All the traces and reminiscences

I take back what I said about disposable cameras while traveling. The plastic waste made my eye twitch, and I realized I could just spend P200 on a new Aquapix that I wouldn’t mind scratching up. Smaller, cuter, more film options. The one I got is lime green (or Neo Pearl Champagne), which coincidentally was the color of the first Aquapix I ever owned. 

When I went to Seoul I loaded it with Lomography LomoChrome ’92, which captured the autumn of it all pretty well. The shot above is my favorite, taken at Yeouido Hangang Park. The original composition was perfect, but I had to crop it because part of my finger was in frame. Still obsessed. 

The picture on the left was taken last February when I first went to Seoul. I found myself in the same area from the other side and unwittingly took a bookender in November. 

This little pizza nook was so cute and I wanted to step inside, but I’d already booked a ride back to my hotel. 

I’m just absolutely in love with the street that greets you from Anguk Station and the many possibilities it holds. 

Of course I had to make a diptych of both shots I took before exiting certain subway stations. I want to make it a whole series as I keep traveling to Seoul. 

These don’t have the pops of red from the floor and ceiling that the photos I took on my phone do, but I like how they have a more glitch-y feel. 

I loved walking past the row of shops outside my hotel as I made my way to the subway. There’s a flower shop, a bakery, this fruit stand, and a place that had steaming dumplings right on the street, so I’d catch their delicious scent and warmth every time I passed. 

This didn’t turn out as well but I liked the composition and it would be so fun to draw.  

More subway stairs. I like how this one has a bit more to see of the street beyond.

Flowers at a bus stop in the middle of the road as the day winds down.

Let period pieces be period pieces: On the republication of Una & Miguel

I love watching ’90s and 2000s Filipino movies centered around a younger cast, whether it’s a teen movie, a rom-com, or horror. Of course the ideal scenario is that I would find them actually kind of good, but the quality doesn’t usually end up mattering—I have a surprising amount of patience and willpower to sit through the entire thing, provided that the locations catch my eye. It’s endlessly fascinating to me to watch intently for places I recognize, places that no longer look the way they used to when I was growing up, places I miss, places I wish I’d known about. The newly opened Market! Market! in Say That You Love Me (2005), a whimsigoth cafe in Kutob (2005), the indoor amusement park Dreamscape in Now That I Have You (2004).

For me it’s a form of virtual time travel, a chance to revisit a version of Metro Manila that doesn’t really exist anymore. Captured on film, standing the test of time. They obviously can’t be changed, becoming unintentional period pieces (and unintentional odes to the era’s obsession with banana yellow and boho-chic). It’s different with books; the words can be edited to reflect what’s current and trace the shifts in how we live and how we are, disregarding the cultural climate the book was a product of in the process. 

But why would we want to? 

Published in 2002, Lilledeshan Bose’s Una & Miguel is the rare breed of early Filipino YA in a time when young adult readers weren’t even really acknowledged as a major publishing demographic yet. The title characters have a meet-cute when Miguel almost runs Una over with his Vespa, and there’s an immediate attraction, but it gets a little complicated because he’s with the popular crowd and she’s one of the outcasts. 

Not the most original premise, but its charm is that it’s set not (technically) in the halls of high school, but in a village during the summer. I read it the summer after sophomore year, when I had an almost-thing of my own with someone who also belonged in different social circles, who was never supposed to be someone I could grow close with, let alone share a pair of earbuds with, our heads tilted close together as we listened to some pop-punk ballad, both too afraid to move to ruin the moment.

Anyway. It didn’t end up helping me navigate this thing, but it did leave me with an insufferable tendency to refer to people who “conformed” as “sheep.”  

My cousin and I discovered our copies of Una & Miguel as a forgotten should’ve-been-classic, tucked away on the Filipiniana shelves of National Book Store’s Shangri-La branch (RIP) and marked down to a whopping P50. And when I say tucked away, I mean literally tucked away: the spine is a nondescript all-black, so you wouldn’t even know what it was until you pulled it off to look at the cover. The hidden gem of all hidden gems. 

But it wasn’t as forgotten as we’d thought, because in 2012, Una & Miguel received a second edition, this time no longer pocket-sized, and with an actual spine. The paper was no longer a very thin muddy pulpy gray consistent with recycling (was this a meta-reference to how they would end up working together at a paper recycling shop?! probably not, but that’s my headcanon now), and the text is a cute magenta! Despite being reprinted ten years after its first edition, though, this wasn’t labeled as an anniversary edition, more like it was just repackaged to be new. Young adults were finally considered a major demographic as readers, after all. 

The problem was, it just didn’t feel the same. 

And none of it was because of the redesign at all. The text, the characters, the plot, they all remained largely unchanged, as well. But Una & Miguel was defined by its pop culture references as it was by these elements. Its references are embedded in the identity of its characters: their tastes become their social currency, and that’s exactly what the plot is all about, isn’t it? Miguel and his “cohorts” might be popular, but it’s not hard to tell that Una and her friends are infinitely cooler and more secure in themselves. I don’t know what I would do with myself if I opened up a copy of Meg Cabot’s All American Girl and found that Sam’s penchant for drawing her best friend horseback riding with Heath Ledger had been backspaced to the ether.

I’ve been thinking about this for years, and now I’m finally doing it: I’ve scanned (as in re-read, but also as in used a scanner on) both my copies of this book, and I’ll be making observations on the changes they’ve made. I never meant for this to be a literal close reading/analysis of the characters and the text, but it turns out my inner English major never really left. (But also, a lot of this is just me being like “this is cool” and “this is not cool.”) 

When we first meet Una, she pretty much immediately drops a proto-stan list, which couldn’t have been a more fitting introduction. She’s a harmonica player, an aspiring filmmaker. I think the switch from Ani DiFranco to Up Dharma Down works, and I love that the Some Kind of Wonderful mention stuck around. Going from Josh Hartnett to Chris Hemsworth is a Choice, and so is not replacing Brandon Boyd. 

I miss when Beauty Bar ruled our (dream) vanities. Now that I can actually afford stuff from there and Essences, all of the fun brands I’d always wanted to try are gone. The Body Shop’s also kind of on its way out now, so today Una would probably say she’s never ordered anything from Issy and Company. 

There is mention of what year it was, and they did move it up to the “present.” A decade is a long time, reflecting changing cultures especially since our relationship with the internet shifted rapidly between 2002 and 2012. The social dynamics were different, particularly when it came to ideas of nonconformity and self-expression—but we’ll get to that. All that said, casually changing the setting like this has a bigger effect on the book than one would think.

(I also found the choice not to change “anklet shopping” funny, since they’re a decidedly early-2000s fashion statement.) 

Miley Cyrus starred in a Nicholas Sparks movie and has been recognizable as both a blonde and a brunette, so she and Mandy Moore might have more in common than I thought.

I resisted K-pop as much as I could as a teenager, only ever learning certain things through pop culture osmosis as I kept up with friends’ interests, so I probably would’ve glossed over the mention of it here. Now, though, I see it as very apt, and if the first edition had just been published a year later, the boy bands definitely would’ve been F4 and “Asian/Koreanovelas” instead.

It’s charming that they kept Marcel Marceau—this nod to a 20th-century mime artist would be just the kind of character quirk that wouldn’t be out of place on someone with a Livejournal or a Tumblr account. It also reminds me of the main character’s obsession with an old-Hollywood actress in Why We Broke Up (disclaimer: not a book I think too highly of), which I read in 2012.

I love this part for how accurate it is in describing very specific Filipino youth social hierarchies and nuances. It brings me back to the nonsense conversations I would have with friends over lunch in college, many of which revolved around these same observations since UP at the time fostered this exact ecosystem. I don’t really know how all this would hold up today, but writing this now, it does make me wonder. 

During the edit these paragraphs were mostly unchanged, and what stood out to me was the fact that they kept even “sosy.” The newer edition added an extra S and italicized the word, but that doesn’t really change the fact that nobody was still saying it in 2012.

I was 8 in 2002, and we lived comfortably but not with a whole lot, so I didn’t always get what the characters were talking about right away. One thing I had to look up was what the hell an “MD player” was, and it turned out to be a MiniDisc player. It was one of those cool in-between tech innovations of the decade—more convenient than CDs, but largely forgotten because MP3 players came not long after. So it makes sense that Miguel’s MD player was switched out for an iPod. 

My mom was in her late 30s in the 2000s, and she was young enough that she still cared deeply about music and splurged on original CDs. She was an early believer of John Mayer and Jason Mraz, and the mention of Sugar Ray here has me smiling because she loved “When It’s Over.” Anyway, I think the selection of artists in both editions represent the two periods well. (And the 2012 ones are also kind of funny, because it’s like, okay, indie girl.) 

Nothing much to say here other than “neo-feminist” being added in 2012 alongside “anti-imperialist,” which speaks to me again as someone who educated myself a lot on the movement and intersectionality at the time. Say what you will, but Rookie did so much in terms of empowering young women to embrace, learn more about, and embark on their personal journeys with feminism, and this includes giving them the voice and agency to launch their own webzines. 

VCDs are kind of on the same boat as MD players, not as popular or nostalgic as VHS tapes and DVDs, but they were pretty common in my house because they were cheaper to get authentic. Not to go on another parent-related tangent, but I got my last VCD in 2008—a copy of 10 Things I Hate About You that I asked for after watching an hour-long broadcast about the life and career of Heath Ledger, who had recently passed. My dad got it for me at the Video City in SM North. (What a time.) 

Another VCD memory: watching horror movies late at night and my cousins and I pointing fingers and arguing because we were all too scared to get out of bed to replace Disc 1 with Disc 2. 

Another one of my favorite parts, where Miguel compares and contrasts our main girl with sosy, sweet, and safe Tonette, the Pathy to Una’s Carson. It tells us a lot about how he perceives the world around him and what he considers important, even if it’s just about the girl he has a crush on. (Obviously not Tonette, and it’s not even close.) 

I think the Osbournes reference definitely should’ve been switched out since the show had stopped airing seven years ago in 2012, and it doesn’t really have cult-classic status. It could’ve been “like Cassie Ainsworth minus the hang-ups” or “like Violet from American Horror Story, but better,” but both are a little too edgy. Maybe Awkward or Suburgatory or Kat Dennings circa Nick & Norah or 2 Broke Girls? The Miley of this period doesn’t quite match Tonette’s characterization either since she would’ve been in her wild-child phase, but “Blake Lively, not on Gossip Girl, but in Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants” would’ve fit right in. 

“Is a dean’s lister but doesn’t have much of an opinion” is way more powerful storytelling to me than the change to Camus, and it’s one of the edits I really didn’t like. 

The text-speak in the original edition cracks me up, and it was great attention to detail to edit it out in the newer edition since it might be the most glaringly reflective of how much has changed in a decade. More than anything, it makes me think about how in sixth grade, my best friend at the time had an “Anti-TXTSPK” Friendster page. And how my mom’s texts never let this typing style go all the way through to 2021, and how dear that was to me.

Some more interesting changes and references I took note of that I chose not to scan: burning CDs, Mango always being replaced with Zara, Tropical Hut (which wasn’t edited out, I just love Tropical Hut and it was cool to read), the slang “exag.”

Revisiting the two versions of this work had me wondering if Bose herself had done the edits necessary to prepare it for republication. Based on my work and what I know about publishing, the answer should be a simple yes. She’d been editorial assistant at Seventeen and evidently knew what was cool in 2002, and I would’ve assumed that the same would be true ten years later because it’s all a matter of taste. 

Her taste was still evident in certain parts, especially when it came to music, but it no longer felt like her finger was on the pulse of the zeitgeist. The characters were suddenly not as 100% in tune with the genuine 2012 teen experience, even if it was small things like teen heartthrobs. Chris Hemsworth wasn’t quite Candy Cutie material, but Josh Hutcherson or Robert Pattinson were. 

Another thing I’m thinking about is: Would another refresh of Una & Miguel work today? Are there any more cool rock bands? Would Miguel be into Wallows and Geese (I hated typing these I have no fucking clue what local straight men listen to) and have thousands of Instagram followers just because he has a Vespa and that face? Would Una be listening to Soccer Mommy, Mitski, and Japanese Breakfast, and would she be a secretly popular NCT stan account? Am I just projecting and treating this as a fun creative thought exercise? Yeah, probably.

But this leads me to my answer: a mid-2020s (how the fuck are we mid-decade already) version of Una & Miguel would never work, just like the 2012 version was already barely working. They would live too differently, their DNA would have to be rewritten completely. These are not people who should know what the Omegaverse is.  

An example I keep coming back to is Jerry Spinelli’s 2000 novel Stargirl, a celebration of nonconformity and staying true to yourself and what makes you happy. Its title character wore long dresses, played the ukulele, and chose her own name. When it was adapted into a movie twenty years after it was published, I knew even before watching that it was made too late. The message, while it remained earnest and important, didn’t quite land so hard during a time when it had gotten easier to find like-minded people online and niche subcultures, well, weren’t as niche anymore. Everyone wanted to set themselves apart now, everybody wanted to be different. Stargirl Caraway became just another girl who was not like other girls.  

On the other hand, Stephen Chbosky’s The Perks of Being a Wallflower was published in 1999 and set even earlier, in the early ’90s. It stayed true to this setting for its 2012 film adaptation, which worked so well not only because of the understated and realistic approach and the fact that the author himself was directing, but also because the visual style was both timeless and spoke to what teens on Tumblr were interested in: something gritty, something flawed but beautiful. 

Lady Bird itself is set in 2002, after Greta Gerwig’s own coming of age. 

If there’s anything I’ve learned from my project archiving magazines on @glossyarchive, it’s that Filipinos have so little reference and documentation available online of what life was like before and outside of social media. Most early blogs and web pages that would’ve been a goldmine to learn from and live vicariously through are gone. It would be a disservice to erase them even further by trying to modernize them for an audience that might be curious, even if they have to look up who Ani DiFranco is. Because literature perseveres and has the most impact when it captures humanity exactly as it is. If you never make anything that’s a product of its time, then why document anything at all? 

(I also have to note how progressive, and, again, forever and ever and ever, how deeply cool it was for 2002. Una had a gay best friend named Choke! There was a drag show!)

It’s a testament to how real the characters feel in Una & Miguel, to how much they mean to me and how I regard them more like old friends than some ink on thin pages, that I’m so adamant that they don’t belong in 2012 or any other time because this is who they are, this is how they’ve grown up and this is how they exist. 

I was 14 when I first read it and it changed my life. Over fifteen years later and I still resonate with Una’s independence and uncertainty. Her need to discover her own personhood, but also to belong in a community she’s cultivated and feels herself and at home in. Fifteen years later and the feelings of discovering a new crush and their unforgettable first kiss still linger. She’s a modern girl because she reflects not necessarily modern tastes, but modern and enduring emotions and experiences. 

The book should be understood and appreciated for what has remained relevant and relatable about it.  Like Stargirl, it’s a tribute to self-actualization and identity, so why strip it of what made it so fresh and authentic and ahead of its time? In the end, that’s what stays with you. 

I heard that it’s hard to cry with the sunlight in your eyes

I know: Seoul again? My autumn/birthday plans had been to come back to Osaka, but work really ramped up after June and by October I was a molotov cocktail of burnout, anxiety, and depression, and I didn’t really have the energy for the plans I’d been making. I just wanted to go somewhere cold and wear my sweaters and the super cute gilet I got on sale at Mango, and I already kind of knew my way around the city, so Seoul it was. I really went from telling friends that I didn’t really see myself going there to visiting three times in one year. 

November 10 

My first order of business was heading over to Kim’s Deli Market so I could try their adorable tomato bagel with cream cheese and pesto. It’s made with rice flour, which definitely explains this springiness and chew to it that I really liked. The color of the bagel comes from real tomatoes, and the tomato flavor shines through and complements the filling.

I hadn’t been planning on staying to eat, but it was early enough and I liked the idea of spending some of my day in the quaint little shop. I also ordered a fizzy mixed berry drink, as well as a chocolate conch bread to go. I had some of the conch for dessert that night, and finished it off for breakfast the next morning. The sweetness was deep and dark, and I liked the play on textures with the soft bread, smooth cream, and chunky chocolate piece inside.

I had trouble locating Your Mind at first. It was in a quiet neighborhood, on the second floor of a gated building with all these indie lifestyle shops, and there was a huge yard full of fallen autumn leaves. I have to admit that stepping through the gate reminded me of the houses in K-dramas. 

A major point of this trip was to collect zines and prints by local artists, and this was the shop that stood out to me the most when I was doing my research. 

I often wish I were better versed in Korean, especially when I read about j-hope lyrics, but on this trip I  felt particularly regretful that I couldn’t buy all these beautiful books because I couldn’t have understood them. 

I set a budget for this trip, but it felt good to just gather all this printed matter in my arms and pick up whatever I wanted without looking at the price tag. I finally got some TABACOBOOKS stuff, and the bookmarks I got were so sweet and cute. There was also a wall of artists’ calling cards for ₩500, and of course I was happy to find one by LEEGOC. My favorite out of this haul is Heeda Garden’s Sleeping Gypsy, a gorgeous and whimsical book of sketches, photos, and collages from trips to different cities. 

I passed a streetside samgyeopsal cart on my way to pick up dinner, and I didn’t get any, but I savored the smell of it and wanted to remember that. 

Before I went to bed I got in the tub with a bottle of Soak’s bubblegum bubble bath in warm water, and I put on “Salt” by Rainsford, which is kind of about having a bath while you’re lonely and heartbroken, but not really. 

November 11

I think the Mango straight pants I got myself last Christmas cut such a pleasant silhouette with my sweaters and the oversize sling I bought so I could stuff the art prints I was supposed to hoard at Nuunu in Kyoto into it. (Never say never—I’m kind of already planning to go ahead with the Osaka trip next May.) Olive green is truly my color of the moment. 

I went back to Anguk Station so I could buy more art prints at Object, but this branch was being renovated, so I drowned my sorrows in apple iced tea and banana split Dippin’ Dots at the 7-Eleven next door. I’d been looking in the freezers for the packaged kind and was delighted to find that they were being served scooped into cups at the counter. 

This is my favorite shot out of this entire trip, I think, and it makes me want to kick myself again that I decided to leave my Canon G9X at home. 

I’d let go of my Telfar eggplant dreams a long time ago, but I chanced upon this Fennec bag online and fell in love with it. I’d been planning to buy it when I got home, but I decided to hunt for it at the Lotte Department Store since, hello, I was already in Seoul anyway. I ended up getting it with a great discount thanks to the Black Friday sale and the tax deduction. 

The department store was in a very commercial part of the city. I could have crossed the street and explored more of Myeongdong, but I don’t think I was ready for that quite yet. It reminded me of the city center in Kuala Lumpur, and there were all these Christmas lights and decorations at the entrance with seasonal music blaring, so it opened up this whole can of emotional worms that I needed to get away from but also wanted to wrap myself in. 

I decided to take a bus—but I got on the wrong one, so I got off as soon as I saw a Lotteria and got a late lunch while I figured out my next move. 

I’d also bookmarked Storage Book & Film on Naver Maps when I was looking for places to get zines, but I didn’t prioritize it since it seemed difficult to get to. But when I went to check the map to see how I could get back to my hotel, the little yellow star marking its location was right next to where I was. So I figured I might as well go. 

The bus that passes right by it was small and green, and there was a stop right in front of the Lotteria. I tried to ride it, but it was late afternoon and each one was full. I booked a ride instead, and then I discovered that my initial plan of walking to the bookstore from the nearest train station was never going to be the right choice: it was on a very steep hill. 

Still, I’d made it, and it was well worth the detour. I got another bunch of travel zines and some bookmarks and postcards, including one for Storage itself. The checkout counter was behind a curtain, so I couldn’t immediately see who was ringing me up. They had short hair, so I assumed it was a man. But when they handed me my card back along with my paper bag, they finally looked up, and I came eye to eye with the most beautiful, soft spoken butch I’d ever seen in my pathetic gay life. I had never witnessed features this distinct and delicate in all my days. A face you could never forget, but if I’m being honest, I’m not really able to picture it clearly anymore in my mind—but I like the romance of keeping it in that moment and only then.

(But of course I’ve already scrolled down the bookstore’s Instagram feed and tags in case I could find her in the periphery of even a single photo.) 

I walked downhill until I reached a bridal shop with a pride flag and the Palestine flag in the window, which made me so happy. I booked a ride from there and just watched the skies darken out the window. For dinner I got toowoomba pasta from the GS25 around the corner. 

November 12

At noon I was set to watch a screening of Hope on the Stage The Movie, and all I had to do was literally cross the street to the CGV near my hotel. I still find it so amusing how convenient this ended up being for me, and I got my ticket through an automated kiosk.

There were only two of us in the theater. When it was over and we were waiting for the elevator back down to the lobby, she turned to me and said hello, and she knew enough English that we were able to make small talk about the movie and where I was from and what I was doing in the city. I found her really nice and she helped me through the process of claiming the really cute commemorative ticket, which was most of the reason I even made time to see the movie in Seoul. (I already had plans to see it back home.) I think we both wanted to talk more, but she was pretty shy and so was I, and we never even got each other’s names. It’s a memory and interaction I treasure anyway. 

Next time I would love to catch a rare movie that I wouldn’t have gotten to watch elsewhere, but unfortunately they don’t provide subtitles for titles that are local to them. 

Since February I’ve been trying to find the most convenient and walkable way to be by the Han River, and so far it’s been Yeouido Hangang Park, which is right by Yeouinaru Station and also has a Hangang Bus dock. I didn’t have time to go on a boat ride, but it was enough for me to sit on a bench and admire the river while I listened to my current heavy rotation playlist. (“unlearning you” by Crying City is at the top.) 

When I’m back I’ll be taking the water bus, and maybe braving a stop at Euljidarak so I can try their bolognese with a pretty scoop of whipped cream. 

I did take the bus after, though. The right route, this time, a 40-minute ride back to my hotel. I got to take a seat early and admire views of the city I hadn’t gotten a chance to glimpse since I was always on the subway. It was a late Wednesday afternoon, the sun starting to dip, casting a poignant glow over the buildings and storefronts we passed. 

I turned out all the lights in my hotel room and watched the walls grow darker. I went to get dinner later, a warm bowl of tuna mayo and egg rice with extra umami from nori strips. It was a short walk from my hotel but the brightness of the lights against the night sky and the perfect temperature made me wistful. It was 8 p.m. and I had to be up by 3 a.m. to make it to my flight at seven, but I felt a pull—a yearning—to explore one last time. 

I finished my dinner and went back down so I could take a walk. It was the rightest amount of cold I’d experienced out of the entire trip, feeling like the autumn chill was just dusting my cheeks, little kisses of it here and there. I walked aimlessly down the side street behind the building with the CGV. It’s right by a university, so there were a lot of places open late and students milling about and dragging each other to neon-lit arcades and busy coffee shops. 

I stayed out for an hour, and then I crossed the street back to the hotel. I’d left the window open so I could be welcomed by the flicker of streetlights. I kept the curtains drawn apart while I finished packing, and it wasn’t long before I had to say goodbye to the view, too. 

At the airport I sat at the Hwangsaengga Kalguksu close to my gate. I ordered what I thought was going to be a quick snack of mandu, but the dumplings were massive. They were very good.  

On this trip I made a list of places I wanted to visit, but it was mostly unplanned. I made sure not to let the pressure of “making the most of it” hang over my head, and I just went with whatever I felt like doing. It was never going to be a montage of those “Seoul’s best-kept secrets” I’d been bookmarking—and it still made me happy and healed me regardless. 

I’ve been learning lately that for now, I’m kind of an escapist when I travel. I established long ago that I’ll never be a traveler or vagabond, more of a city-dwelling vacationer, but where my heart is at these days is really just getting out of my head, getting on a train, seeing what I can do and where I can go to let go and have fun for a little while. And for me, that’s not always found in bucket lists and best-ofs. 

More than anything, it’s just about having a nice day.

Since you last saw me

I've cut my own hair once 

and gotten a haircut twice

I've been to Japan in autumn

and to Seoul on days like ice 

I don't think I still have 

any of the clothes I would've worn 

to the mall when we would eat out 

despite the crowds we used to scorn 

Somehow I've doubled my paycheck

I'm even budgeting, you'd be so proud

Somehow I've made it a thousand days 

but I barely remember how

You're always crossing my mind 

when "Cherish" plays on my way home

I promise I'm taking care of myself 

and I never have to do it alone

I've perfected the sauce I ruined 

Your brownie recipe is in my Notes

I don't think I'll ever make it 

(It's just that I miss your cooking the most)

We'll always be alive to move us: A Hope on the Stage Final diary

More than anything, I prepared for the weather. 

On the day of the very last concert of the Hope on the Stage Tour, I set out for Goyang at half past four in the afternoon, wanting to get there just before it started. It took me about a couple dozen stops and an hour on the subway along with two minutes at a crosswalk to get there. The weather forecast said there was a high probability of rain, so I’d packed a couple of disposable raincoats. I hadn’t tried them before, but I was surprised that they weighed like nothing but offered full coverage (and were very cost-efficient) and they instantly became a travel must-have for me. 

But it was nearing 7 p.m. and the sun was still high up. The girls in the seats around me and I got our umbrellas out and shared them to protect ourselves not from a downpour, but from the glare—the kind of community that really makes my heart feel full on days like this. 

This time around, I wanted to give out my own gifts, and I called on a hobby I hadn’t practiced in maybe a decade: shrink plastic. I had so many ring backs and other trinket supplies lying around, so I decided to make rings adorned with the butterfly confetti that falls during “On the Street.” I spent days testing for the right size, painstakingly cutting them out of thick plastic sheets, baking, and gluing them onto the rings. I also got an idea to create a charm bracelet to commemorate the tour, and it was so fun to bring it to life. 

I distributed them to the people in the seats around me, and some of them wore the rings right away. I was also excited that everyone with a ticket was given a towel with this really cool design as well as the cutest photocard of Hoseok posing with his little chipmunk doll counterpart, which I immediately slid into a toploader for safekeeping. (Always bring multiple sleeves and toploaders to events like this because you just never know!)

First show. Last show. A few others in between. Watching him rise to the stage as it pounded like a heart around him for the last time in a while, I thought about how the first time felt like holding my breath in anticipation of what would happen next, and now it felt like an exhale. I knew every pulse, every beat. Every rise, every fall. I clapped before he even asked. 

I knew it all by heart. 

I’d brought an Aquapix to the first concert and tried to take a few shots, but it had been loaded with a Himalaya 200 so you can barely make out anything in them. This time around, I made sure to bring ISO 800 film, and it worked wonderfully against the setting sun and the glittering dark. I’ll never get tired of how the sprawling gradient blue of the skies turns out on what’s essentially a toy camera.

After the concert, the stage design went viral again when people observed that the boxes spell out “j-hope” during “STOP,” which was always fun for me to see. 

At first I thought, “How could you not have noticed through the entire tour?” But then I realized that not everyone had gotten to attend and it’s not one of the common moments people would post online. It made me wonder if any of the other details I’d grown to look for and adore with every stop had flown under the radar, and I hope I always remember them when I rewatch the streams and look back.

Through it all I tried to be as present as I could. Even today I feel like I’d get so wrapped up in the moment when he would freestyle to “On the Street,” like it was something I could never quite fathom even when I was seeing it with my own eyes. Like I kept trying to get a grasp on it, convinced that if I just looked hard enough it would become part of me, but it was the kind of thing that only ever left an impression. Precious and fleeting and ephemeral and it was best that way. Not unlike the butterflies that elegantly drifted around him as he moved. 

“Remember the time in KSPO Dome?” he asked, like I could ever forget. “When I asked you to memorize the lyrics to ‘i wonder’?” You mean when I harmonized with you from my seat and I had an inkling of what heaven could be like? 

“When was that? Four months? Three months ago? I’m so happy that I was able to hear your voices. It’s beautiful to the very end, so sweet to the very end. How can I ever forget you guys? I’ve heard your voices while I performed all over the world, and it’s something I cannot express with words. It’s sweetness itself.” 

So we sang with him one more time. 

Then—and not to ruin this moment with, um, something decidedly not pure and sweet—I braced myself. 

I’d loved the previous outfit and thought he couldn’t have been more attractive. When it was time for “Killin’ It Girl”—released just the day before, so this was the second performance ever—somehow I just knew he would emerge from that wall of dancers… more creatively dressed than usual. Like his re-emergence in October and this whole entire era had been leading up to this. And yet there was no way to be ready about any of it when you’ve been here as long as I have. 

Questions raced through my mind as the entire stadium erupted into the screams of almost 30,000 individuals: Where did his shirt go? Are we being serious right now? How is this happening? Is this what our lives are going to be like from now on? Am I really here bearing firsthand witness to history?   

And the question that has plagued me for all time since: What has he done and why has he done this? To us? To me? 

And just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, a horrifying realization dawned on me: this is literally the longest segment of the show, with over a dozen songs, and he would be (half-)dressed like this the entire. Fucking. Time. Did he not care that I was barely clinging to my sanity. 

I was so right to prioritize the very last date. I love every choice that led me here. Including pouring out my every feeling about pretty much the whole tour set list when I wrote about the Seoul concerts, because now I can just focus on being rendered at a loss for words.

An immediate thought I had was that I wished I could tell my mom, and I still so desperately do.

Looking like a whole Interpol album cover.

The final official stop of the tour had been Osaka. On the second day his voice had turned careful, pensive.

“One last thing,” he said. “I worked hard, almost to the point of breaking down, knowing that this moment would never come back. Really, every performance.” He smiled, but then he was crying.  “I really came here with all my might. Even though I was feeling unwell, I did my best, and because this performance is very meaningful and important to me, I have worked hard to get to this point.”

“I thought I wouldn’t cry,” he went on, “once I turned 30. I thought I wouldn’t cry anymore after I finished the military. As I’ve said before, the moment the performance begins, I make a vow. I really took on this with a great sense of responsibility, and every performance was a tour I took on with a vow and resolve, so I was overwhelmed with emotion.” 

And in true Aquarius fashion, he finished with, “Sorry for the long story.”

And of course, in Goyang, he was tearful once more as he launched into the ending ment that would close out not just that night, but the tour and the season that had passed as it went on. It was strange to hear it all without the full context right then, unable to access translations, only going off of the handful of words I could understand and his gestures. But being right there, crying along with him, was the only thing that mattered. 

“Everything I did today, things that were a routine to me, was the very last time today,” he began. “The soundcheck, hair, makeup, stage, sunglasses, everything was the very last time. I always used to clench my teeth and push through every stage, but today I had to perform each one with the thought of letting it go, for the last time. So it made me emotional and tear up all the way here.” 

As j-hope, he continued, “I will perform for you, I’ll dance, rap, and sing for you until the last moment my body allows me to. In these past four months, thanks to you I realized how much I need to value and take care of myself. I bow my head to you once again in gratitude. Thank you so much!”

This part I definitely understood, and it still makes my heart pinch thinking about it months later: “I was happy!” he was saying, his voice climbing to an exhilarated shout. “I was so happy! I’ll come back when I get the chance again!”

We all began cheering, “Saranghae!” Over and over. So he returned it, and we gave it to him right back, just like he deserved. 

I couldn’t help but be hyper-aware of my own firsts and lasts of the tour as he spoke. Three months passed between Seoul and Goyang, and I know I’ll be able to think back on all of it as such an unprecedented, inimitable, happy time in my life. Traveling, spending time with friends I hold so dear, meeting new people, and five nights that feel like everything I needed in the moment, everything I’ve ever wanted, and everything I’ve ever loved and lived for. Finding out that I can do this on my own, but I didn’t have to go through it alone. 

It drained me, it caused me genuine distress, it made me feel more alive than I had in a while, it healed me. 

It had me flying to Singapore for a weekend all over again with nothing but a backpack and a ticket, blinking my eyes against a stadium ceiling that looked straight out of Stranger Things (no longer such a cool reference to make, but I wanted to point it out anyway). 

I stayed at NuVe Urbane in Lavender again, this time in a room with not just a window, but a balcony. I wish I’d had more time and energy to explore the surrounding neighborhood and take pictures, but I really only had time to fly in Friday night, go to the concert on Saturday, then fly out Sunday morning. 

I did go on a 7-Eleven run, where the old man at the register nodded knowingly at the honey lemon Fisherman’s Friend I was buying and declared with approval, “Yes, that’s new, isn’t it?” As a proponent of the lozenge brand with flu or without, I definitely found it to be one of my best interactions of the year. 

I went with Alissa, and I couldn’t believe it was their first concert ever. And what a concert to start with! With floor tickets, it was the best view I had out of the whole tour, and we gradually got closer to the stage as the night progressed. I was especially insistent on getting a good vantage point for “Mona Lisa.” 

(It hadn’t been released yet during Seoul, so I just want to add here that the day it came out, I got a 5-digit raise at work following a year of major growth and progress, according to the higher ups. “Independent check, got her own check”? So true.) 

The butterflies were falling over my head for once during “On the Street.” They came in three colors and two shapes, and with lighter material and a higher volume, while the effect wasn’t as artful or gentle, it felt to me like another kind of magic and I loved watching them come down and getting to collect more of them than I knew what to do with.

 

For the segment where they flashed some signs onscreen, they actually showed one adorned with rainbows that said Gays ♡ j-hope, and I was excited knowing he would be able to see it from backstage. 

I cried for the first time all tour (while the concert was still ongoing, that is) in Singapore. After “Neuron” ended, Alissa and I just looked at each other, tears ready to be blinked into running down our cheeks. 

A silly thought, but Hoseok is such an Aquarius in the way he admitted that he deliberately avoided moments that would induce crying on his solo tour. But the fact that he managed to make this song, as the finale, feel extra poignant and emotional anyway? That’s pure Pisces mercury at work. 

We had dinner at a Korean rice bowl place where I ordered a decadent salmon with teriyaki sauce and a creamy mentaiko topping. We’d met up in the afternoon around the stadium, but we left for a couple of hours to go to a cafe. It rained really hard while we were there, but I was once again struck by how seamless life felt in this city that is an island that is a city. How convenient it was, how connected everything is. You could while away time in good company before a concert, head back with less than an hour to spare, and be right back with minimal walking and no rush.

Alissa saw me off at the station, where I got on the last train just before it set off. It was two stops from Lavender and the walk back was almost like being carried on a cloud to the hotel despite my aching legs. I bought a paper cup of freshly squeezed cold orange juice from the machine outside. It was nice. 

In the morning I went on the balcony for a bit, and before long, it was time for me to leave. 

In Manila, there was no other person I could’ve experienced this with but Amrie. 

I still can’t believe he gave us a hometown show. The name of this city I adore on his tour poster, on the shirts and keepsakes, on the Louis Vuitton suitcase that opens up to reveal his boombox. The streets that have been part of me my whole life and for as long as I’ll live becoming a part of his own history in the most special way. 

Amrie and I stood in front of the MOA Globe for hours, the crowds thinning around us until we were the only two people left, the words and emotions—and, eventually, tears—pouring out of us like they would never stop. Mostly about what we’d just gone through that night, but also about the last several years of watching him lay down every brick that’s made up this long, difficult, but inevitable and painstakingly earned path. Getting to overcome along with him, and getting to do it together.

My first true impression of Hoseok was marked with the thought: So that’s who he is. I’d spent months reading his name from Amrie’s Twitter username, and watching the “IDOL” music video for the first time and witnessing him deliver his first verse, I felt like I finally got it. Literally bouncing into frame, almost like he could transcend the screen, sounding unlike nobody I’d ever heard before. And it says so much about him that I still feel that way whenever I listen to that song.

“I didn’t think I still loved him like that,” Amrie said, just after we both decided we didn’t care that we were full on crying in public. “But he just proved to me that I probably always will.” 

An aspect of the tour that I’ve loved getting to see was Hoseok’s resolve to experience and enjoy the local cuisine of every city he visited. He really embraced his inner Anthony Bourdain and expressed the importance of not just eating well but eating as an act of joy and indulgence. It was evident in his variety show appearances, his social posts, his livestreams. I also realized in those months that I barely knew how far his sweet tooth really went. 

In Manila, he fell in love with halo-halo and savored his dinner from Manam: crispy pata, garlic rice, crispy sisig (his favorite, he says), and sinigang na baboy sa sampaloc—which people ordered as a set so often that it became an unofficial “j-hope Meal” for a time.

On a show, talking about his enlistment period and why he stayed at the camp where he trained, he shared, 

“I was eating meals after training and the food there was just so delicious. They served things like mala tteokbokki, and I thought, ‘I have to stay here.’ Then I started thinking, ‘What do I have to do to stay here?’ and I realized I needed to become a teaching assistant. So I studied and studied for a month, and if you pass the evaluation, you become a TA. I had to study six subjects within a set time. I thought, ‘If I had studied English like this, I would’ve [excelled].” 

Drive-thru burgers, home-cooked steak, his signature Hope Toast with eggs and bacon and strawberry jam, his ultimate comfort food bibimmyeon. It’s made me so happy getting to see him enjoy his life full and nourished. As he said on Chef & My Fridge, “I began to want to eat something delicious if I’m going to eat something.”

Even his gifts for fans during his “Killin’ It Girl” promotions have been so wonderful and hearty: tomato-shaped bagels with cream cheese and pesto, acorn cookies, frozen yogurt with chocolate shells and fruit toppings.  

And I know I’ve been talking about him revealing his abs like it’s a psychological torture experiment designed for my personal torment, but I swear from an art appreciation perspective and as someone who cares about his well-being, it has allowed me to map out how his body really ripples and moves when he’s performing, and seeing all these facets of it I never considered keeps reminding me of this excerpt from a fic Amrie and I have loved: 

He goes in for a hug, and she accepts it though she doesn’t really want to. But, for such a skinny guy, there’s a surprising amount of him, and for someone so sharp, he’s gentle with her.

And it goes hand in hand with this philosophy he’s been putting into action with food. This body, there truly is a surprising amount of him, strong and soft in equal measure. I love how healthy it is and how its topography is traced by his life of dance. 

 It’s so nice to me how the memory spreads from each city are so different. People have been showcasing their own memory boxes for Hope on the Stage that they can display, but I’m pretty content with my choice of storing them all in an opaque black box so they’re protected from light damage. I also enjoy the process of laying them out on my scanner and seeing the results. 

The Manila spread includes some super cute Hobi x Snoopy pins, two of my favorite dolls that I brought along in the ita bag I’d gotten just for the occasion, a sticker designed to look like jeepney signages, freebies such as a bracelet from the girl next to me, a squirrel mask that had been part of a fan project, a Hope World tamagotchi earring from Aya whom I met for the first time that night, and a peso bill confetti from the “Hope World” performance. It means so, so much to me that I actually caught one all the way from lower box! I watched it wide-eyed as it flew through the air and scrambled to catch it just as it landed in my seat. Amrie caught one just a few minutes later, and we screamed together as we clutched them to our chests and hugged. 

The Singapore spread includes an MRT pass, my plane ticket, a receipt from our dinner, an adorable glittered NFC-powered mini CD with an even tinier random photocard, a Snoopy “Mona Lisa” art print, and the butterfly confetti I’d collected. I love the effect of the other mementos peeking through their sheer material. So pretty. 

Finally, for the Goyang spread, I put together stuff from the concert, LEEGOC’s exhibit, and of course, And What?

The week after the final concerts, he posted a letter that made me cry harder than I ever did when I was actually there. “Looks like I’m not going to be able to stop thinking about it all,” he began. He wrote about having a deep sense of resonance from the last several months, of being immersed in and accomplishing his work with great love, affection, and care. Of coming to believe in himself and becoming more strong and secure and unshakeable. 

“I really learnt a lot, felt a lot, and I think that the attitude I’ve gained is going to make me consider and approach my next steps with even more care… Since I set out on my solo journey in 2022, I’ve experienced being sick, and tried healing myself, and felt a great sense of accomplishment, and developed confidence.”

 A translator used the words “tremendous fulfillment” to describe what he had felt, which was what did it for me. 

Some excerpts from another translation that helped me understand how beautiful the feelings he was trying to express were: 

“I can’t seem to get over the lingering feelings,” highlighting his use of “여운” which the translator says indicates “a feeling or image that remains even after the experience is over.” 

“I must have considered it all precious as I did it, right? I tried not to miss out on any part of it. I acted with painstaking consideration… Since 2022, I’ve been working as a solo artist, tried running into things to see if it hurts, and then tried healing myself, and I felt a huge sense of accomplishment.” 

When the lights came down after “Neuron” I just had this feeling, this strong sense that it wasn’t over yet. 

All tour long I’d been a little sad that “Safety Zone,” which some days I would call my favorite out of all j-hope tracks, had been left out of the set list. I hadn’t even sat back down yet, hadn’t even made a decision about what I was going to do now that it was all over just like that, before the lights flashed back on and the intro that made my chest ache in the best way from the first time I heard it was suddenly washing over the stadium. It sounded so much more poignant and whole with the live band, and with his raw, emotional delivery. Just him, just his mic, just the stage. And just us, the sea of people who loved him. 

The name of the tour transforming into Hope on the Safety Zone behind him, letting us all know where he had found solace. 

I feel heavy typing this, like I’m about to cry. I couldn’t imagine a better way to close out this whole chapter than with this song, and I feel so lucky I was there. I never wanted it to end, so of course it was over much too soon. 

The girl next to me was called Jessica. I can’t remember if she was originally from Hong Kong and now she lived in Australia or the other way around, but she had a wonderfully friendly Aussie accent and all the same, it meant that she had traveled far to be here, just like me. She’d given me one of those charming clip-on koalas that I recently remembered from childhood and wondered where they’d gone. 

And when “Safety Zone” ended, she pulled out a packet of scented tissues with Mang on the packaging and handed one to me, no questions asked. Because of course we both had tears streaming down our faces. It’s still probably buried in my bag somewhere.

 

I’d bought a ticket to a shuttle that would let me off at Hapjeong Station, just two stops from Sinchon. It was a fifteen-minute walk from the stadium to the parking lot where the buses were and it was an extra expense that wasn’t all that cheap, but I think I chose well. The subway would’ve been a crowded nightmare, and on the bus I could sit and lean my head against the window watching the certainty of the night sky against the whirling scenery. Thinking about my favorite line from the song still lingering in my head: The world changes fast, and at every moment, a different feeling of loneliness hits me.

And I may have been lonely. But I found that I don’t mind. 

The trains were dangerously close to ending their run for the day when I got off in Hapjeong and rushed to the platform. Just like the night I arrived, the streets in Sinchon were hardly empty when I exited the station. My dinner was microwave carbonara from 7-Eleven—the noodles perfectly al dente, the sauce the kind of bland I found comforting, buttery and soupy and just what I needed while sitting cross-legged in front of the TV. 

Just like the Seoul stop, I’d once again gone within the space of an hour from seeing j-hope live to watching him on cable television. Yet another layer that’s made the experience so much fuller, so much more fun than I ever thought possible. Perfect timing, perfect planning down to the tiniest detail. 

When I got home, the first thing I did was finally draw the other eye on the Daruma doll I’d used to make a wish: to take the most I can get out of this tour, to experience it to the fullest. I’ve used a total of two Daruma dolls in my life, and in my experience, they’re quite powerful, hopeful little things. 

Back in Seoul I’d set off for the airport at 4 a.m. Everything was dark and still. The weather was moody, pouring over the bridges and bodies of water we crossed as we drove. It’s so silly and a little melodramatic, but it was a sweet and soothing thought, the idea that we were in the same city while it was raining.

Just for a little while longer, anyway.

I held onto this thought, this feeling, as the plane took off and my life went on.