Wanderlust

When I was around ten or eleven, my paternal grandmother would asked me to join her in one of her many escapades. For a woman in her sixties, she loved to travel around the metropolitan city of Manila and surrounding provinces . She would visit each of her children, several churches and large markets in her wandering. She had the wanderlust in her blood and she have logged plenty of miles cris-crossing the island of Luzon. Amazingly, she did all of this travelling with bad eyesights. This was the reason she took me along in her journeys. I am her eyes in a world she can barely see.

Even with her bad eyesights, she would later have eye surgery, she would not listen to people about curtailing her travels. I became her travel companion, an excuse to continue her wandering. There were times that I knew she was doing things from memory. She have memorized the bus schedules, the roads and destinations. We can go from each of her childrens houses, even how remote or how many transfer we have to make on the buses. We have visited her favorite shrines and churches dozens of times. We have a lot of adventures together. I think I received my wanderlust from her, my love of travel, my itchy feet.