I woke up to the cold January weather of Rishikesh, caught between wanting to stay snuggled under my blanket or start my exploration early. Half-dazed, I forced myself to saunter across the room, feeling the iciness of the bathroom floor, hurrying to find comfort from a hot shower. Fully awake, I plotted my day, thinking about a myriad of things to do: try a new dish, go temple hopping, feed some monkeys, hang out by the Ganges, find a charming café, or rent a motorbike.

From where I sat on a balcony of a hilltop hotel, I could see the many monuments built during the era of the Bundelas—a Rajput clan of Central India who lorded over this part of Madhya Pradesh beginning in the sixteenth century. In that moment, I savored the solemnity of finding myself some quiet time in between our busy media tour. Trailing my eyes from the top of an opposite hill into the rows of houses below, I became perplexed at the sight of jam-packed edifices below.

As modern home aesthetics trended on social media via the popular Home Buddies group on Facebook, a replica of a typical 19th-century mansion in Intramuros reminded visitors that not all olden things must be forgotten. The Casa Manila Museum in Intramuros offered a glimpse into the lifestyle of affluent Filipino families dating back to a century ago. Featuring antique furniture pieces and ornaments made in China and Europe and by local artisans, complemented well by its impressive stone-and-wood structure, one could easily come to the conclusion that not even IKEA could hold a candle to home living during colonial times.

As we made our way through the vast Rajasthan desert from Jaipur and Jodhpur, the golden-colored terrain seemed as familiar as the blue skies above. The contrast of colors in this part of India added an extra layer of visual interest to our journey. We had also developed a routine which included bazaar hopping, street food exploration, and stepping inside centuries-old palaces and giant forts.

After a visit to the National Museum of Natural History failed to materialize because our online reservation was bumped a couple of hours into late afternoon, my friend Louise and I decided to just explore Intramuros. This was more than a year into the pandemic, and certain restrictions were still in place when visiting establishments such as museums.

I couldn’t remember how young I was when I first learned about the Dead Sea. I recalled having a sense of dread about its name. “Do you die when you swim in that sea?” I recalled asking my older brother. His explanation escaped my interest that time as I remained fixated on its morbid reputation. As I grew older, it occupied the top tier of my mental bucket list of places I desired to tick off one by one. Therefore, when I was assigned to join a Holy Land trip for a travel writing gig and saw our itinerary, two places other than the Walled City of Jerusalem stood out to me: Petra in Jordan and the Dead Sea.

When one mentions the “Holy Land,” the first thing that comes to mind for most Christians is the birthplace of Jesus Christ in the Palestinian town of Bethlehem, which is situated ten kilometers from Jerusalem. While this is indeed true, the scope of a traditional Holy Land journey encompasses three countries: Egypt, Jordan, and Israel. This route includes stops at a few historic locations in addition to retracing the footsteps of Christ, Moses, John the Baptist, and Mother Mary. Here are a few locations to inspire your own travel to the Holy Land.

After several days of exploring the UNESCO World Heritage town of Luang Prabang, the lure of the great outdoors took me thirty kilometers south to the village of Long Lao—the home of the Hmong indigenous people of Indochina. Accompanied by three other staff members from Tiger Trail Adventure, our truck set off under the misty fog of the early morning. After an hour of driving through small settlements and along a long stretch of rough road, we reached the trekking jump-off point for Kuang Si Falls under a still gloomy sky.

As I was letting every second of being awed linger gratifyingly, I fixated my thoughts on the massive walls of Gwalior Fort. I started wondering about the stories of resilient kingdoms and bloody battles they concealed. Like peeling off layers of paint, I surveyed the colossal architectural grandeur of the eighth-century structure before me and briefly imagined being transported in time.

Prayers often trumped all. Indeed, ours were answered after a day of failed incursion to Callao Cave due to heavy rains. A glimpse of the blue skies appeared. This meant our sea voyage to Anguib beach and Palaui Island was greenlighted and thumbs-upped by the Coast Guard. Yet, what they say about "be careful what you wish for" held true, since unbeknownst to us that time, the weather still had a trick up its sleeve to surprise us.

Standing outside the fog-covered ruins of the Old Diplomat Hotel, I found the eerie vibe hard to ignore, as I pictured a cinematic vision of a sequel to The Haunting of Hill House and of Bly Manor. For all its paranormal tales of housing wandering spirits, the history of these rundown, charming architectural remains provided a fascinating backdrop to any eight-episode horror series.

During this pandemic, I was fortunate to sandwich far in between my self-imposed lockdown at home, a few working trips that strictly followed safety protocols, to the Cordillera highlands, the organic farms in Quezon, and the picturesque Lake Lumot in Cavinti, Laguna. The only thing missing was a socially-distanced jaunt to the beach. Just when I was starting to wonder if I had to wait for this damn pandemic to end before I could dip my toes again in the ocean, a travel writing assignment arrived in my inbox.

After spending much of the Covid-ravaged year socially distancing myself from other people and the great outdoors, I welcomed the spontaneity to experience nature once again when I received an invitation from an old friend. “Hi Marky, are you free this Sunday to Tuesday?” Jackie wrote to me on Messenger. “I’m going to Cavinti. I was going solo, but the place is kind of off the grid so maybe I shouldn't go alone. Would you like to come?” she wrote in a follow-up message that reached my inbox just as I was about to reply “Yes”—even without knowing the details yet.

Mandalay was a place I regretted not seeing during my first visit to Myanmar in 2013 with friends. Things were different during my return trip in 2016, when additional days worked on my side. After almost a week of exploring the vast plains of Bagan aboard an e-motorcycle, I made the half-day land trip to the former royal capital of Myanmar.

Spain is a country of truly diverse landscapes—whether you are seeking coastlines or mountain peaks, forests or city streets, you'll find it. Southern Spain might usually be visited by those who wish for beachside relaxation, but it can be enjoyed even more by taking to the roads and exploring some of the adventurous and picturesque cycle routes.

In a divergent Winterfell universe, Meera would instead tell Hodor to "open the door" and enter a sanctuary where diverse cultures were linked beautifully through art. That place could very well be the Pinto Art Museum in Antipolo City.

A couple of months removed from a travel writing assignment covering the vegetable farms of Cordillera, another opportunity to visit more agricultural destinations came to my inbox from the Department of Agriculture's Agricultural Training Institute (ATI). It was to join their first regional bloggers/vloggers event that aimed to promote Organic Agriculture in the CaLaBarZon region (Cavite, Laguna, Batangas, Rizal, and Quezon).

The Philippines was easy to fall in love with because of its stunning natural beauty and genuinely nice people. Most visitors mistakenly believed that the Philippines was only about beaches, but there was much more. And, just as you'd fall in love with all you saw here, you'd fall in love with the values of everyone you met and the delectable cuisines they offered.