The days of traveling and staying in exclusive resorts like suburban home owners not giving a hoot about their neighbors, are long gone and for good riddance. The concept of 'hostels' providing not only as a cheaper alternative for accommodations, but also as a medium to interact with and befriend fellow travelers is becoming a social bridge that connects travelers. Slowly, the word uneasiness and strangeness among guests of any hostels are replaced with shared conversations, laughter and for some, a glass filled with a mixture of alcoholic drinks there is: rum, vodka, beer and what-haves.

After witnessing a thousand sunsets in my life, I had gotten used to them. Even the one that set directly across our office window, I had often taken for granted. They warranted only a momentary pause—"oh, look at that fiery round sun"—before I was back at my computer desk. Not long after, any remaining flicker of daylight was replaced by striking strobe lights from bumper-to-bumper cars and nearby buildings. The neon sign of "In God We Trust" attached to the roof of a condominium created a dragging longing for daylight. Still, I rested at the thought of the sun rising and setting again the next day. I was definitely sure of that. I tended to overlook that the sun's clockwork cycle was what made it possible for life to exist on this planet. Upon closer inspection, it was the most beautiful natural phenomenon that happened every day. That moment between day and night, the short minutes which dusk spans, if I were prodded with a choice, I would say was my favorite time of the day.

The sky was raging, in the process of a quick transition from intense blue to fiery red. At the edge of the sea, the sun was sliding down like a curtain dropping after a circus show. Our boatman told us to hurry so we'd catch a glimpse of the last remaining cross marking the buried gravestones. Though most of the cemetery has long been covered by coral reefs—the bones of the buried having since been transferred to another cemetery inland—the site of what is now known as the "Sunken Cemetery" used to be entirely above the sea. That is, until a catastrophic series of eruptions from Mt. Vulcan Daan in the 1870s eroded parts of Bonbon in Catarman town, thereby swallowing the cemetery and tucking it completely underwater.

In my case, could I just drink tea here for a few mornings while I sit by the pool and stare out at the sea? Such was the cozy environment of Bahay Bakasyunan sa Camiguin (BBC), and it's a great thing Cebu Pacific had us accommodated here during the Blogger's Tour of Camiguin. The last time I visited Camiguin was in 2010, and we just rode a jeepney across the island for the entire day.

During my birthday trip to Camiguin with Tina in 2010, we were not able to visit Katibawasan Falls because we spent the entire afternoon lounging under the red-hot sun at White Island. We drank Red Horse and feasted on the swaki (sea urchin) that crawled over our friend Lot's tattooed back. It took three years for me to get another chance to visit the island province, courtesy of an invite from Cebu Pacific and the Tourism Office of Camiguin.

I never expect the Globe T@ttAwards to shortlist this blog again for their annual social media recognition. Last year it was a finalist for the "Visualizer" category. This year Nomadic Experiences is mentioned in the same breathe with four other impressive blogs under the "Best Travel and Food" category. At a time when I am starting to feel burn-out with travel writing and updating this website, this news comes as a meaningful shove towards the right direction.

Finally, I smelled the dry air and felt my skin slowly burn to a crisp by the merciless sun which shone over Bagan. I had mouthed the word "wow" many times at the many temples, stupas, and pagodas stretched out in front of me. Each second I savored and filled my head with unforgettable images not only of the place, but of its people. I was particularly endeared by those young children we met on our first morning in New Bagan. The previous night we had arrived wasted from the almost thirty-six hours of no-sleep traveling—from Manila, with a layover in Kuala Lumpur, a whole day in Yangon, and the eight-hour trip to New Bagan.