Can't go Home, but I can go Close
But that finally changed the moment I stepped onto my 7:20am Asia Air flight headed straight for Clark Field in the Philippines, conveniently located 2 hours outside of Manila.
I'm going to save my event-based details until I score some photos, but a highlight to note is our flight to Legaspi (scheduled for day 2 of my reign) was canceled due to flooding in the destination area. So we (Grace) adjusted our plan and we headed north (I think) for a few days of beaches, babies, and booze. And go karts and deep fried food (I kicked on 6 pounds in 6 days). It was good.
But the recurring thought I had and have been having is only mildly related to those specific events.
I found myself continually thinking, "Living here might be kind of sweet for a few months."
And I'm having trouble placing exactly why that thought kept passing through my usually buzzed or recovering mind as we lived out an on-the-fly road trip Dream.
Was it the unquestionable yet confusing feeling of "being at home again" as I passed through the vibrant, chaotic, messy, but charming, this-is-Cairo-in-Asia streets of Manila?
Or was it the incredible ability of Grace and her friends to make feel as if I'd merely returned to a long-lost community of friends and we were continuing right where we left off? (For the record, their ability to do so given my incredible inability to provide much value to someone I've just met is still astounding to me.)
But I found and continue to find myself intrigued by this country and its vast expanse of islands, political turmoil, natural and often little-touched beauty, and nonexistent drinking laws.
Within 4 hours of landing I was bombarded with interrogations for when I'd be coming back.
It may be sooner than later...
Tell your friends to be ready this time because, as I said, I owe them the greatest night of their lives in Manila.
And I don't like holding debt.