Banuk's Nook

We celebrated Valentine's a week earlier this year in a secluded lake island, south of Manila. Located in the Sierra Madre mountain range, it’s a four hour haven out of the city. Being a citizen of the world is not one of the perks we easily enjoy as Filipinos, but our 7,107 islands make up for it quite well. Lovely gems, like this island in the middle of nowhere, abound. The road going up to the lake is paved, but a good stretch of it is unlit. Driving at night, the blinding darkness let the moonlight shone down on the city below – a calming sight.

The island is what I expected it to be - lost in space, frozen in the reverie of time. From afar, it seemed to be out of place, but at the right spot. At the heart of it is a cabin equipped with more than bare necessities. The cabin interior and overall design is rustic, and the big windows complete the cozy ambiance. Its walls were filled with trinkets of interesting shapes and sizes collected from places far and wide, like a fellow traveler sharing its countryside tales. Like a kindred spirit would. Mexican dolls hung from the posts and Cordilleran wood crafts adorned its crannies. And the kitchen, with its huge counter top, was the sweet icing on our Valentine's cake. It was the perfect stage for some wild lovin' – a fitting way to celebrate the first year of our star-crossed romance.

Travelling in my own country with an American guy in tow is refreshing, but can be very frustrating at times. It opened my eyes into the real politics of romance: that it’s never fair. Our rhythm has become an off-beat groove that made me vulnerable and tired. Simply, it became a chore. I felt downsized as the white guy’s translator, and the need to be an all-knowing host. The proverbial Filipino hospitality that welcomed us everywhere we go became sickening. My own country is humiliating me – robbing me the confidence I need to thrive in my own personal life. I didn’t know how to talk about this. I just know it’s real. He, too, was careful of voicing his newly gathered opinions. There’s a big elephant in the hotel rooms of travelling interracial couples. Attitudes and insights are worlds apart - the East, the West; between first and third. How, then, are terms defined?

Our short tryst turned out to be more meaningful than I expected though. We managed to be on the same page at the end of it.

On our way back to the city, my boyfriend asked me, “So, where’s the bus station?”

“No idea,” I said. “I’m as lost as you.”