Cousinly Love

As of late, I have been spending an inordinate amount of time at the garden patio of my cousin Benjamin. As if all roads led to his home, I've ended most of my days this past couple of weeks slouched lazily on his sofas. Not that I'm alone in this, our other cousin Mario is another familiar face in those parts as well as his brother Paulo, and my own brother Joseph who drops in from time to time.

It's a bit of a wonder that we have not yet grown bored of this routine, as it barely changes - The sofas/chairs are arranged in a circle for our little powwow, the door leading to the garden is flung open, and the speakers are laid on the floor. We then slowly lose ourselves to the soothing sounds of Owl City (yes, Owl City) that eventually serve as the background to our long-drawn conversations of shoes, ships, sealing wax, cabbages and kings. A bit of scotch, Mineshine milk tea, McDonald's, or whatever your body needs at that moment and we're set for the next few hours. Our little get-togethers pretty much always end the same way as well - a screaming match in Benj's room over a game of MarioKart 64. It's a bit more grown-up nowadays than what we used to have as children - a screaming match of barilan - but I don't think much has changed.

This affinity with my cousins has always been something I've been proud of, a tremendous positive force in my life. Having grown up with them, my cousins have always felt more like brothers who just happened to live in another house. Looking back, I realize that most weekends and summers of my life have been spent in their company. They have stood witness to most of the memorable moments in my life, and will continue to do so up until my corpse is sent off into the sunset on a flaming pyre. And although the winds of change have taken some of us to distant lands, our constant ranting, teasing and bickering with each other has not changed in the slightest, save the venue which has since been transferred to cyberspace.

That perhaps would be the one thing that would make the setup perfect - if the whole cast of cousins were still here with us, as if the good old days of yore had never left. But alas, each has his ship to captain and not all our ships were made to sail the same seas. Maybe one day when we're older, we'll all be together again. Maybe we'll play barilan like we used to, big boys versus small boys. Maybe our little ones will be in on it too, wondering how on earth their old men got so good at it. When that day comes though I shall smile, make an L with my right hand as if it were a gun, point it at my son, and say..."BANG. YOU'RE DEAD."

Where To?

Back in Bangkok, I chanced upon a streetside hawker selling flag patches from various countries. I suppose various would be an understatement because he had practically the whole United Nations stable in his little caboodle. Even Hong Kong, which technically is not a country, was well represented in the pile.

Four days and a 60% price reduction later, I wind up helping myself to 6 flags - Philippines, Vietnam, Thailand, Cambodia, Hong Kong, Japan – all of which represented the different countries that have had the dubious honor to call me guest. Missing from the team was the USA (I actually forgot to buy it) and South Korea (I was only there for 3 hours so I was not exactly sure if it counted).


By no means is this a list for any traveler to be proud of - most backpackers do that many countries or more in one trip alone. It did however, start me thinking about where exactly in the world I’ve been aiming my feet at. The first obvious item on the list would be to finish up Southeast Asia. Third-world cost of living aside, Southeast Asia is probably the only area in the world I can visit without a pre-procured visa. On this list, the only unchecked boxes are Laos, Myanmar, Malaysia, Indonesia and Singapore.

Of course, I'm taking a little detour and passing by Brazil. How can you be there and not go to Brazil?

Another adventure I've always wanted to have was a modified Che Guevara route. That basically entails going from the southernmost tip of Argentina all the way up to Mexico, preferably on a motorcycle, while trying to avoid all the small squabbles between countries and drug shootouts. I’d probably have an easier time too with the locals than what I’ve experienced so far as Spanish is a lot less foreign to me than say, Thai.

Of course, I’d be hard pressed to leave the European experience out of this listing.  The big history geek that I am, the call to personally visit the lands of the world empires I grew up studying is just to great to resist.  To stand where Cicero stood in the Temple of Jupiter Stator, giving the first of the famous Catiline Orations, to stroll purposefully down the coastline of Thermopylae remembering Leonidas, to pass through the Arc de Triomphe with the Marcia Trionfale resounding firmly in my head, for a chance to experience these moments I would gladly give my left kidney.

Many other pipe dream destinations are still swimming in the back of my head, Batanes, Gen San Tuna Boat Fishing and hunting with the Cagayan Valley locals among others.  Many more flags are destined to adorn my walls, many more ambitions borne out of childhood reading to be realized.  Only God knows where I shall turn up next. The world is amazing, and I am determined to see as much of it as I can before I leave.