New York on My Mind
In February 2005, flying in from Montego Bay, Jamaica, I arrived at the John F. Kennedy Airport at a little past 11pm, and in the Manhattan apartment we were staying in some time before midnight. After we got settled, my companion suggested we go see Times Square. "It's midnight, won't Times Square be closed?" I asked. "Nope, Times Square never sleeps," he replied. Indeed, standing there, in the changing light of multicolored billboards that shone like a multitude of suns, in the middle of the night, in the heart of winter, it dawned upon me why New York calls itself "the greatest city of the world." Yes, I am home.
Roots
Funny how our homeland always calls us back.
The black American who finds familiar refuge in Africa; the Jew who returns to Israel. The call of the land which nursed our ancestors is much too persuasive to resist, and we migrate, as if through some inner radar, to where our forebears came from.
I just found out a few weeks ago that I am both of Chinese and Japanese ancestry, on my father's and mother's side, respectively. Aside from being of Mexican (and of course Filipino) stock, which I'd known already. This perhaps explains my lifelong attraction to Japanese culture (I used to have an obsession with the Japanese occupation of the Philippines in WWII) and Chinese food. And, come to think of it, Mexican movies.
But my most recent "callback" is from the Cordilleras, home to my ancestors and to wbich I've recently returned. It's odd; two dear friends who have accompanied me on my trips up to BC appear to be considering making the place one of their bases as well. And, guess what, turns out that both of them have the Cordilleras in their blood: my Anak, like me, has Abra; CC's ancestors are from BC too. Hmm. And to think our ascendants came all the way to Manila for a "better life." No worries though, we're on our way to setting everything right.
In February 2005, flying in from Montego Bay, Jamaica, I arrived at the John F. Kennedy Airport at a little past 11pm, and in the Manhattan apartment we were staying in some time before midnight. After we got settled, my companion suggested we go see Times Square. "It's midnight, won't Times Square be closed?" I asked. "Nope, Times Square never sleeps," he replied. Indeed, standing there, in the changing light of multicolored billboards that shone like a multitude of suns, in the middle of the night, in the heart of winter, it dawned upon me why New York calls itself "the greatest city of the world." Yes, I am home. 
