How Baguio wants to be remembered

My former SLU psych professor, Fr. Evarist Verlinden, once showed us a beautifully (and painstakingly) carved 1-piece Belen (with complete characters!). We all agreed that it was really very beautiful work of art.

Then he ranted that the carvers of Baguio and Benguet should instead put the pieces of wood to good use like making an art piece like the Belen he showed us, instead of those nasty wood carvings sold in the market.

When I was a kid, one of the popular Baguio souvenirs was an Igorot in a barrel, whose sex organ would pop out once you lift out the barrel. It was more or less, funny.

In the late 80s, wood carvers became more daring by carving the almost exact replica of the male sex organ with its size more than the normal. It was no longer funny. It was obnoxious, and it was too shameful for somebody to buy one as a souvenir.

Now, perhaps, with the low sales from those pieces, the male phallic symbol is smaller and more discreet. However, it has been "mass-produced" by making the penis "more affordable" through key chains!

Now, I wonder, "Is this how Baguio wants to be remembered?"

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Baguio vignettes

(Note: I wrote this sometime in 2004).

Anything about Baguio is good and beautiful to me.

Why? I grew up there as a person. I studied there for 4 years and worked for another 2 years. Despite some heartaches and difficulties, Baguio has a special place in my heart. I do not know exactly the reason why I would never, ever forget Baguio! That is why it was hard for me to leave Baguio in 1991. Had it not for a career change, I would never leave Baguio. In fact I even had a pajama send-off party with two of my girlfriends (dahil kami na lang ang natitira sa barkada that time), and there I had to let go of my favorite cardigan and my fluffy white mufflers to each of them, and going home at 6 am, practically chilled! Who would not? That was January and the coldest month of the year!. Anyway, we slouched in the attic and ate cookies, baked spaghetti with lotsa mozzarella cheese as toppings, barbecue, and soda courtesy of my girlfriends. We talked till the wee hours in the morning—about our present lives then, our plans in the near future, and what we would become in our respective careers, and many more! This reminds me of the conversations of 3 young professionals inside the bus on my way home. Just like us then, they were 3—one guy and 2 ladies, saying parting words because the 2 ladies are going abroad, and they also wondered if they would still see each other again. Well, that scenario made me smile but at the same time made me sentimental again that drove me this afternoon to email my girlfriends abroad and my buddy here in Manila—telling them I terribly miss them. (And I almost cried while writing that email!).

Looking back in time, and seeing the present is always my favorite pastime, which is a form of therapy to me. Dreaming about the future is something I always look forward to—everyday in my life. And having the chance to dream about my future empowers me to take control of my life.

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BACK TO: INKBLOTS' PSYCHE

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Of Maryhurst, flowers and drizzles

IN MY BAGUIO sojourn, there are three things I wish I could still have in my life here in Manila. Those who lived in Baguio would certainly agree with me, 100%. These include my unforgettable and treasured memories of Maryhurst garden, the flowers of Baguio and indolent weekend strolls amidst the afternoon drizzles.

When I went to Baguio recently, I have reminisced about the good life I once had while in Baguio. With nothing to do during weekends, and with depression creeping in after college, I spent weekend afternoons with long walks while contemplating about my work, thinking about the ‘could-have-beens’ about many things, and life as a whole. I just love the drizzles slowly wetting my skin. This experience made me shiver in cold but I just loved the way these tiny drops fell on my face. The cool wind that comes with it just made me so refreshed and relieved of loneliness and fatigue after a week of work and studies. Starting from Session Road, down to Leonard Wood Road, up to Gibraltar, I end up at the Mines View Park and stare at the endless Antamok ranges. On many occasions, I would go to Camp John Hay just walking and enjoy the cool pine scent, the humming of the wind and sprawling greens that sometimes I found myself lying on the dried pine needles, and catch a nap afterwards.

One of my favorite destinations in my long walks is Maryhurst Garden. For those who do not know the place, you take Villamor Street, which is the road on the right facing Mansion House. Further down, you arrive at an intersection and you take the road to the right. Approximately 500-600 meters is the Maryhurst Seminary, which owns the place. The gardens start right at the gate. However, I regret that nowadays, outsiders are no longer welcome after they closed it to the public.

Maryhurst was and still is a very special place for me. Right at the gate, you could already smell fragrance! It was a point in my life that I said I have known and felt how it was to be in paradise. I could not recall the exact scent, but definitely, it is a mixture of lavender, roses, and other sweet smelling flowers. And I am not boasting if I would say Maryhurst was a natural perfumery.

When the seminary was ravaged by fire in 1990, I felt so bad that I thought my good memories of Maryhurst have also turned into ash. Since the time it was closed to the public, I have never been to the place. Honestly, I felt that it was a good decision for the CICM priests to close the garden. Why? First, I would no longer have the reason why I should go there and relive the past, and second, Maryhurst, which was a very wholesome place, was transformed into a day motel by some lovers who had their sexual trysts done in broad daylight. How could some lovers be so indiscriminate that they have not respected the place, which is, in fact, a seminary? I guess, this is the main reason why they closed my favorite garden.

I do not know if Maryhurst Seminary still has its beautiful garden. Like the Camp John Hay, which was stripped off its historical value, perhaps Maryhurst, too has also changed tremendously! But I would say that those who had been to the place would agree with me. It was a place for reflection, for clean fun, for clean love, and for peace of mind.

Priceless! That is how I would describe Maryhurst garden now. Even the memories that come with it will always be treasured. It was the place where I literally stopped from the daily grind and smelled the flowers! Nowadays, Baguio seems very crowded and Baguio now is no longer what I have experienced it to be.

Places, people, and things change. The face of Baguio has transformed a lot after 18 years. I may no longer see the same people whom I have befriended. Perhaps, they might have forgotten me, or I have forgotten them, except for that kind of familiarity that make you smile when you meet them again along Session Road. But what is important to me is what Baguio would offer me when I go back and say hello to my old friends. I have a treasure with me, that is-- the memories of Baguio, and the people I have related with. And that treasure will always be kept in my chest of memories. It will not burn down just like Maryhurst, nor change like the Camp John Hay (and I still call it by its real name and not exchange it with ‘adulterated’ Club John Hay!). And I am writing it now and sharing with you these treasures so you could also partake in the love, peace and calm I once savored in my young life.

My recent trips to Baguio made me wish I could spend time walking again in the afternoon drizzles.

BACK TO: INKBLOTS' PSYCHE

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