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The Meaning of Kawil
For the most part, it means sitting at the edge of the boat and waiting – until a gentle, almost imperceptible, tug urges you to wind up the string. Slowly now, carefully. “You got one!” I jerk it upward, and at the last minute, it pulls free and swims away happily. I look at the empty hook somberly. My companions…
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Waking Up
The hangover woke me up. The night before we had the quickest round of shots (electricity in Culion runs out after midnight, so drink up unless you want to drink in the dark). Afterwards, we clambered to our room and stared out the window, searching for the Big Dipper. The sky seemed to have misplaced it, so we…
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The Road to Culion
This is what lies before us: the bow of a boat (a faded sky blue with pale yellow borders) and on its sides, a wooden ladder and rust encrusted anchor, both lying in wait. Behind these material objects, a cerulean road stretches in all directions as far as the eye can see, dazzling in its immensity, dizzying in its inconstancy. Straight ahead, still…
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The Dreamweaver
On meeting Lang Dulay, the famous dreamweaver of Lake Sebu, Cotabato: I wanted to take a photo of her hands, but when I motioned for her to lay them out, she shook her head and instead hid them in the folds of her beautifully patterned blouse. She muttered something to her granddaughters, who were sitting across from…
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To the island of Culion
“We travel, initially, to lose ourselves; and we travel, next to find ourselves. We travel to open our hearts and eyes and learn more about the world than our newspapers will accommodate. We travel to bring what little we can, in our ignorance and knowledge, to those parts of the globe whose riches are differently…
Trish in Transit
The stories that happen between point A and B.
Trish in Transit 