Traveling by memory

I mentioned in my previous article about the incommunicability of certain memories, making one’s personal journey unique and not completely shared, no matter how pretty the photographs nor how elegant the prose. So much so that one can embark on a journey through one’s mind. Memory is such a clear mirror if one summons its inherent power of conjuring what had been to where one is.

Tasting the grating sticky sweet “mansanitas” juice as I sucked it from the fattest fruits of the huge tree at our gate in Mabolo, at five years old, brings with it the brisk coolness of dawn, at the onset of sunrise. I remember checking out the nearby carabao mudhole – sans the beast – and next to it the anthill I so dread. I courageously survey the fields from my vantage point, sitting astride a strong branch. To be a girl once more!

Completely naked, I am covered with a wet canvas cloak. I shiver as I let go of the cloak in the midday August sun; then, I immerse myself in the waters of Lourdes, muttering long-remembered prayers. As I emerge from the miraculous spring, I immediately put on my clothes. Ah, without any towel, I am instantly dry despite the cool air! To be so young and blessed!

Walking wide-eyed at night on the Bridge of the Angels, I am magnetized by the imposing statue of Michael the Archangel at the top of the building at the far end. Castel San Angelo in Rome. It is quite magical to be able to relive that romantic scene in “Lovers Must Learn,” with matinee idol Troy Donahue and new actress Suzanne Pleshette. To be twenty once more.

Watching mesmerized the unfolding of “Swan Lake” on the stage of the newly renovated legendary Bolshoi Theater in Moscow. Being in one of the seats in the historic enclave that first opened in 1776 is like a dream! The flock of swan maidens is dreamily drifting on the lake, while Prince Siegfried is “flying” as he does multiple stupendous entrechats. I am witnessing the 1,633rd performance of “Swan Lake” at the Bolshoi Theater (the first was in 1877). The brooding music of Pyotr Tchaikovsky and the excellence of the Bolshoi Ballet Company continue to draw standing ovations and fully booked performances. To be in Moscow again!

Imagine a pink undulating horizon meeting your gaze as you are told you have reached Lake Naivasha in Nakuru, Kenya. But where is the water, you begin to wonder, as you suddenly suck in your breath when the pink horizon rises up into the sky as a blanket of fluttering flamingoes. Imagine drinking perfectly chilled champagne in the middle of the savannah while you watch the fiery orb of the sun sinking slowly over the nearby hills. Scenes of Isak Dinesen’s (Karen Blixen’s) novel turned movie “Out of Africa” fill your mind as the dark-skinned native staff refill your bubbly and offer delectable hors d’ouvres amidst weird sounds of the African bush at dusk, needing rangers with shotguns ready for a possible passing lion or elephant. Ah, the Dark Continent still hovers at the back of my head.

Breathless, mouth agape and cracking dry, legs dragging behind my torso that so tries to cover whatever inch of the distance I have behind my twenty-something partner. We are crisscrossing Singapore, as Philippine representatives in the Great Singapore Shopping Challenge. I don’t have any idea what I am in, but my adrenaline surge is screeching to the limit as we beat the clock against competitors from around the world! Short of doing rappelling in a mall, my partner and I are really biting the bullet. My heart is hammering hard against my chest as I reach the finish line in good time. Then soon after I am answering interview questions with a steady breath, proving to myself that I am quite fit for my age. Hurrah! That was three years ago. I don’t want to repeat that ordeal ever!

You see, mental traveling conjures thrilling, as well as transcendent moments worth revisiting sometimes. To validate one’s life. To celebrate living. To give thanks to the Almighty for daily graces one tends to take for granted.

Traveling physically or mentally demands full attention and sensual appreciation, otherwise the process of journeying is just an insignificant jaunt. Enjoy!