Solitary traveling

Dining solo is considered sad. Watching a movie solo is deemed suspicious. Traveling solo is downright dangerous.

And I have done all three.

I don't mind being alone. But rather than a sign that there might be something wrong with me, I regard my enjoyment of solo activities a badge of mental health: I like me enough to spend time with myself. 


I love watching a movie by myself. I started doing this in college, when no one I knew was interested in watching the movies I wanted to see. This grew into a habit during medical school, when I lived right beside a shopping mall. Some nights, the words on my textbook would begin to slide across the page toward the edges and spine and the only way to cope was to catch the last full show at the mall and get my head together. 

I love traveling solo. No one to criticize my chronic inability to pack light. No one (else) messes up the toilet or hogs the safe. 

There is so much stigma attached to doing stuff by yourself it is absolutely stifling. If a person may only be out in public if and only if accompanied by another, we'd be spending way to much time at home being, drumroll please, alone.

La Giralda/The Seville Communion

I so thoroughly enjoyed my Alhambra∕The Constant Princess mashup that I decided to do one on Seville and Arturo Pérez-Reverte's The Seville Communion. 

Seville is many things to many people. Fans of history would enjoy the fact that this city was founded sometime in 700 CE. It has an Old Town of only four square kilometers and yet it is home to no less than four UNESCO World Heritage Sites. Filipinos like me would probably appreciate how Ferdinand Magellan's voyage to circumnavigate the world was launched from Seville on the 10th of August 1519. Coincidentally, Sevillanos also finished building the Cathedral of St Mary, one of the city's main sites, that same year. For those with more modern inclinations, walking around the city would probably elicit squeals of delight from fans of Dr. Who and those who can bear to watch Episode II: Attack of the Clones.

Arturo Pérez-Reverte is one of Spain's popular fiction writers. Although he has a limited fan base among readers in English due to his resistance to being translated, Johnny Depp fans will probably know him as the novelist whose work was the basis for The Ninth Gate, in which Johnny Depp plays a antique book dealer who drinks and chain smokes while examining rare old books—in and of itself, terrifying; nevermind the devil. In The Seville Communion, the reader gets to follow a sexy priest, an ex-nun, a fake lawyer, a gypsy singer, an ex-boxer, and an heiress as the first tries to solve the mysteries of a hacker breaching the Vatican's security and mysterious deaths in a church about to be torn down.

The Archbishop's Palace and a portion of the La Encarnación on the right.

Quart came out of the Doña Maria Hotel, but instead of walking the thirty metres or so to the archbishop's palace, he wandered over to the Plaza Virgen de los Reyes and looked around. He was standing at the crossroads of three religions: the old Jewish quarter behind him, the white walls of the convent of La Encarnacion on one side, the archbishop's palace on the other, at the far end, adjoining the wall of the old Arab mosque, the minaret that had become a bell-tower for the Catholic cathedral, La Giralda. There were horse-drawn carriages, postcard vendors, begging Gypsy women carrying babies, and tourists looking up in awe as they queued to get in to see the tower.

[S]miling, he looked up at La Giralda, at the weather vane that gave the tower its name. Spain, the south, the ancient culture of Mediterranean Europe, could be sensed only in places such as that. In Seville different histories were superimposed and interdependent. A rosary stringing together time, blood, and prayers in different languages, beneath a blue sky and wise sun that levelled everything over the centuries. Stone survivors that could still be heard. 

Do consider visiting Sevilla at least once in your life. If you need a bit more nudge, do read Pérez-Reverte's book and maybe just maybe you'd book that ticket.

Livestock: Came for the Crispy Pata, Left Dreaming of the Bacon Ice Cream French Toast

Growing up in the Philippines with a chicken allergy is rough. Celebration food here often revolves around chicken--fried chicken, roast chicken, grilled chicken. Hell, even our puchero here often replaces the beef with chicken. One restaurant here prides itself as being the house that fried chicken built and that restaurant has spawned a chain. So it is with distinct pleasure that I read a review about a restaurant that has applied that sort of singular focus on pork. I knew I had to go to Livestock.

Livestock has built quite a reputation with their crispy pata. It's quite impressive when they bring the pata to your table on a cutting board with that popsicle stick stuck there. Like a challenge. Which the popsicle stick wins every time. (There are videos of the crispy pata being carved with the popsicle stick. The crunching sounds are sick!)

It's not just the crispy pata though. There are lots of porky things on the menu. Once you've had the crispy pata, perhaps you also ought to try the pork belly. It's just as delicious even though it doesn't quite court as much attention as the crispy pata. 

But I suppose Livestock's real ode to the pig is their bacon topped French toast a la mode. Their savory pork dishes are interesting ways of rendering classic recipes but it is this dessert that convinced me their chef is a genius. Or divine. Or even a divine genius. Seeing this dessert on the menu had me swinging between excited and fearful. And let me tell you, it was NOT a disaster. And I ordered a second helping.  

Bacon topped French toast is pure inspiration. I truly ♥ Bacon.

Livestock Restaurant, Quezon City

34 Sgt. Esguerra Ave.
Brgy. South Triangle, Quezon City
(02) 332-0409

Puerto Princesa, Palawan

When two or more travelers meet, "where are you from?" inevitably gets asked. I am from the Philippines. I used to spend most of my time in Manila. Some people I've met traveling are fairly young (under 30) and have not had the opportunity to travel to my country. They know of the country mostly from the internet and TV or from Filipino migrants to their country. A good number expressed interest in one day traveling to the Philippines. They often ask practical questions related to traveling here and while I have often tried to give helpful answers, I have also found myself wishing for a do-over.

One such do-over involves beaches in the Philippines.

I met a girl from Malaysia who we'll call Daria. Daria was travelling with her best friend when I wound up sharing a table with them and a Caucasian couple (she was from South Africa and he was from the US) at a canteen in HCMC, Vietnam. Daria was apparently very interested in diving and beaches and asked me where the best divespots and beaches were in the Philippines. Given that I was dehydrated, sleep-deprived, and suffering from a pounding headache, I only managed to croak out "Palawan. El Nido… and maybe Coron."

A recent trip has made me partial to El Nido, which has been billed the last paradise. For me, it compares favourably with Boracay. When one talks of beaches in the Philippines, Boracay is I guess the gold standard. Practically everyone into beaches has heard of Bora and, of course, head there.  I'm not going to argue that it's not stunning or that its waters aren't perfect or that its sand is not all it's cracked up to be. Bora's reputation as a great beach is well-deserved. I just happen to be shipping a different place.

When you go to plan your trip to El Nido, you'll likely fly into Puerto Princesa, Palawan's capital. You might as well make a day of it and visit the Underground River, a UNESCO Heritage site.  

The mouth of a cave that leads to the Puerto Princesa Underground River. 

Getting to the Underground River requires a drive about an hour long from the airport. Then, you queue up for boat rides to the island where the mouth of the river is located. It's a pleasant albeit noisy ride as the boats are powered by loud diesel engines. The water is very pretty and the rock formations are gorgeous. Once you get to the island, there's about a kilometre long walk. And if it's tourist season, there'll be a long wait to get on yet another set of boats which would take you into the underground river.

If you'll spend the night in Puerto Princesa, I recommend Greenspace near Rizal Avenue. Two restaurants always get pretty good reviews, KaLui and Badjao. You might also want to visit Baker's Hill. (I had written short reviews for the first three on TripAdvisor.)

Then make your way overland to El Nido. The roads are pretty rough. But I promise you, the trip will be worth it. (More about El Nido in another blog)

What Souvenir to Get from HCMC: The Phin Filter

It's night time and the citizens of HCMC are still milling about statue of the HCM. Must be the caffeine.

Yes, I was not so recently in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam for a not so enjoyable long weekend. I did enjoy my fair share of bánh mì; so much so that I insist on putting the proper diacritical marks. Another thing I did love was the Vietnamese coffee.

The thing about HCMC is that coffee is everywhere. For a girl who becomes narcoleptic without a q6 dose of caffeine, this indeed is very very good.

The Coffee at Trung Nguyen, Vietnam's coffee chain

Vietnam has its own homegrown chain of cafés, its Starbucks if you will. That would be Trung Nguyen. Don't worry if you don't have an address for one. Their streets are lousy with branches. Just walk around HCMC's centre and you are sure to see one.

The coffee at RuNam Bistro

Even the establishments priding themselves as having a more upscale ambiance pretty much serve their coffee the same way. Plus there is of course a cookie. Oh pardon me, a biscotti.

So for one whose choice of souvenir is pretty much dictated by a caffeine addiction, the best choice would definitely be the phin filter. Mind you, I skipped the ones sold at the coffee shops. Those were invariably made of aluminum. I headed for the Ben Thanh market and haggled for stainless steel screw-down single serve filters. (Yeah. Stainless steel over aluminium even for my Bialetti, you snooty coffee purist you.) And I've been using them ever since.