reflections

Life has been hectic lately—a blur of endless coughing fits, antibiotics, sleeping, and blazing through crime and mystery novels to stay sane. I mostly use Instagram to chat with friends, but in one way or another, my feed has now transformed into a treasure trove of hiking and outdoor-related posts, and I welcome it. In fact, I discovered the NGO I mentioned yesterday through an IG ad.

I scroll until I get my fill, and then I save reels of mountains I’d like to conquer one day, or hiking schedules from various organizers. (Soon, I’ll be in a rabbit hole to figure out which ones are reliable.) Occasionally, I’d also watch detailed hiking videos on YouTube, because why not?

I just recovered from an illness that’s partly due to the Pulag hike (emphasis on partly because I was already half sick days before the hike), but I’m already thinking about which trail to visit next. Or which outdoor activity to do.

I’ve always loved nature, sure, but I’ve only ever admired it from afar. On the outskirts, nestled in my home, gazing at Mt. Makiling and its hazy outline from our iron-clad windows. Inside a vehicle, zooming past towering trees or catching a glimpse of the Sierra Madre mountain range while we traverse the city’s polluted highways.

I’ve always been a homebody, but now, there’s an itch inside me, an intense yearning for the great outdoors. Most people entering their 30s transition to a “calmer” lifestyle, choosing the comforts of home over adventure. But the reverse is happening to me.

Sometimes, I don’t even recognize myself anymore.

And instead of feeling alarmed, I feel liberated.

Here’s to growth and stepping outside of your comfort zone.

I’ve been dreaming—and daydreaming—about the mountains lately. And mossy forests, with the damp forest floor littered with leaves and debris, and all the flora and fauna I might see for the very first time. I’m sure it would feel surreal, and that I wouldn’t have the words to describe it all.

There’s an unfamiliar yearning inside me. It’s strange, this kind of nostalgia, given that I’ve never actually been to the mountains before—at least, not in the truest sense of the word. I’ve never witnessed the mountain’s wildness; never gazed at its beauty in its unabashed rawness. I’ve always just been a passive observer, enjoying nature from the comforts of a vehicle traversing paved concrete roads.

My first ever hike is in a few days, and I’m thrilled and scared at the same time. A part of me is worried I’m not physically or mentally fit for it, even though many people describe hiking Mt. Pulag via the Ambangeg trail as a “walk in the park.” I exercise pretty regularly—nothing too intense, but I always try to move. That should be enough, right?

I’m mostly nervous about the cold. I’m from a tropical country that’s inhumanely warm and humid for most of the year, and the lowest temperature I’ve ever experienced was around 13°C in Taipei. I’m pretty sensitive to extreme temperatures: I get warm and cold more easily than most people do. I’ve already purchased all the necessary layers, but I still feel unprepared somehow.

I guess I can never be fully prepared for this. I only had a few days to research and get ready. And since this is my first hike, I have no idea what to expect. Like, at all.

What I’m really bummed about, though, is that I’m catching a fever, only because I didn’t drink water quickly enough after enjoying a glass of sweetened red iced tea and chocolate-filled pretzels two nights ago. I’m not good with overly sweet treats and drinks anymore, and my throat is the first to take the brunt of it. And when I catch a sore throat, it almost always ends up becoming a full-blown fever. It starts as a sore throat, progressing into a runny nose, an itchy throat, then a fever. I know the cycle too well by now.

I still have a couple of days. I’ve been doing my best to stop the illness in its tracks, but there’s just so much I can do.

Here’s to hoping that things go in my favor.