It was one of those evenings when you travel when you have no plans. I had just finished a tiring day of snorkeling, my first ever. In the port city of Dumaguete, I sit by the promenade. The sun is just about to set, as I listen to music and watch a steady stream of
It’s not often that you meet a man called Dante. Come to think of it, I have never met anyone called Dante. Dante the playwright, yes, through his works. But this Dante, I meet in the beautiful Philippines island of Siquijor. On my way to visit Mt. Bandilaan, I see this little sign that says
I get back on the bike to find Nanay. Outside, the rain has stopped. A few men are out on the street, playing basketball. I stop and ask about directions to Nanay’s house. I get four different directions from four drunk guys. “You need bolo-bolo? “asks the only one who speaks a bit of English.
Siquijor has healers of all kinds. Herbolarios like Ann, who you read about in my previous post. Then, there are bolo-bolo healers. There are also the darker mambabarang – the ones who will cast a curse with their potions. But the ones I want to find are the bolo-bolo healers. Bolo-bolo healers use a drinking
The sun is already fierce at 10 in the morning as I make my way through narrow winding roads up the hills on a little Vespa-lookalike motorbike. On my left, in the distance, the turquoise sea stretches away, oblivious to my quest. After an hour, I wipe the sweat from my brow, remove my helmet,
Tomorrow is International Women’s Day. Having just come back from organizing and escorting an all-women trip to the quaint, rural hamlet of Banavasi in Karnataka, today was a day for me to just think about all the wonderful women I have been in touch with over the years, and who have been sources of inspiration