Pandoraspace

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.

Maryknoll my Maryknoll

I was told that, their neighbors had asked the Maryknoll sisters to tutor their children. As many more parents wanted their children tutored by the sisters, they were forced to put up make shift classrooms for all the children they were tutoring. Later, without intending to, the sisters found themselves running the Maryknoll convent school (or Marishan as it was later called).

I was fortunate to have studied in Maryknoll convent school. Unlike the pressure they put on today’s children, I do not recall being given any homework or taking too many tests. At school, we played a lot of sports and practiced all the time for class assemblies (shows where our parents were invited to see us sing, dance and act). Our classes were from 8:30 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. only. Even if we were not bombarded with purely academic subjects, my Maryknoll friends and I turned out just fine.  Most of us got into good universities and colleges and went on to have stable jobs.  More importantly, most of the people I know who have graduated from Maryknoll turned out to be good people.

Credit should be given to the sisters and the teachers of Maryknoll who focused on teaching us the more important things in life like respect for others. Years have passed since my Maryknoll days but I still recall our school hymn, which sums up what the school was all about. It goes -

To make this world a better place, Maryknoll my Maryknoll.
For every man of every race, Maryknoll my Maryknoll.
This is our aim, our sacred call, to help Christ’s life be lived by all.
God give us strength to seek his goal.
Maryknoll my Maryknoll.

Lost in Maryhurst

Many things were lost in the fire that burned Maryhurst (a Baguio seminary) but not my memories of the place.

If I remember correctly, there was a sprawling wooden building in Maryhurst that housed the offices, living quarters and classrooms of the seminarians. As a child, I would run after Brother Armand’s two dogs across the halls of the building and for some reason, I remember that the wooden floors were warm. Brother Armand was the person who was then running Maryhurst.

My favorite spot in Maryhurst was the garden. Brother Armand was something of a green thumb and would grow all sorts of exotic plants and unusual flowers in the garden. There were also monkeys and a pond with tadpoles. The garden was maze. Even if I would always panic when I found myself lost in the maze, I could not help but go to that garden each time I was there. Maybe it was because I would always find my way out of the maze.

The Maryhurst seminarians (who are most likely priests now) will remember me. I was the little girl who made you miss your lunch one Sunday. I was seven and it was the day I discovered the science laboratory at Maryhurst. I was so fascinated by the snakes, mice and other strange creatures in the lab that I did not realize no one could have lunch because Brother Armand told everyone to go out looking for me. To this day, my parents have never made me forget that incident. Strangely, it is one of my better memories of Maryhurst.

To Market To Market to buy…

For many, a trip to Baguio would never be complete without a visit to the market.  Tourists flock to the market to buy local produce to take home with them.  I too feel that a trip to Baguio would never be complete without a visit to the market.  Unlike tourists, however, my purposes is no just to buy the local produce, but also, to visit old friends and be reminded of my childhood.

When I was a child, my grandmother and mother would take me with them to the Baguio market to buy meat, fish, vegetables, fruits and coffee from their vendor-friends.  When I got older, I would  go to the market on my own to buy things from the same vendor-friends.  Those friends have seen me become what I am today and  are  privy to my  many childhood antics.

Nowadays, when I see those vendor-friends, they would remind me of how I was as a child.  For example, as soon as the ladies at the fish and seafood section would see me, they would remind me that when I was a child, I would always pinch my nose upon entering that section of the market.  Some vegetable vendors would also remind me about  the time I got lost in the market and was later found in the police outpost.  Of course, my mother gets uneasy when she hears this because she was the one who lost me in the market.  Loosing me in the market was more traumatic for her that it was for me.  Then, there is Ray, the guy who owns a meat stall in the market where we get the yummy de recado longganisa (garlic sausages).  My mom updates him on the goings on in my life like when I graduated, when I moved to Manila and I suspect even about my love life.

Apart from visiting friends and being reminded of my childhood, I have always loved the Baguio market.  It has never ceased to stimulate my senses.     (more…)

What happened to John Hay?

After World War II, my grandfather worked at John Hay, which was then being operated as a United States Base. It was off limits to non-base employees for a long time. Luckily, John Hay was opened to the public at the time I was old enough to walk and I spent many wonderful years exploring all that John Hay had to offer.

For some reason, my grandparents would take me to the ice-cream parlor in Scout Hill when the rains were strong and it was very cold. We would eat base ice cream, which only came in four flavors – chocolate chip, cherry-vanilla, vanilla and chocolate. The ice cream was always rock hard and it would take me a long time to finish. On good weather days, my grandparents would take me to the bakery. My grandparents were fans of the loaf bread and pie. The peach pie looked like an empanada that had the non-crusty dough, which absorbed some of the sweet sauce from the peaches, cinnamon, sugar and other things on the filling. It was soooo good. If anyone knows how I can get this peach pie, I’ll give you a prize.

My mom taught me how to roller-skate in the skating rink in Scout Hill. My dad taught me how to play mini golf in course in Scout Hill. My sister and I would also bounce on the trampoline in Scout Hill. We would have picnics and play soccer and baseball with family and friends in Scout Hill. As teenagers, my friends and I would play bowling and pool in Mile High and eat the pizza.

I miss the old John Hay, which is so different from how it is now.

The Dreaded Bus Rides to and from Baguio

Recently, my family went to Baguio without me as I was tied up at work. At the last minute, I managed to get some free time and I decided to go to Baguio. To my utter dismay, I discovered that no airline flies to Baguio anymore. For some reason, I could not also get anyone to drive me up to Baguio. I had no choice but to take the bus. “What a nightmare!” was the first thought that came into my mind. Followed by doubts about whether I should travel to Baguio. Since I really wanted to go to Baguio, I decided to take the dreaded bus ride.

I dread bus rides to and from Baguio because, on 9 out of 10 times I take the bus, I get dizzy and throw up in Kennon Road or Naguilian.  The bus rides where I am sure to get dizzy and puke are on those buses with pine tree air-fresheners. The smell of those air-fresheners combined with the almost roller-coaster like movement of the bus means only one thing for me – VOMITSVILLE. (more…)

I am a Baguio girl.  I was born and raised there. I spent the best years of my life in Baguio with the people who molded me into what I am today. Sadly, some of those people are no longer around and Baguio is no longer what it used to be.

I never imaged the day would come when I would feel the same way my grandparents did about Baguio. My grandmother was born and raised in Baguio while my grandfather began living there in his twenties.  When they were in their seventies, they would always look at me with sad faces and tell me that Baguio was not what it used to be.  My grandparents would tell me that Baguio was so much more beautiful in the early days.  I was a child then and I could not believe what my grandparents were telling me.  To me,  the Baguio of my childhood was beautiful and magical.  It was the best place in the universe. (more…)

I was planning to post, at a much later time, several articles on Baguio City to commemorate its 100th year as a chartered city.  Baguio bacame a chartered city on 1 September 1909.  I was also thinking of posting Baguio trivia.  For instance, according to this article, Justice George A. Malcolm wrote the Charter of Baguio. According to this article, Justice Malcolm was the first dean permanent of the College of Law of the University of the Philippines. He was also an associate Justice of Philippine Supreme Court. This is probably why that place on the bottom of Session Road that is (or was) used as a public parking area is called Malcolm Square.

As I was thinking happy thoughts about Baguio, I read Padma’s blog and was saddened to learn that a portion of the Baguio market, one of the few places left in Baguio that reminds me of the Baguio I knew as a child, had burned down a couple of days ago.  After reading Padma’s article on the Baguio market, I decided to post the few articles I have about Baguio starting tomorrow. I feel the need to be reminded of home.

Speaking of things to come (like my articles about the Unexpected Adventures of Boktor and Pandora in Legazpi, Albay), I was in Baguio over the weekend when I found out that the Bencab Museum will be opening in March 2009.

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