A Lethargic Kind Of Life

"How can you live in a place like this?", a friend visiting me in Lianga once asked me while incredulously shaking his head. "Nothing happens here!" I made no comment because If I told him why he would probably not understand my reasons or worse, not believe them.

The fact is a lot of things happen in Lianga but they happen at a much slower pace than the frenetic and almost manic tempo of life in the cities and more urbanized environments. And that fact, depending on your own particular viewpoint and perspective, can be both a blessing and a curse.

Take Barobo for example. This town just fifteen kilomenters southwest of Lianga is a beehive of activity at almost all hours of the day. The streets are always buzzing with people, both local residents and visitors, rushing about their business. The main street is often choked with all kinds of vehicles and the public market is most often awash with shoppers and bystanders.

Lianga, on the other hand, is almost like a ghost town in comparison. The pictures here were taken in the middle of the day yet the streets look almost deserted. Unnerving and even almost surrealistic if you are not used to it.

Yet it is this desolate and lethargic quality that give the town its own unique charm. For in Lianga, time seems to move at a more sedate pace and the hustle and bustle of the city has no place or relevance. It is a place that encourages rest, meditation and the soothing of souls scarred and wearied by the demands of lives lived in the fast lane.

I have lived in Lianga for more than a decade and in many ways I have come to live with and even appreciate its rural and rustic character. There are those, of course, who may not share the same view.

But Lianga has always been what it is. Like an obnoxious, stubborn and aged crone, it placidly goes on and limps on resolutely and with nary a care or thought for the views and opinions of the outside world.

Come to think of it, why should it care though? It may be slow, old and decrepit but it is also tenacious and stubborn, clinging to life and existence with the dogged persistence of someone who does not know better.

That has always beens its greatest virtue.

Boiling Hot

After being away from Lianga for a week or so and after sweating through the heat and congestion of the city, I came home with the expectation of finally being, once again, to be able to sinfully enjoy the coolness and tranquility of life in this rustic town by the sea. I was, however, destined to be sorely disappointed.

For if there is one thing that is a physically draining constant in Lianga these days, it is the persistent heat, the blazingly hot sun in the midst of cloudless skies and the lack of even a hint of refreshing rain. It is as if the town is in the middle of a long, hot and unending summer.

There are, of course, those who rejoice in the rainless and swelteringly warm days that follow one after the other. The local beaches are full of their breed and you can see them frolicking in the waves or running half naked or scantily clothed across the sunbaked sand.

I, personally, have no objection to hot and parched days like the ones we in Lianga are having now. But too much of this good thing can be.....well....a bit too much.

Would it be too much to ask if we here can have today or tomorrow or even for just an hour or so the drenching goodness of a good and hard rain shower? Even just a teeny tiny bit of rain would be nice if we can have one. Please?

In the meantime though Lianga swelters and perspires while air conditioners and electric fans hum and rattle all day long. Yet whatever the delicious relief from the remorseless heat they offer is merely temporary and costly as well.

What is needed is needed is a good rain. And yet from what I see from outside my window, that is something that may be no more than, on my part, wishful thinking.

A Thousand Apologies

It has been more than a month since I updated this blog. That fact is unprecedented since I started it over a year ago.

The fact is that living in a remote town like Lianga also means that when your computer and your access to the Internet runs into problems of the serious technical kind, it is well......really serious and, of course, takes time to remedy.

I just came home from a short trip about four weeks ago and when I tried to get online all I got were error messages and eventually a system crash. Probably just my old and trusty CPU finally saying adios and goodbye after months and months of hard work and gaming abuse.

That and other more pressing matters have made me neglect this blog and that is something I deeply regret. For this blog has become so much a part of my life nowadays and I have no intention to abandon it nor set aside and the satisfaction and fulfillment I have felt at sticking to the task of nursing it for over a year already.

So to those who have been wondering where I am and why this blog has been seemingly left forlorn, please accept my abject apologies.

I am back and I intend to be back for good.

Hiatus

Starting tomorrow I will be going on a short trip. That means that I many not be able to add new posts to this blog for the next couple of days.

That is something I regret very much for this blog is has become so much a part of my life that the inability to update it at least once a week is something that bothers me in the same way that an itch in a spot on my back that I can't reach to scratch disturbs me to no end.

But there are journeys that have to undertaken that take precedence over most of the ordinary things we do in our life. They are essential in the sense that they happen as a consequence of milestones, or crossroads if you will, that come in our lives.

The outcome of this journeys often determine the future course of our existence. That is why they are so important and must be completed at the soonest possible time.

I will be adding new posts to this blog as soon as I get back so I beg the understanding and patience of those who have been reading this blog and waiting for updates.

See you all when I get back.

Coming Home

Jojo, our eldest brother, left the Philippines for the United States in 1986. There he got married, had children and settled down.

Since then he has been able to return to the country only twice. The first one was in 1992 when he first brought his family here for a short visit. The second homecoming was a sad one and took place in 1996 when he and his wife had to rush here attend Papa's funeral.

Today he and his family, after an absence of almost eleven years, will be in Lianga. It will be their first visit here since our father passed away over a decade ago and Mama and the rest of our family are frantic with the preparations for the event.

I have often wondered how it would feel to be in his shoes when he finally sets foot again in this town.

To come back, after more than a decade of absence, to a place you once had called your home. To see again the familiar sights, once so vivid in your mind, and smell, hear and touch once more the lingering and hauntingly familiar scents, sounds and textures of an old life. To come face to face with the faces of the past and rekindle old memories of the things that were.

What does one feel?

Would there be pure and simple exhilaration made more meaningfully joyous by the sense of getting in touch again with one's roots and the origins of one's existence? The satisfaction of returning or coming back to where one's life began, a pilgrimage of remembrance of sorts?

Or would there be a sense of angst there? Of celebration tinged by the vaguely somber colors and memories of things that remained uncompleted, unfinished business and matters that have to be done or undone.

It has been said that returning home after a long absence is like gazing at yourself full length on a magic mirror. In it you see yourself not as you are today but the blurry image of the person you once were.

But the image is still only a reflection of your present self and a pseudo reality distorted by the doubts, fears and anxieties of the person you are today. You only see what you expect to see and what you see is often only half true.

One returns home not only to try to recapture the memories of the past but, more importantly, to understand the present by confronting the incertitudes we have left behind. It is not just about getting in touch again with one's roots but more of determining and understanding how we have come to be what we are by coming to grips with the events and circumstances that have shaped us into what we have become.

So a journey home from places far away is always a voyage of discovery, understanding and acceptance. It is also a pilgrimage of sorts, the kind a religious man makes at least once but often many times in his life to sacred places and shrines.

For to do it properly one's life comes to a full circle every time and what is incomplete in his life becomes more whole again. Each time.

Street Talk

One of the things I often see in Lianga are groups of people, often all male but sometimes females included as well, sitting on plastic chairs or lawn furniture while occupying portions of the town streets and alleyways. This is a rather common sight in the early part of the morning and the late afternoon until the early evening.

In the middle of this impromptu gatherings is almost often a small table with food, beer or liquor bottles. But all that is often merely an accompaniment to the main dish or raison d'être for these informal gatherings. For these are venues and occasions for talk, laughter and bombast. And plenty of them too.

These gatherings come together simply from force of habit or simply by a spontaneous meeting of the minds. One or two or all simply generously contribute and provide the food and drinks and suddenly the party is on. The momentum gathers and the informal grouping catches fire and simply feeds on itself. It can last for hours and may end up only late at night or even the next morning and with all the participants stumbling home thoroughly besotted not only by copious amounts of alcohol but also by all the loud talk and claptrap.

I have joined many of these gatherings myself and I am always amazed at the variety of topics that come under discussion. Major political and social issues are, of course, perennial favorites but almost anything under the sun can come under scrutiny. And the talk, as time passes and the amount of alcohol available decreases, always becomes more spirited and inspired.

There is debate, ingenious and skilled repartee and argumentation that would rise to great heights and rival that of the floor of any legislature or courtroom in the world. The problem is nobody takes note of them and recalling what happened the day after while nursing a painful hangover can be a task impossible in itself.

Surprisingly, inspite of the alcoholic haze, very few of the heated debates end up in fist fights and actual physical confrontation. Ruffled feelings are quickly addressed to by cooler heads and, in most cases, such minor irritations are easily forgotten and the good times continues unabated until everyone finally gives up and goes home.

These street corner meetings are an indelible aspect of life and culture in Lianga. There are those, however, who decry them as manifestations of truancy and indolence. They say these groupings prejudice the public welfare because they unduly disturb the peace, create scandal and generally promote drunkenness and licentiousness.

That may be true but it is also clear that these gatherings will continue to be a phenomenon in this town. Not only because the people of the town are a stubborn lot but simply because they are fun and a way for the idle and, therefore, the voiceless, to let off steam and let themselves be heard.

These are, in one sense, the parliaments of the streets and the real voice of the masses. And the one fun thing I always like about them is that, after all the long and winded discussions, there is always a clear solution to each of the myriad of problems facing man in this world.

The problem is always remembering what the solutions were the next day.