea while Omar proposed for a cheerful joke that it was a wine welcoming us all. How often does it happen that we are disconnected from all the gadgets of this new world? And yet, on that moment of disconnection, you recognized the very thing that was taken away by technology? A true human connection. 

While the drum starts beating to the tune of a peculiar yet vibrant upbeats, I felt the very purpose why I was there. Simply, to be there. To savor the nothingness of the desert. To recognize how wide the universe is when we all laid down the mat and the fire was extinguished so that it's only the light from the stars we can see. It's one of my OHHEEEMMMGEEEE moments I want time to stand still. I felt the Levanter wind blew as described by Santiago in one of his nights in the desert. 

I was at one point of my life fighting a battle I can't share to anyone. Was this God's way of getting my attention undivided? Perhaps. With my arms below my head, I closed my eyes and prayed. For courage to finally close a chapter of my life that bruised me the deepest. It was a turning point of letting go and surrendering everything to the desert. With fervent hopes that I will go back from where I've been. Strengthened. Healed. Whole. Better.

Out of nothingness, that night, while the Levanter wind is blewing the hardest, I found my OASIS.

Desert day and night isn't that bad at all. It's one of the best things that ever happened to me. A life's keep!

Finally, my last stop, the Blue City. Chefchaouen. 

The 10-hour train ride with two transfers plus 2-hour bus travel traversing from southern Morocco to Northern Morocco was the toughest ride of my life! But there's a grain of truth in what they say that difficult roads often lead to beautiful destinations!

Seeing Chefchaouen is falling inlove at first sight.

The blue color signifies "purity of intention"

Big word.

Intention.

The very thing I'm looking for at this age of 32.

Sidetrip from Chefchaouen is another serendipitous story of miracle. Was it really serendipity? If it was, then it was serendipity personified! 

Finding a Catholic Church in a muslim-filled city of Tetouan capped my last few days in Morocco. Having tainted faith in Church after the storm that hit hard and blurred my view of  piety, stepping on the insides of the holy ground is for sure more than worth a story of serendipity. For the longest time, I said my Confession.

I always pray for clarity whenever I leave for travel. I believe in Divine intervention, it's the best compass of all time. No matter how well-arrange your plans are, it will be blown away in a snap if it is not in accordance to His will. And what is His will for me?

I always go back to the deepest want of my heart. To where I can find inner peace, hope despite the possibilities of failure, of honing the  gifts I was bless with and the fulfillment in living out my passion.

I hope you will find that in our journey through life, there will be instances wherein you will be in a crossroad. How will you know which one to choose?

The one in which there will be no regrets. The one in which there will be no what if's. Yes, you will get lost most of the time, and the question of  Did I choose the right way? Was it the best not only for you but for the Greater Good? 

Take this handful of advice from been-there, done-that: when you decide to go on a journey, give it your all. Give without hesitations. Without hold backs. Without hang-ups. Give as if you will never pass that road again.

And when you do, there will be no what if's. 

Only lesson learned.=)

I hope you like your choices!

  

  

...Letting Go of Tumor...

(c) Robz Tan

We all have that one thing or two that we hoard.

Be it credit card receipts.
Old shoes we can't dispose.
Size 6 clothes reminding us how fit we used to be.
Or as trivial as dried petals from the first flowers we ever received.

Relate?
It's so me! (Who's the writer here?)


 "Sentimental Value" n. a form of disease I inherited from my grand mother.

It seems like everything inside our house has history.
Our old cabinet with dwindling locks is still hanging in our wall since it's the "first craft of your grand fathers".
The pages of the Noli Me Tangere book is still in the shelf, edges are melting when you lay your fingers on it but because "it was purchase from the first salary of your soldier grand father",
so Touch Me Not!

The lists go on and seemed endless.
Probably that's the reason why I grew up with strong attachment to the things of the past.
To what is classic.
To small things with great value.
And so letting go was quite not a norm in the house.

I remember my Lola Linda showing off the first safety pin used to the baby blanket of my late father.
And he was 30!
Gosh, that's how you spell LOYALTY to the Sentimental Value at home.

When we moved to our new home, it was only then that my grand mother has no choice but to leave everything behind.
Otherwise, she'll be bringing termites to our new house.
But that, after the nth time convincing and arguing and bargaining and quarreling.


The recent event in our lives brought me back to those times.

My Auntie was diagnose to have a multiple myoma. For years, she had live with it asymptomatic.
No pain. No bleeding. Nothing.
The tumor grew insidiously. Feeding from the healthy foods she is taking. From the vitamin supplements she religiously take everyday.
Until one day, she suffered from heavy bleeding unresponsive to conservative management.
She was scheduled for an urgent operation.

Being in the medical field, and having known pain in different forms, I know so well that she wasn't ready for anything.
It's easy for the rest of the family to say to proceed with the operation. To say that it's the best for the time being.
Because we are not the one who will go inside the OR theater. Not the one who will have the tummy opened.
Not the one who will lose a part that had been there her whole life.
The Sentimental Value disease in me has lost its luster.
It's painful, I know.
My Auntie will likely to suffer after the Anesthesia will subside.

But I know too well, too, that removing the tumor is the next best thing to LOYALTY.


Letting Go.

What an analogy there is to compare it to tumor.
Pardon, but your blogger here is undeniably loyal to her profession =)

There's a great anguish to have something or someone removed from us.
Especially if you have nurtured it well with all your LOVE, TRUST, TIME and
COMMITMENT.
We deny the fact and the thought of losing what we valued the most.
The Sentimental Value thing.

But if it's causing us to bleed from losing our own self-respect, self-worth and faith,
painful as it is, that "tumor" has to be dissected, regardless.

Pain is temporary.
No one takes everything in this life.
If you have given your best shots, if there's nothing more you have to give,
take the mat of courage from where you fell, forgive yourself and stand trembling and aching.
It's alright.
No one gets out of this life unscathed.

That scar left by something or someone will always be a reminder that once in your life, you stand for something worth enduring.

And worth dissecting!


What's your tumor?

Have you decided to schedule your operation?

The Hands of Mercy of  the Great Surgeon is waiting.

P.S.
Blogging knows no vacation! =)

...The Girl Who Lived...

(c) Robz Tan

The humid air gently made its gesture towards my direction. It’s been a long while for that gentle touch. Watching people passing by from where I am seated, I content to guess where each one is going, where probably they may have been, what particular destination they have in mind, what wonders they have to tell, what stories lie behind the restlessness.

I have a knack for few weird habits: People-watching. Counting colors. Sitting alone.

In a world where everybody despise and fear being alone, sometimes I have to face myself squarely and shamelessly ask the Kim I’m seeing. "I love my solitude", the answer came back rushing. 
Is it wrong? Am I different because I love what same people dislike and likes what mundane thinkers wouldn’t grasp? 

32 beautiful years.

But sometimes, I’m caught off-guard of life’s surprises. 

The latest changed every single moment I’m breathing…

Evening of June 8.

I had an ordinary day.

But anything ordinary can snap away.

A-n-y-t-i-m-e.

I was inside the cab with friends. Talking about how Corona virus is throwing its toll in one of the biggest hospitals in Riyadh while we are on a traffic halt, we were immersed in the conversation as to how this situation can go further.

In a split seconds, there was a loud noise. 

My head was bang back and forth due to an intense impact for a cycle I cannot understand right behind the driver’s seat. 

Another collision followed.

It took sometime before we realized that we are rubbing elbows with the thing called “accident” in real reel.

I was in a state of shock. 

“Oh God!” The only words I was able to utter.

In a glimpse brought by dizziness, I saw my patients lying on the ICCU bed. 
Will I be one of them? Is this how my ordinary day gonna end? My family. My dreams. My scheduled travel. How about them?

More than the physical pain I’m undergoing, my heart was rip to pieces.  
I haven't said goodbye.

Lying on bed that night, I was too fearful to shut my eyes I’m struggling hard to be awake. What if they’ll never open again?

Fighting the tumult racing on my insides, I let the last drop of tears fell from the corner of my eyes. “YOU know better than I”. And I close my eyes.

There’s just no words to utter the moment I saw the dawn welcoming me on a half-close curtain.

The slate is clean. 

The morning anew.

Another day.

I’m alive.

I’m waiting for the final touches to fly to Casablanca, Morocco. The sun is scorching outside it’s as if it holler its sense of dominance in the sky. Having seen the reflection of myself on the mirror this morning, and the scar on my forehead that reminded me (and will be reminding me) of that unforgettable night, I know deep in my heart I’m alive for greater reasons. For greater purpose.

And I’ll not squander  T I M E. 

I’ll not miss out  L I F E. 

Yes, there were days when it’s just too difficult to hardly hang on. Days when the world makes it hard for me to execute my desire to love humans. Days when it’s just too much to let out a cry I’d rather hear my own sobs. Days when it’s hard to talk to God and believe that He truly cares. 

But after seeing the shadow of death, there are many things I’ve forgotten.

I’ve forgotten what I’m angry about. 

Or what worries me yesterday.

I’ve forgotten what gave me sleepless nights.

And tearful days. 

I’ve forgotten what difficulty there is to hang on.

And what makes it hard for me to love humans.

That forgiveness springs not from the will to forgive, but in forgiving willingly.

That life has its expiry date. So does sadness. And pain.

That the easiest thing in life is not in holding on, but in letting go. And trusting God.

Because even how gently death knocks, it’ll never wait until you’re ready.

Being literally shaken on that space where life is incredibly too short to describe, it drove me to only one thing: L I V I N G

And I mean it living well.

If only everyone could see what I’ve seen, perhaps our I love you’s are more sincere. 

Our apology not delayed.    

Our plans have timetable.

Our hugs tighter.

Our thank you’s aplenty.

There will be no “maybe next time” for coffee.

Or “tomorrow” for a good book to read.

Or “if I have time” for a movie date.

Or “if I saved enough” for travel.

Or “I’ll think about it” to love. 

This life is too hard to understand. 

But truest to its brevity, and cliché as it is, we start living when we know we are dying.

So everyday, learn to die.

Die to our greed.

Die to our selfishness.

Die to self- righteousness.

Die to self-glory.

Die to materialism.

Die to our pride.

Die to our reasons.

I know God has saved all my tears all these years. (Another jar please!haha)

Today, as I turned a year older and wiser, more tears are rolling down my cheeks.

So please, God, collect these tears too. 

And hand it to the person whose intentions are unquestionably pure. 

Who genuinely deserves  every drop You saved.

Because these tears are tears of joy…from the Girl you allowed to live. 

Again.

..Why You Should Travel (Solo or Not)..

It has been said many times and in many ways that traveling is a life-changing experience.

I was 28 when I decided to do my first travel. And I mean it Solo. Having been a workaholic chick, I was compelled to move out of my protective cocoon when I realized I am squandering my time to too much work. I have no mouths to feed, no mortgage to pay, no boyfie holding me back to go where my feet lead me.

My mom once asked, “What are you doing with your life?” That’s one question I keep on pondering to this day. With the help of travel.

To young people like us (if it’s not too much for an adjective), here’s why you should start sorting priorities in life. And make travelling one on your lists.

Travelling freed me.

I am in bondage with my comfort zone. I always stay on the safe side. And I don’t think there’s wrong with that. I see the world as beautiful. But I also believe with all its eminent threats. For years, I embrace this thought. Who would dare “go and seek the Great perhaps?” and losing your (V-card)? Or see the marvels and edges of the world and go back home bones?

One night, I went home from duty all drained; physically and emotionally. I wasn’t my best. I feel like I’m trapped in a circle that has the ability to stretch. If only I want to. And if only I try. I booked my ticket back home. And booked another one.

From the beach life I spent for days in Calaguas, I headed the communist country of Cambodia.

Solo. 

Fearful yet overwhelmed by the fact that I’m doing the thing I’ve been delaying for years.

Time and Age. There’s no turning back.

I was like a girl freed from the embrace of my mother’s arms. Capable to saunter the plains and rocky sides of life. I was happier. I feel more alive. More useful. Seeing things I haven’t seen on my safe circle, it’s priceless.

The world is a haven.

Fear freed me. I just knew it when I was afraid no more.

Travelling made me see the grey side of life. Aside from black and white.

You’ll meet people that will teach you to appreciate the things you can’t see when you are in your comfort zone.

Mama Mia was my hostess when I was in Georgia. She made my daily breakfast, making sure I have enough butter and jam on my plate. She kept walking here and there, as if there’s something more she had to add up on my more-than-enough-for-breakfast table. I asked her to join me while I’m sipping my cup of coffee.  When you are immersing on a different culture, anything said by someone new to you is like finding a hardbound book. Every word is captivating you wouldn’t want it end. When asked what would be her advice if I happened to be her daughter, the answer struck me.

“Love like you will never love again.”

How would you know if it’s love? My early morning chant.

“You can’t go through a day without thinking about that person.”

“What if you can?” I put down the cup on the saucer, my fingers interlocking on the table, my eyes transfixed on the blue-gray eyes that were longing for love that was lost.

There was a long pause. And a sigh.

I knew right then, there are questions that you have to find out for yourself.

Clichés are clichés. But yes, travelling invoked a sense of belongingness to different human beings. With the same wants in life.

We all want love.

Now that’s not just black and white.

Travelling humbled me.

Not in my pocket but in portfolio of experiences.

When there are unwanted things that are happening to us, we hear people say “let’s charge it to experience, anyway”. When I haven’t traveled yet, it connotes a negative impression that past experiences are collections of unfortunate events. They have to be buried.

But it doesn’t have to be that way.

Past experiences (mistakes included) sometimes are repeated, I noticed.

I get lost most of the time when it comes to finding directions. That’s my Achilles’ heel, my nemesis I can’t perfect even though I travel often. I do self-introspection whenever I reached my hotel, remembering what went wrong when I have all the needed maps in my hands. This is the thing: it doesn’t matter how many times you went sideways. As long as you know where you are going, no matter how many times you get lost and back, there will always be someone pointing you to your destination. Because this world is filled with people who lost track same as you. Who were already there where you wanted to go. Travelling will humble you to ask for help, to ask for directions, to seek for advice, even if that comes from a stranger. And there, in humility, you will know that there’s so much to be filled yet in the many spaces of your heart when it comes to knowing the unknown.

When given a chance to choose among whom I should sit to have coffee with, I’ll content myself to someone who has many stories to tell than someone who has a fat pocket( excuse the abs) but nothing to share about.

Travelling restored my faith in humanity.

It was almost midnight when my sister and I arrived in Fukuoka. We were struggling not only in cold weather but with the language barrier. We knocked at a pub, trying our best to explain how to find our guest house. The owner went out of her store, and the next steps blew our minds. She didn’t point out where we are going. She led us there!

It can’t be helped that when you travel, you will encounter countless moments of conflicting decision-making. Should I listen to this person? Should I accept the offer of help? What if I am being misled? Or he just wants my money? Travelling has taught me the perils lurking around. But sometimes, it’s the dangerous situations that reveal how far I have trusted the Lord to let me “walk on the Red Sea” unharmed. It’s when I pray the hardest. And heaven feels the closest.

Instinct.  It’s the innermost voice that tells you when the thing is right. Or not.

It’s the same voice that tells me why God created people with different eyes, and skin color, and language, and smell, and ideas, and perspectives. If He created us all the same, then why would I travel to see what’s different?

He scattered strangers along my way to show me that in the vast field of doubts, goodness is an innate gift to every mankind.

I have a dire appetite for wanderlust. Be it home or abroad. I’ve come to terms that probably, I was something of a thing that constantly moves in my past life. I have high affinity to frivolous adventures, ruined places that stand in magnificence despite the plethora of what time can actually do, and the roads less or (unlikely) traveled. It’s a thing that reconciles me to the world, me to my disparaging thoughts, and me to the kind of person willing to ferment so the world can bring out the best in me: Alone or Not.

I know it takes a leap of courage to travel. Not only it entails being strong with your decisions, but being open to all the uncertainties of life in an open road. Therefore, single ladies, there is no best time to experience travelling (solo or not) but this point in your life when you don’t have to pack things for three or four. Remember, time is both a friend and a traitor. Seize the days that it is still a friend to you.

It might not be this easy again.