My fascination for these quaint towns nestled at the foot of the Sierra Madre mountain range began more than 10 years ago when Cynthia Patag broached the idea of us (Nestor Torre included) making a trip there to have a taste of fried itik. That never happened. But my desire to drive down there came back more than a month ago when Halina Perez died and I had to go to her hometown in Sta. Maria, Laguna to cover her wake. The roads were good and this allowed us to drive smoothly even in the zigzag strip that is just a little less perilous than the one up there in Kennon. But then, since that was work, we didn’t have time to stop and linger in those picturesque towns along the way. However, I had already decided on the way to Halina‘s wake that I was spending Holy Week in one of those old towns there.
Usually – and this is because of my status as a US immigrant – I take advantage of my free time during Holy Week to make a trip to the States in order to remind the US immigration officials that I still haven’t forgotten about them. But traveling abroad has become so expensive – what with the horrendous exchange rate. I certainly can’t afford that this year or maybe even next. Besides, traveling – especially by plane – is such a hassle these days because of those endless security checks. Goodbye, US.
Baguio? I’m there practically the entire year. But the Summer Capital of the Philippines is the last place I want to visit during summer because everyone else is there. For the Holy Week, I had the house rented out.
For a while, I contemplated on going to Cebu. But the problem about going to the south is that the plane tickets are so expensive. You add just a few thousand pesos more and you can fly to Hong Kong or Bangkok.
Driving down those lakeshore towns was really my best alternative. To begin with, I didn’t have to worry about traffic. (The North Diversion Road is always a nightmare.) It was also going to be light on my hopelessly depleted pocketbook (especially now that I’ve just paid my real estate taxes and am about to settle my dues with the BIR).
After gathering enough friends to join me in this expedition, it was decided that we were going to drive through those towns of Rizal and Laguna and that our final destination was going to be Pakil because one of the girls in the group had a neighbor – Angie Maulawin – who has in-laws there. No, we were not going to stay with the Maulawins, but Angie could help us find reasonably-priced lodgings for the night.
Everyone agreed to leave on Maundy Thursday– after lunch – and along the way, we would visit seven churches in keeping with the Visita Iglesia Holy Week tradition.
Taking the Ortigas Avenue Extension route, my suggestion was to go to the Antipolo Cathedral first since it had been 20 years since I was last there. But when we got to the Antipolo town proper, it began to rain really hard and I thought that was rather unusual because I’ve never experienced rain on Holy Thursday, except once – in Montreal. But that’s Canada and it’s spring there this time of the year.
Since I was behind the wheel, I thought of dropping off the ladies at the doorstep, except that they don’t allow vehicles anymore at the churchyard. In the middle of that rain, there was no way they’d get there except to swim toward their destination. The idea was promptly dropped. No one brought a swimsuit.
We ended up rolling down the window to buy from one of the those stalls the Antipolo kalamay of old. To our disappointment, it was no longer the same. Maybe we bought from the wrong stall, but the kalamay we got was no longer as chewy as the one we used to enjoy in our youth (which admittedly was a long time ago). Neither did it have the same dark chocolate color and sandy texture. So much for Antipolo. We proceeded to our next destination: Morong.
The church of Morong – dedicated to St. Jerome – is baroque in style. Built in 1615, the brochure we got from the Department of Tourism stated that the church (constructed by Chinese craftsmen) has two stone lions guarding the driveway entrance. But when we looked for the lions, they were no longer there. They were stolen – so claimed the Morong parishioners. As we drove past the gate on our way out, the entrance really looked odd with the two lions gone.
But on to our next destination – Baras – and for a while there, I forgot that I was an entertainment talk show host and was starting to feel like I was doing a travelogue (which is actually my dream). As a travel show host, however, I probably wouldn’t just highlight the fine points of each tourist attraction. I’d surely point out too the problems to be encountered by tourists in every destination in order to warn travelers. And with this recent Holy Week trip down the lakeshore towns of Rizal and Laguna, I have a lot to point out to the authorities – all of which I will enumerate in the concluding portion of this column on Thursday.