El Puente Romano

So here goes. I finally muster the courage to blog. From this point on, I have an online diary. I now have my space on the Net. The idea has been floating in my head for the past couple of weeks, and it's funny how I end up creating this account now that I haven't exactly time in my hands. I would have, and should have, set it up much earlier. Only I was afraid of facing the pressure. The pressure to write, the pressure to think and unveil all of that in this diary which is public. When I come to think of it, my most writing-productive days were way back in college. I used to slave it out in the weekly school paper, make money through essay contests (haha!), and scribble poems and stories on tissue paper. But that was 40 million years ago, when my self-concept and that of most people in my circle were undeniably tied to "writing," only to realize a few years later that such things would change. The closest I get to writing these days would be quite embarrassing for anybody to admit: term papers and email.

Not that I have little stuff to write about; I actually consider myself luckier than most people I know. I got my first overseas trip at the age of 20, a month-long cultural tour in Japan, and from that time on, my travelling days have never stopped. To date I have been to six countries in Asia and Europe, lived for some time in two of them which were Japan and Spain, where I live at the moment to get my masters degree. In a few weeks' time I will go on a 3-week backpacking tour of five countries in Western Europe. To my dismay, most of these days have passed without me documenting them except in fancy albums I store in my flat in Malaga and in my parent's house in Sta. Mesa. But there are things which pictures are not capable to tell, like losing your way in a mountain trek, spending the night in a creepy hostel, throwing away excess baggage at the airport, or inching your way through a group of bullish street dogs. There is a wealth of life experiences I could make a fuss of, and now I decide to write them down. It freightens me to forget so I must write. And hey! I could write them in four languages: Filipino, English, Spanish and Japanese! And next year, maybe in French, too!



For my blog, I choose the title El Puente Romano. I almost put off opening this blog today, because I couldn't seem to hit upon a nice title as I was setting up the account. Most blogs I have seen have author-descriptive titles, but I hate self-description. So I choose the name of my favorite spot in Spain which is The Roman Bridge of Cordoba. It is a multiple-arched bridge with a dilapidated water wheel at one end and a tower at the other and spans over the Guadalquivir river of Andalucia. Last winter, I took a morning walk along the bridge covered with so much mist at 6 am it was almost blinding. There was a small statue of the Virgin Mary at the middle part, and dried rose petals scattered on the floor. I could count the few strangers at the bridge at that time of the morning, and feeling this deep sense of peace from the silence and the cold, my heart began to sing..."Kulang man sa 'tin itong sandali, alam ko na tayo'y magkikitang muli. Hangga't may pag-asa pa na haharapin, ikaw lang ang mamahalin..."

Haaayay! Chinky!