Tita M Wanders Latest Blog Posts
Tools I Wander With: A Tribute to the Quiet Companions of My Craft
By Marie. July 26, 2025
Some travelers collect postcards. I collect apps—and not the loud ones with splashy interfaces. Mine are quiet, old-fashioned, like well-worn notebooks that never ask too much of me. These are the tools that help me dream, write, refine, and polish every corner of Tita M Wanders.
📝 Notepad: My First Love in Windows No formatting. No fuss. Just text. When I open Notepad, it’s like laying a clean sheet of paper on a sunlit desk. Ideas arrive uninvited—captions, reflections, little fragments of zarzuela-inspired longing. In this space, I let the soul speak before the structure steps in. “Write first, format later.” Notepad understands this rhythm well.
🍎 TextEdit and the Mac Mismatch Switching to Mac was like joining a new choir where everyone sings slightly differently. I missed my Notepad. Someone suggested TextEdit. TextEdit tried to harmonize, bless it, but it kept nudging me toward rich text and serif fonts. Notepad wasn’t just a tool—it was a mindset. One Mac couldn’t mimic.
✨ CotEditor: My New Minimalist Muse Light, free, and respectful of plain text. CotEditor wandered into my workflow like an old pen rediscovered in a drawer. It doesn’t ask me to choose a font. It simply lets me write. Syntax highlighting is just the glitter on its sleeve.
🧠 VS Code: The Architect Behind the Curtain For moments when poetry meets structure—robots.txt, sitemap.xml, Open Graph tags—VS Code is my backstage tech whisperer. It helps me choreograph the performance of each blog post, ensuring it previews perfectly and flows seamlessly across devices. “Even whimsical wanderers deserve well-formed metadata.”
🌐 Bonus Travel Tools EditPad.org: For quick online blurting when I need text in a pinch. Sitemap generators: When my stories need an index. Debugger tools: For ensuring the performance looks good in the spotlight.
From Binondo to Bangkok: Reflections Inspired by “Can’t Buy Me Love” Drama
By Marie. Updated July 23, 2025
Have you seen Can’t Buy Me Love? The Donny Pangilinan and Belle Mariano starrer somehow swept me off my feet—and took me back to the winding streets of Chinatown.
It was the first Filipino drama I actually watched all the way through (it’s streaming on Netflix), and wow—I was genuinely impressed. The storytelling felt refined and sharp, with no spoon-feeding or dumbing down. I tip my hat to the scriptwriters: their craft has truly evolved. The series had surprising twists, emotional depth, and a director who masterfully wove together 50+ episodes.
Donny Pangilinan caught my attention. His performance had nuance, and before I knew it, I was reading up on him. This young man can act. Really act.
Beyond the love story and drama, I was drawn to the setting—Binondo. The oldest Chinatown in the world, right here in Manila. The choice of backdrop made the show feel grounded, affirming, and beautifully Filipino with a strong Chinese cultural presence. Kudos to the producers for choosing such a rich and authentic canvas.
And that brings me to my own wanders.
I’ve lived in Manila for over 30 years, and my sister and I often find ourselves meandering through Binondo’s hidden corners. Founded in 1594, it remains a vibrant mix of commerce, heritage, and community shaped by generations of Chinese immigrants. It’s one of those places that rewards you for looking closely—whether it’s a tucked-away temple, a decades-old panciteria, or a street buzzing with stories.
Whenever I travel, I always make it a point to visit the local Chinatown. There’s something familiar yet thrilling about each one.
Take Bangkok’s Yaowarat, for instance. I still remember my first visit—riding a ferry from Khao San Road, my heart light and full of childlike wonder. I’ve always been drawn to rivers, maybe because the river shaped life in my home city, too. Bangkok’s Chinatown, founded in 1782, is one of the largest in the world. It pulses with color, movement, and flavors that tempt every curious wanderer. I tried to explore every alley I could before time ran out, wishing my stomach could handle every dish—dim sum, noodles, and everything in between.
Binondo and Yaowarat may be worlds apart, but they share something profound: the enduring spirit of Chinese immigrants and the way they transform and enrich the places they call home.
Whether it’s history, street food, or the comfort of shared heritage, Chinatowns have always offered something special to those willing to wander.
Ann Siang Hill and Memories of Bobot: A Chinatown Journey through Singapore’s Heritage
By Marie. Updated July 23, 2025
In my wanderings, I’m always drawn to Chinatowns. It’s become a gentle ritual—searching for that familiar pulse in unfamiliar cities. And among them, Singapore’s Chinatown holds a special place in my heart.
I’ve explored it many times over the years, each visit revealing new layers of cultural richness—from bustling hawker stalls to the preserved beauty of heritage shophouses. But it’s a quiet hillside tucked within this lively district that continues to call to me: Ann Siang Hill.
A Personal Thread Through History
My fascination with Ann Siang Hill is deeply personal. It’s entwined with memories of my cousin, Melchor—or “Bobot,” as we fondly called him. He was a seafarer. Before setting out on what would be his final voyage in the mid-1980s, he shared tales of the places he'd seen, and Ann Siang Hill stood out vividly.
So when I visited Singapore for the first time, I made it a point to find it. By then, the hill had transformed into a national heritage site—a quiet triumph of preservation and homage. I couldn’t help but imagine how Bubot would’ve smiled seeing it so carefully cared for.
Ann Siang Hill’s Evolving Legacy
Ann Siang Hill wasn’t always called that. Originally known as Scott’s Hill and later Gemmill’s Hill, it became what it is today thanks to businessman Chia Ann Siang, who acquired it in 1894. His influence ran deep—helping shape Singapore’s commercial landscape while creating a space that early Chinese immigrants came to trust.
Back then, this hill was more than picturesque. It was practical. Immigrants frequented it for remittance services, letter writing, and calligraphy. These restored shophouses weren’t just homes or shops—they were sanctuaries for communication, connection, and cultural continuity.
Today, they still whisper those stories. Walk along Ann Siang Road, and you’ll find echoes in every beam and brick.
Chinatown as a Cultural Compass
Whether it’s Binondo’s layers of Filipino-Chinese identity or Bangkok’s Yaowarat lighting up the night, each Chinatown I visit offers a portal into migration, resilience, and tradition. Singapore’s version, with its elegant interplay of old and new, feels like poetry you live through.
So channel your inner Rizal. Seek out these enclaves. Let memory guide you through their corridors and crevices. In Ann Siang Hill, history doesn’t just stand—it listens.
Curtains Rise in Iloilo: Remembering My Nanay Mameng and the Zarzuela Stage
By Marie. July 22, 2025
In the 1930s, Iloilo City pulsed with the rhythm of zarzuela—musical dramas that danced between satire and sentiment, staged in Spanish and Hiligaynon. My grandmother Carmen, who I fondly called Nanay Mameng, was part of this vibrant tradition. She belonged to a traveling troupe invited by Iloilo’s wealthy families, who hosted performances in their grand homes. But some productions reached wider audiences, staged in actual theatres like the University of San Agustin Theatre—a venue I later walked into as a student, trying to imagine its former glory. I remember the baul in our house, filled with mysterious trajes—mestizas made of jusi, lace, and faded embroidery. I never knew their purpose until it was too late. They were Nanay’s costumes, relics of a time when she sang and acted under the spotlight, her voice echoing through Iloilo’s halls. Zarzuela in Iloilo wasn’t just entertainment—it was a mirror to society, a celebration of wit, romance, and resistance. Doreen Fernandez’s The Iloilo Zarzuela, 1903–1930 captures this golden era, when local playwrights and performers shaped a theatrical identity rooted in regional pride. Today, the trajes may be gone, but Nanay Mameng’s legacy lingers—in the stories she left behind, and in the quiet reverence I feel each time I pass the old theatre. The zarzuela may have faded from public memory, but for me, it remains a living thread, stitched into the fabric of family and place.
Historical Sidebar: The University of San Agustin Theatre in Iloilo’s Cultural Life
By Marie. July 22, 2025
Nestled along Gen. Luna Street in Iloilo City, the University of San Agustin (USA) has long been a beacon of cultural heritage in Western Visayas. Established in 1904 by the Order of Saint Augustine, it became the region’s first university in 1953. But beyond its academic legacy, USA nurtured a vibrant theatrical tradition.
The university theatre—housed in the historic Urdaneta Hall, which survived World War II—became a stage for zarzuelas, veladas, and community performances. In the 1960s, Rev. Angel Dulanto, OSA, introduced the annual velada, a weeklong celebration of artistic and cultural events, with zarzuela as its centerpiece. Professors and students alike took part, turning the theatre into a living archive of Ilonggo creativity.
Today, the USA Little Theater continues this legacy, hosting festivals like the Iloilo Theater Festival (ILOTF), which gathers regional troupes to explore storytelling, identity, and social transformation. The theatre remains a space where memory and imagination converge—where voices like your grandmother Carmen’s once echoed, and where new generations still take the stage.
Whispers of Ginger and Memory: The Lost Diaries of Lola Ising
By Marie. July 15, 2025
Long before Iloilo’s city lights bled into the quiet, a healer named Lola Ising of Iloilo (1920s–1940s) kept her knowledge tucked inside hard-bound journals, stitched with abaca threads and grace. Her diaries weren't merely collections of recipes—they were intimate companions, brimming with ritual, folklore, and survival.
"I preserve not merely recipes, but rituals.”
Lola Ising was a matriarch and herbalist who chronicled the healing traditions of Panay’s babaylan and daily recipes woven with prayers. Her diaries became a touchstone for post-war survivors seeking ancestral wisdom and indigenous knowledge.
“Boil ginger under a waning moon for coughs born of sorrow,” one entry reads in her curling script, beside a sketch of a bamboo ladle.
Lola Ising’s life spanned wars and harvests. As a babaylan-influenced herbalist, she treated wounds not only of the body but of memory. Her kitchen rituals, recited like prayer, included turmeric tea brewed before dawn, rice cakes offered to spirits at sunset, and the careful burning of langka leaves to cleanse grief.
Another excerpt, dated 1937:
“The children fear thunder. Today I fed them tinigib porridge with ground anise and whispered tales of Harana. It quieted their hearts.”
Her diaries, discovered in a flood-damaged cabinet decades later, became sacred texts for descendants and community healers alike. Recipes turned into workshops. Prayers became performance pieces. And Lola Ising—a woman never published nor televised—moved generations by simply preserving the sacred ordinary.
To read her is to remember that rituals aren’t lost—they’re waiting. Sometimes, in ginger tea. Sometimes, in ink.
Recent Posts
Between Boarding Passes and Blessings: The Notebook that Traveled Before I Did
The Romance of the Written Word
Markets As Museums: A Vignet in Two Cities
Singapore and Iloilo: Where History and Modernity Converse
Traveling Like Rizal: A Hero's Compass Through the World
There's Something Magical About Travelers Who Seem to Collect Friendships Like Postcards
A Museum, A Memory