I’ve always had a love affair with Vigan. How I always find myself sighing and swooning and walking on dream cloud when looking back to all the summers I’ve spent in it. How can one not be in love with it? Aside from the gastronomic delight this place has to offer, the town is just comforting and strange and romantic at the same time.
With streets that are dressed in cobbled stones and lined with exquisite but abandoned Spanish villas that are about 150-200 years old.
With staircases that lead up to nowhere.
With baskets of garlic and brooms and old wooden chairs clutter up the sidewalks, waiting for their new owners to acquire them.
And beautiful antique carriages parked at the side for about hundreds of years.
How can one not be mesmerized? I have been going back here every summer since I was just a 10 month old baby and I can’t wait for my little girl to fall in love with it too.
Sometimes you can’t help but get seduced by the aura a new acquaintance emanates. Bold, mysterious, free. As if they reflect who you’re supposed to be.
You get confused and betray your responsibilities. You thought you’ve fallen in love thinking that you have found your twin soul.
All logic disappears right before your eyes.
With them, you feel alive and the goals you once had seem to be getting closer when you’re together. You look back into your life and find that you’re not happy – your childhood dreams gone; you’re freedom died a long time ago; you’ve become somebody you’ve never thought you’d be.
But this is all just an illusion. Perhaps, a way to escape your reality. And when you’ve realized this and ponder on your mistakes, you find yourself staring at your distorted and unpretty image. You now realize that this contorted reflection could even be more real than reality.
13 years together and I’m still under his spell. Here are some things I wrote recently about lover boy:
I am the sun. I could be sizzlin’ hot or could be scorching mad. I could be perfectly sunny or just mellow. And I’d love love love to melt into the bay and submit myself to themoon. But I see to it that I come back and rise again.
Tus is my moon. I yield to him. I swoon. And I just let him embrace me all through out my darkness.
You are the louche in the absinthe in me for your mere presence clouds me with giddiness. I sit here radiant with my own elixir but your existence is what intoxicates me. We merge. We are one. Together, we are la belle epoque.
Tus must’ve implanted some sort of a Dudez magnet in him. I find myself following him wherever he goes. But then when I think about it, Asti follows him everywhere too!
There’s something about Tus. I have my whole life to find that out.
In the meantime, I think I heard him stepping in to the bathroom. The urge to follow is strong. Let’s not resist.