Wat Arun

April 2018 - I was on the road for weeks already, backpacking across Indochina with some friends when it happened during a long bus ride, on a rough road connecting Cambodia’s Siem Reap to Thailand’s border. 

As I watch the blurry countryside scene from the bus’s window, I felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness that came from nowhere. 

Lucky that the French girl sitting next to me was asleep because then she would see that I was uncontrollably sobbing beside her, fat tears oozing from my eyes as I try to shake off such heaviness pressing on my chest. 

Up until now I don’t know what occurred to me. Was it fatigue? Was I missing work? (At that time, I was already starting to agree that I am indeed workaholic.) Was I missing my family? Was it another attempt to self sabotage?

I was having the time of my life. I was partying with expats and backpackers from all over the world. I had a great time taking a bike ride around Siem Reap, playing with local kids even if they were forcing me to buy their trinkets from time to time. I watched the glorious rising of the sun behind the majestic Angkor Wat. I tried almost every possible street food in Ho Chi Minh, learned a bit of the local languages — things that I really love and always craved but didn’t had the time because I was busy juggling two to three jobs while trying not to kill myself in the process.  

So this loneliness. I didn’t get it. It felt like a big sabotage. And admittingly, I was in on the joke. 

I started questioning if I deserve this at all. I started doubting. Fear began creeping in. What happens after this? I was still recovering from chronic insomnia and a whole bunch of mental health issues. I just finished my physical therapy due to my back problems. For a while, I was able to forget all those. But what would happen once I get home?  It snowballed into this huge pile of darkness extinguishing every light of happiness I ignited along the way. 

When I stepped down from that bus in the middle of bustling, chaotic, bursting with life Bangkok, that was the first time I was ever alone in a foreign place. I went there first as my friends and I decided to take some time away from each other, and then we’ll just meet after to continue our journey together. 

I’ve said many times that I am alone, alone in most ways people could imagine, but I realized then I was never truly alone. I believed I was alone because I have not been in a relationship with anyone. I have no one to go to the movies, on a romantic cruise, or a fancy dinner. I have always been a table-for-one kind of guy. It was lonely, yes. But that time made me realize I was always surrounded by people, either by family, friends, colleagues, and many others. I am alone in some ways, but not really. 

And that was the time when I learned another sense of being alone. There in that foreign land where I barely knew the language, no one to contact in case I need something, no one to accompany me. 

The next day I started going around the city. And because I was stupid, I forgot to recharge my phone and my powerbank is still with my bestfriend who is still Siem Reap that time. After all, I didn’t expect to be alone like that. I always relied on friends for directions, to borrow stuff. My friends and I have been together for more than a decade and they are my biggest support in many ways you can think of. 

My phone was dying and so was the sun. My last destination was the famed Wat Arun temple. 

I was sweating all over walking around what seemed to be a huge puzzle I couldn’t make sense of. I was too scared to take a taxi because I read too many warnings online about scammers in the city. I asked several local police officers, but even in their best attempt at English, I still got lost. 

Some of the locals I’ve asked led me to the wrong direction. Fellow tourists gave me some detailed instructions, but I still got confused along the way. There was this American girl I met and she told me to just give up because I’m a bit far and the way to the pier was really hard to navigate through. There was this French girl who told me she just got back from there and said it was not really that spectacular. 

I was sitting on the roadside drinking water, watching locals and tourists walk around while I battle with the thought of just calling it a day. I was starting to hate myself. With 15% of battery left in my phone, I revisited Google maps and other blogs with instructions on how to go to my target destination. That was when I heard a rapid conversation in German behind me. 

With the little confidence left in me, I introduced myself to them — a girl and a boy who seemed like a couple — and told them my dilemma. Luckily, they just got back from there. The frustration must have been etched clearly on my face that they offer to walk me to the pier. 

While walking we exchanged travel notes. They are indeed a couple from Germany and they are backpacking through Southeast Asia. I said I’m from the Philippines. And like what most Filipinos would often do when meeting strangers from other countries, I tried persuading them to come and visit because they told me they haven’t had the chance to go. Philippines was supposed to be part of their itinerary but they cancelled after learning that Boracay is closed to tourists. 

We were having fun walking and talking about travel destinations in our respective countries while complaining from time to time how hot and humid it was. 

Alas we arrived. I thanked them and even hugged them quickly because I knew that time was ticking. I immediately hopped on a boat with a huge smile on my face. I fished out my camera and started taking photos of the river which was already dazzling with the changing hues of the impending dusk.

When I saw the temple, I felt like a kid again seeing the Harry Potter book my mother bought me. I was breathless. My heart was pounding.  I ran towards the entrance and climbed my way up to that iconic temple. 

The colorful, porcelain-encrusted pagoda perfectly blended with the last colors of the afternoon sun. I breathed in as I stare at Bangkok’s skyline. The assault of orange and yellow swirling with the lightest hint of red and the thin strewn of clouds were too beautiful to ignore. How lang has it been since the last time I took a pause to just stare at such beauty?

What I’m about to tell you from here on, I wish I could capture enough words to deliver them with justice. 

Because believe me or not, it was the first time, probably in my entire adult life, that I felt such immense amount of happiness for myself. It was like every fiber of my body was shouting in happiness. 

There in the middle of a foreign country, alone, tired and sweating with barely enough sleep, hungry from walking around and getting constantly lost, I felt me. Just me. 

I hugged myself. And for the first time, it felt like all my self-loathing were all forgiven, like the bruises of years of self-harm were all gone. Like I could be me again. I felt me. Just me. 

They say you shouldn’t make any decision when you’re happy. But that time I made a decision. I promised from then on I would try to reclaim myself. Be kinder to myself. And hopefully one day, learn to really love myself. 

I realized this was the unknown I need to confront. This idea of being kind to myself was the dark woods I am afraid of stepping into. It was far easier to sabotage my happiness after years of rejections, abandonment and abuse than working hard towards embracing my own self. It was far easier to blame myself and many other people who have hurt me than to confront the idea of being kind to my own self. 

And my time is ticking. The sun is about to set. I’m in my 30s now. Do I really want to spend the remaining years of my life just waiting to die, adding more bruises to my already battered body?

I hesitated for a bit but I kissed a portion of the pagoda before I went on to continue my adventure. I went around more enjoying myself but for some reason, I’ve been targeted by couples who were asking to take pictures for them, which I didn’t really mind. 

One particular favorite of mine was this old Chinese couple who looked like they’re having the best honeymoon in the world and excitedly handed me their old digital camera once I agreed to take their pictures. They did those cute poses and I even directed them for some more creative shots. 

After them, there was this hipster-looking couple who I learned was from Brazil, who also asked me to take their pictures. 

You have no idea how it made me so happy seeing their happy faces after checking out the photos I took for them. Can you believe that? I can make other people happy and not miserable? Haha. 

After that, I had dinner alone and had some drinks and partied a little before I went home at around 5 a.m.

When I was telling my friend this whole experience, he told me how cheesy it was for it to happen in Wat Arun. After all, the temple was also called the Temple of Dawn. 

I refuse to take that narrative, to be honest. And I don’t want to be prophetic or presumptuous or make something grand out of it. But what I’m telling you is this: that thing I felt there has not left me since then. And during difficult times when it seems that the heavens would fall and all reasons have left the world, I always remind myself of that time in that temple. That in the middle of that chaotic foreign city, I recognized myself as someone worthy of the same kindness I give to others. That I saw me. And that I could be me again.