MEMORIES IN MOUNT OF MADARAGDAG

by: ANNE BERNADETTE VILLEZA
Ugh…I’m missing that place, the place where my mom and her siblings grew up together. The sacred place where all the memories were we all once shared. It’s where my grandma’s ancestral house has stood proud. Once but not anymore…
As modernization took place, everything changed rapidly. Every little thing turned into something I’m not used to. Invaded by those tallest buildings and wide concrete roads from what seems to be alien to the natives of that place. No more trees and grasses and flowers and carabaos that once seen in that muddy road. The little nipa huts are nowhere to be found, replaced by mansions, two storey houses painted in pink, green, brown colors.
Though I don’t blame the people behind those changes because I know that all they want is the convenience those changes provide. And so do I.
But let me take you to the memories of my childhood days in that virgin place of my ancestors.
Back then, I used to play with my twin sister, Toni in that river which by that time the water is crystal clear. After our long hours of fun baths, we run with my grandma’s dog named Ringgo to what seems to be the longest rice fields of my uncle. And picking wild flowers and catching pretty butterflies in the virgin forest are far more fun. Afterwards, we take turns with the fishing nets in my uncle’s man made pond trying our luck to catch one.
During night time, my grandpa will take us to the backyard to let us watch the fireflies from that huge tree. It never fails to amaze me of that very scene that as if taken from a fairytale story where the tree seems to be the palace of million fairies. I always remember him say that those fireflies are symbols of how virgin that place is. He said that now that he is old, the duties of taking care of the place are now passed to us young’s of our generation.
I loved that place very much not because of the memories I have had there but because it is one of the best place I have been to. It will never be replaced by any city, even Manila where I and my family currently resides. Why? Simple, it’s like my childhood days, the place is fresh and worth remembering.

My Experience ...at Isabela

by: Nea Mirizma P. Gaspar


Tracy, Arlene, Mar and I left the house at Manila at around 7PM last last last friday. We’d meet up with Jeanne, who still needed to attend a work-related event, at the Victory Liner for our 9:20 trip to Isabela. The New Moon special screening where she would be serving as an usherette would start at 6:30PM. Before 8, she texted that she and another colleague had already left the place.

The four of us reached the bus station at around 8:30PM and had enough time for a late dinner at Jollibee. At this time Jeanne texted that she was already in Libis. When we finished dinner at 9:10, she texted that she was in Cubao already. We boarded the bus and just informed the driver and the conductor that we were still waiting for someone. At 9:20, Jeanne was still not in the bus station and we could no longer stop the bus driver from getting the bus on the road. We begged him to just drive slowly so that the van Jeanne was on could catch up. The driver was kind enough to oblige and stop at NIA, Quezon Ave when the van finally closed the distance. We were really anxious that Jeanne would not be able to make it (her laptop and things are already with us…hehehe) so it was quite a relief when we saw her boarding the bus.

Before 6AM the next day, we reached Santiago, Isabela and was fetched by Mar's father at the bus station. We rested for a while in the room assigned to the four of us. We had breakfast when we woke up and then went for a drive to the Magat Dam after. The park-like place was nice, quiet and peaceful and we had fun taking pictures. The dam personnel also allowed us to get inside the place where they monitor the voltage/amount of electricity produced by the dam. We returned to Mar’s house after for the tinola and tilapya lunch her mother prepared.

Saturday afternoon was spent in Santiago city. Karen and her mother bought needed goods at the supermart for Erin’s birthday party which will be held the coming Monday. Tracy, Arlene, Jeanne and I went to buy chips and drinks for the night’s swimming plans. We also scoured the mall for affordable shorts because we didn’t bring enough clothes. Jeanne and I also bought pillows.

Contrary to Mar’s prediction that we won’t be able to wake up in time for the 6AM mass because we had been swimming and had consumed a bottle of The Bar the night before, we made it to the nearby church before the service started on Sunday. The mass was in Ilocano so we hardly understood a thing said. There was even a moment when the four of us were standing up while the rest of the churchgoers behind us were seated. Needless to say, our attendance wasn’t as solemn as it should be.

On Sunday afternoon, Mar’s father drove us to the Transfiguration Chapel. It was situated on top of a hill and would be a perfect site for a Holy week station of the cross. I don’t know if the 13 stations are complete though. I only remember passing by life size figures of the Last Supper, Pieta, and Jesus and the two thieves on the cross. The place also features a playground if one happens to have kids in tow. After a merienda at Chowking, we saw Arlene and Jeanne to the bus station. They would be returning to Manila earlier. Mar, Tracy and I then proceeded to the mall again to get a gift for Mar’s mother who would be celebrating her birthday the following week. Done with our purchases, we proceeded to Big Brothers where we had our dinner.

Time flew by quickly on Monday. It was Arlene’s birthday party and I hosted the games. Before long, we were bidding goodbye to our gracious hosts. Karen’s family is wonderful. We could sense the genuine hospitality. And Isabela is a town you could retire to. It’s clean, it’s quiet, it’s progressive. And with the kind of company I had on this trip, I sure would love to come back.