<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rdf:RDF xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/" xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/" xmlns:sy="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/syndication/" xmlns:rdf="http://www.w3.org/1999/02/22-rdf-syntax-ns#"><channel rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/BlogRss.aspx/MAYFLOWER"><title>Wanderings and Wonderings by Arwena Tamayo - Blogit</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MAYFLOWER/</link><description> I love traveling. It doesn’t matter where. It could be imagined or real. But going places and learning about people have always fascinated me. In fact, I can say that I find much of my greatest joys just finding out what people dream about, what they cry and hurt about, what they laugh about. Personalities fascinate me no end. People are beautiful. Everyone has a story to tell. I learn a lot from others. I am enriched and humbled by knowing and interacting with others. I have also this nagging burden to share my wanderings and wonderings with you so that somehow, the roads that we take could be entwined and lead us to the one great road of learning and loving and growing……together.

Watch out for my next blog! Will start Part 1 of an exciting story. It is about a woman named Maria, well known in her little town of Buruanga, AKlan, (Northwest Panay Peninsula), near Boracay, the Philippines who gathered the best shells in these parts of the sea. 

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They make the most of what they have. Misery starts when a...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MAYFLOWER/549021"><title>JUNE MEMOIRS - ISLAND DREAMS</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MAYFLOWER/549021</link><description>ISLAND DREAMS Yesterday, I crossed a little sea for a pleasure trip to a little island they call paradise. What do you call a place where the powdery sand is made from white shells and the water is a huge palette of blues from brilliant torquoise to muted shades of cream and beige? A beach that...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MAYFLOWER/548539"><title>JUNE MEMOIRS - AN AVOCADO STORY</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MAYFLOWER/548539</link><description>AN AVOCADO STORY The last days of summer ushered the early flowering of my late mother-in-law's avocado tree, bearing the most luscious fruits I have ever tasted in my whole life. Early on, the summer breezes have tauntingly shook its branches countless times, the dainty flowers and the very...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MAYFLOWER/548260"><title>JUNE MEMOIRS - What is Your Best Part of the House?</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MAYFLOWER/548260</link><description>My Best Part of the House It intrigues me to realize that whenever I'm away from home, the thing that I miss the most is the little tropical garden adjoining our living room. I wonder why it is not my husband, our master's bedroom, the kitchen or the kids. And I feel a little guilt with these...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MAYFLOWER/546048"><title>TEARS FOR HANNAH</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MAYFLOWER/546048</link><description>Hannah I do not know if I will weep for you, Hannah. When in deep sadness, I can’t cry Is it because when I do, I will cry rivers into an ocean? And my own tears will drown my soul? Mayflower Hannah. How she has grown. After fifteen years, I saw her again today. I remember her mother, a mentally...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MAYFLOWER/546013"><title>MAY MEMOIRS - MY TRUE AMERICAN IDOL</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MAYFLOWER/546013</link><description>Reynaldo Lapuz, “Brothers Forever” - MY TRUE AMERICAN IDOL Reynaldo Lapuz, a Filipino janitor from Texas wowed us his countrymen from the Philippines with his special appearance at the grand finale of American Idol yesterday in Las Vegas. All his life, he could have never imagined this...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MAYFLOWER/545997"><title>MAY MEMOIRS - B.A.D. MOTHER : TO FELMA ON MOTHER'S DAY</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MAYFLOWER/545997</link><description>B. A. D. MOTHER "Jesus also was a wounded healer. Who could teach others about a mother’s pain, forgiveness and healing better than a wounded mother?” When I was barely 21, she gently held me by the arm and walked me solemnly to a quiet corner of a hospital. It was a cloudy afternoon in January...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MAYFLOWER/545014"><title>MAY MEMOIRS - After 32 years, the hankies gave him away...</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MAYFLOWER/545014</link><description>Hankies had never been as meaningful to me as today. A close friend, an ardent admirer for 32 years gave three beautiful pieces to me as a belated birthday gift. He came for a brief visit to condole with his older brother whose wife has passed away. All the hankies had dainty blue flower designs...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MAYFLOWER/544255"><title>MAY MEMOIRS - Meeting Herminia (A Heapful of Blessings for a Few Cents)</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MAYFLOWER/544255</link><description>I had the chance to meet this old woman, Herminia, as I was commuting to church last Sunday. Looking worn out from travel, obviously from some far away place, she signalled our cab driver to stop and give her a ride. The summer sun was almost halfway to the sky, and I understood why she chose to...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MAYFLOWER/543363"><title>May Memoirs - The First of May</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/MAYFLOWER/543363</link><description>First of May The first of May greeted me with warm bursts of sunshine and a promise of flowers. But deep inside me was sadness as confusing as it was terrifying. Believe me. For the first time in my life, I did not know how to cry. The day saw me crossing the Guimaras Strait, (the body of water...</description></item></rdf:RDF>