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It took quite a long while before this commuter was able to travel again; but never in my wildest dreams had I imagined the circumstances under which I would be afforded the chance this time around.
Having worked in the film and broadcast industry for the better part of 12 or so years, this commuter was deemed qualified enough to give lectures to a small group of professionals operating a local television channel in Vigan, Ilocos Sur, for the purpose of improving their technical knowledge. When the invitation was sent to me, I was informed that the local Vigan channel had already been operating for better part of three years, and yet the channel's founder was apparently not satisfied with what his employees were doing so far. He wanted his crew to produce output that could hopefully rival the work of major broadcast companies in Metro Manila. It thus fell incumbent upon me and a fellow colleague to do our part, however small, to whip them up to a more formidable set of broadcasters.
This commuter is no stranger to conducting lectures and seminars to for the broadcasting community, but this invitation was a bit off-tangent compared to the usual. The trip alone meant that I had to travel for around 7 to 8 hours by bus from Metro Manila to Vigan, traversing a path that practically spanned almost half the length of the largest island of the Philippine archipelago--the farthest point up north I would have to reach by land-based transport my whole life. Too, I would be staying at Vigan for around 7 or 10 nights straight according to the estimates of me and my colleague's hosts...something not usually required for even veteran workshop panelists of my ilk.
The whole activity sounded too tedious and burdensome at first glance. And yet, I was assured that my "7 to 10 days" would not be a rigid and formal affair, but would instead be more likely a hearty getaway vacation sprinkled here and there with a few moments when I would have to impart some tips, techniques, or tidbits of knowledge in a manner which would remain relaxed and laid back. I imagined lecture sessions that resembled tete-a-tete's under the canopies of a noveau-Venetian-style coffee shop.
After having been reassured of the conduct of the trip, I eagerly agreed. Who was I, after all, to refuse? It was going to be a welcome hiatus from Metro Manila, it was to be a refreshingly long road trip through miles of tropical hinterland, and at the end of it all was the possibility of an invigorating 10-day junket. And so on the night of March 18, 2009, I was bundled up in a bus embarking on my furthest ever sojourn to the north, in the company of fellow Pinoys seeking their own respective diversions.
Which, it turned out, didn't disappoint me, after all.
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Vigan is a city that straddles a small portion of the northwestern coast of Ilocos Sur province. The city has long been known as a tourist spot, where visitors can marvel at preserved Spanish-era dwellings covering a huge tract of land. This cluster of houses has been conferred by the United Nations with the prestigious title of an international heritage site, and so the name given to it by the government is, aptly enough, the Heritage Park.
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This commuter's stay at Vigan proved to be a junket in every way--the room I was billeted in was just above the main offices and production facilities of the television station itself, and the accommodations were far from spartan as it was fairly spacious, and came complete with airconditioning, hot shower, cable tv--and even wi-fi access to boot. Food was also generously provided all day. I had it better than most of the visitors who pay top dollar just to visit Vigan...and I wasn't even strictly a tourist.
Of course I had to fulfill my end of the bargain, and so at certain intervals I had to gather up the television crew and proceed with the workshop sessions they expected of me. However, I have to qualify that these sessions were fairly short and not as comprehensive as the training I would normally provide. What's more, the organizers of the workshop appeared to be more eager to tour me around rather than "waste" unnecessarily longer hours listening to my lessons. It seemed atypical that business could be mixed with such an inordinate volume of pleasure in this way, so to speak, but this was not for me to debate. And so during most of the time I stayed in Vigan, this commuter and my hosts were assiduously hopping from one visitor-friendly place to another as easily as if we were playing hopscotch, and were finding time to coach the television crew in between our forays. Looking back on it now, I sure do hope that the Vigan broadcasters learned a lot from me, because I sure did learn a lot about their hometown. It would certainly be discomfitting to think that I took more than I gave.
Suffice to say that this first Vigan trip holds plenty of memories for me, most of which I will expand upon at a later opportunity. However, for the present, this commuter would like to dwell on some particular events that transpired near the last days of my stay in the Ilocos region...and two local inhabitants who have never left my mind long after I left for home.
My journeys often end with a climactic punchline, and so even though it was a surprise that my hosts offered me a chance to visit the famed Pagudpud beaches still further north of Vigan--seemingly out of the blue--the prospect became simply just another one of those fitting conclusions which Fate or Life bestows on any one of my commutes.
My hosts were operating a fully-functional television station in Vigan, and even though the operations were lilliputian compared to the networks I previously worked for back in Metro Manila, the Vigan television crew were no less serious in expanding their reach throughout the Ilocos province. And so they decided to send a small contingent to Pagudpud with the purpose of filming two beach resorts for a travelogue special on their channel. All the other television networks have their own travel specials, and so why not them, too? The television crew would be filming for a total of three days and two nights, and the emphasis of the filming would be on what luxuries and amenities the two aforementioned beach resorts were capable of offering to both local and foreign tourists. Sure, there was work involved, but for a visitor like me, it promised to be another junket--business mixed with pleasure...a lot of it.
On the afternoon of March 26, a camera crew piled into a van complete with all the necessary equipment--and this commuter was along for the ride. Everyone among us knew that Pagudpud had been recently receiving buzz over the internet as the newest world-class beach resort town "discovery" in the Philippines, and we were very eager to film whatever attractions the town and its beaches were so proud to offer its visitors. Once the whole crew was assembled at the rendezvous, we cranked up the van's engine and cruised out of Vigan with eyes twinkling at all the prospects of hitting the beach.
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Vigan might be far from Metro Manila, but Pagudpud seemed just as far from Vigan. We started out from Ilocos Sur, but had to cross over to Ilocos Norte, and then had to end up on its northernmost tip ( Sur means South while Norte means North--two provinces with the same first name ). Along the way, I caught even more glimpses of long stretches of green flatlands and plantations outside the windshields, punctuated here and there by settlements and farmhands baking under the simmering tropical temperatures. Every now and then my hosts would point out some significant landmarks for the novice traveller to Ilocos, such as the occasional historic church, a particularly ancient lighthouse, as well as the more modern fixture in Ilocos Norte--the wind-powered electrical supply facility operated by Europeans in front of a sweep of coastline facing the South China Sea.
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Soon, green farmlands gave way to lofty mountains and cliffsides facing yet another vista of azure sky and blue sea, the glitter of water seamlessly blending with the horizon to evoke a vision of clear infinity. We were finally in the town of Pagudpud.
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The long and winding road that cruised under the proud archway designating the town took us past small pockets of settlement, business establishments, as well as the Town Hall. We had to soak up a few more kilometers past them all to arrive at the beaches. The sea might have again taken cover behind the mountainsides, but even the drone of the van's engine could not hide the anticipation felt by the whole crew. And then, almost unexpectedly, we turned off the main highway onto a dirt path, felt our vehicle laboriously negotiate the grit and gravel under its wheels for a few more meters, and then the ocean peeked out once more beyond a small hilly rise. Once we descended the rise, the scent of brine and saltwater could no better prepare us than a roll of drums, trumpets, and the parting of curtains for our grandest glimpse of paradise.
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It is often said that the best Philippine beaches are found in Boracay, Puerto Galera, Bohol, and the Palawan Islands. One look at Pagudpud's white-sand coastline and inviting waters, relatively not as well known as those thus far mentioned, gives credence to the idea that no one should close the book on other beaches which may be out there. And the Vigan crew was out to prove that, for Pagudpud at least, all the hype surrounding it was well-deserved.
There were simply a dearth of experiences in the Pagudpud beach resorts to enjoy...and to film, in our case, of course. The mostly temperate climate of the Ilocos region allowed for plenty of opportunities for daytime or nighttime scuba diving, kayaking, recreational boat-riding, snorkelling, even occasional surfboarding ( when the tides act appropriately ). Not to forget, by the way, swimming in the ornate clear-blue waters, acquiring those provocative suntans, indulging in the ever enjoyable game of beach volleyball, and snapping up digicam pictures of every fancy. This commuter chilled out with a few bottles of beer while watching the sun go down, an experience which was particularly divine. Along the Pagudpud coastline, everyone is smiling, from the fish vendors hawking fresh catch, to the kids playing in the sand, to the resort-hogging tourists and backpackers. It was a grand time, even for the Vigan television crew towing their cameras, savoring all of what they documented.
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It was an expedition into pure revelry for this commuter, having been treated to such an endearing amount of hospitality from my hosts, starting with an unforgettable stay in Vigan all the way through to three days and two nights in enchanting Pagudpud. During most of that time, one experience to the next lifted me up from one frontier of delight to yet another one higher, until the days and nights seemed immersed in a misty and cloudy neverland of stratospheric adventure...
Until my encounter with two kids in Pagudpud brought me back down to earth. At least.
I will never be able to furnish pictures of those two kids, but they remain ferociously persistent in my memory. They will perhaps be no less indelible than the recollection of a deeper layer of bread under the icing of the cake of anyone's typical first birthday. It stays as a reminder that underneath all the frivolous and festive pictures lie truths which we can never deny as being part of our everyday reality, too.
The first of these two kids was actually a member of the Vigan television crew. She was a bright-eyed, olive-skinned Ilocano native of sixteen, brought along as a "stand-up model" for the Pagudpud filming. Her role was akin to that of those attractive girls utilized as props when photographing sports cars--a sort of attention-getting foreground in relation to the scenic background, with the intention of accentuating the beach scenes with the presence of a shapely female in beach attire. Everybody in the television crew was provided free meals by the resorts they filmed, which was a standard practice in such transactions. I noticed, however, that our stand-up model was consuming more than the usual proportion of the food, something which might be judged almost glutinous, although certainly not glutinous to a profane degree. It was simply that this commuter adjudged the model to consume a bit more than the usual share.
I was insensitive enough as to tease her about it during our customary meals.
Later on I realized how much of an insouciant buffoon I had acted. Upon chatting in more friendly terms with our "standup model", I learned that she wasn't exactly as well-to-do as any typical "model"( most of which, in the circles where I worked at least, came from upper-tier society). She in fact came home everyday to a family who could barely make ends meet. Her father had abandoned her family and her mother was working as a domestic helper ( or, more tritely, a maid ) in Singapore. In her household she had to live with five other siblings, as well as a slew of other relatives relying on a measly stipend from her mother in Singapore. Which meant that food was scarce almost all the time. In short, hers was a fundamentally hungry family, perhaps always making do with whatever small amounts of food could be funnelled to each member by ratio. Far from my own experience.
As a regular worker in the media industry, I would hardly be characterized as a person lacking good nutrition at home. I certainly did not crave for gourmet food as much as, well, people with less means do. It takes a certain magnanimous insight to realize that as a more fortunate Pinoy, I would be in some respects very distant from millions of other Pinoys--and yes, including most of the native Ilocanos--who would be incapable of enjoying the same latitude in choosing their preferred food at home. No, that luxury is more often associated with people who can afford to live in Metro Manila, like me.
For most of those living in Ilocos, being able to eat the food of your own personal, and perhaps, luxurious taste, would occur only once in a while. Such as in a junket where you find yourself lucky enough to be involved in, perhaps exactly like the case with our standup model and this particular trip to Pagudpud. Those who cannot eat the proper food everyday at home, after all, would take advantage of any free and unencumbered opportunity to do so with gusto. And so I thus had to reprimand myself severely for imposing my own disproportionate criticism, however lightly intended as parody, upon another member of our party.
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During another lazy afternoon in the middle of filming, after I had just emerged from the beachwaters and flopped down like a tired amphibian on the golden sand--intending to enjoy a little time alone to myself under the breeze, which I reckoned would dry me off in a short while--a diminutive boy of about 12 or 13 years old approached and tried to sell me some souvenir merchandise he held in two baskets. The first basket contained corals shaped into cigarette ashtrays with tiny pennants having the word "Pagudpud Beach" emblazoned on them. The other basket held a bounty of assorted beads fashioned into wrist bracelets, necklaces, anklets, just about anything typically worn by any fashionable beach junkie.
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On any stretch of resort beach, there would always be found these children among many others peddling their wares to tourists. This particular kid caught my eye because he held a third item aside from his two baskets--a notebook folded open to show kiddie drawings and scribblings. I wasn't particularly interested to buy anything to take home with me--I absolutely find no appeal in taking anything back home from any of my commutes except pictures--but I found it extremely interesting to find out what kind of drawings this kid made. I made it clear to the fellow that I wasn't going to buy anything from him, but asked permission from him to browse through his notebook.
It turned out that the kid was quite proud of his drawings and seemed all-too-willing to show them to anyone who would ask. He readily sat down beside me and pointed out to me drawings depicting his family, his house, his pets, and a few other landscapes he especially found worthwhile committing to paper. He also showed me some pages on which he wrote down a few passages which he copied from some books he read or even some street signs he encountered. I prodded him to tell me more about himself, and the kid smilingly obliged with the confidence of a natural storyteller.
He told me that he was in the middle of his high school studies when he had to quit school owing to the necessity of having to help his parents earn a living for the whole family. He had six other brothers and sisters, all of them younger than him, and his mother and father were in too desperate straits that his own efforts were more than welcome if it meant more income for the household. They lived in a ramshackle house by the beach side, set off from the sandy shore by a row of thick foilage. Every day, while his younger siblings trooped down to the beach to play under the sun while waiting for food to come by at the table, he would gather up his merchandise from a certain dealer ( which he never did come round to describe in any specific way ) and troll the resorts to find buyers. Every once in a while he would strike lucky with troops of tourists who patronize his wares by the dozen or so, but these fortunate instances were few and far between, perhaps as distant from each other as the occasional boats stranded on the sand. His family of eight would normally eat the cheapest canned goods, he told me, still smiling. They couldn't usually eat three times a day. I regarded him with a squint under the almost blinding sunlight, and he seemed to be telling the truth, as I gathered from the sticklike proportions of his build.
I asked him if his parents ever reprimanded him if he didn't make any sale for one day. Continuing in that matter-of-fact tone of his, the kid said yes. But he wasn't physically punished, he continued. I asked him if the family had already eaten anything that day, since by then it was already late into the afternoon. The kid smiled and told me that no, they haven't had anything, and so would I be kind enough to buy some souvenirs so later on he could at least have enough to buy a can of sardines?
Dreadful enough as it was that I refused, another member of the Vigan crew came by and redeemed the situation by purchasing two items from the kid's baskets, without having had heard of the kid's stories. This commuter does not believe in any kind and benevolent God; however, in short flashes of serendipity like the one that just happened, I do believe that Fate or Life sometimes has the propensity to alleviate burdens for those who have faith in them.
After my colleague from Vigan was able to furnish this kid his resources for buying his family's possible next meal, we continued chatting. I directed his attention to a boat of fishermen apparently setting out across the water for a night's work and asked him if he ever considered becoming a fisherman some time, if only to engage in a form of work which could more directly address their need for food. The kid told me that he would probably try some time in the future, if circumstances didn't permit him to go back to school. I told him that back where my hometown was, in Bohol province, the residents could at their leisure climb any coconut tree and pick off coconuts to eat if they desperately needed food. I pointed out to the kid the rows of coconut trees fringing the shore. The kid told me that he wasn't sure if those coconut trees could be harvested for their fruits since someone probably owned all of them. I told him that, for tonight at least, he would be able to go home with proceeds from the sale he conducted with my Vigan colleague. It was certainly better than nothing. Again, this kid smiled in approval. It is said that Pinoys generally display an uncanny resilience against the most desperate adversity in life because they can smile so swiftly in the face of crushing realities. I've seen the same kind of smile from all sorts of poor kids everywhere I travelled in the Philippines. Still, whenever I catch a glimpse of it, the experience always feels new each time.
At that particular moment, the kid's smile felt as if it was the most significant delight the beach could offer to this commuter.
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It is a supreme irony that a commuter like me, visiting Ilocos from some distant town far to the south, could enjoy more of the bounty and abundance found in its local cuisine and famed beaches compared to those two kids I met. Certainly their stories are not isolated experiences; more likely their circumstances are common to a majority of the Ilocos populace. Hunger and deprivation in the midst of a locale which could otherwise abundantly provide all sorts of gastronomic delights; limited opportunities for self-determination in an otherwise vibrant resort town that tourists of every sort might one day scramble helter-skelter to be able to visit--these are ironies which I usually encounter every time. I had partaken of a junket that for the most part I intended to keep me away from the sobering realities of my Pinoy existence. These realities will always catch up with my commutes, however, since it takes almost no effort at all for the underlying paradoxes to reveal themselves to even the most casual observer.
In any case, my junket was about to come to an end, since the Pagudpud visit was my last stop before taking the trip back to Metro Manila. My encounter with the two kids did not in any way lend a downbeat color to my celebratory mood in Ilocos; on the contrary, it only strengthened my resolve that all of the times I indulged in some, let's say, hedonistic pursuits were just my own way of recharging my energies in order to gather momentum so I can plunge yet again into the more pressing reason for keeping on commuting--to tip the balance from darkness toward the light. I still believe in Fate and Life, as I always keep telling myself. Somehow all my efforts will yield fruit. One day, I resolve to return to Ilocos...hopefully, with resources to somehow contribute towards making everybody I encounter there realize the wealth and abundance that I myself have partaken of in their own home.
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