At first glance, the street outside the dim sum restaurant looks like one in downtown Manila. Roadside vendors line the sidewalks, college students stroll along, and all the trappings of development are apparent. Inside, the restaurant’s staff roams around in a hurried pace, a steady drone of chatter fills the air, and all the trappings of a Binondo diner are apparent. But linger a little bit longer and the differences set in; it’s a lot less hectic than the Philippine capital, the odorous durian assaults your nose, and the language is Bisaya, one I’m a bit familiar with but cannot fluently speak. I’m actually in Davao City, the economic and cultural hub of the Mindanao Island, as well as the country’s largest city in terms of area. It was in 1994 when I first came here ... read more

Houses are adorned with multicolored leaf-shaped rice wafers and every conceivable vegetable found in the residents’ kitchens. At almost every door, vendors are selling habhab, stir-fried noodles served on banana leaves and supposed to be eaten without any utensils or hands. And at the town church where throngs of crowd flock for the day’s mass, Naomi emerges with her friend Mark to join me and CJ in exploring the streets. It’s the Pahiyas Festival at Lucban, and the sleepy town in Quezon about a five-hour drive south of Manila has turned raucously merry. “You don’t see this in Manila,” says Naomi, a former student of mine and a resident in a nearby town. One of the more popular festivals in the Philippines, the Pahiyas is held every 15th of May in honor of Saint Isidore the ... read more

I am eating fish cakes shaped like Angry Birds and deep-fried dumplings with my friend CJ at the night market in Phnom Penh. In an effort to get acquainted with the city, we’re trying to have dinner in a most Khmer way, sitting on a mat. Around us, families and young people are enjoying the evening straight out of work and school. A young woman sings on a stage nearby, her rendition of a Khmer pop song strikes with a sense of familiarity. I have heard this type of music over and over – on the hotel television, on the bus, in food stalls. I am still in Cambodia, I remind myself. Just a day before, I was in Battambang. I relished the serenity of the countryside, where I fell for the town’s colonial architecture, the ... read more

It’s blistering near the hill in the clearing of the town. Even in the scorching heat of the sun, a macabre atmosphere seems to emanate from the sound of bamboo-laced whips hitting the wounded backs of penitents whose feet drag across the blood-splattered roads. Blood glistens on the backs of the supposed conscience-stricken men, as they continue to whip themselves, face hidden behind cloths tied on their heads, while people continue to look on. The town of Cutud in San Fernando, Pampanga usually doesn’t have enough attractions to draw tourists but today, just like any Good Friday, throngs of people are starting to trickle in. A staunch Catholic country, the Philippines features numerous re-enactments of the Passion of Christ in the form of plays. However, none are more so graphic than the senakulo held here. Every ... read more

At Grassland Summit, close to 3,000 feet above the rugged terrains of Northern Luzon, the first positive development of the evening comes in a thick French accent. “Dinner is ready!” calls Mister Tee, our group’s organizer for this climb. Being called for dinner late in the evening – past seven, to be exact – would normally send me to my feet excitedly, but after six hours of riding a jeepney through ridiculously bumpy roads, four hours of walking in the rain and through muddy trails (even slipping once), and enduring an 8-degree Celsius evening in my shorts (my pants have been covered with mud), my enthusiasm instantly dissolves into a lethargic passivity. Inside my tent, I stare at the fog that has engulfed the campsite, shivering and cowering under my blanket every time the wind blows ... read more