I had that place locked away in my head for as long as I could remember. Was it some magazine I had read as a kid? Some TV documentary I had seen? I could not precisely pinpoint what sparked my obsession with visiting that place. Angkor Wat for me was like a page from a book I was reading. As the years passed, the pages appeared to become thicker, and my chances of seeing them seemed to slip away.

Famous beat writer Ken Kessey unofficially formed "Merry Pranksters" in the 60's. It is composed of a group of people bonded by a singular thread that weaves them all together. Theirs was a choice of an unconventional lifestyle, of living communally and taking road trips across the United States (while high with something - LSD?). It was a set-up that have provided them a rich set of experiences, that somehow made it into works of literature, as most of them are writers in the said era. To know more about these gregarious people, reading Tom Wolfe's "The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test" should be a good start.

Our home away from home for two nights while in Siem Reap, Cambodia, surprised us with a wonderful nature vibe. The River Garden was the accommodation provided for me by Roomorama months before my trip. I remembered while planning my trip to Siem Reap, I told myself I would not mind sleeping on benches in a park just to visit the place at all costs. Though sometimes, surprises came in great packages, and I was able to book that place courtesy of Roomorama, which was the leading online provider of "quality accommodations for curious travelers."

It was hard to write something about that place. It was hard enough being there with all your human emotions all over the place. It was more difficult to walk around and stare at the nameless portraits of those who died there. The air inside was that of modern-day peacetime, but the presence of the walls that surrounded you told of an unspoken grim and brutal past.

Like any good addiction, such as traveling, our temple hopping never hovered near overdose level. That was the reason why we went further from the main Angkor complex to explore more temple ruins. Banteay Srei was one of my favorite temples in the former Khmer capital of Angkor. It was probably the most intricately designed sanctuary in Siem Reap, as evidenced by the impressive and elaborate carvings adorning its still-impressive-looking walls. The temple did not share the capaciousness of the temples around Angkor, but it definitely showcased a unique characteristic.

There was the music video featuring the various moving images of Angkor Wat and the many temples surrounding it. I made sure I was able to shoot enough scenes, as that had been the trip I had been wanting to make for the longest time.

Since I had arrived a day earlier than my brother in Ho Chi Minh, I spent the whole day walking around the city. I had a blast getting myself immersed in a new place which hurriedly became familiar to me. From crossing the street with a sea of motorcycles whose drivers never slowed down, I had become an expert in not getting run over after a few attempts. I had also politely rejected motorcycle drivers' and rickshaw operators' offers of rides, as I just told them, "I am just walking around."

The "Vietnam War" was one of the most infamous events of recent times. Told to us by a telling number of movies made in Hollywood, which heightened only the conflict through the eyes of the Americans. I grew up watching the films by Oliver Stone (Platoon), Francis Ford Coppola (Apocalypse Now), and Stanley Kubrick (Full Metal Jacket) of how the war besieged the innocence of young Americans drafted into the battlefields of Vietnam. Truth be told, the war was more terrifying and harrowing if looked at from the eyes and the experiences of the Vietnamese people, three million of whom (two million civilians) died in the senseless conflict brought upon by former US President Dwight Eisenhower's unfounded "domino theory" paranoia in Asia.

After an almost seven-hour bus ride from Phnom Penh, we finally rolled into Siem Reap with my excitement swelling into a massive wave inside my body. My mind was painting a picture of the vast Angkor Wat complex and its nearby and equally impressive temple ruins. Comparing what I had imagined and read before to what I would see in a short while mirrored every adolescent boy's first foray into a lovemaking session with a beautiful girl.

True to form with Roomorama's vision of introducing the other aspects of traveling aside from "visiting a checklist of tourist attractions," the experience I had with You Khin House in Phnom Penh, Cambodia opened my eyes to the many things a traveler could do while visiting a particular city on a longer term. The idea of joining an NGO organization like the one behind You Khin House presented an ideal chance to mix traveling and helping others.

I grew up watching a battalion of Vietnam War movies and television shows—from Platoon, Born on the Fourth of July, Full Metal Jacket, Hamburger Hill, and even Chuck Norris's Missing in Action series. I had forever associated Vietnam with that brutal part of its history. Fast forward to today, I see the city of Ho Chi Minh as a country miles away from that bloody image of Saigon during the war. The peacetime version has disengaged my mind from its former image. Better yet, because the end of the Vietnam War happened almost thirty-seven years ago. It was on the day of April 30, 1975, when a tank belonging to the North Vietnamese Army came crashing through the gates of what was then known as the Independence Palace. The ensuing short battle paved the way for the Fall of Saigon, thereby putting the control of all of Vietnam into the hands of the communist North Vietnamese forces.

I was writing this inside our twelve-dollar room in Saigon. My brother was already snoring and sleeping soundly, while I just had the urge to write something. That was our last night on a journey that had taken us from Saigon to Phnom Penh and Siem Reap in Cambodia, and back again to Ho Chi Minh. It was a trip that finally morphed my childhood fascination with seeing Angkor Wat into a reality. By the next day, that epic on-the-road experience would total eight days—one of my longest so far in terms of traveling in between my day job.

A few hours before we boarded our plane back to Clark in Pampanga, we took a final walk along the streets of Kota Kinabalu and came across the remnant of an old building covered with eye-popping graffiti. To say that it was Andy Warhol-esque is a bit of an understatement. I had always been fascinated by street art, especially graffiti which, if executed with fine taste, always presented a welcome appeasement to the eyes.

I was not much of a food adventurer, I must admit. You would find me most of the time ordering the usual dishes at the office cafeteria, the tortang talong at the nearby Jollijeep, and on rare occasions delighting in KFC, McDonald's, and Jollibee. During my travels, though, I tried to become more driven to sample cuisines that were popular in the places I visited. Sometimes I did get to try, but more than a few times, due to budget constraints, I let the opportunity pass me by. Not so during my recent trip to Kota Kinabalu. I figured the chances of coming back would be more expensive, considering travel taxes and the lack of airfare promos alike. I was already there, so I might as well try to let my taste buds say hello to the dishes that were widely served around the city.

In Norse Mythology, there is a God named Heimdall, who sits at the edge of heaven and guards Asgard, which was among the "Nine Worlds" in Norse cosmology. The Cagsawa Ruins, with its bell tower sticking out from the ground where it once mightily stood—unbreakable, strong, and invisible—is at the edge of an invisible boundary of a world inhabited by the majestic Mayon Volcano.

A somber atmosphere reigned over the town of Daraga when we went to visit the Church of Nuestra Señora de la Porteria. Like a set of eyes returning from a funeral, the skies hovering above were subdued, haunting, and sad. The jabbing wind blowing against my face reminded me of the aftermath of Typhoon Mina, which battered the province a few days before we arrived. Some of the dark clouds Mina brought remained and, like a jealous lover, cast a shadow over the landscape of Mayon Volcano, completely sheltering it from our sight.

I've always been profoundly fascinated by watching a fish wag its tail and gracefully weave through the water in an almost perfectly synchronized movement. I find it remarkably similar to how humans move gracefully in a sprint motion, actively exerting body muscles to generate a fluid action—except it looks so much better when a fish does it naturally in the water.

If there were any lingering doubts about whether the sun would appear when we boarded the bus from Legazpi to Sorsogon, they were quickly dispelled as the blue waters of the sea sparkled brilliantly beneath clear, open skies. As we approached Subic Beach on Calintaan Island, the boat ride was smooth sailing over calm, glassy waters.

I deliberately kept my expectations in check by telling myself, "This is just another beach in my own beautiful country." I assumed it was simply another coastal stretch among thousands. But much like the swarm of humanity around us, every shore holds a distinct personality that sets it apart. Visiting a new place provides that timeless sense of anticipation—of discovering what remains hidden just beyond the horizon.