Here in Baguio, amidst the rains and bad weather, I lay in the bed and curling up, even if I am all alone inside the room, I love Baguio. I know that I am still recovering from flu, but the idea of going up north after my devotion to Our Lady Of Manaoag in Pangasinan is quite irresistible. Actually, the way going north was flooded, entire towns in Tarlac were submerged due to tropical depression named “Henry” (mind you, not a Filipino-sounding name and a male at that, I missed the days when storms and typhoons were named after females and ending in “-ing” due to, guess what, women are fickle-minded and have the tendency to change their minds instantly, so we had “Yoling”, “Rosing”, “Yeyeng”, “Tasing”). We had no choice but to take a detour in Nueva Ecija from Paniqui, Tarlac. It was morning and the sun was out, and I had a nice time sight-seeing and I didn’t know that Nueva Ecija could be so rustic, the scenes were rural and they were as if paintings immortalized by Fernando Amorsolo, green ricefields and mango groves against hilly backgrounds. Nueva Ecija’s topography is somewhat hilly since it sits at the foot of the Sierra Madre mountain range, so I saw rice fields akin to Banaue Rice Terraces, albeit in smaller scale. Old Spanish houses abound in Nueva Ecija, however, due to economic prosperity, I saw mansions amidst rice fields, and it disturbs me. How could we let go of our illustrious Spanish heritage and embraced modern-looking houses that is all cement and steel? The reason our old “bahay-na-bato” was designed was really for the Philippine climate, we see the ground floor to be made of stone to protect the harvest (what we call the “kamalig” or granary), and the living quarters are in the 2nd floor and elevated with wide windows (“ventanilla” or “bintana”) surrounding the whole house for proper ventilations and lighting. The roof is thatched and pyramid in design so that air could circulate all around the house. The same goes for the “bahay-kubo”, the ground floor serves as storage for the plow, housing for chickens, carabaos, horses and pigs and is open so that air could circulate, a staircase leads to the living quarters in the second floor. Airconditioning was totally unheard of in Hispanic as well as in “peacetime” (before the onset of World War II) even in the houses of the “ilustrados” or the landed.
When we reached Rosales, Pangasinan, they are still old Spanish house standing. Pangasinan was part of the diocese of Nueva Segovia in Spanish times, thus, the towns in Pangasinan are rich in Spanish heritage. You will encounter towns named Urdaneta, Villasis, and Carmen, Spanish-sounding indeed. During the 1991 earthquake, Dagupan was hardly-hit, it was found out that the whole of Pangasinan sits in a fragile and broken landmass, and the ground is suffering from “liquefication”, wherein seawater seeps in to the ground thus making it soft and prone to liquefy. I am amazed that buildings as high as six storey are rising in Urdaneta and Dagupan, as if the city engineer forgot about history.
Going to Manaoag is really something special for me. When I started my devotion to the Lady (“Manaoag” is pangalatok word that means “To call”), I believe that it is a very powerful devotion. I could see houses leading to Manaoag, whether old or spanking new, carrying plates with the achievements of the tenants. Most of them are R.N. (registered nurse), lawyers, engineers, and I even saw a house bearing a resident who is a criminologist. I am wondering if Nora Aunor grew up in Manaoag instead of Naga, will they put “Nora Villamayor, superstar” outside the house? Or Sharon Cuneta, megastar? Or Vilma Santos, star for all seasons? Melanie Marquez, Miss International? Gloria Diaz, Miss Universe? I doubt, because Filipinos give high regards to education, especially accomplishments in getting degrees, thus the term “titulado” or “may natapos”. A parent’s utmost dream for his offsprings is to finish college and get a degree, or moreover, to pass the board or bar examination. When I enrolled for my college course, I made sure that I didn’t have to take the board or bar after college, I could not take the idea of failing. And then I decided to take my master’s degree after ten years, and up to now, I haven’t started my thesis although I have completed the academic requirements, and when people ask me if I am done with my MBA, I sheepishly say, almost there.
Going back to Manaoag, I heard a lot about the devotion. When Agoo, La Union was the fad and Judiel was popular in the ‘90s, I didn’t take the trek to see the dancing sun. I am a Marian devotee since I was in high school and I used to pray the rosary daily, especially when I was in college, taking the Light Rail Transit (LRT) to school gave me the chance to finish the 5 mysteries. Now, I cannot even name the new Light mystery and since the Vatican totally changed the days to accommodate the Mystery of the Light, I do not say my rosary prayers anymore. I made up for this shortcoming by going to all my novenas, Mother Of Perpetual Help on Wednesdays, Sacred Heart Of Jesus on Fridays, and Sacred Heart Of Jesus and Mary on Saturdays, and of course, Holy Mass on Sundays, I admit that my novenas are bordering on “OA” syndrome, but you can’t blame me, after having my second lease on life and being jobless for sometime, I am fully amazed that my prayers are always granted, and I get to receive more that what I usually ask for. (please see my profile). And now, I am into Manaoag devotion, actually on my 8th month, I make sure that every first Fridays of the month will be devoted for driving all the way to Pangasinan, come rain or shine, whether I have a flu, just like the last time.
After Manaoag, Baguio is a mere 30 minutes away. So I renewed a monthly love affair with the City Of Pines. My first time to set foot in Baguio was while I was nursing a bad break-up 15 years ago. I have seen Baguio in those Sharon Cuneta movies, Friends In Love, Sa Hirap At Ginhawa, and Kapantay Ay Langit, and cheesy as it might sound, Baguio should not be called as Summer Capital but instead Love Capital Of The Philippines. I have dreamed of spending a weekend in Baguio with someone I truly love, and just laze around Camp John Hay, or pick strawberries in La Trinidad Valley. It is again the hopeless romantic in me affecting my better self, but love is a powerful and potent antidote to boredom, and I will drink more of it just to survive this life. I rather be in love than be depressed about not having a life. And Baguio will be one of my life’s greatest love, thanks to ukay-ukay, I will be looking for my latest conquest tomorrow, either his name is Marc Jacobs, J.P. Tod’s, Louis Vittoun, Miuccia Prada, and make love to my new (although used) bags.
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