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A beach story

March 9, 2018 by The Weekend Traveller No Comments

Ten years ago…

There was me and this guy, sitting on a beach, on a famous island. I’ve known him for two weeks.

There was a bottle of the local vodka. The sunset was romantic. A boat drifts away to the bay carrying two lovers.

I said to him: “I think I’m falling in-love with you.”

Silence.

After a while, he answered. “I thought you never want to be in a serious relationship.”

“Yes, I don’t.”

Silence.

The sun said goodbye, we finished the vodka. I got dead drunk. He dragged me to the tricycle so we could get back to the pension house. I spent the evening spitting on the wall.

The next day we went swimming with the sharks, me with my massive hang-over. There was silence on the boat. I couldn’t stand silence.

So I said, “about last night.”

He answered. “We can try.”

His first “I love you” came many months after. The declaration of real love when we parted for a while.

I married the guy last year.

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That day I found myself in Pagudpud

February 14, 2017 by The Weekend Traveller No Comments

Is that possible? Could you be living all 23 years of your life without exactly knowing who you are, what you want in your life, where you are heading? In my case, the proverbial question popped out while I was at the end of a press junket in La Union.

On the last day of a surfing coverage, I decided to take the bus further north, all the way to Pagudpud – alone, running out of money (and clean clothes) and with a very heavy heart.

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Why I go home

February 22, 2016 by The Weekend Traveller No Comments

“Let’s bath in the river,” I urged my nephews and niece while we were about to turn back home from accompanying my husband buying his 3-in-1 coffee fix at the sari-sari store.

“Let’s race,” said the oldest. So Binbin, Bargas, the shy Nicole and I ran with all the speed we could muster, stomping on puddles in the dirt road created by the endless monsoon rain.

Being the most skinny and the lightest, Binbin was ahead of us, myself trailing behind side by side with Nicole and Bargas, who is slightly chubby, was way behind us.

“Wait for meeeee. Ateeee!!! Why are you all leaving me behind?” cried Bargas.

Even though it’s been raining a lot, the river water was very shallow, unlike last year when I visited this place together with my aunt. The rocks were covered in green, slimy moss  up to the deepest part of the river. But we didn’t care. The 12-year old and the 10-year old jumped right in while the 31-year old struggled with the sharp and slippery stones under her feet. Young Nicole did not want to get her beautiful, long dress wet but it started raining hard so she decided to dip her toes in the shallowest part anyway.

The water was cold and there wasn’t anyone around. So we shrieked and shouted and played to our heart’s content. I helped the boys climbed up a fallen tree so that we could all plunge to the water, imitating the Dragon Ball Z supernova move. We used the slimy, mossy rocks and rapids to carry us down the lower part of the river, pretended to be sharks in the deeper waters, caught trapped shrimps, splashed water to each other and teased Bargas that we will abandon him until he was on the verge of crying. Nicole couldn’t resist the fun so she followed us, soaking herself and her beautiful dress as well. I taught the kids how to produce an echo and we shouted their parents names, laughing while the sound bounced on the rocks and got carried by the wind.

We could have played in the river the whole afternoon, oblivious to the rain, the cold and time. But the old people came passing by. They waved at us so we thought that we were being summoned home.

Binbin climbed at the back of the tricyle, behind the driver, Bargas and I jumped behind the sidecar and Nicole seated herself inside. We were all merrily laughing at Bargas for stripping off. But we were also concerned that other kids would laugh at him if they see him naked. So as a solution, I covered him with a pink umbrella until we can get to the driveway.

By the time we got back, everybody was already preparing to leave our short reunion. Everyone saw him ran to the house naked with a pink umbrella. Needless to say, we all went home laughing.

On the flight home to the Philippines, I watched the film adaptation of my favourite book, The Little Prince. Between sobs and tears and mucus running down my face, I wrote these quotes on my journal:

“I’m not so sure I want to grow up anymore,” said the little girl.
“Growing up is not the problem, forgetting is,” answered the eccentric pilot.

Maybe that’s why I keep on going home. I don’t ever want to forget the most beautiful part of my life, my childhood.

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Snapshots: Scenes from home

October 23, 2015 by The Weekend Traveller 8 Comments

There are really very simple things I look forward to when going back to the Philippines – bonding with my big family, eating fresh food (literally just caught from the sea or plucked from the garden) and breathing in the fresh air of my island home.

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Five accommodations worth travelling for

August 15, 2015 by The Weekend Traveller No Comments

Sometimes where you choose to stay while travelling is a destination in itself. While I do not mind booking myself in a standard hotel or a camper in the middle of a Dutch farm, indulging in hotels where the view is breathtaking and the wine overflows, makes my travels a little more memorable. Through the years, I have stayed in many unforgettable accommodations,  some cost me a fortune, others not even €10 a day. What they have in common are their amazing locations and top of the class service – two of the most important factors I am looking for in a hotel. I am sharing five of my favourites here:

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About me

I'm Dheza, raised in a barrio in the Philippines, immigrated to the Dutch polder and travelling through running. This blog documents my life, to which I would like to look back to with tears and smiles when I am old and unable. Drop me a line dhezakuijs@gmail.com.

Follow me @thisgirlfromthebarrio

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