Where I Did Not See Sunsets

After twelve hours of 'butt-wrenching' land travel to Aurora, we reached Baler with my new girl, this voice prompting the Google Maps. She has not let us down so far. Amazing. One of these days, we need to be properly introduced. Anyway, she directed to our host, and then to the place our host reserved for two nights, the Megi Beach House, Buton St., Barangay Sabang. The place looks relatively new. It is neat, but not cozy. The rooms are standard in design, each room good for four persons on the average, a bed and a double-deck bed beside it. A one-square-meter space was devoted to a washroom in each room, where you will be utterly disoriented if you are claustrophobic. The airconditioning is fit for a booth of a gas station cashier, or a toll gate attendant. So it would take about eight hours of continuous high-cool airconditioning to finally make one comfortable. We requested for an electric fan. The place was all we could afford, so there. 

Dinner was at Yellow Fin, one of the small, budget, makeshift restaurants which sprouted in the beach area in Baler after its initial tourism boom. Surfing is the main activity for recreation, I was told. I am not interested in surfing, needless to say. I am too old, too fat and well, too lazy to be interested. But I wanted to see Baler, so this is a priceless opportunity. Our host did tell me not to swim among the shores, and that  if we wanted to wade along, we needed to ask someone from the inn to guide us. The waters of Baler are not friendly to swimmers, she said. 

Yellow Fin served Filipino food, the 'silogs' in our everyday fare, and the like. Their grilled squid was nicely done. Their prices are reasonable. Again, the place is cramped, so you need to be tolerant of the noise, the nausea you get from trying not to hyperventilate. But the food was good. We walked going to and from Yellow Fin to the inn. I got migraine passing by the blinking street lights, they are the solar-powered LED lights which are supposed to be cost-efficient. The ones they have in the streets here are probably made in China. Sigh.

Breakfast the following day was in our rooms, which we cooked (the inn does not allow cooking, but we still did)  in a ricecooker (just boiled eggs and rice, plus a can of meatloaf) we had in our 'mobile kitchen' (when you are in the company of a staff like mine, they bring everything from the kitchen). We set off to buy souvenirs in town, before our business meeting. We bought tshirts, keychains, small bags and purses made of 'banig' (they are woven lovely in Aurora, with nice colors). The souvenirs are reasonably priced. The shop is called 'Paconsuelo'. Funny ring to it.

We had lunch with our hosts where we also had our meeting, at Picnic Bay. They serve good homecooked meals, buffet style, fronting the Pacific Ocean. Wind accompanied our lunch, but the nice kind, not the salty, itchy-on-the-skin type of wind. Of course we all ate more than we should, with towers of iced tea. (By the way, the restaurant should give more attention to their restrooms.) Our hosts are gracious, and good conversation about work is welcome from hosts like them, which makes this concern about the restrooms negligible at this point. I simply enjoyed the pleasant exchange with our hosts.

Having tasted the peanut butter and coco jam given by our host when they visited Vigan a few weeks back, I just had to buy more of the stuff. My son finished a jar in a week, so I tried the peanut butter, and I knew exactly why he did. It tastes like heaven. The brand is Nanay Pacing's, and we were brought to the small shop where the products were sold cheaper than in other outlets. We were also shown the 'pasalubong center' of Baler, where I was graciously gifted (yet again) with a purple, flowered straw hat (made of 'banig'). We looked around and shopped for trinkets here and there. 

During our lunch, our host recommended some places to see while in Baler. Of course we knew we had to go see the Museum de Baler and the famous Baler Church. We were told that it would also be interesting to see Ermita Hills, a tale was told us of this 'tsunami' that devastated this place ages ago (they called 'tsunami' as 'tromba marina' before). The Ermita Hills was the place where only five or seven families (the numbers differ from the stories told) were able to seek haven from the disaster. They set up their new lives in the hills after that. From there, the families grew in numbers, hence, sprung the people of Baler now.

So we went to Museo de Baler first, where we saw Gen. MacArthur's car, some art and pieces from the film made about Baler. There were actually very few artifacts, almost all the pieces in the museum are replicas and contemporary art depicting Aurora's or Baler's  history. I took photos of the artworks, but stopped at taking an artwork when I saw the face of a politician from this town painted on a mural, together with the significant people in history, read: President Manuel L. Quezon (he was a very good-looking guy, I saw in his photos in the museum). I found it tacky and improper that a living politican's face is among these people. But that's just me. Anyway,  I read history of Baler, and Aurora, snippets of it written in tarpaulines hanging up the museum's walls. Interesting. Different. Noble. 

We went to Baler Church after, which was not the same church anymore as it was when it stood as the fortress which held 100 Spanish troops during the war, cornered by Filipinos. I was told the Spaniards were given safe passage after one year of holdout there,  by President Emilio Aguinaldo, and were not treated as prisoners-of-war. (I need to see the film about it.)  The church was not restored. It was changed. That made me sad. I became more desolate when we went to see the Aurora House, where I expected to see the 'restored' version of the residence of President Quezon's First Lady, Aurora. The house was not restored. It was also changed. A few antique items here and there (a sewing machine, a flat iron then) are thrown in together with new stuff. I did not like that at all. To me, it is disrespecting the history of a  place which housed a woman whose life was as significant as her husband's. Again, that's just me. I am a native of La Union, was assigned in the province far north, and then to the seat of Catholicism in Vigan, so I bask in the genuine and authentic 'old'.  Each brick forms part of a story, that when it is changed,  the artificial is sensed right away. We strive to keep it as real as we can over there.  My assistant surmised that maybe the people in Baler were not able to save much from the 'tromba marina'. Perhaps she is right. I am so unforgiving.

Ermita Hills was a consolation. Perched atop the hills are view decks where one can see the vast bodies of water edging Baler, quiet and calm. The rays of the sun reflected on the waters' surface, surrounded by blue and white clouds mingled was a sight. The meaning of the place, that which is of hope, survival and hand-holding, in the face of disaster made me emotional. It speaks of the Filipino and the Filipino's centuries-old spirit. 

I noted that there are no buildings more than two stories high in Baler. My host told me that it is like an 'unwritten' rule in Baler, as there is this belief that the land here is unstable, atop something hollow. An earthquake or another tsunami is a real possibility, she said. I nervously looked back at her. She then said, 'Don't worry, it is not going to happen tomorrow, while you are here.' Haha.

We decided to cap the day with coffee at Costa Pacifica, I presume to be the most expensive hotel in the area. Its facade looked expensive.  When we looked at the menu, we were not really surprised with the food prices. We sampled Pancit Baler, which was fresh canton noodles topped with shrimps, lechon kawali, with local herbs like 'pako' or ferns. It was good. We had that with fresh buko juice (this place is swarmed with coconut trees), mine laced with 'dalandan' and 'pandan'. Again, we took in as much as we could, breathing in the air from the Pacific Ocean. We ogled at the pool, the luxurious lounge, all looked expensive. Maybe next time we could afford to stay in the place. 

Baler is the first place where I did not see sunsets, but where I was pointed to look towards the Sierra Madre mountain ranges, where the moon was slowly rising. Glowing gold, from a tip of the moon's red half-circle, set against the sky of white meeting black. Much like this seemingly sleepy place, it holds its fortitude and pride within, not in the glory of broad daylight.