As far as I remember, we were never the sort of family that aspired to leave the country in search for a better life. Even our short trips were within our borders.

Our vacations were thorough, tedious affairs which involved choosing a spot in the Philippines we hadn't seen before, canvassing for places to stay and things to do, then mapping out a detailed itinerary that suggested "training" rather than "vacation."

Still, despite the structure, we enjoyed our educational vacations.

Eventually, I learned to wish we could go to other places, see more of the world, that sort of thing. Of course, travel is expensive, but we were fortunate enough to be given a few opportunities here and there.

Seeing countries that are generally better off than ours (at face value, at least — cleaner streets, efficient transportation, taxes that actually serve the people, laws that are more than suggestions) I can't say it's depressing. If anything, it's curious.

One wonders what they did to achieve such a state — how it works, and will it work for us?

In the first place, why are we in such a mess, and why can’t we get out of it?

I won't go into a discussion of history and politics or any of those things worth a serious, well-informed debate. I'm just going to focus on how it feels to love a country, even when it doesn't feel like it loves you back.

Cheesy as it sounds, loving a country isn't easy to explain.

I mean, really, just because you're born on Philippine soil, or your parents are Filipinos, none of that warrants undying love. Where you're born is more of, chance, I think, besides, turn the earth a bit and you'd still be on the same soil. So no, love is not about location.

It can't be learning, either. Especially not the kind where you memorize every region's product, language, and flora and fauna.

If you want to make kids hate nationalism, shoving national this and that down their throats is the best way to do it. So no, love is not learned.

It is most definitely not about food, either.

I never understood how some people can say, "Oh I love the Philippines. Adobo is my absolute favorite dish!"

To their credit, they must have other evidence of their love, they were probably just too taken with the savory dish to come up with anything else.

I find that loving your country is strange and abstract.

In theory, you owe your country because it nurtured you, but it's pretty difficult to see how that works, given our many many influences from other shores and, of course, that word again — globalization.

So how do you know you love your country?

I know it's love, because every time I leave, I want to come back.

When I'm not here, I think about it all the time.

Every moment I'm elsewhere, I compare the new things to what we have, I marvel at how some things are so similar and others, so different.

I like listening to the local radio stations, and watching local bands play. I like learning about their music, and sharing tracks from my own favorite local artists.

I like it when I get to meet people who have never heard of the Philippines.

I talk with them and I let them see how Filipinos are — cheerful, polite, and slightly off their rockers. I'm kidding. Really.

I know it's love because no matter how many other beautiful places I see, no matter how many subways and trams I ride, no matter how many seductive languages I hear and try, mostly in vain, to pick up, it's true — there's no place like home.

Nowhere I'd rather be, and nothing sweeter to the ear than our own words — Nangulila ako sa iyo. Mahal kita.

It isn't going to be pretty anytime soon, and it's been said it's a sinking ship.

But I'd rather sink to the bottom here than surface elsewhere. Which isn't to say I'm content to sit back and do nothing while we all drown. But that's another story.