A Monsoon Affair

“Is romance a part of your travel?” they asked.

I said “No…” then flashed my all-knowing smile.

‘Is it?’ I asked myself a number of times after my vehement denial. I was thinking…rather, hoping to find peace amidst the chaos that was me. Okay, I admit, it was in my head…Just an afterthought…a wishful thinking maybe…

I found myself punching my digits and my email address on his phone. Surprisingly, I never asked his. All I know is his first name…not wanting to know more. 

I was sitting on my bunk opposite yours in a cold early evening in Baguio. I just arrived somewhat wet and cold. The torrential rain felt like an eternity drowning my lonely heart and restless mind. I felt your gaze rather distracting so I fumbled with my phone and pretended to be busy. It didn’t bother you.  You asked for my name amidst the awkwardness of the silence between us…our eyes said the unspoken…Then I was left in the company of my weary thoughts, baffled by your candor.

The warmth of the bed was comforting…body was tired as much as the soul that I went to lala land in minutes leaving the mortal world to fend for itself.

Friday morning but the sun was nowhere to be found. The monsoon rain was on a roll, not giving any hint of pause or reprieve. It was late afternoon yet it felt like early winter morning. I can’t believe I was still in bed curled in a ball under my warm blanket. My eyes darted a glance at you. You smiled and asked if I was in the mood for lunch. There was something that makes it hard to deny you of any answer…especially a “No”.

Your company was refreshing. I’ve stayed in some backpackers’ hostels and slept with all sorts of people imaginable, but I have never felt the connection I had with you…your easy going frame of mind with oozing positiveness and carelessness at the same time was a breath of fresh air!

The monsoon rain did not dampen our mood as we gallivant down Session Road.  We shared meals while we respect our private moments in silence. You offered to share your umbrella to keep me dry from the rain as we hop from one restaurant to another.

In the three nights we shared, we rocked the room ‘upstairs‘. Like the rain, we poured ourselves in sync with the pitter-patter on the roof. In some unknown climax only the clouds knew, in some brief moments of silence, I wanted to look at you and just think about the possibilities. But reality bites like the coldness of the weather nipping on my sun-kissed skin. We knew there’s nothing to connect us more than what we have then. And in the same silence, my heart conceded to the unspoken truth…


There was no romance.

There was no peace.

There was no order in the chaos that was me.

only a monsoon affair…

three nights in the cold and damp Baguio City

with a stranger who made me feel whole and at peace. 


The sun finally seized it’s day that Sunday. We went to Church to renew our faith and had our last meal together. I didn’t want to leave. You were hopeful that I don’t get to go…but circumstances have called the inevitable. I left…with only a hollow promise of return.

Just as I was hopeful, I was cautious. For the heart that’s already broken refused to kiss the flame in the fear of getting burned.

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Feature photo grabbed from https://facebook.com/thispageisaboutwords