"This album is not about leaving. It is about what you carry when you do — and what finds you when you finally stop running."
Poppet Celdrán · Ho Chi Minh City, 2026
She said "isa pa lang taon" — just one more year. That was five years ago. Every time she almost bought the ticket, something held her back. A contract. A goal. A quiet surrender. Now it's 11pm and nanay's message glows on the screen: "Kailan ka uuwi?" She has no answer. This song is for everyone whose temporary plan quietly became a life.
"Miss na kita, Ma. Sandali na lang."He packed everything he could not say into a brown box — Spam, Chips Ahoy, a Jollibee keychain for his niece. The box arrived before he did. It always does. This is a love song to the balikbayan box: the vessel that carries your love home even when you cannot go yourself. You send your hands. You send your warmth. You stay.
"Nandito na ang padala. Kailan ka naman darating?"It is 3am in Manila and 8pm in Riyadh and they are trying to hold a relationship together across five time zones. The call keeps dropping. The words keep coming out wrong. Distance doesn't just separate people — it slowly makes them strangers. This is for the couple trying to love each other through a screen.
"Okay ka lang? Okay naman. Okay."The only song on the album told from home — not from abroad. This is the mother watching rain hit the window, thinking of her son. She doesn't call because she doesn't want him to hear her cry. He doesn't call because he doesn't want her to worry. The silence between them is the loudest sound on the album.
"Umuulan dito, anak. Kumusta ka na ba?"Nobody says "I'm not okay" in the group chat. Instead they post memes, ask for referrals, and celebrate birthdays with 🎉🎉🎉. But sometimes someone sends a voice note at midnight — and that's when you know. This song is the unspoken letter inside every diaspora group chat: the longing nobody names, but everyone carries.
"Seen. 11:47pm."This is where the album breathes again. Home isn't a place anymore — it's wherever you find your community. A sari-sari store in a foreign city. A Filipino seller who knows exactly what you're craving. The moment you stop looking for the Philippines and realize it was always right there, in the people around you. Kahit saan ka naroroon — SariKo.
"Sari-sari ko 'to. This is mine. This is ours."After all the homesickness, the 3am calls, the unopened balikbayan boxes — there is this: a table full of pagkain, karaoke at full blast, and the kind of laughter that only happens when Filipinos find each other far from home. This is that night. This is what we were working toward.
"Kumanta ka! Hawak mo 'yung mic!"The countdown is in days. The bags are packed. There is an electricity to this — the airport anticipation, the Manila traffic you suddenly don't mind, the moment nanay opens the door and you don't have to explain anything because she already knows. You made it. You came back. Uwi na tayo.
"Pababa na ng eroplano. Nandoon na ako."Proud. Tired. Resilient. Filipino. He's been everywhere — the Gulf, Europe, Southeast Asia — and everywhere he goes, he carries the flag quietly in his chest. Not bragging. Just knowing. This is the OFW's quiet declaration of identity: we are not just workers. We are the world's most tenacious people.
"Pilipino po ako. At proud na proud."The diaspora doesn't scatter — it multiplies. Every Filipino abroad is a node in the same network. You are not alone in Dubai, in London, in Ho Chi Minh City. We may be far from home but we built something together. Something real. Something ours. This is our celebration. Sama-sama tayong nakarating dito.
"Hindi tayo nag-iisa. Hindi tayo kailanman."
Poppet Celdrán is a Filipino entrepreneur, storyteller,
and founder based in Ho Chi Minh City. He has spent over three decades
building businesses across Southeast Asia — in Vietnam, the Philippines,
and Cambodia — while carrying the same quiet longing that defines this album.
Longing Celebrations is his first full-length album as a recording artist.
It was written not in a studio, but in airports, apartment windows, and the long
silence between calls home. The music is for every Filipino who has ever stood
somewhere far away and felt, suddenly, undeniably — Filipino.
"Sari-sari ko 'to" — this is my friendly neighborhood convenience store.
SariKo is the commerce platform the Filipino diaspora has always needed:
a curated marketplace connecting verified Filipino sellers with diaspora buyers
worldwide, starting in Ho Chi Minh City.
This album is SariKo's cultural heartbeat. The longing in Side A is the reason
SariKo was built. The celebration in Side B is what it delivers.