for you, Marcie

REDISCOVERING THE PHILIPPINES

By: David J. Wise

A winter break trip in December to a peaceful rural area in Pangasinan province, Luzon, provided my family and me a unique window on life in the Philippines. This was the first visit for our two sons, Ben (age 10) and Adam (age 7), and me, to the farm where my wife, Marcie ("Bing" to her family and friends), grew up and where she lived until joining her immediate family in Hawaii in 1984.

Our sons and I found this trip a fascinating experience. Although I made a number of business trips to the Philippines in the mid to late 1980s, when I worked for the U.S. General Accounting Office’s Honolulu office, those trips mainly focused on the former US bases at Clark and Subic Bay. Staying with Marcie’s family on their farm, located about 250 kilometers north of Manila, near Asingan, shed a whole new light on life in the Philippines. The relatives were very curious and happy to meet us and Ben and Adam took to the farm in a big way, checking out the pigs, taking care of chickens and dogs, and running around the village on their "tri-bike," a bike with a sidecar that seems to be a staple of every family.

"Shadow Goes for a Ride"

I landed in Manila in the early afternoon (the family had preceded me by 10 days) and Marcie’s cousin met me at the airport. We then set off in a taxi for the "Five Star Bus Station" in town. It’s only about 10 kilometers from the airport to the bus station, but Manila traffic truly puts Hanoi in the minor leagues -- just gridlock everywhere. Finally, arrived at the station, boarded the bus, and then proceeded to wait 30 minutes, since the privately owned buses never leave until full. The bus was relatively modern and comfortable and even included a video player, but after departing the terminal, it took over an hour just to reach the Manila suburbs. We finally chugged into Urdaneta, the nearest substantial city to Marcie’s place, about 10 PM—6 hours on the road, or a third longer than the plane trip from Hanoi to Manila.

On the family farm, our accommodation turned out to be a freshly built little stilt bamboo hut, which was actually quite comfortable and a lot of fun for the kids.

The day starts very early—the roosters are in full throttle by 4:30 AM (although Ben and Adam seemed undisturbed by them). Out back of the compound are the rice and eggplant fields. Aside from rice, this part of the province is the eggplant capital of Luzon. We probably ate eggplant about 10 different ways during our stay. Facilities on the farm are more or less typical for the area -- water is from a pump, and flushing is by dumping water into the bowl. Seems like everyone manages ok, though. No hot water, unless you warm a pan on the burner, but it does not really matter, since the weather is so warm. The houses, which are large compared to what I’ve seen in rural Vietnam, are arranged in a compound and everyone seems to be related. Apparently this is also typical for the countryside. In Marcie’s house, most cooking is done outside on open fires, although some is now done on two gas burners located adjacent to the kitchen. Quite a few people in the area have relatives in Hawaii or California, so remittances from them have helped raise the standard of living and made farming less labor intensive and more mechanized. Small tractors have pretty much replaced the old water buffalo, for example. Unlike Vietnam, I saw some land not being farmed—here, just about every inch is farmed. Filipinos love American rock music and when we went walking in the early morning, in addition to receiving smiles and waves from everyone on their way to the fields, we could listen to the latest American rock music -- nearly every house, no matter how modest, seemed to have a powerful stereo system blasting away.

"Washing Up"

A couple days after I arrived, we had the requisite massive party, inviting all the relatives and neighbors. As is the custom for these parties, a roasted pig ("lechon") on the spit was the order of the day. The party was more or less a whole day process, with lunch just sort of transitioning into dinner. Everyone caught up on a couple years worth of family news.

"Preparing Dinner"

"Hard at Work"

That same day, Marcie’s Uncle Mario, a retired police detective from Baguio City (about two hours north of Asingan) showed up with his large jeepney, the ubiquitous passenger vehicle of the Philippines. This one is a real beast, seating about 22 people (with minimum comfort) on benches along the sides. The diesel engine sounded like it had long shed its muffler. Before I knew it, provisions were loaded on the roof and 18 relatives plus our family piled in and we hit the road for a four-day road trip around northern Luzon. First stop was Uncle Mario’s house in Baguio, located several thousand feet up in the mountains and known as the Philippines’ "summer capital." It is also the site of a former US base, Camp John Hay that is now being developed as a tourist resort. In Baguio City, it was pleasantly cool, even chilly at night and tap water bathing was not an appealing option. Uncle Mario informed his wife that there would be 22 guests for Christmas Eve/Day. No worries, we brought some food, a couple people buzzed out to the market and a multi-dish dinner for everyone appeared in good order. Later, bamboo mats and sheets came out of closets and everyone just sort of settled down wherever it was convenient. It was not long before folks turned on the karaoke machine and songs/carols were on order, leading up to the Filipino tradition of a meal at midnight Christmas Eve. Amazingly, most everyone could sing pretty well. No wonder Filipino bands are all over Asia and the Middle East.

‘On the Road"

After a windshield tour that took in a few of the main sights around Baguio City, such as the cathedral, Mines View, and Burnham Park, we descended and headed north on the national highway towards northern Luzon. On our way north, we stopped in Vigan, a very pretty town that, according to the Lonely Planet guidebook, is the best example of Spanish colonial architecture left in the Philippines. We had fun wandering around the old city, with the cobblestone streets and the "calesas" (horse-drawn carriages). We rode a calesa back to our jeepney and while alighting, Adam severely ripped his pants, which greatly embarrassed him.

 

Further north, we stopped in Batac, Ilocos Norte to view the Marcos mausoleum and museum. This is the heart of Marcos country and while the site is certainly no competition to the Ho Chi Minh mausoleum in Hanoi, the museum displays are interesting, portraying Marcos almost as reverently as other sites portray the great Filipino patriot, Jose Rizal. According to one person I spoke to there, many Filipinos, especially those from Ilocos, believe that Marcos is still alive.

Eventually, we ended up on a farm of friends (and apparently future relatives by marriage), in Bacarra, about 10 kilometers northeast of Laoag City, Ilocos Norte.

 

This farm/compound was really very nice, with a cool breeze coming in from the nearby sea. Meals for the big group continued to materialize and everyone appeared to enjoy the surroundings and company. The way to the bathroom here was a little trickier, requiring one to walk over a log with a railing across a small canal. Adam fell in while crossing one time; I decided not to attempt this after dark. One of the highlights of this stop was a quick lesson in rice planting. I managed a row or two without falling into the mud, promising our host I’d come back in 100 days when it was time to harvest.

The next day, we pushed on to the very northern end of Luzon, to alovely place called Pagudpud, this time to another family compound just behind some coconut trees and the beach. The only problem was we seemed to have entered an entirely new climatic zone and there was strong wind, a bit of rain, and temperatures in the 60s—really cold for the Philippines. More big meals and karaoke and then a long ride home the next day.

Everywhere during this trip "home," we experienced the warm and gracious "Filipino hospitality" that one hears about. I have a hard time imagining most Americans (at least those whom I know) boarding 25 people, yet it seemed not at all unusual in this context. All in all, it was a great opportunity to meet Marcie’s family, see her "roots," and experience the country in the way that would be impossible as a tourist. It was truly enriching and something that my sons and I will always remember.