Wanderlust
I was never the type to sit still. As early as I can remember, my life was all about movement, motion and curiosity. Like most of my current skills, my Papa planted the seed of wanderlust in me. I was maybe 3 or 4 years old when he would take me in our mint green, 4-door, column-shift, non-airconditioned, Ford “Taunus” with the white-sidewall tires and we’d go for a joy ride to Baguio with nothing more but a jacket and my favorite toy with me. I remember us pulling out of the driveway while the sun was barely above the horizon. There was no NLEX at the time and we would take MacArthur Highway where we would pass several vintage suspension bridges which were built a few years before World War II and was part of the Art Deco architecture of the era and something that still holds my fascination to this day. Papa would leave the windows open and let the wind blow through. Every so often he would push the “pop-up” lighter into its slot (which now serves only as an alternate power source...