(Photo From www.cityofpines.com)
The church above is the Our Lady of Atonement Cathedral in what has been dubbed countless times as the "Summer Capital of the Philippines", Baguio City. Baguio is a place that I hold dear. Countless Christmases, New Years Celebrations, and Summer Outings comprise a large part of my Baguio story. There is, however, an even more personal side to my relationship with the "City of Pines". This is the City where I did my penance, and found a side of myself which I never thought existed.
The year was 2007. I knew much about the world, but not hardly enough. The family had decided to stay in Camp John Hay for the New Year, as it had done many times before. This trip, though, had an extra tinge of sentimentality to it because of certain events that had transpired in my life just days before our trek through long and winding roads and up steep, steep, mountains.
With all due respect to those whom my heart had loved before, this girl, yes, this girl, felt like "the one" in so many ways, at least, back in 2007-2008. I am happily attached as of this entry's writing, but this story, yes, this story, holds a lot of water in my basin of emotions (the person I am with now knows this, before any of your get any ideas). This girl, yes, this girl, one of long hair, glasses, and a creative quill so prolific and a mind keen both to science and art, was one that enamored me so.
Two songs come to mind. Bush's "The People That We Love", and David Gates' "Everything I Own". Rock Salt, and Cheese. We all tend to hurt the people whom we love deeply. We do so while still being willing to give them every ounce of our emotion and physical capability to make sure that for them, life always looks that much more radiant, the flowers smell that much more fragrant, and that for them, there is always an extra helping of fried noodles to be had.
Needless to say, this person was, for the lack of a better term, seemed like my "soulmate". Hey, you can have a soulmate but not necessarily have a happily ever after, right?
I am quite particular about being a gentleman. Yes, some haters out there may disagree, but, I think I am better than most. Still, I messed up. I mopped the floor with my own heart. In the process, I broke hers. There was no two timing, physical violence, or forced listening to the vocal stylistics of Kylie Minogue, or Ru Paul. I just said some things I never should have. That was that.
And so, I took refuge in Baguio. I had been to Session Road, John Hay, Burnham Park, and yes, Our Lady of the Atonement Parish, countless times in previous years- during much happier times. This was no trip to Tom Sawyer for Pizza and Chicken, or a foray into Good Shepherd Convent for the usual Yam (Ube) Jam and Peanut Brittle Candy (to my non-Filipino friends, you should look Good Shepherd up...you won't regret it). This was a trip to Baguio taken so I could make sense of my sorrows and save my soul.
So there I was, in this temple of the spirit, built in 1936, and once an evacuation Center during World War II. My battle was one against myself and not some rampaging invader. I had lost what, to that point, I had held most dear. I was devastated, and, amidst the impending revelry brought about by the coming of a new year, I sat silent, contemplative, an unlit candle, a slowly wilting bit of foliage, or, one that had already run its course.
On the way up to the church, I had gone through a mini mall connecting Baguio's iconic session road to the small viaduct road General Luna Street. Back then, Playstation 2 was still all the rage. Resident Evil, Obscure, Kingdom Hearts, NBA 2k7. Those were the games that were on deck, games which, I hoped, would take my mind off of the complexity of my situation. I wondered what it might feel like to just stand in the mountain cold and not move, stay perfectly motionless for a long, long, time. I thought that maybe, if I closed my eyes, waited, then opened them up again, I would find myself in another place and time at the end of the whole process. Life doesn't normally operate that way, but I hoped that maybe, it could make one little exception for me.
It was not to be. After literally plastering myself to a pew, hearing mass, and remembering the various "whys", "whats", and "hows", I thought that it was time to head back to John Hay, where my family was. By the time I decided to head back, night had fallen. It was 6pm, but oddly enough, the sun was still on its feet.
I didn't feel like making this tryst to the Cathedral, my lunch alone at SM Baguio's Vegetarian Foodcourt Staple Bodhi, and my trip to the mini mall adjacent to General Luna Street to buy video games to try and erase the heaviness in my heart for the briefest of moments, anything close to ordinary. Because of this, I decided to walk all the way from the Cathedral to our cottage inside John Hay. That walk took around 1.5 hours, with a few tears and quite a bit of cold sweat along the way.
And so, my family went on with it's usual New Year's Eve Celebration. There was cheese, wine, and fireworks (outside of our cottage). I couldn't help but think of where I was, though, and how my whereabouts related with hers. I learned that things could change in the blink of an eye, in a New York Minute, and in whatever other time-defining cliches there are in the English language. It was quite the defining moment for me.
It was a staunch reminder to me. Think before you take action. There is just no going around that one.
The backdrop for all this? Baguio City.
My memories of Baguio City relate mostly with bliss. For one moment in time, though, Baguio represented a site for piano music to be heard, for deep reflection to happen, and yes, for penance to be rendered.
Penance was rendered. I had begun my process of "atonement" in Baguio. I have fought through the difficulties associated with picking one's self up from the bowels of despair, and guilt, and like the long journey up through Kennon road to the summit known as the City of Pines, I've managed to better myself. No one's perfect, but hey, there's no hard and fast rule that says we can't "get better".
I haven't been to Baguio in 5 years. I miss the Lechon Kawali dish in Inn Rocio. That's an odd reference, I know. The Chopsuey at the restaurant in Europa Hotel, I miss too. You know what else I long for to this day?
Nope, not her. That's all in the past. She has served her purpose in my life, and I in hers. I long for a long road trip up North so that all the memories, all the emotions, all the pictures of mom, dad, sister 1, sister 2, cousins, friends, mini golf, Session Road, etc. etc., can bust through the glass doors and invade the inner recesses of my mind- and heart- all over again.
I miss angels. I miss Baguio. Clearly, I need to return- soon.
I've "done my time". I'm a new man. I can let Baguio just be beautiful again.
MC
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