In My Room Era

I once fell in love with a little island called Siargao. Located south of the Philippines, in the Pacific, it was a secret paradise known for its glass-blue surfing spots and laidback island life.

Now, I remember I decided against living there because of one thing: the language barrier.

And while I made more friends living in Siargao for one month than living in El Nido for one year, I did feel like an outsider in my own country — because I didn’t speak the local language.

Plans for a jungle house

Moving to El Nido, I haven’t really found my girls squad yet. I still rely on the internet for my favorite people. I didn’t realize that I haven’t been actively seeking out new friends to bring into this next chapter of my life.

For the time being, I have decided to settle down in El Nido for a little while longer. It wasn’t just a decision, but a long-term commitment. It scares me a little, being stuck in one location. But living by the sea feels better than anywhere else.

At the moment, I am scouting for a piece of land to build my cozy jungle home. In the meantime, I am renting a studio apartment and testing out my (lack of) interior design skills.

Fire of an artist

In this one month of designing, it occurred to me that creating a livable, inspiring space is very much like writing a poem.

That each piece, or each word, must come together to create an organic, cohesive whole. If there was one piece, one word, that was out of tune, it throws everything out of balance.

And I think this is why art has to feel humanly perfect, not in the sense that it is factory-made and glossy perfect.

But in the sense that art is meant to be personally meaningful and lived through, leaving behind the smoke and ash from the fire of the artist’s life.

Here are some of the elements I’ve been assembling in my space:

Wabi sabi interiors

A lot of my influences are Japanese. I’ve lived through Japanese novels, art, film, and philosophy in my teenage years much like an anchor to ground myself into reality.

Much of Japanese art and writing at the time was nature-oriented and minimalistic. Wabi sabi is a way of seeing beauty through fleeting experiences, imperfections, and the weathering of time.

I’ve added natural textures and light fabrics in my space, over retro furniture made of dark wood and black metal. I am only half-way through.

Curated art pieces

I brought my love for Siargao into this new space, without knowing it, by adding two surfing-inspired, handcrafted pieces.

One is a hardwood surfboard mirror right next to my bed. I had this custom-made by a highly acclaimed mirror designer in Manila.

Second is a surfboard table for the patio and outdoor dining. I found a craftsman in Puerto Princesa and he’ll work on this table starting next week.

The rest are inspired by the sea such as seashells and driftwood washed ashore, and my handmade capiz shell wall art.

I’ll be making a lot of art in the next couple of years. I can’t help it — it’s in my veins. Right now, I’m designing my sanctuary with the nurturing and soul-soothing spirit of the sea.

Lights like molten honey

Beyond furniture and decor, there is softness. I’m adding sheer linen curtains for sunlight to filter through. On a side note, I love that this studio is facing the morning sun.

Then I am adding a rice paper lantern, a warm abaca lamp, maybe a Himalayan salt lamp as well, and candles scented with essential oils.

At sunset, my room turns from daylight to molten honey at night so cozy to unwind in, listen to my favorite music, and play with my pets.

In the end

It took me a lot of patience to stay in El Nido for six months. I’ve met only a handful of people I like, but I am still an hour’s drive away from them.

So: bringing my jungle home into reality will depend on the squad of friends I’ll make in one or two years. Regardless of location and culture, it’s the people that make a place feel like home.

Sunset yesterday from our yoga spot

// 21 May 2026