Ying De University

The past I watched, now the present I walk.

It was 2003.

Days felt longer, but in the best way.
The world wasn’t in a rush—and neither were we.

Sundays were always for church. Wednesdays for Bible Study. And Saturdays at Manila Bay.
Picnics, waiting for sunset—felt like the sky didn’t want us to leave just yet.

Everyone knew Mahal Kong Maynila by heart.
And when Imbestigador switched in, we knew too—
time for bed, or snuck a bit from the kitchen.

Boom na Boom and the old Star City—our little dreamlands, full of laughter and litty.

To this day, I still hear the noise of Blumentritt Market—so alive, feels like life can’t be harsh yet
But then you’d walk into the Wildlife Center, and everything would go quiet—like the city’s whispered prayer.

Life every weekend was steady, vibrant, and full of magic.

And then there was Meteor Garden every weekday.

Our first heartbreak came with a dubbed voice and a school uniform.
Dao Ming Si’s stubborn love. Shan Cai’s quiet strength.
The drama and all the slow motions, made us all believe in big love—even if we didn’t get it just yet.

Rushing home after school just to catch it.
Singing along to Qing Fei De Yi, what was even it?

Standing at Ying De University feels surreal. Am I really here?

This is not just a dream of a fan.
This is the nostalgia of being a kid.
It is the old Manila. The calm streets of Quezon City. The simple, happy life.

Meteor Garden was never just a show.
It was a mirror—of how we loved, how we hoped, and how we grew up.
We didn’t just watch it.

We lived it.