FINALLY, VIGAN!

I am ashamed to admit it but until last weekend, I've never been to Vigan. The shame is not an exaggeration. For a Filipino writer with a published compilation of travel essays, this is a tragedy. I've been to Siberia, to Kathmandu, to Amritsar... but not to Vigan! Well, considering that it is anywhere between 7 to 10 hours away from Manila by bus, I might as well be in India, right? 

Last month,  gifted myself with a digital SLR camera for Valentine's to get me back to my early interest in photography -- a self-love exercise widely recommended for people recovering from workaholism. Coupled with this purchase was enrolling in a five-day workshop, which I enjoyed immensely. And because my class projects were quite successful, I rewarded myself with an overnight trip to Vigan. Just me and my camera.

Of course, the main issue was if it was worth traveling so many hours to get there and back. I would have spent as much time in the bus as I did in the place. But then again, I would not have written over 50 travel essays in my career if I balked at the idea of long-distance travel, right? So one Friday evening, I came home from work earlier than usual, stuffed a few essentials into a duffel bag, slung my camera over my shoulder and boarded the midnight bus to Vigan.

I arrived at 7:30am, wide awake despite a rough night. From the bus terminal, I took a tricycle to Grandpa's Inn, a modest B&B recommended by many of the travel blogs I browsed through. Unfortunately, the only room left only had an electric fan as all the airconditioned rooms were taken. Thinking it would not matter in an overnighter, I took it. A decision I would gravely regret hours later.

After breakfast, I hired a calesa to take me around the usual sights. I was determined to be a tourist. My P500 got me three hours of clippety-clopping over cobblestone streets and sometimes, having to pass paved avenues where buses and jeepneys reigned. It was then I realized that one day was all it really took to get a feel of the Heritage Village. In fact, every place I went to on the calesa, I could have easily reached by walking! (But I reminded myself every so often that I was playing the tourist and this is what most tourists do.)

In one morning, I was able to visit and photograph the St Paul Cathedral, Burgos National Museum, Crisologo Museum, Syquia Mansion, Plaza Salcedo, Bantay Church and Belfry, and the "pagburnayan" or pottery-making studio. (I chose not to visit Baluarte Resort and Hidden Garden as they were outside the immediate village. Missed out on the "abel" weavers too, sadly.) Lunch found me feasting on bagnet and pinakbet at Cafe Leona, another popular landmark. By the time I stepped out of the restaurant to make my way back to the inn, the noon day heat was unbearable. This is when I realized that I should've moved elsewhere and checked into an airconditioned room. The tiny cell I was lodged in was stifling; the ceiling fan hardly whimpered even at the highest power. To this day, I can't explain why I just didn't up and leave. Was it because I've paid in advance? Or just too tired to bother? 

Anyway, having survived the afternoon heat somehow, I had merienda of yema and brewed coffee at Cafe Uno before exploring the famous Calle Crisologo, heart of the Heritage Village. The colonial houses that line this street are probably the most famous images of Vigan, the location for countess movies and photo shoots. So I clicked away, just like the rest of the camera-toting tourists that have gone before me. A few small purchases and I was on my way. But wait - there was one more "must try" in the list given by my friend Pauline, a proud daughter of Ilocandia -- the empanadas at Plaza Burgos. So I had a light, early dinner of special empanada (shredded veggies with egg and chorizo in a crisp, deep-fried pouch) at one of the plaza stalls. 

The evening was only slightly cooler so I insisted on borrowing an extra electric fan from the front desk, making a mental note to change my travel plans. I decided to leave after breakfast on Sunday morning rather than after the noon checkout. It came out to be a good decision, after all, as the journey home was two hours longer, with more stops and traffic.

Same old, same old -- not

So I am back to my annual blog visitation. A few days ahead of my mother's birthday, but that's okay because so many things have happened to me since the last entry. So many changes and yet, everything is so familiar.

In my room, I have stacks of journals dating from over ten years back. And if I randomly took one out and cut a page open, chances are that I would read about a situation that mirrors the one I am in right now. Of finding direction. Following a course. Doing God's will and knowing that it is so.

Mother Angelica of the EWTN fame once said that we should first conduct our lives in the manner of Christ and then we will realize God's will. That we should not expect that Divine Will to unfold before us like a scroll that has everything written out, or like a map that has the detailed directions of how to get from here to there. First we have to be comfortable with the not knowing. And then we shall know.

Every morning, I start out with that optimism. As the day fades out, so does my exuberance.

I pray. I really do. And I work hard to keep my spirits up. It has been difficult. To have so many gifts and yet not know what to do with them. Not know how or where to start. To start out so enthusiastically at a journey and only to buckle towards the end.

At the start of the year, one of my "comfort zones" was taken away from me. It was not an abrupt change, but rather a situation that grew over the years. It just became too difficult to ignore. I was able to deceive myself for almost four years, but not the other party. My business partner saw through my struggle -- that of convincing myself that I can move on to a completely different endeavor under new circumstances and leave my old world and its ways behind. It was shaky from the start. Although we had many public successes together, things were different from behind the scenes. First of all, I wasn't used to staying behind the scenes and after a while, subconscious shadows began showing through the cracks. As the years wore on, no matter how much we tried to make things work, our differences simply outweighed our similarities. And no amount of good intentions can save the reality of the situation. Painful as it was, there was no choice but to part ways.

At first, I felt I had no choice. That the decision was made for me. My business partner was quite adamant about the split and was unshaken in the belief that it is what God wants for us, to enable both of us to move forward and grow individually. In the beginning, I thought it all happened so abruptly. But soon, in prayer, I realized that it was an eventuality four years in the making: I had already decided it would end this way the day I took on the job knowing that I could never fully embrace it. In fairness, I tried. But I did not try hard enough. I have to love my work. And love does not come through mere force or persuasion. I genuinely liked and admired the person I was working with but that was not enough reason to take on such a position, knowing I wasn't cut out for it. I never learned to love the work and soon enough, I started hating it. That's when the trouble began. I didn't realize it right away until I started venting, vacillating, swinging from one mood to the other, just trying to escape the responsibility. I acted selectively, doing more of what I like and ignoring what I don't. That tipped the balance and after many attempts to patch things up, it finally boiled down to this.

I am grateful for having a business partner who is also a friend, one who challenged me to face those shadows and not be overcome by them. Despite the inconvenience and the uncertainty it would bring, this same friend dealt with me toughly. Who am I? What is my purpose? What do I really want for myself? Where do I want to go? It was the only way to get me moving towards wellness and wholeness again. I was hurting too many people with my unhappiness. Most of all, I was hurting myself. 

I always knew I was creative. But I contented myself with being a shadow to those who I thought were more accomplished than myself. Is it because I am insecure about my own abilities? Or because I didn't want to take responsibility for them? I am trying to find that out now that I am back to working on my own. Back to the old career but hopefully with new and fresh perspective.

I recently took a quick test on archetypes and saw that both my Destroyer and Creator selves scored above the average. The facilitator said it was a tricky situation because there was so much potential for both sabotage and success. He posed a question that rings in my head: "You have so much creative potential. But are you creating from authenticity? Or are you just being nice?"

I've had enough of "just being nice". In fact, practically all my professional life was about "just being nice". As my friend said, my "healing is more important than getting a job done or playing a role which only veils paying attention"...

Enough of the shadows. It is not what I do but who I am that will define me. Time to shift from human doing to human being.

It's cumbersome. But it's the only way to find my way back Home.

That's why I went back to writing. This is a starting point of my journey back to the Source. It is the only thing in my life that has remained constant. I just have to carefully consider now what I write about, who I'm writing for, why I'm writing and where I want to go with this. Am I writing from an authentic self? Or am I just being nice (also translated as pleasing the bosses or making a living).

In closing, my friend (a very wise person indeed) once told me: A baby does not drown in the womb. Writing is the womb I was conceived in. This is where I thrive and I fear nothing. There are no shadows here. Only Light. Only Life.

It is a good place to start.