Of fishing villages and imported cigars

“Had I known that would end up being the last time I would step foot on Number One, I would have stopped for a moment to breathe in the salty ocean breeze mingling with imported cigar ash.”


When I was seven, my father and I would take our first visit to one of our farmlands in a corner of Siargao. Nestled in the crooks of marshes and the opening between land and sea, it overlooked the vast blue and green hues that dotted the nearby landscape. Affectionately named Number One, it was the first piece of land my father bought in the Philippines. Continue reading “Of fishing villages and imported cigars”