This is part of a series called Stories Over Coffee, where I write about my memories of growing up in Bahrain and Qatar in order to preserve them. To understand why I do so, please read this anchor post. SY 2002-2003, old PSB campus Parents have a lot of fears when it comes to sending… Continue reading Homework for adventurers
This is part of a series called Stories Over Coffee, where I write about my memories of growing up in Bahrain and Qatar in order to preserve them. To understand why I do so, please read this anchor post. Leaving a country is not a solitary affair, at least not according to the Filipino diaspora… Continue reading The things we leave behind
in the laundry room at the end of the hall: Salihiya, Manama, Bahrain (June 2004) This is part of a series called Stories Over Coffee, where I write about my memories of growing up in Bahrain and Qatar in order to preserve them. When I was in third grade, my mom was taken to the… Continue reading Big girls don’t cry
on childhood kindness, ignorance, and otherness This is part of a series called Stories Over Coffee, where I write about my memories of growing up in Bahrain and Qatar in order to preserve them. When I was in elementary, I had a classmate named May. She was called a "hati"-- a term for half-Filipinos who… Continue reading Half-familiar, wholly other
on losing artifacts and history Ever since I could remember, we always moved from one place to another: from the Philippines to Bahrain, then Bahrain to the Philippines then to Qatar; from one flat to another; from one job or role to another. Half of our belongings do not make it out of boxes and… Continue reading Photos, floods, and stories over coffee
on friendships made immortal by memory This is part of a series called Stories Over Coffee, where I write about my memories of growing up in Bahrain and Qatar in order to preserve them. When we were in Bahrain, my mother had a best friend named Joy. She was Korean, and she wanted to learn… Continue reading Beyond words
musings on personal geography During this quarantine, I cannot count how many articles, tweets, or posts I've read lamenting the loss of "personal places"--seemingly normal nooks and spaces that hold no meaning until someone brands it as theirs. There are some that have closed their doors, some inaccessible due to lockdown restrictions, and some lost… Continue reading Mapping memories
