Our first baby.

Our little Santana.

Suddenly, the house feels a little warmer, our conversations a little happier, and our hearts a little fuller. There is something magical about having a baby in the family—the tiny hands, the innocent eyes, the little cries that somehow make everyone smile.

But perhaps no one is happier than my mother. After all, Santana is her first apo, her first grandchild. Watching her hold Santana for the first time was a beautiful reminder that some dreams take years to arrive, but when they do, they are worth every moment of waiting.

And as I watch this little baby begin her journey, I can’t help but wonder…

When will I have a child of my own?

I am excited for that day, too. Excited to know what it feels like to hold my own child, to watch those little eyes discover the world, and to experience a love I know must be completely different from anything else.

But for now, I have Santana.

I can’t wait to watch her grow, from her first steps to her first words, her first adventures, and all the dreams she will someday chase.

And I promise to be there along the way—not just as an uncle, but as a supportive uncle who will always cheer her on, protect her, spoil her a little, and love her endlessly.

Welcome to the world, Santana.

You are already so deeply loved.

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Since that first visit, I have always found myself coming back.

There are so many things to see in Quiapo. So many things to get interested in. But more than anything, there are so many people—and behind every face is a story waiting to be told.

I love getting lost in the sea of people whenever I am in Manila. The heat, the noise, the chaos, the vendors calling out to strangers, the familiar scent of incense mixing with the smell of street food—it all feels overwhelming. And yet, strangely beautiful.

Quiapo is not the kind of place I dream of living in. But perhaps that is why I love it.

Some places are not meant to be owned.

Some places are simply meant to be returned to.

One street that made me fall in love was Calle Villalobos, with its many craft stores filled with colors, textures, and possibilities. I could spend hours walking from one shop to another, looking at things I didn’t need but somehow wanted to take home.

Then there are the streets of amulets, lucky charms, herbs, and folk beliefs. Tarot readers sit patiently, ready to read your fortune.

Maybe that is another reason I keep coming back.

Perhaps I am hoping that somewhere in Quiapo, someone will tell me what the future holds.

And then there is the Quiapo Church.

The moment I enter, everything changes.

Outside, there is chaos. Inside, there are prayers.

I imagine them rising together—hundreds of whispered wishes asking for healing, forgiveness, love, another chance, and miracles.

When will their prayers be favored by God? Is it already too long? Or perhaps, too soon?

And quietly, almost selfishly, I whisper to myself:

I hope mine will be heard, too.

Ika nga ng National Artist at scriptwriting mentor kong si Tatang Ricky Lee sa kanyang librong Trip to Quiapo: the journey is not simply about arriving. Sometimes, you have to take a different road. Sometimes, you have to get lost.

And maybe that is why I love Quiapo.

Because every time I leave, a part of me stays behind.

And every time I return, Quiapo feels like an old love—chaotic, complicated, impossible to explain.

But somehow…

still worth coming back to.

Halika. Samahan mo akong maligaw sa Quiapo.

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He is traditionally depicted as a Roman centurion crushing a crow that cries “Cras” (tomorrow) while holding a cross that reads “Hodie” (today). He teaches us never to procrastinate on our faith or our actions.

For 12 years now, I have been a devoted follower of St. Expedite, witnessing his swift grace in my life time and again.

Years ago, I shared a major milestone on this blog: purchasing a beautiful lot in Foressa, nestled in the scenic mountains of Balamban. At the time, I envisioned building a peaceful rest house. But as the years rolled by, my perspective shifted. I realized a mountain getaway wasn’t what I truly needed. I tried to sell the property, but finding the right buyer felt like an uphill battle.

Then came a moment of absolute clarity. One night while meditating, a sudden, powerful thought struck me: What if this land isn’t meant to be sold? What if it’s meant for something greater?

I decided right then to transform this lot into a veneration chapel dedicated to Saint Expedite.

Currently, there is no dedicated St. Expedite chapel in our city, let alone the entire Philippines. This project is my ultimate act of thanksgiving and a lifetime promise to him. I want to create a sanctuary in Balamban where long-time devotees and curious new believers alike can gather, find peace, and experience his swift intercession.

Of all my dreams, building this chapel has become my number one driver in life. It fuels my daily hustle and gives my ambitions a higher purpose. In God’s perfect time, this vision will become a reality.

St. Expedite, pray for us.

The post Finding Purpose in the Hills of Balamban: My dream of building a St. Expedite Chapel. appeared first on kimocea.

It was 2017, inside the familiar walls of the Cebu Provincial Tourism Office of the Cebu Capitol. My boss, Sir Boboi Costas, had held a lottery, a solitary chance to enter the sanctuary of Cebu’s “Chocolate Queen” at Casa de Cacao. I have no idea what it was, but it brought me curiosity what the realm of Cebu’s Chocolate Queen looked like.

In a room full of people, my name was the one called out into the air, 3 of us where chosen out of a number in the office. I thought I had simply won a ticket to taste artisanal chocolate. I didn’t know I had been chosen by the universe to have prepared me for a friendship that I least expected – a friendship with the Chocolate Queen herself, Ms. Raquel Toquero Choa.

I was in awe – she was everywhere – in the media, had a Ted Talk session, and her footsteps in every corner of different consulates in the country and rubbing elbows with the ambassadors and officials.

Our friendship began in the warmth of that afternoon, rising like the rich, intoxicating steam of traditional sikwate. It was an instant, gentle locking of gears, a recognition between two spirits who didn’t need to explain themselves to be understood – both of us are artists, that with wild imaginations and turning our crafts into something sublime.

There is tenderness in the way how I look at her today. Ms. Raquel has become my creative north star, a living breath of pure inspiration, that every time I need some inspiration, I go head her store called The Chocolate Chamber in Robinsons Galleria and sip sikwate. It has always been my creative relief.

Over the years, my taste, my eye for design, the way I crave depth and storytelling in every physical space I create—it has all grown to mirror hers. To look at my own aesthetic choices today is to see a love letter written in her handwriting.

We see the world through the same lens of quiet drama. We are moved by the same rustic textures, the exact same alignment of a shadow in a room, and the silent poetry of an elegantly staged space. Our design instincts don’t just align; they dance together. A single nod from her is all the confirmation my creative soul ever needs.

I still revisit that day at the Capitol with a sense of quiet awe. If that random piece of paper hadn’t been mine, where would my creative heart have anchored itself? It wasn’t just luck; it was destiny opening a heavy door so that two artists could find their rhythm.

Ms, Raquel Toquero Choa, for everyone else, she is The Chocolate Queen, but as for me, she is a dear friend, a muse, and a boost of inspiration.

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So when my favorite cousin, Ate Jihan, flew in from the US with her son and husband, she told me she’s getting me plane tickets to the “country’s most famous island” (or so they say), I was a mix of grateful and skeptical. — thank you, Ate Jihan for the tickets.

My expectations were standard: endless white sand and a sea of bikinis and trunks. But what I actually found was a different kind of energy. Instead of a wild beach party, the shore was lined with tourists leisurely strolling past vibrant restaurants and shops. Was I on the right spot? I’ve heard there were different kind of station in Boracay, and Station 1 was the most expensive; they said we were on Station 2.

It felt less like a deserted paradise and more like a bustling coastal town. As you can see in my featured photo, it was literally us eating at McDonald’s, as I don’t have much photos. Honestly, looking back, I think I was so caught up in the moment that I barely took any other photos during the entire trip.

Ate Jihan completely spoiled me, checking us into the beautiful Henann Regency where she even got me my own separate room. Because we were on a strict three-day itinerary, we didn’t get to discover every hidden corner of the island, but the packed schedule was part of the fun.

My absolute favorite highlight was the sunset cruise. There is something incredible about sailing into the golden hour, drinking cold beer, and partying with random strangers who feel like lifelong friends for a few hours. The food on board was completely bland, but hey—at least there was food, and the vibes more than made up for it!

Boracay wasn’t the traditional island vibe I anticipated, but I loved it anyway, purely because of the unforgettable company of my cousin. Will I visit again? Maybe, but not anytime soon. Still, it’s an experience, and I finally say I have visited Boracay.

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My love affair with this place began all the way back in 2013. A close friend brought me there one humid evening, promising a break from the sterile, cookie-cutter malls dominating the city. The moment we walked in, I was in love. It was a sensory overload in the best way possible: the faint scent of old paper, the warm glow of string lights overhead, and walls lined with vintage finds. From old thrift shops filled with pre-loved denim to quirky nooks bursting with retro toys, vinyl records, and antique cameras, I knew right away that I had found a sanctuary. It was a hipster paradise, but one that felt completely unpretentious and deeply authentic.

But as much as I fell for the old-school aesthetics, what truly stole my heart—and keeps me coming back all these years later—is the people. The crowd at Cubao Expo is entirely its own vibe. It is a beautiful, breathing tapestry of dreamers, artists, musicians, and souls who move at their own deliberate pace.

There is an effortless romance in just watching the people here. You see couples lost in conversation over cold craft beers, or sharing an authentic Italian dinner under the kitschy, frescoed ceilings of an Italian resto.

Cubao Expo doesn’t force a romantic mood; it simply provides the space for it to happen naturally.

It’s the kind of place where time stretches. You can spend an hour analyzing a single indie painting at a local gallery, or chatting up a shop owner about the history of a 1970s rotary phone. The noise of the outside world fades into a background hum, replaced by the clinking of glasses, faint laughter, and the soft scratching of a needle on a record player.

Years have passed since that first visit in 2013, and while shops have changed and the city outside has grown taller and louder, the soul of Cubao Expo remains stubbornly intact. It is a haven for the nostalgic and a sanctuary for anyone looking to connect—not just with the past, but with the person sitting right across from them. If you are looking for a place where love feels a little more classic, a little more grounded, and infinitely more poetic, you only need to look for the hidden alleyway in Cubao.

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They’re known as the home of “classics and twists, it is my go-to comfort food. The second the food hits the table, the background noise of the day just shuts off.

If you’ve ever seen their menu, there are dozens of incredible food to choose from, but I am completely a creature of habit. I don’t even bother looking at the menu anymore because my order is already the same . I always order the exact same three dishes – the House Crispy Sisig, Sinigang with pakwan at the Gising-gising..

My ride-or-die trio looks exactly like this every single time:

• House Crispy Sisig: It arrives at the table sizzling and loud, loaded with that perfect, addictive chicharon crunch. It’s smoky, savory, and hands-down the absolute gold standard for sisig.
• Sinigang with Pakwan: I know it sounds something on paper, but the way the sharp, sour broth balances out with the refreshing sweetness of the watermelon is pure genius. It feels like a warm hug on a rainy afternoon.
• Gising Gising: To round out the meal, these crisp, snappy greens swimming in a rich, velvety coconut cream are an absolute must. Plus, it has just enough subtle chili heat to give your palate the perfect little wake-up call.

Trying to eat at Manam without these three on the table just feels wrong. They are my ultimate culinary match.

There are many branch of Manam in Manila; I am happy that they have 1 branch in Cebu City, where I stay most of the time.

I promise you’ll love these 3.

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I see fancy little crochet hanging, inviting passerby to buy them. I stood there, utterly fascinated if she can somewhat personalize a design that I want, and thankfully, she said she can, and I was excited.

In the soft rush of our exchange, her name somehow slipped past me. Yet, a digital footprint remains—her social media space breathes under the title Mariya Handicrafts. Perhaps her name is Maria, or Mary, or truly Mariya. Names are just whispers; her true identity lives in the brilliant artistry of her craft. From that Sunday forward, she became my absolute favorite crochet maker in the city, the only pair of hands I will trust with the custom creations I wish to bring and wear, and also give away as gifts.

Should you wish to find a piece of this magic yourself, her temporary haven waits for you where the city’s devotion meets its daily rush.

Look for her art near Santo Niño, resting gently beside Chowking:

• The Days: From Friday’s dawn through Sunday’s dusk.
• The Hours: She gently unfolds her world as early as 10:00 AM, staying until the city lights glow at 8:00 PM.

As always, I remain a quiet guardian of the local spirit, here to support the independent artists who keep the old, beautiful ways alive in a hurried world. If your soul takes you downtown on a weekend stroll, let your eyes linger near the basilica. You might just find Mariya Handicrafts, waiting to weave a little warmth into your day.

The post How I Stumbled Upon My New Favorite Local Crochet Artist appeared first on kimocea.

Naturally, I said yes.

That single “yes” launched one of the most exhilarating chapters of my young life. Every Monday, our dedicated youth section would hit the streets. It was a tight, impactful one-page feature, and it became my personal canvas. I was given the creative freedom to write about random, youth-related topics—diving into the trends, the struggles, the music, and the collective heartbeat of our generation.

Back then, newspaper boys were still a staple of the morning commute. I vividly remember the intoxicating rush of energy every Monday morning. I would jump out of bed, climb into the car, and wait with bated breath. Every single time the car stopped at an intersection and a newsboy approached the window, my heart would race. I’d eagerly buy a copy, flip it open, and search the page.

Seeing my byline in print for the first time—and every time after that—was an absolute thrill. For a young writer, seeing your name anchoring a published story is a profound validation. It felt like a massive milestone, a badge of honor, and a tangible achievement that made me hold my head a little higher.

Eventually, life pulled me toward bigger cities and different screens. I packed my bags, flew to Manila, and transitioned into the fast-paced world of television. Working as a TV Writer and Producer for ABS-CBN was an incredible adventure, but the demanding rhythm of television production meant that my print writing eventually had to take a backseat. I stopped writing articles, trading the printed page for scripts and broadcast monitors.

Yet, no matter how many years pass or how digital the world becomes, I deeply miss that raw, nostalgic experience of print journalism. To this day, I still keep my old SunStar newspaper clippings, preserved in pristine shape, as a reminder of where it all began.

Looking back, I am filled with immense gratitude. Thank you, SunStar newspaper, for giving a young, ambitious kid a voice, a platform, and a definitive purpose. You didn’t just publish my words; you helped me discover my passion for writing and journalism.

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Yes, a book for kids. Reading a controversial book “for kids” with an open mind in this conservative Catholic society.

To quote “Many people don’t follow a religion or believe in a god, but still lead ethical and meaningful lives. These people use reason, science and compassion to live fulfilling, moral lives…you can be a good person with morals and values without a religion.”

My thoughts: Religions say they preach LOVE, but it’s ironic how they argue that one or the other is the True Religion.

Say for example Christianity alone, we believe in Jesus, but Religion creates division.

Catholic VS Born-agains VS Iglesia Ni Cristo VS Dating Daan VS Pastor Quiboloy’s. All pray to Jesus with love, but argue and divide each other with hate. Sad reality religion creates.

Continue to believe what you believe. As they say, to each his own, respect each other and continue that faith.

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