Unvisited Corners

It's been two weeks since I got back from the Philippines, ending my "journey to the motherland" and propelling me straight into a different kind of madness -- no, not the chaos of the streets of Manila but the hustle and bustle of the holiday season. I haven't really had a chance to properly process everything that I've been through, all the odd emotions that have swept through me. But alas, the year is coming to an end (still don't know how this happened so fast) and I'm sitting here, reminiscing as I always do...

I've spent the past year all over the place. After graduation (a milestone I often overlook), I took off to travel and explore the wider world. Thirty cities, nine countries, and three continents later, I'm here exhausted by all the moving around, but bursting at my heart seams with a lifetime of memories and an even greater passion for all of life's adventures.

2011 has just been one big love story, albeit an unconventional one. You see, I've fallen a little bit in love with every city and country I've visited. Whether the scenery, the architecture, the culture, the food, or the people...I'm always enamoured by something and I never fail to find something to appreciate. And at the end of every trip, a certain melancholy sets in as I leave a part of myself there. In Florence, I left myself on the steps of the Piazalle Michaelangelo, up top the Alps of Switzerland, in the night clubs of Berlin, on the canals of Amsterdam, in the chocolate shops of Bruges, the riverside in Phnom Penh, the temple mountains of Angkor...

But that's where the Philippines is different. I don't think I've left any part of myself there, but rather I've found pieces of myself. This trip has been in every sense a journey...not just an exploration of some country, but of my roots. On so many occasions during my time there, I felt national pride for a country I've barely spent any time in. Yes, I was born there and am, by blood, a Filipina...and yet, I've spent my life in Canada and for the past nearly two decades, that has been my home. It's an odd feeling. When I read Jose Rizal's books (our national hero), look into the faces of the people, look out into the country's natural landscape, travel through the madness of its streets, I can't help but feel such a strong affinity for and kinship with this place...

I'll never forget the time we were watching Manny Pacquiao's fight and the Philippine national anthem came on. Naturally, everyone rose to their feet. I don't know why but it took me aback...I've never had to get up for any other anthem but Canada's before. And I didn't know the words...I've only ever known Canada's. I am Canadian after all. And yet, as I stood there watching and listening to the people sing the anthem, I couldn't help but feel overwhelmingly patriotic. And it isn't just patriotism either, there's this familial feeling too where everyone, even strangers, becomes your Tita, Tito, Kuya, or Ate (aunt, uncle, big brother, or big sister).

It's like I've stumbled on to these unvisited corners of myself...and what a surprise to find them miles away from "home" (now a fluid word). And it's even more perplexing to hold on to these pieces and not know quite yet how and where to fit them all in the bigger puzzle that is myself...

It's like Pico Iyer once wrote, "every trip to a foreign country can be a love affair where you're left puzzling over who you are and whom you've fallen in love with"...

Exoticizing the Other

So here's one of the things that really stuck out within just the first few days of my arrival here in the Philippines. People are obsessed with having white skin.

On my first day here, I went to the local grocery store to buy myself some of the native chicheria (snacks) that I've so badly missed. I found myself walking along the beauty aisle and almost everything there had labels that said things like "skin whitener" or "make your skin lighter!". Later on that day, I was playing with my baby nephew who told me I should be white and not brown. I was a bit taken aback by this. Back in Canada, I prided myself on having darker skin because for me, it made my Filipino heritage more prominent and that's something I've always been proud of. But here, to be white is to be beautiful. All the major celebrities here seem to be competing against each other as to who can have fairer skin. Every major billboard and every T.V. commercial features a woman with ridiculously white skin, it's almost blinding.

Meanwhile, in North America, there's this obsession with tanning and being darker than you actually are. Come summer time, every one is out on the beach or at the park "working on their tan". We've got tanning beds, tanning spray, lotion that'll give you that "tanned glow". People long to go somewhere warm during the cold winter months to give themselves some "color". It's the total opposite. Tanned skin is what we long for on that side of the world...

And so I'm left here wondering...why do we exoticize "the Other" so much and where in the world did we pick up these conceptions of beauty?

Beautiful British Columbia

The license plates in BC say, “Beautiful British Columbia”. Simple, to the point, and so very, very true.
 
I’ve just spent the last week bearing witness to the “Beautiful British Columbia” while visiting my best friend who recently moved to Vancouver. I was stunned the moment I stepped out of her home as I had the landscape of endless mountains just instantly fill my view. As I walked the streets of downtown Vancouver, I was thrilled to see those mountains peek in between the gaps of the skyscrapers as if playing a little game of hide and seek with the people of the city. The mountains really were just breathtaking....so unassuming in its grandness and merely acting as a humble backdrop for the city. Just so laid back and cool. How I’d love to wake up with that view every morning...

Waterfront

Took in a lot of nature in the past week...a rarity in my regular hustle and bustle downtown life in Toronto. A nice change of pace considering all the school and work madness that’s been consuming (and will now resume consuming) my days. I went out to see the Capilano Suspension Bridge right in the thick of the rainforest and some 200+ feet high above the waters of the Capilano Canyon.

And Carm and I took a road trip up to the mountains yesterday to enjoy the peaceful quiet of Lynn Canyon, which was quite possibly the highlight of my trip. Way up high in the Lynn Canyon Valley, we hiked (using this word very lightly) to a nice secluded area where we spent the afternoon playing by a stream dotted with rocks. It was such a glorious day full of sunshine and just the right amount of cold. So much calm and quiet, I wish I could go back and just spend the day there reading or writing. Such a perfect day, I felt like I was in a movie or something. Le sigh...I’m daydreaming as I write this....

Lynn Canyon Valley

Thinking back and trying to savour every moment of my trip, I can’t help but feel a sense of pride of living here in Canada. It’s crazy how diverse this country is...not only demographically and culturally, but geographically as well. It’s such a vast nation full of surprises. I travelled out east to Nova Scotia last year at around this time of the year and the land told a different story there as well, with the ocean endlessly stretching out, seemingly merging with the sky at some point. East to West, North to South, each region in Canada has a different vibe to it. It’s exciting and invigorating to know that. Makes me want to grab a car and some friends and just drive all over the country. I’ve still so much to see and learn.

But anyway, I’m just really happy that I took the time out to go see both my friend and another part of my country. It’s always such a great feeling to go out and explore something new...

Here’s to discovering a wider world!

**To view more photos from the trip, click here.

O Canada, Our Home and Native Land!

What can I possibly say that could even remotely capture the feeling that was the 2010 Olympic games? For seventeen days, this entire nation, the entire world, was glued to their TVs reveling in all the competition and the excitement. For seventeen days, Canada demonstrated to the world its incredible hospitality, the amazing talent of its athletes, and the absolute spirit of this great nation. For seventeen days, it was as if all the citizens of Canada were as one. We celebrated together when Bilodeau won that first gold on Canadian soil. We mourned with Joannie Rochette after hearing about her loss and cheered her on as she courageously took the ice. We drank with Jon Montgomery as he marched the streets of Vancouver. Our hearts went a flutter watching the heavenly Virtue and Moir. We randomly burst into song, belting out our national anthem night after night. We rejoiced and wept together every time our athletes won (or lost). We groaned, moaned, and collectively cussed when Parise scored that wretched goal in the last few seconds of last night's game. And of course, we screamed, drank, celebrated and paraded down the streets together when Sid the Kid won us that glorious hockey gold! It has been riveting. Electrifying. Straight-up magical. Never before have I ever felt so proud to be Canadian and I can't even count the number of times I've gotten misty eyed because of all this pride welling up inside of me! With a total of 14 gold medals, not only have our athletes set a personal best for our nation, they've set a record that the entire world has yet to beat! It's been an amazing ride and regardless of whether you were watching the games from Vancouver, the local pub, or just your own living room, the feeling of euphoria has been undeniable and unstoppable.

And so, if I may indulge myself for one last time (everyone shout it with me now)...CA-NA-DA! CA-NA-DA! CA-NA-DA!

Original blog post here on blogUT.