With the pandemic clipping my feet from doing unnecessary leisurely travels, it did not completely restrict me from traveling. Here I am, traveling back in time - 13 years ago to be more precise, when my family and I visited the people and the places we loved so dearly, back to our home country.
As a sliver of hope of going back unto a sense of normalcy is remotely permeating amidst the pandemic, my strong itch to travel - long held and overdue, will soon get some scratching. Hopefully, soon!
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Almost 18 hours, across the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean, my family and I flew from Kansas City (Missouri) International Airport to the Philippine’s Ninoy Aquino International Airport (NAIA) in Manila on July 14, 2008. The three-leg flight was generally smooth except for the infrequent mild turbulence which shook the giant 777 as it neared through the International Date Line. Humdrum never occurred to us during the long flight, for excitement prevailed among us as the realization of a plan, four years in the making, unfolded. This was my family’s second trip to the Philippines after migrating to the United States almost nine years ago.
This
trip happened during the time, when oil prices caused frenzy twists and turns,
so to speak, to the global economy. I must admit, I don’t have that
wide-ranging comprehension about the stock market and the economic lingo, but
from what I see and hear, they all tell the same tale, the global economy is
storm-tossed. There is a Casey’s General Store just a stone’s throw away from
our Iowa house. It bleeds my heart, every time a store attendant changes the
oil price notice. For most of the time, the changes were going up.
Why
should I be bothered every time the oil prices go up? After all, I live in a
small Iowa town where everything is two minutes away. Work is less than a mile’s
walk. And so is my son’s school. The
only long drive I can think of is the once-every-six week’s visit to my son’s
orthodontist in Manhattan, Kansas, and a 30-minute round trip church visit on
Sundays. My concern, however, was not so much to myself but to my siblings,
relatives, friends and the millions of people who would suffer the most in my
old home town, the Philippines. I lived the first 39 years of my life in my old
home town and I witnessed how the increasing oil prices caused the domino of adverse
changes, eventually affecting mostly the marginalized mass (the masa), those whose names are forever
etched below the formidable poverty line. I was one of them, then.
So
this visit was so meaningful to me.
Quite
often, I heard my younger sister whine, how worse things have generally become
lately. Prices (goods, services) perpetually
kept jacking up. Our Manhattan friends, who recently visited the Philippines, echoed
similar sentiments and observations. And
from the news I read online about the Philippines, a bleak and gloomy scenario
was painted at the back of my mind, on what to expect during this visit to my
old home town.
It
was close to midnight when we deplaned at the NAIA. Coming out from the suction, a larger than
life (literally) poster of President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, is there to
welcome everyone. The slogan it bears ‘ ramdam
ang kaunlaran’ (progress is felt) tells everyone the progress her administration
brings to my old home town. I thought
this is just a cheap lip service. However,
as I walked through the airport, down to the immigration and customs checkpoints,
my attention was struck by the beautiful patches of bromeliads and other
interior plants decorating the walkway. A showcase of ‘modernity’ was
remarkably visible.
Typical
balikbayans as we are, we maximized the number of suitcases allowable by the
airline carriers for international travel, two per ticketed passenger at around
50 pounds per bag. These bags contained our personal belongings and a lot of
‘pasalubong’ for folks back home who’ve
been waiting for our long-awaited homecoming. Deboy and I had to wrestle with
these suitcases, as they were loaded to
the minivan in our Iowa garage, checking them in in the Kansas City airport and
now bringing them out from the NAIA shuttled to a nearby airport, NAIA2, where we waited
for our early morning domestic flight. NAIA2 is also known as the Centennial
Airport, so named because it was constructed during the Centennial Celebration
of the Philippine Independence in 1998. Whether it was the continuous adrenalin
rush (if it was) with the anticipation of seeing loved ones or just plain jet
lag, sleep never visited to all of us as we waited for NAIA2 to open and
allowed us to check in for our flight to Butuan City, in Mindanao. The new
airport facilities and amenities seemed even better and more impressive than
the NAIA. And it started to sink in me, that my old home town is now a little different
compared to nine or so years ago.
July
16th, Mainit, here we come! Mainit (Surigao del Norte) was our first
stop. The flight to Butuan, a little over an hour long, was smooth and
uneventful. Toto, with his minivan, was
already in the Butuan airport waiting to pick us up. After loading up, this
time with the airport guys wrestling the suitcases for us, it took about two
hours to finally get to Mainit. On our way, we dropped by Kitcharao to pick up
fruits sold in a regular ‘tabo’ (flea market), fruits which we longed to feast
on in this visit; bananas, jackfruit and even avocado. Inside the wet market, I
was so amused to see all kinds of vegetables, fruits and fish, and how cheap
they were.
After
all the hugs, kisses and welcomes, we settled for our breakfast. Deboy concentrated
on the ‘mighty meaty hotdog’, his favorite before we left for the US. Aiai,
Bing and I savored the variety of food set before us: paksiw na isda, fried
dried pijanga, suman, and all. What a sumptuous way to start a great vacation.
For
the ten days spent in Mainit, we got the much needed rest to restore our normal
rhythm. All these days, we got invitations from relatives (aunties and uncles),
treating us with local delicacies, seafoods ( fish, shrimps and crabs) and not
to mention lechon. Except for Deboy who probably has the fastest metabolism,
the three of us started to feel a couple of pounds heavier.
It
was really great to be in Mainit again.
Many things have changed. Not much for Papa Cesar, though, except for
the usual signs of biological ‘wear and tear’ associated with ageing. For Mama
Alice, she always is the woman who has a ‘mind over the body’ outlook. She
continues to circumvent some health-related issues which try to pin her down. It
was fun meeting with the ever active IggieBoy for the first time in person, and
seeing Nina, Bimbay, Isay and Mikay growing up so fast. And Justin, too. This
makes Aiai feel old. While in Mainit,
Aiai seemed to have the time of her life, enjoying the company of her cousins
and with her seemingly favorite auntie Malou. Deboy, on the other hand, hoped
for a visit from cousin Anthony.
On
our last day in Mainit, Bing’s batchmate (Mainit High School class of 1975)
initiated an informal reunion. It was held in Michael’s ‘basakan’ resort. It
was fun witnessing her (Bing) reminiscing the good-old-high-school days with
former classmates, some them she never saw for years. Also, on this day, three
of my siblings (Manong Nestor and wife Maribel, Inse Myrna and Berse) came all
the way from my hometown in Plaridel, with a minivan to pick us up.
July
26. Next stop is Tipolo. We left Mainit
with the anticipation of seeing them (Papa, Mama and everybody) them again in
Davao after a couple of weeks. The goodbyes were, therefore, for now. The drive to Tipolo, about 11 hours long, is
about the same time we flew from Chicago to Tokyo. This land trip, however, was
more of an ordeal. The air conditioner in the van was not working, and there
was not enough legroom for such a long journey.
Arriving
in Tipolo at about 8 in the evening, we were met by a huge gathering of
relatives and siblings up on our hilltop house. Uray Nora, as she usually did
in the past, prepared the welcome home banner for us. Nanay, ever emotional as always, gave all us four a big hug. The mood was
celebratory. The day’s ordeal during the long trip was overcast by the
excitement. A sumptuous dinner ensued.
Our
nine-day stint in Tipolo was interrupted by a midweek overnight trip (July
30-31) to Iligan City when we visited MSU-IIT where I gave a lecture, and
attended to some errands. While in Tipolo, it was Deboy who got the best time
of his vacation, being in the company of his four cousins (Erledd from
Zamboanga who was absent from school for over a week, JR, Tope and Lemuel). They
formed a five-man basketball team, playing around wherever they had the chance.
Nanay
really wanted to see her three boys (Manong Nestor, Ingko Eddie and myself) be
together once again. However, it was just physically impossible. Nevertheless,
I got the chance to see all my siblings, except for Tata Annabel who is in
Canada. In catching up with our lives, I was glad to know the developments in
my siblings’ careers. It delighted me to think that eight of us, all ended up
in a teaching job. Manong Nestor, a chief mate license holder, has been
teaching in college for awhile now. Then, joining us lately is Ingko Eddie who,
after retiring from Magnolia Nestle as an accountant, started a teaching career in the Universidad
de Zamboanga.
One
day, while at work as head teacher in an elementary school Berse, got a text
message from Tia Lourdes (Indit). Years ago, Tia was diagnosed to have certain
cancer. But I learned later that her cancer was in remission. I did not hear from her since then, until I
was in Tipolo. I just learned Tio Gorio, her husband, died less than a year
ago, and at this time, she got bone cancer.
That she was really sick. When Berse told me about Tia’s text message, I
wasted no time and right away, Manong Nestor and I left for Tudela, about an
hour’s drive away, picking up Berse on the way to visit her. To me, it was a
painful experience seeing a beloved Tia so wasted and dying. While talking to
her, her mind was still very sharp. But all I could in see were bones and skin.
I could feel the pain she endured especially as she was in intense pain when she ran out of
pain reliever the day before. This had prompted her to contact Berse in trying
to reach me. Seeing Tia, I thought the nine days’ worth of Tramadol (a pain
reliever) I bought for her from a local pharmacy would be enough to see her go.
I have never seen a dying person before. And I was almost right. Berse told me
that Tia Indit passed away by the end of August.
When
plans for this travel were finalized in March, I sent a word to my high school
batchmates inviting them to an informal gathering. A class reunion was held on
August 3 in Usocan (Plaridel, Misamis Occidental). This reunion gave us the opportunity to
update another since we last met in November of 2002, and meet other batch
mates we never saw after graduating from high school, 31 years ago.
August
4th, 4:30 in the morning, we left Tipolo for Dipolog City airport,
to catch an early morning flight to Cebu City. Before our van left, siblings
and relatives gathered around this early morning, many of them teary- eyed
expressing their emotions that come with the
farewells and goodbyes. Sending
us off to the airport were Berse and Uray Nora, who both took a leave of
absence from their work in the morning.
In less than an
hour, we were in Cebu to continue with our vacation on the graciousness of the
Chang family (Pinky and Winglip; Anthony and Xacah). We were treated an overnight stay in Fort Club Med, a beach resort in Boljoon,
in the southern part of Cebu island and just
a couple of hour’s drive from Cebu City. The resort was short of extraordinary,
but so relaxing to both the body and the mind. The sounds of the waves as they
hit the shore, the sight of the ocean spotted with islands and boats and the
smell of fresh air rubbing our sun-dried skin, gave me the wonderful feeling of
being so close to nature while I was hanging idly on a hammock waiting to get
an afternoon nap. Back to the cottage,
Bing and Aiai were busy chatting with Pinky catching up; Deboy indulged himself dipping in the swimming
pool all the time, while Winglip and Anthony were out there diving to explore the beauty of the forest deep below
the sea.
It is highly remarkable the island’s rugged
coastline is dotted with beautiful beach resorts and hotels, serving both local
and foreign tourists. Many of these investments were developed recently by local
families, whose member or members are either working overseas or married to
foreign nationals. On our way, we climbed the Baluarte Granada (am not sure the
exact name now) and explored around this beauty of this fine resort hotel.
Also, we stopped by the Boljoon Archaeological Museum inside the Boljoon
Church, one of the oldest churches in
Cebu.
From Boljoon, we
hurried to Tong’s all Filipino buffet restaurant for a dinner with the Gador
family. Our visit here in Cebu City was very short. Inviting the Gadors (Tia
Vising, Homer and family, Dante and family) to a dinner was the best way to see
them all. We also invited Tio Loloy and family but they were not able to make
it for a reason.
August 7th,
we left Cebu wishing we could have stayed longer. In an hour, we found ourselves in Davao City,
joining Papa and Mama and a big Mainit contingent, in town to grace the house
blessing of Boy Cesar and Helen. In Davao, the fun (and our vacation) continues
as we proceeded to the Paradise Island Resort Hotel for an overnight stay,
courtesy of Boy Cesar. The house blessing took place after we got back from the
island hotel overnight stay.
There was one
thing that Aiai missed a lot since we got back to the Philippines….. shopping.
While in Surigao, Aiai was always with her auntie Malou in almost all her
out-of-town trips and she never went home empty handed. This is because she
just loves to shop. Now, the day after the house blessing, we went out to the mall
to shop. And more shopping the following day, as the mainit contingent were
heading back home. The night before we left Davao, Boy and Helen treated us for
a dinner in a mountaintop restaurant (Jack???) where it gave us a beautiful
view of Davao City.
On the final
league of our travel, we spent a couple of days in Manila en route to the US. The
plane which brought us from Davao City landed in NAIA 3 in Manila, a new
airport inaugurated and opened just days earlier. The construction of another
airport simply hit me rock bottom.
Truly, ramdam ang kaunlaran! Aiai did not miss to visit the Mall of Asia
which is just so huge. August 12, we visited the Manzo family in Fairview,
Quezon City. We got the chance to see a couple of Manhattanite friends, Mario
Andrada and Myrene Aguirre. Of course we spend a lot of time chatting with the
Manzos, catching up on many things. We were thankful to Mrs. Norma Nunez (Grace
Mamolo’s mom) for accommodating us in their home. It was so nice to know more
about her.
And it was time
for us to go. August 14, 2008; 5:30 in the morning, we headed to the NAIA to
catch the first leg of our flight back to the US. All of us seemed exhausted
with some relief that the vacation is over. The 19 or so hours gave us the much
needed rest, after all the hustles and bustles of the vacation long planned. We
were back with fresh memories of a happy visit to dear relatives and friends. We’re
sure; our folks back home were delighted to us, too.
While
in the province, I was awed to find internet cafés mushrooming in many remote
towns. These towns wired to the information superhighway, was to me, really unthinkable. Everywhere, a tale of two
stories can be easily told by the people’s abodes. Well-designed modern houses sandwich shanties and lowly huts, the
former implies someone in the family is either working overseas or is married
to a foreign national. More good looking modern houses are constructed as a consequence of many Filipinos getting jobs
overseas.
The
significant telltales of progress did not necessarily obscure the grim reality
that millions of Filipinos are still cramped below the poverty demarcation.
Slums and shanties are still in existence. En route to the Fort Club Med, we
drove by the South Reclamation Project in Cebu City where the experience was like
driving in a US interstate. However, this near-perfect scenario is disrupted by
unsightly shacks and shanties sitting on the reclaimed area. Homeless urchins are still out there begging
in the streets. Poverty, like cancer, remains an incurable social disease
inflicting a lot of people. But all these were already in existence since
history, and will continue to exist, no matter how high the gas prices would
soar in the future.
Witnessing
contrary to my expectations, I was back
to the US one month after, with a bright new perspective about my old home town.
It is not that bad, after all.
When is the next visit to the Philippines? Who knows? It might be sooner that thought.
