I was rearranging two bagfuls of groceries on the floor next to the long table where my girlfriend Gimma and I were having espresso and some pastry, when two elderly women came over to the other side of our table and sat down with their shopping bags, coffee, and sandwiches.

“Do you know what that’s called?” the 80-year-old lady closest to us asked Gimma, referring to the red velvet cupcake we were sharing. Thus began a pleasant conversation — about desserts, pets, apartments, friends, life in New York in general, even mommy hooks — between us and the two octogenarians, who have been calling Midtown Manhattan home for many years. As long-time friends and neighbors, Ginnie (the one who asked about the cupcake) and Lina frequent that austere cafe most weekends, usually after going to the thrift shop next door.

“Here, you can have this,” Ginnie later said while handing me a shopping bag hook. “Looks like you could use that for your grocery bags.” Seeing my hesitation, she insisted, smiling, “Take it. Just remember me every time you use it.”

Ginnie and Lina left first, waving goodbye through the glass window outside the cafe as they headed for the bus stop.

I haven’t used the shopping bag hook since, but to this day I remember our elderly friends from Midtown — frail yet cheerful, tender yet firm, and old, wise, and ever-thoughtful. I wish them a long and happy life.

(Photo taken in Manhattan, New York, August 2014. Copyright © Armando Nicolas PJ. All Rights Reserved.)

When at times the world just feels so loud and crass, and everyone around you seems to nag at your bones and crowd your senses, it’s as if you’re sinking into a quicksand. You feel like being slowly and steadily devoured downward by the heavy mass around you, invading your skin, sucking the air from your lungs.

Instead you submerge yourself in the stillest quietude and soak in peaceful self-awareness — tuning out what you desire not, drowning them into oblivion, even for a brief eternity.

You are the captain of your soul. Get up and steer your ship into clearer seas.

(Photo taken in Davao City, Philippines, July 2012. Copyright © Armando Nicolas PJ. All Rights Reserved.)

Notwithstanding the future weight risk they pose as they accumulate in the  thousands, these love padlocks are a sight to behold in New York’s landmark bridges. Put in place covertly or ceremoniously by couples from here and elsewhere, the keys thrown into the water as far as the eyes can see — to signify their unbreakable bond of love — the padlocks stand the test of the elements and the seasons, that is, until maintenance crews pry them loose with bolt cutters and disposed of appropriately.

Perhaps it’s a telltale sign that however two people work hard to make a relationship work, against all odds, in the end the outcome is beyond each other’s control. It’s not exact science, but we’re prone to believe that being a happy couple is to be mutually lucky in love.

Or maybe the love locks (how about PDA for padlock display of affection?) are just one of those sentimental mementos giddy lovers seek, mindful only of their whims and their passing wonderment, however fanciful or fleeting they may turn out to be. True love, after all, is as intimate as the soul, one that needs no flaunting.

(Photo taken at Brooklyn Bridge in Manhattan, New York, March 2014. Copyright © Armando Nicolas PJ. All Rights Reserved.)

The mistakes we’ve made cannot be undone. The harsh words we’ve spoken cannot be unsaid. Like the shards of broken safety glass that blanketed the concrete base around the bus stop we chanced upon on Bay Street in Staten,  what we have ripped apart and broken down into pieces — intentionally or otherwise — cannot be made whole again.

It matters a lot to know the consequences and repercussions of our words and actions before we say or do something. It matters to pause and think hard before lashing out or raising a hand, to first breathe long and deep before succumbing to impulse or an impassioned act.

Time heals all wounds, it’s often said. Making amends can bring change. Kindness can bring renewal. And sometimes, sadly, the scars burn on and on. In the final scheme of things, only forgiveness can make most things, if not everything, right again.

(Photo taken in Staten Island, New York, February 2014. Copyright © Armando Nicolas PJ. All Rights Reserved.)

Hang gliding is the closest thing I can think of to soaring like an eagle in the sky.

Using a light non-motorized, foot-launchable aircraft made of aluminum alloy and delta-shaped composite-framed fabric wing,  I took off on my first hang gliding trip with an experienced pilot, funnily enough a Brazilian glider named Zero. He took care of the technology, wind conditions, and other flight controls — playing tour guide and flight attendant at the same time — and I, the one with zero experience and who was hesitant at first (big thanks to my girlfriend Gimma who took off ahead of me), in no time took in the sights and savored the natural high of flying.

There was neither catharsis over life fully or finally lived here, nor waxing poetic over the mythical Icarus or hubris or failed ambition — just several minutes of unadulterated bliss and pure freedom in the wind under the Rio sun. For once, I truly believed I could fly!

(Photo taken in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, March 2012. Copyright © Armando Nicolas PJ. All Rights Reserved.)

The Philippines says, “Thank you!”

My home country The Philippines took to social media early this month and ran video billboard ads at renowned landmarks across three continents to express its gratitude to the many nations that extended their help and assistance in the relief efforts three months after Typhoon Haiyan (local name Yolanda) wrought havoc and killed over 6,000 people (6,201 according to ABS-CBN as of 14 January 2014) in Central Philippines.

Electronic billboards lit up simultaneously at Times Square (above) in New York City, Galeries Lafayette in Paris, Shibuya Crossing in Tokyo, and Piccadilly Circus in London.

“The Philippines says thank you,” goes the campaign, which was funded by the Department of Tourism, and at the same time doubles as an invitation to visit/revisit the tropical getaway in the Southeast.

From my country and me to the world, thank you very much! Maraming salamat po!

(Photo taken in New York, USA, February 2014. Copyright © Armando Nicolas PJ. All Rights Reserved.)

A medina (city or town in modern Arabic)  is a distinct quarter, usually unchanged for centuries, found in many cities in North Africa. Usually walled, medinas contain many narrow, winding, maze-like streets or alleys. Often found in these quarters are palaces, mosques, and courtyards. Because of the very narrow streets, some barely a meter wide, medinas are off-limits to automobiles, making them unique among densely populated urban centers.  (Kasbah may also be used to describe the old part of a city, in which case it has the same meaning as a medina.)

The narrow, winding alleys of some medinas were actually used to confuse and slow down invaders throughout history. In more recent times, tourists falling prey to these mazes are commonplace, including my girlfriend and myself. Desperately retracing our steps back to a major square, we walked over an hour all over the northern section of the Marrakech medina, never attempting to ask people on the street to keep away from touts, resignedly asking directions from a waiter at a cafe we stopped at for a cold drink in the end.

They say you never really find a medina until you get lost in it.

(Photo taken in Marrakech, Morocco, July 2011. Copyright © Armando Nicolas PJ. All Rights Reserved.)

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It was a good day for photo hunting — nothing hectic, just slow-paced and easy. The sky was blue in some parts, the daylight enough help for my ever-reliable point-and-shoot camera. (Where’s the fun in walking aimlessly for hours while lugging around a big camera, lenses, and tripod?) The photo options are practically limitless: traditional lanterns against ultra-modern skyscrapers, million-dollar sports cars on quaint ancient streets, outdoor art pieces, architectural marvels by the waterfront, ordinary folk and famous people going about their daily life. Imagine my surprise when I accidentally ran into a photo shoot in a drab back alley, a model and photographer intent at work. I passed their corner at a deferential distance, but not without discreetly looking back to shoot from the sidelines.

It was a good day for photo hunting indeed.

(Photo taken in Singapore, January 2011. Color-processed in Adobe Photoshop. Copyright © Armando Nicolas PJ. All Rights Reserved.)

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Imagine a world where there are no windows. Buildings and homes would look like barren boxes that dot cities and the suburbs. There’d be no curtains and drapes to speak of, no sills or panes to perch on or see through, and rooms would just be ceilings, floors and walls. There’d be no draft or glare to shield from, no breeze to let in and through, no daylight or darkness to tell the time of day, and looking outside would simply be unheard of. Most of all, sunrises and sunsets would go unnoticed, and the world outside would forever be kept out. It’d simply be a dreadful, dreary world.

(Photo taken in Singapore, February 2010. Copyright © Armando Nicolas PJ. All Rights Reserved.)

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We recall the local fishermen of old out at sea, out for the day’s catch, toiling in salt and sweat to bring food at the table for their family and loved ones. Back ashore the lonesome wife, her infant child in her arms, awaits the husband’s return, praying for a bountiful harvest and his safe journey home. Shining bright and distinctly by the beach where she waits is the solitary lamp, a beacon, however small, that guides her man home. Soon, in time, the family will be together once more.

(Photo taken in Boracay, Aklan, December 2010. Copyright © Armando Nicolas PJ. All Rights Reserved.)

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