I Left My Heart In Iloilo City

Written by Sheril A. Bustaman

Photographs by Melissa Chia & Sarah Chong

    Like thieves in the night, the travelers had packed up to leave the University of Philippines Visayas, our home for the past ten days. We hugged our student guides, who had woken up at 4am despite not really having to do so, exchanged promises to see each other soon and to keep in touch. Despite my protesting eyelids, I kept myself awake to absorb just once again all the places we’ve been to over the past ten days. As we passed the Esplanade, Smallville, SM City Iloilo, and moved on to the road to the airport, I felt a horrid sinking feeling in my stomach, almost as if I was leaving my real home to go away.

   
      Upon reaching Manila & climbing into a van to get to Rosas Garden Hotel, I couldn’t help but cringe at the amount of traffic there was on the road, the smog that filled the air and the tall cramped buildings that served as our scenery from the drive to the airport. I pondered for a while if I didn’t know how to live in a city anymore, and dismissed the thought believing it to be just a passing notion. Temporarily I was distracted by the wonders of the hotel – free working wi-fi, hot jet-stream showers, queen-sized beds, air-conditioning – but once I woke up from my long rest, I realized that all I could think about was how it was 7 pm and I wasn’t standing in front of the Gender & Development Program Building watching the stars in the sky and the frogs on the ground.

The view from the GDP after 6pm

    It’s been two days in Manila now and in a mere couple of hours we will be flying back to Kuala Lumpur. I had not expected to miss Iloilo as much as I do now. This morning when we had to take a walk to the Cultural Center of Philippines, I was actually quite upset by the quality of the air around me and how I couldn’t just hail a jeepney to get to my destination. The homeless people that litter the streets and sleep on cardboard boxes around our hotel area do not provide much comfort either. Thoughts of Iloilo City keep coming back to me, and I realize now as I am about to leave for my real home, that I left my heart back in Iloilo.

Hanging out on the roof of an old mansion in Iloilo

     I reflect upon all of the things in Iloilo City that I had gotten so used to. The many sights and sounds I had grown accustomed to. LA's and Zherluck’s voices, loud, booming and full of life every morning when I could barely find the energy to use my own. The sun scorching above me as I tried to get through throngs of people during Dinagyang, who despite the pushing & shoving still took a millisecond out of their lives to smile at me. The manicurists, hair stylists and street peddlers that have asked me if I was American, Mexican, Saudi Arabian or all mixed into one. The trickling water from the shower head into the bucket at seven in the morning. The street cars honking at the jeepneys and the jeepneys honking at the tricycles and pedestrians. The loud music that randomly blares out of shops on the street, no matter which part of Iloilo you are in. I’ve had so many wonderful experiences and lived almost a daily life in the place for nine days, that it can’t be helped that a part of me has been left there with its people. Iloilo, I miss you, and I promise to return one day to further immerse myself in you. Hala Bira Iloilo, ang siyudad nga palangga ko.

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As Sheril begins her second year in Communications & Int Studies at Monash, she will also strive to curb her constant appetite for food and focus more on her appetite for life