BAND AID MOMENT IN BAGUIO CITY There was a time when one goes up north to Baguio City to rest and recharge. Today, it just might leave you feeling ‘low-batt’, to borrow a cellphone terminology or take the load off your wallet if you spend too much. But make no mistake about it. Baguio is still majestic. Its landscape and the remaining patches of pine trees and flower gardens continue to evoke romantic memories and joyous summer adventures. The December chill that permeates within Baguio’s pine-scented breeze will always linger just as long as the memory of each visit could last. What happened? I wondered out loud after having just spent five (5) days before Christmas Day at the City of Pines. I can’t help but compare the summer capital with the nation’s capital with the common denominator in both not being exactly the most flattering. The traffic situation in downtown Baguio City has reached familiar catastrophic levels. Last Sunday afternoon, four days before Christmas while it was drizzling and the weekend crowd gathered to brave the cold damp weather, we found ourselves stuck in traffic going up to fog-covered Lourdes Grotto. Motorists were stranded along the narrow streets leading to the uphill shrine of the Blessed Virgin Mary, forcing the pilgrims to walk through the moist, slippery and muddy trails, and making it more difficult climbing up the three-hundred or so steps to the summit. It makes even harder preparing oneself for what is expected to be a spiritual experience once you get besiege by a swarm of street vendors at every turn, trying to ram their overpriced merchandise down your throat. Children beg for coins. When the drizzle got a little bit heavier some enterprising sidewalk vendors offered their umbrellas for rent at thirty pesos each, for one-time use only during the climb. I thought these vendors need to be reminded of the lessons in Christian kindness and wondered if they still see the shrine as something holy that deserves their respect. It’s all profit that they seemed to care about. My wife Arlene and the kids proceeded to walk up to the summit while I decided to stay behind to keep Nanay Luming, my 86 year old mother company at the foot of the shrine because she can’t make it any higher than a few steps up, with her advanced age. Besides I had double-parked and wouldn’t want to risk the ire of the persons whose cars I had blocked on a holy place like this. Nanay and I waited two hours and during those idle moments, I thought I had done as much reflection, maybe even more so, as did every person in the crowd that ascended into the shrine. My musings went from feelings of joy and guilt to regret and exasperation. First, I thought about my mother; about being old. I realized that for all her pretension of self-assurance, all that persistent and stubborn attitude to do things her way, she must know and likely despised being rendered completely dependent on us and having to constantly call our attention to tend to her needs for the remainder of her life. At 86, a human being reverts into the cycle of turning back to a helpless child-like stage when the simple act of walking or going to the comfort room is almost a monumental task. Suddenly I dread the passing thought that she might feel like taking a pee right here right now when there is no such place to relive herself anywhere I look around. Baguio City is not very friendly to the old folks and does not seem to give any thought of their simple conveniences. The city sidewalks have no ramps on the gutter to accommodate wheel chairs, I had to ask strangers most of the time to help me lift Nanay on her wheelchair if I needed to put her on the sidewalk or to move her across the pedestrian island to the next lane. The fingernail on my right pinky toe is bleeding and beginning to swell after being accidentally pinned under the wheel. There were just too many street kids which makes me wonder where their parents are and what are they doing. One group started belting out a Christmas carol as soon as they saw me and wouldn’t quit until I put coins to every open palm thrust at my face. And then another group came. I really don’t mind except that when all the loose change I had were already given away, I had no choice but to tell the others politely “Sorry but please stop, I have nothing more to give you”. And then they gave me the look. As in all the other major cities, garbage and pollution are a grave concern. Parks are littered with discarded plastic, food wrappings, cigarette butts, and all imaginable trash thrown indiscriminately by people who probably stopped caring since the government itself does not seem to show any resolve to clean up the city anyway. People normally take the cue from the authorities on the matter of cleanliness and sanitation. If they see that efforts are undertaken to implement a system of garbage collection and disposal most of the people can be reasonably expected to cooperate in making it work but since no signs would show any organized and sustained initiative to completely get rid of trash, everybody adapts to a general attitude of apathy and put their litter anywhere without guilt. I guess it’s normal human reaction that when they see a place so squeaky clean, or at least, some serious effort is happening to keep it garbage-free, people would have a second thought about throwing their trash anywhere. If on the other hand, they see the surroundings being so dirty to begin with, they would probably treat the whole environment as a dumping ground free to accommodate all the garbage they can throw. At Mine’s View, the vendors have practically taken over what was once considered a must-see stopover in every visiting tourist’s itinerary. Unless it is really your first time to get there or if you genuinely enjoy haggling with every ambulant vendor you find - an activity which could nonetheless be performed anywhere you go in the city – you might want to skip this part of the trip. The place seemed to be always teeming with humanity. The view from above from the cliff’s edge, in case you managed to summon enough energy to reach up to that point is not worth the effort it takes to get there by jostling with the crowd and sitting idly through traffic gridlocks that you will surely encounter along the way. There was a time Mine’s view was a truly a panoramic treat, a feast for the eye with sights that inspire but that was before modernization set foot on this part of the earth like the ruthless conqueror with a mind for destruction. Today, between the blue skies and stretches of greeneries, there are also the usual eyesores that vie for attention like the rooftops of shanties and bald patches of land from unbridled deforestation. This widespread commercial exploitation does not distinguish between humans and animals. A pony gets spruced up with sunglasses and pink-dyed mane and a St. Bernard dog is made to sit on the bench all day both waiting for gullible photograph-seekers who don’t mind throwing money for a selfie shot with the animals. It wasn’t really the fault of the dog but the fifty pesos that his handlers charge tourists for two poses is downright highway robbery and the worst insult to every honest working man and his family who live on minimum wage while a St. Bernard dog is paid fifty pesos for a few seconds of picture-taking work. Again, I wondered where is justice here and why are the authorities turning a blind eye to this broad daylight scam? If there is one last saving grace left that had to be singled out, I would say it’s still the people in general – the good people comprising the great majority of the general population – that makes Baguio City an endearing place to spend family bonding time and celebrate the merriest of Christmas moments. Here you can talk to strangers and they appear genuinely happy to reciprocate your attention. They willingly share stories, and a few good laughs, offer food to you if by chance you see them eating quietly in a corner, and almost without fail, they don’t just point at where you should go when you go around asking for direction. Of the five people I randomly asked, let’s just say it’s an experiment, all five of them dropped whatever they were doing without any qualms just to walk me to the right direction until they made sure I would find my way. And finally here’s one for the books. Later on, when I was asking around for the nearest drug store to buy band aid for my injured pinky toe this man suddenly pulled out a first aid kit from nowhere and gave me not one but two of them and then disappeared without practically giving me a chance to say thank you. I had used only one of them but I am keeping the remaining band aid in my wallet as a reminder of that selfless act of kindness if only to compel myself to do the same thing if someday fate should put me in a position to reprise the moment this time as the person giving help to somebody who needs it. My experience in this Christmas visit to Baguio City confirms my sentiment that our flawed social structure as a people will remain this way for as long as we have this unusual level of kindness and tolerance to a fault. For as long as we don’t have the heart to complain and would rather suffer in silence. Whether it is a good thing or bad, I’d rather not dwell as much on a question of this sort, especially now that everyone is feeling light-hearted and happy. Let time show the answer to me while I relish this amazing happy feeling that only this unique Christmas experience can bring. Merry Christmas. Baguio Before Christmas Dec. 24, 2014 7:07 am (at home)
Posted on: Tue, 23 Dec 2014 22:55:55 +0000
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