Hobo Lolo

Some came to compete, pushing their limits with every step. Others came to honor and remember, their hearts heavy with the sacrifice of the Filipino and American soldiers who endured the brutal Bataan Death March—forced to march endless miles under an unforgiving sun. I came to run. At 6:30 AM, as the sun barely peeked over the horizon, the runners took off. It was the earliest start time I had ever experienced in a marathon. I began slowly, letting the faster runners surge ahead, creating space around me. The crisp morning air filled my lungs as my legs warmed up. Then, after the first mile, I found my rhythm. I picked up the pace, passing runners one by one, feeling stronger with each stride. At mile eight, just as I was settling into cruise mode, the real challenge emerged—a relentless mountain ascent. Every step became a battle against the incline, the thinning air, and the burning in my legs. The terrain was unforgiving—rugged trails, steep climbs, sudden gusts of wind striking fr...

We landed in  Guangzhou  with the kind of excitement that hums just under the skin—no itinerary beyond the first night, just two backpacks, a pocketful of yuan, and the unshakable sense that something unforgettable was about to begin. From the window of our room at the  White Swan Hotel , the  Pearl River  glittered in the twilight. The  Haizhu Bridge , a graceful iron arc, stretched across the water like a threshold between the old and the new. The city pulsed below us—neon signs flickering, ferries sliding across the current, and the scent of street food floating up like a welcome. It was our first taste of China, and it was deliciously overwhelming. A ferry carried us to  Wuzhou , where we boarded an overnight bus with reclining seats and threadbare curtains, rocking us through the darkness toward the countryside. When we opened our eyes, we were in  Yangshuo —a small town cradled by surreal limestone peaks that rose like dragons from the earth...

Tiger Leaping Gorge, in the heart of Yunnan Province, was not the popular destination it is today. Back then, it was an untamed wilderness, a network of paths more suited to locals and their livestock than to travelers. We had arrived with no guide, just a crude map from a street vendor and the reckless confidence of people who thought they could figure it out as they went. Our driver dropped us at what he called the “starting point,” a dirt clearing where the trail disappeared into the rugged mountain. “I’ll wait here,” he said with a grin, as though he knew what we were in for. With a single bottle of water between us and no backup plan, we set off, naively trusting that the trail would lead us back to him by sundown. Drop off point The first few hours were magical. The gorge was a masterpiece of nature—towering cliffs rose on either side of the roaring Jinsha River, and the views seemed to stretch forever. We walked in awe, stopping often to admire the landscape and snap photos with...