Manila, I keep coming back to Manila
Simply no place like Manila
Manila I'm coming home...
Take me back in your arms Manila
and promise me you'll never let go
Promise me you'll never let go...
This seems to be my banner song for 2006. Seriously, since I was transferred to Cebu last January 8, I have only spent one weekend there -- I distinctly remember, February 11 and 12. All the other weekends, I have spent somewhere else, most of them in -- yup, you guessed it -- Manila.
I don't know why until now, I still feel like a stranger to Cebu. Yes, I go to Maersk's Cebu office everyday and sleep in my rented place every night, but I still feel... displaced.
I came back to Manila from that heck of a vessel tour on a Sunday. Was not feeling well that Monday. Worked overtime on Tuesday and Wednesday. Came home early on Thursday to run some errands, but ended up with some personal issues that forced me to cry my eyes out for the rest of the night and neglect my planned errands.
Then Friday came. On a whim my dad told me to book a flight that night and come home. HOME. Lately that word has meant so much to me.
So this weekend I flew to Manila on personal expense to spend some time with my family. A number of titos and titas were coming over for the occassional family-salo-salo-slash-pseudo-reunion. This was the reason my dad gave me to convince my mom that the airfare was worth it. Eventually, what happened was a 50-50 deal. So I'm out 3,000 pesos now, thank you very much.
But if you ask me? It's damn worth it! I miss Manila... my car... my sister... my parents... my brother, heck, even his girlfriend! I miss my Tita Bing and Miggy and Luis and Mommy... I miss the Lolas... I miss my Ortigas friends and I miss Ortigas itself, the home of so many happy memories... I miss Megamall, I miss the chipipay Value Point at our village entrance... I miss home-cooked food... I miss my room, my sanctuary... I miss HOME.
I don't know if I've mentioned this before but once I was throwing some haphazard thoughts to my friend Josette over a cup of Rhumba Frap at Starbucks Ayala Center Cebu. I told her, I still cannot call Cebu "home." She, having stayed in Cebu for almost a year now and not an original Manilena (I believe she's from Bicol), candidly asked, "But home is where the heart is, diba?"
I nodded, paused for a moment, and replied with a straight face:
"Yeah, and my heart is in Manila."
