“Glasnost” (Openness) and “Perestroika” (Restructuring) were relevant socio-political themes that became known globally in the late 80s, but being fifteen and living in a small town in Quezon Province, Philippines, I had never heard of those words before.

In fact, it was my Mama who encouraged me to become familiar with those terms, so that I could write about them in my essay, for my United States foreign exchange student application. Apart from loving big words (Scrabble was her favorite board game), Mama was a voracious reader who believed that being aware and being understanding, of what was going on in the world, was important for teens, not just adults.

Back then I had no clue how important Mama’s words were. I listened and did what I was told because I thought there was no way to change Mama’s mind.
Deep inside, I felt sad at the thought of missing my senior year at my old high school. I was terrified at the thought of living with three foster families, who, while thoughtfully chosen, were still total strangers who may end up hating me.

There was also a boy who was tall, athletic and good-looking. We really liked each other, so the thought of not seeing him made me miserable.

Weeks after my application, I received news that I got into the program. Though I was not thrilled, I was at least grateful. My parents meanwhile were extremely excited.

Because there was limited time to get ready for the trip, madness and chaos ensued, like in the purchase of my flight ticket.

Back then, most air tickets were issued on paper and had to be collected in person from a travel agency. In this case, it was one in Pasay City in Metro Manila. We lived four hours away so Mama arranged for the pick up to be on the same day as one of her work trips to the city.

Unfortunately, a very strong typhoon came that day. By the afternoon, the weather in Manila got so bad that transport came to a standstill.

Wearing a light jacket, and matching pencil skirt and top, which got drenched in no time, Mama clutched her bag and umbrella, which strong winds almost ripped from her hands. Though weary from the rain and knee-deep floods, she kept walking for hours along EDSA, the main highway in Pasay. She arrived safely at the travel agency before it closed. Though she had very little energy left in her then, her spirits started to soar as soon as she got the ticket.

When I heard this story, I had nothing but admiration for Mama’s selflessness, which I never knew the extent of, until then. At that moment, I had a change of heart because I realized that if Mama had the fierce determination to push me beyond the safety of home, on to a bigger world that was waiting to be discovered, the least I could do was to fully embrace the opportunity.

For the next twenty-seven years and for close to fifty countries, discover the world and embrace every opportunity was exactly what I did.

After all these years, my hunger for travel – to know a little bit more about the world, to meet a random stranger with an interesting or heartbreaking life story, to have my breath taken away by a beautiful sunset on a beach or mountain somewhere, to be in awe of some historic building, to bite into flavorful local street food, to form friendships amidst differences, and to learn life lessons along the way – has not subsided one bit.

My travel experiences have brought me the sweet, the bitter, the bittersweet and the diversity of everything else in between.

At forty-three, I am not here because I want to write the story of a lifetime. I am here because I can no longer wait to write and tell the many stories of many lifetimes, and I will be eternally thankful to my Mama, lover of words, for pushing me at fifteen, to take that very first leap.