Two more weeks of internship to go and then I'm off to Baguio. People have been raising their eyebrows at the fact that I'm going there sometime around the beginning of the rainy season, when, well, it starts raining, and all you can see is fog. Well, I like it that way. I love gloomy weather, rain, fog, Baguio when all the tourists are safely tucked away in their urban abodes and lashing away or getting whipped by their corporate superiors. It's so peaceful there when only the locals sip coffee serenely in the coffee shops trying to ward off the chill. Baguio is always at its best without tourists around. Just like when we were kids. When Burnham Park wasn't the dingy place it is now. When we would walk to church on Sunday morning and then stroll casually into town to have ice cream and cotton candy at Coney Island somewhere in the middle of Session Road or hike from the John Hay gate to the Clubhouse where you had to exchange your pesos for American bills or coins because the vendos were, well, American.
(To be continued. Partners are coming this way.)
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