Pandoraspace

I am filing this article under “The Baguio I Remember” because recent events have reminded me that, Baguio is not only about the place where I spent my happy childhood, but also, about its extraordinary people.

When my Baguio friends heard about the devastation wrought by typhoon Ondoy, they called on all Baguio people to donate relief goods for the victims of the flood.  I then found myself picking up from Victory Liner in Cubao boxes of relief goods that my Baguio friends had pooled together  and delivering them to the Don Bosco relief center in Makati.

The Baguio relief operations for typhoon Ondoy had not yet ended when Baguio itself was hit badly by typhoon Parma, a.k.a., typhoon Pepeng.  As I was still reeling from the effects of typhoon Ondoy, I immediately asked Padma how she was doing. Her text message to me read “Baguio has experienced worse weather”.  That was the first day of typhoon Parma in the Philippines.  Little did we know then that typhoon Parma was a slow moving typhoon that dumped a lot of rain on the first few days it was in the Philippines.  As we all know, things took a turn for the worse when typhoon Parma took a U-Turn as it was leaving the Philippines and came back for a second visit.  To everyone’s horror, typhoon Parma not only caused massive floods in many Philippine provinces up north, it also caused multiple landslides, which led to the isolation of many areas in Benguet, including Baguio.

For many days after typhoon Parma fled the country, northern Philippine cities and towns, were isolated.  My Baguio friends advised me that as no supplies could be brought into Baguio, there was a food shortage and the prices of goods increased. Although Baguio is now open to light vehicles, there are still many places beyond Baguio that remain isolated.

As soon as typhoon Parma left Baguio, the Cafe by the Ruins, began its relief operations.  From its own funds, the Cafe by the Ruins purchased available food from the Baguio Market to feed the victims and rescuers.  I cried when I found out that the meals consisted of boil bananas, rice, monggo and dried fish.  Meat and other fruits and vegetables were too costly to include as part of the meals.  I laud Padma and the others who are heading the Cafe by the Ruins relief operations for their creativity in serving healthy meals on such a tight budget.  As days passed, my admiration for the Cafe by the Ruins team and the rescuers grew tremendously when I learned of the efforts they took just to bring food to the people in isolated areas.  The volunteers had to trek over landslides and walk through mud and dangerous terrain carrying relief goods that will save countless lives.  This video and this video just shows how difficult the relief operations are.

I am reminded that nineteen years ago, when that terrible earthquake had isolated Baguio, the Cafe by the Ruins also conducted relief operations and the same people were out there helping people.  Once again, in times of tragedy, I remember that the Baguio is composed of these extraordinary people whom I grew up with.   In this respect, I can honesty say that Baguio has never changed.

And so, I am appealing to all of you to help the the victims of typhoon Parma.  You can do so by sending donations in cash or in kind to Cafe by the Ruins.  I assure you, the people there will make sure your donations are given to the people who need it most.

BAGUIO & ITS SURROUNDING AREAS STILL NEED YOUR HELP.  CASH DONATION MAY BE MADE THROUGH  CAFE BY THE RUINS MOBILE SOUP KITCHEN. INT’L: SWIFT code BNORPHMM ROUTING# 0210-0001-8. DOMESTIC: RUINS INC savings account #940060574 Banco de Oro (BDO) Legarda Road, Baguio City.

DONATIONS IN KIND MAY BE BROUGHT TO MARTHA LOVINA AT NO. 1 CAIMITO, MCKINLEY ROAD, FORBES PARK, MAKATI.  MARTHA WILL ARRANGE FOR GOOD TO BE BROUGHT TO BAGUIO.

I was rather peeved when I saw this picture posted on my sister’s blog. This was a photo taken by my beloved grandfather of the Baguio Day parade sometime in the late 1940s or early 1950s. The first thing that came to mind when I saw it was why my sister was given a copy of this photo while I was not. Anyway, I am sure there is a perfectly good explanation for this. But, being me, my knee jerk reaction is – THIS IS UNFAIR, MOM!

Having gotten over my short outburst of temper, I am extremely pleased to post this picture on my blog (albeit belatedly) as it gives me yet another opportunity to write about Baguio and its people.

On 1 September 1909, Baguio became a chartered city. Each year thereafter, the people of Baguio celebrate Baguio Day. I do not know when the Baguio Day parades began, but certainly, Baguio Day was celebrated even during “Liberation” (right after World War II) as evidenced by the photo. In the photo, you see a band marching down Session Road (or at least I think this is Session Road).  Baguio appears to be less cluttered then and it seemed like life was simple.

Last 1 September 2009, Baguio celebrated its 100^th year of “cityhood” and a grand parade was held on that day. It is sad that my grandparents did not live to see the parade on this occasion. I am sure they would have been as delighted as children to be part of the fanfare.  Perhaps they would have also seen many people who they knew.  I would have probably had a great time at any Baguio Day parade but the sad thing is, I do not recall having attended any Baguio Day parade ever. Shocking isn’t it?

While I missed the Baguio Day parade again this year, I console myself by the fact that I have not forgotten what a wonderful place Baguio had been while I was growing up.

Sometimes, specially when we are very busy, we forget who we are. If we are fortunate enough, however, something comes along to remind us about ourselves.

One of my parents’ friend who knew me as a child recently posted a picture of himself, Joe Sage, Bob Stone, my sister and me. This picture was probably taken by my dad. We were in Baguio; in the café owned by Briccio Santos that was in front of SPED, and I was just seven years old.

Although over twenty years had passed since the picture was taken, I vividly remember that afternoon in that café. My parents took my sister and I along as they met with friends. Although the café faced a busy street, the place felt relatively secluded because there were plants that shielded the café from the street. We sat on some tables outside and I remember looking down on the rich red earth and kicking some stones around. I also remember that it was a pleasant afternoon and the sun was out.

We must have been there for hours. At some point (most likely because I was bored), someone (either Joe or Bob) was teaching me how to play the flute. I was extremely frustrated because no sound was coming out of the flute even if I was getting a headache from expelling so much air. It was then that I realized that I had no talent whatsoever for music. This fact still hold true until today.

I do not know why I remembered that day vividly but looking at the picture now reminds me of who I am – the bored child who has no talent for music.  I miss that time in my life when I could spend a whole afternoon in Baguio doing seemingly meaningless things like sit in a cafe, kick stones and hopelessly attempt to play the flute.

Hyatt Terraces

Hyatt Terraces Hotel in Baguio ceased operations completely on 16 July 1990.  On that day, a terrible earthquake hit Baguio and Hyatt collapsed.  I know three people who died in Hyatt during the earthquake - two friends of my parents and a former teacher.  Other than this tragic memory, all my other memories of Hyatt were good ones.

Perhaps my best memories of Hyatt were the Easter Egg Hunts. On several occasions, my parents took my sister, cousins who spent the Holy Week in Baguio and I to Hyatt for the Easter Egg Hunts.  I remember that, before each hunt, the ground floor of Hyatt would have on display the bunnies and chicks that would be given as prizes.  The pastry shop would also be selling huge chocolate eggs.  To build our excitement, my parents would take us there to see the bunnies and chicks and to buy us some chocolate eggs.  I have never won the egg hunt.  I usually go home with some consolation prizes and a few chicks.  My younger sister, on the other hand, would always win the grand prize of the egg hunt (but that was because someone would always help her hunt for the eggs).  The grand prize was usually a bunny and cash.  For several years, we housed the bunnies my sister won in my grandparents’ house and my grandmother would always complain that the bunnies ate her plants.

If there was a time in my life I would not hesitate re-living, it would be those Easter Egg Hunts at Hyatt.

Photo by: Lito Tesoro

Memories of the 1990 Earthquake

Nineteen years ago today, a terrible earthquake hit Baguio.  I am lucky to have survived it.

I was in high school then.  When the quake happened, I was still in the school auditorium for an extra-curricular activity.  I remember waiting for my turn to be called for the extemporaneous declamation try-outs when the earth moved violently up and down.  I felt like a ball being dribbled.   After what seemed like eons later, the earth began to move horizontally in long rapid succession.  I positioned myself beside a post and thought about how my family was doing.  Where were they?  Were they alive?  In the seconds that passed, I must have made a million promises to God in exchange for keeping them safe.

In between aftershocks, I ran down to the quadrangle, and from there, I saw that Sky World building, UB and FRB building had been badly damaged.  They looked like stacked up cardboard boxes that had fallen to one side.  Worse, students of UB were jumping from the ledge to the pavement.  Every few seconds, the earth would shake and I would wonder how long the tremors would last.  Then, the sky darken and hail came pouring down.

An hour later, I could no longer bear not knowing if my family survived the quake.  I decided to go home, aftershock or no.  I told my friend and her sister that I would walk them home as their house was along the way to mine.  When we got to their house, their older brother in turn walked me home.

When I got home, I was so relieved to know that my mom and sisters were alright.  My grandparents and my dad were in Manila at that time and we had absolutely no idea of how they were.  We were worried.  So, when my mom and I heard that PILTEL was offering, for free, the use of its cellular phones so people could contact their families, I went to its office in Session Road and lined up for five hours to place a call to Manila.  When I got on the phone and asked for my dad, I was told that he left for Baguio the day before and that my grandparents were safe.

When I got home, my dad was there and he hugged me so tightly that my ribs hurt.  He told us that he found out about the earthquake a few minutes after it happened as he was meeting with his friends from the press who got wind of the news immediately.  He drove part of the way for twelve hours  and walked the rest of the way for another eight hours to get to Baguio.

When we knew that our family was alright, my parents and I started to look for friends to see if they were alright and to find out how we could be of any help to them.

During the days following the quake, we slept outside the house for fear that the house would collapse on us when a strong aftershock happens.  There was no electricity for more than a month.  There was no water for weeks. It rained all the time. No one was selling food and we were just blessed to have ample supplies at home.  The most terrifying part of this all was that the aftershocks happened for months after the quake.  On each aftershock, I wondered how long it would last, how strong it would get and whether we would survive.  To this day, I get very tense when there are tiny earthquakes that happen.

I only remembered these sad memories of the earthquake when, for the first time in nineteen years, I saw pictures of the aftermath of the earthquake today.  I had never seen pictures of the quake before as we had no electricity and, months after the quake, I had no real interesting it looking at pictures of the aftermath.

After seeing those pictures, I am happy to be alive and to know that, during that devastating time of my life, I had family and real friends around.

I grew up in Baguio with my grandparents in a house they built with their sweat and love. My childhood was a happy one because of this. I later went to Manila for college but, on every available opportunity, I would go home. I have thus come to equate home with the Baguio of my childhood, my grandparents and that house where I grew up.

Recently, my grandparents died and the house I grew up in is in shambles.  Worse, Baguio is no longer what it used to be.

As I asked myself where my home has gone, I remember my grandparents and their undying love for Baguio. My grandmother lived in Baguio for ninety years while my grandfather had lived there for over seventy years. When they were alive, they would often lament about how different Baguio had become from the Baguio of their younger years.  Nevertheless, they could never conceive of living outside Baguio.  Although I cannot put a finger to it, there is just something special about Baguio that could never be diminished by the years or decay and the lack of city planning.

I asked Tito Lito about his Session Road picture in my 26 June post and why there were so many people there at that time.  This is what Tito Lito said:

“Not a rally but guess what? It was the first and I believe the last occasion where a Canao was held along Session Rd. I don’t think your parents were already married that time. Natives filled the streets and a few bold spectators joined the Canao and I was one of them. Tapoy and Gin were on the house and because many people got intoxicated, (myself included) the Dept. of Tourism who sponsored the occasion also discouraged it! It was fun while it lasted and that was one of the pictures I took…”

A Canao!  Imagine that.  In all my life, I have never seen an honest to goodness Canao along Session Road.

Other than the pine trees, I was also confronted by the Baguio fog the last time I was there.

I was driving around town with some people when a thick fog suddenly enveloped us. While the person driving us around was very tense trying to figure out whether we were still on road, I sat back, smiled and told myself that this is the Baguio I remember.

My grandmother who lived in Baguio all her life told me that, when she was a child, there were so many pine trees in Baguio that you could smell the scent of pine all over. I never experienced Baguio smelling like pine all over but there were certainly many pine trees everywhere when I was growing up.

During countless picnics in the parks, quiet walks around town with friends, and skirmishes in the playground the pine trees were there quietly watching from the sidelines.

I had forgotten about those pine trees that saw me growing up until a chanced upon them during my recent trip to Baguio. While many things I knew and loved while growing up in Baguio are gone, some of the pine trees of old remain. Just looking at them got me all choked up as I remembered a time when my grandfather held my hand tightly as we stood and looked up at the same pine trees. I wish with all my heart that these pine trees would never die so I would still have a reason to keep coming back to Baguio.

Session Road

This photo of a young boy sitting on top of a sign post at the bottom of Session Road was taken by Lito Tesoro.  In the background, there is a sign that reads Bombay, which refers to Bombay Bazaar.  When I was growing up, there were no malls in Baguio and people would shop at dry good stores like Bombay Bazaar, which, like D&S Grocery, no longer exists.