I’ve always had a different reason to celebrate Cinco de Mayo, mostly because I am neither Mexican nor American. I was born on the fifth of May 1987, which makes today my 28th birthday. Around this time last year I was inside a car with the whole family, going down to Manila from a three-day stay in Baguio. Twenty-seven was a bit of a roller-coaster ride – the first half was filled with travels and lavish spending, while the second half was mostly made up of me trying to undo the damage I’ve done to my savings. I’d like to…
