“Mula Aparri hanggang Jolo.” The line from the “Eat Bulaga” jingle played in my head days before our scheduled field trip to Aparri. I was almost afraid I would break into a song and dance number the moment I got there.
Thankfully, I kept my dignity and calmly took in the sight of the Babuyan Channel. The guide said that we were at the tip of Luzon Island and that the waves were caused by the meeting of the currents of the Pacific Ocean and the South China Sea. But I’m getting ahead of my story.
It was my first trip to Cagayan Valley. The thought of the twelve-hour bus ride stressed me out but did not stop me from going. We left Quezon City past nine in the evening and made stops in Sta. Maria, Bulacan; San Jose, Nueva Ecija; and Santiago, Isabela in the middle of the night.
First on our itinerary was the Basilica Minore of Our Lady of Piat. As soon as we got down the bus, we were met by vendors selling local delicacies and candles. I bought candles and pawa, dumplings stuffed with crushed peanuts mixed with brown sugar. It looked like Liloan masi and tasted like Liloan masi. I became more convinced that people from different provinces in the Philippines have more similarities than differences.
Probably because the church was also a pilgrimage site, it reminded me of the Santo Niño Church in Cebu. The images of the Santo Niño being sold in the area surrounding the church looked more life-like than the ones in Cebu. What amused me were the laminated pictures of Korean telenovela stars being sold alongside rosaries and prayer books. At the first glance, I thought they were new saints.
On our way to Tuguegarao, we passed by the Buntun Bridge, the longest bridge across a river in the Philippines. Having known only the dead Guadalupe River and the just as dead Pasig River, I was amazed by the lush greenery on the Cagayan River’s banks. I felt sorry for myself and all others who are not familiar with rivers teeming with life.
After a quick lunch and shower at our hotel, we visited the San Jacinto Church also known as Saint Hyacinth Church. It was a small chapel made of bricks, so different from the churches of coral stone we are more familiar with in Cebu. We stayed only long enough to take pictures of the façade as it was closed. It was also very hot.
We then went to the Horno, the site of the old kiln where the bricks were made. It looked desolate. Some people used the kiln as a garbage dump. It could actually be a landmark commemorating the forced labor that people endured to build the brick churches in Cagayan. The guide said that women formed a line to pass a brick until it got to the site where a church was being built.
We visited several other Spanish colonial period churches, some beautifully preserved, others heritage disasters. The worst I saw was the Alcala Church. It had intact walls of old brick and a roof of galvanized iron and metal beams similar to those in modern gyms. The façade of the Iguig Church was also marred by the addition of a structure, reminiscent of a garage. While the new structure was also made of bricks, it looked incongruous.
The highlight of the trip for me, however, was visiting the Callao Cave and riding a boat in the Pinacanauan River. Being in the Callao Cave reminded me of an old childhood dream to become a hermit. Being drenched by water at Mororan, “the place of eternal rain” was a mystical experience. If only for those, I will endure the twelve-hour bus ride. Then again, I can always take a plane. I just know that I can’t wait to go back there.
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Email: lkemalilong@yahoo.com