Bundok Makiling: Isang Paglalakbay na 'Di Tapos 「An Unfinished Journey」
Isang larawang sanaysay / a photo essay / travel story
1/16
Bundok Makiling: Isang Paglalakbay na ‘Di Tapos
Matagal-tagal din akong nanirahan sa Maynila at paminsan-minsan ay naglalakbay pa-Timog Katagalugan.
Hindi ko na mabilang kung ilang ulit kong natanaw, nadaanan, nasulyapan ang Bundok Makiling tuwing ako’y nagagawi sa mga lalawigan ng Batangas, Laguna, at Quezon. Subalit, ni minsan hindi ako nakatapak sa paanan o nabagtas ang landas patungo sa maalamat na la montaña de los baños (bundok ng mga paliguan /onsen no yama).
Mount Makiling: An Unfinished Journey
I have lived in Manila for a long time and occasionally travel to Southern Tagalog. I can't count how many times I have seen, passed by, and glimpsed Mount Makiling during my travels in the provinces of Batangas, Laguna, and Quezon. However, I have never once set foot on or traveled the trail to the legendary la montaña de los baños (mountain of baths / onsen no yama).
2/16
Matapos ang isang buong araw ng paglulunsad sa ikatlong short docufest noong nakaraang Marso – kung saan aming nasaksihan ang labing-apat na maikling likha ng mga masisigasig at maparaang mag-aaral ng pamamahayag mula sa Kolehiyo ng Komunikasyon ng Polytechnic University of the Philippines – isang matinding paghahangad sa sariwang hangin at pagligo sa isang mainit na bukal o pansol ang nagtulak sa akin upang tahakin ang paanan ng Bundok Makiling. Sa aking pag-akyat, inanyayahan ko ang aking matalik na kaibigang si Kuya J., upang sa gitna ng luntiang kapaligiran ay mapag-usapan namin ang mga bagong kabanata sa kanyang masalimuot at ‘di matapos-tapos na pakikipagsapalaran sa daigdig ng pag-ibig. Buong galak niyang tinanggap ang aking paanyaya, at kahit na pansamantalang kinailangan niyang lumiban sa kanyang pag-aaruga sa kanyang mahal na ina, hindi niya pinalampas ang pagkakataong ito.
After whole day of holding the third short docufest last March – where we watched fourteen short works by enthusiastic and creative journalism students from the College of Communication of the Polytechnic University of the Philippines – a strong desire to leave the city to get fresh air and a bath in a hot spring drove me to trek to the foot of Mount Makiling. On my way up, I invited my close friend Kuya J., so that amidst the lush greenery we could discuss unfinished chapters in his complex and unending adventure in the labyrinth of love. He happily accepted my invitation, and even though he had to temporarily take time off to care for his beloved mother, he did not miss this opportunity.
3/16
Sa Buendia, bago pa man sumikat ang araw, sumakay na kami sa isang aircon bus patungong Calamba. Pumulas ang siksík at liglíg na bus nang eksaktong alas-sais y media nang umaga. Buhay na buhay na ang Maynila: nagkukumpulan ang mga tao, naggigitgitan ang mga sasakyan, at nagsisigawan ang mga nagtitinda sa gilid ng kalsada at sa loob ng bus. Umagang umaga, may nag-aalok na sa amin ng mani at Jollybee burger. Nakasabay naming bumiyahe ang tatlong kabataang babae na walang pakundangang ipinagmamalaki ang kanilang mga nakalitaw na púsod at may makapal at kumikintab na make-up sa mukha.
‘Di sila nahihiyang makipagtitigan,’ bulong ni Kuya J. ‘Di sila kumukurap. Parang wala silang pakialam sa mundo.’ Hindi maalis ang malagkit niyang tingin sa kanila.
‘Saan kaya sila nanggaling at ano kaya ang kanilang pinagkakaabalahan?’ ang halos sabay naming usisa at pagtataka. Habang humahagibis ang aming sinasakyan sa Southern Luzon Expressway (SLEX), panaka-nakang sumusulyap si Kuya J sa kanilang direksyon. Tila nabighani siya sa kanilang mga pinturadongng mukha.
‘Saan kaya sila galing? Mga seksi! pa man din.’
In Buendia Avenue, before sunrise, we boarded an air-conditioned bus bound for Calamba. The overcrowded bus left at exactly six thirty in the morning. Metro Manila was already bustling with life: people were gathering in groups, cars were moving in all directions, and vendors were hawking their goods on roadsides and inside the bus. Early in the morning, someone was already offering us peanuts and Jollybee burgers. Earlier, three young women who were brazenly flaunting their exposed bellies and had thick, oily make-up on their faces boarded the bus.
‘They’re not shy at all exchanging stares,’ whispered Kuya J. ‘They don’t blink. It’s like they don’t care what other people think of them.’ He couldn’t take his sticky gaze off them.
‘Where did they come from and what are they up to?’ we wondered simultaneously. As our vehicle sped along the Southern Luzon Expressway (SLEX), Kuya J occasionally glanced in their direction. He seemed fascinated by their painted faces.
‘Where did these sexy girls come from?’
4/16
Makalipas ang higit isang oras, narating namin ang Calamba, ang mismong bayang sinilangan ng ating pambansang bayani na si Gat Jose Rizal. Di pa natatagalan paglampas namin sa SM, bumaba mula sa sasakyan ang tatlong maalindog na dilag. Ang pangyayaring ito ay lalong nagpaalab sa pagkausyoso at pag-aalinlangan ni Kuya J; agad na umusbong ang iba't ibang haka-haka sa aming isipan:
‘Marahil, ang tatlong ito ay mga modernong Mariang Makiling na lumuluwas mula sa lalawigan ng Laguna patungong Metro Manila sa hapon upang maghanapbuhay sa mga bahay aliwan o sa mga lugar na kilala sa ‘kalakalang tubig,’ at nagbabalik sa kanilang kanayunan sa pagsapit ng madaling araw upang magpahinga.’
‘Maaari,’ ang pagsang-ayon ni Kuya J. ‘Tiyak na aalis sila ng bandang alas singko o alas sais nang hapon at babalik ng alas sais nang umaga. Mabilis ang biyahe, higit isang oras lamang dahil walang gaanong trapik.’
‘Ano kaya ang magiging reaksyon ng ating pambansang bayani sa ganitong uri ng modernong Maria Clara? Malamang na mapabulalas siya ng: Que barbaridad! Sinvergüenza! ¿Qué ha pasado con nuestra juventud?’
After more than an hour, we reached Calamba, the very hometown of our national hero, Gat Jose Rizal. Not long after we passed SM, the three morning beauties got off the bus. This incident further inflamed Kuya J's curiosity and skepticism; various speculations immediately sprang to mind:
‘Perhaps, these three are modern Mariang Makiling who travel from the province of Laguna to Metro Manila in the afternoon to earn a living in entertainment or ‘water trade,’ and return to their villages at dawn to rest.’
‘Probably,’ Kuya J agreed. ‘They will definitely leave around five or six in the afternoon and return at six in the morning. The trip is quick, just over an hour because there is not much traffic.’
‘What will our national hero's reaction be to this type of modern Maria Clara? Would he exclaim: Que barbaridad! Sinvergüenza! ¿Qué ha pasado con nuestra juventud?'
5/16
Sadyang pinili kong huwag sumangguni sa Google o magsaliksik online tungkol sa pag-akyat ng Bundok Makiling. Matibay ang paniniwala kong mas makabuluhan at personal ang karanasan kung direktang makikipag-usap at magtatanong sa mga residente ng lugar. Tila ba labis na tayong nahuhumaling sa Internet, cellphone, at computer, dahilan upang madalang na ang tunay na pag-uusap at interaksyon sa pagitan ng mga tao.
Bumaba kami sa tapat ng isang malaking mall at nagsimulang magtanung-tanong.
Sa isang tricycle driver:
‘Magandang araw po. Balak po sana naming umakyat sa Bundok Makiling. Saan po kaya ang pinakamainam na lugar upang kami ay magsimula?’
Magiliw na tugon ng drayber:
‘Ah, sumakay po kayo ng jeep na patungong College, doon sa UPLB (University of the Philippines Los Baños). Doon po ang daan.’
‘Maraming salamat po.’
Pagdating namin sa tinukoy na lugar, muli kaming nagtanong sa isang jeepney driver na nakaparada:
‘Magandang umaga po. Saan po rito ang sakayan ng jeep patungong UPLB?’
Turo ng drayber:
‘Dito lang po. Maghintay lang kayo ng jeep na may karatula na ‘College’.’
‘Marami pong salamat.’
Nang makarating kami sa pangunahing gate ng UPLB, bumaba kami ng jeep at muling humingi ng direksyon.
Sa isang estudyanteng naglalakad:
‘Magandang araw. Saan dito ang pasukan patungo sa Makiling Forestry Park?’
Magalang na sagot ng estudyante:
‘Pumasok po kayo sa gate, sa kanan, mayroon pong hintayan ng jeep na umiikot sa loob ng campus. Sabihin niyo lang po sa drayber na ibaba kayo sa kanto papuntang Forestry Park.’
‘Maraming salamat.’
Agad kaming pumasok sa malawak na bakuran ng unibersidad at naghintay ng sasakyan. Hindi nagtagal, dumating ang isang jeep. Dali-dali kaming sumakay at nakisuyo sa drayber: ‘Pakibaba po kami sa kanto patungo sa Makiling Forestry Park.’
‘Sige po,’ ang kanyang maikling sagot.
Ito ang aking unang pagdalaw sa loob ng UPLB at ang aking unang pagkakataon na makatapak sa paanan ng Bundok Makiling. Agad akong napamangha sa kahanga-hangang tanawin ng napakaraming matatayog at malulusog na puno na tila sumasayaw sa ihip ng hangin. Sa sandaling ito, bigla kong naalala ang aking ama, ang kanyang mga unang taon sa kolehiyo, at ang mga kwento niya tungkol sa Los Baños.
I deliberately chose not to consult Google or research online about climbing Mount Makiling. I firmly believe that the experience is more meaningful and personal if we talk directly and ask questions to the residents of the area. It seems that nowadays, we are so obsessed with the Internet, cellphones, and computers that real conversations and interactions between people are rare.
We got off in front of a large mall and started inquiring.
To a tricycle driver:
‘Good morning. We were planning to climb Mount Makiling. Where do you think is a good place for us to start?’
The driver kindly replied:
‘Ah, take the jeepney going to College, over there. to UPLB (University of the Philippines Los Baños). That’s the way.’
‘Thank you very much.’
When we arrived at the specified place, we asked a parked jeepney driver again:
‘Good morning. Where should we go to take a jeepney going to UPLB?’
The driver’s instructions:
‘Right here. Just wait for the jeepney with the sign that says “College”.’
‘Thank you very much.’
When we reached the main gate of UPLB, we got off the jeepney and asked for directions again.
To a student walking by:
‘Good morning. Could you tell us the entrance to Makiling Forestry Park?’
The student politely replied:
‘Sure. Enter the gate, on the right, there is a waiting area for jeepneys that go around the campus. Just tell the driver to drop you off at the corner going to Forestry Park.’
‘Thank you very much.’
We immediately entered the vast university grounds and waited for the vehicle. Not long after, a jeepney arrived. We quickly boarded and requested the driver: ‘Please drop us off at the corner going to Makiling Forestry Park.’
‘Okay,’ was his short reply.
This was my first visit to UPLB and the first time to wander into Mount Makiling. I was immediately amazed by the magnificent view of so many towering and invigorating trees that seemed to dance in the wind. At this moment, I suddenly remembered my father, his early years in college, and his stories about Los Baños.
6/16
Noong taong 1955, isang batang mag-aaral ng agrikultura sa prestihiyosong Unibersidad ng Pilipinas Los Baños (UPLB) si Excelso. Labing-siyam na taong gulang pa lamang siya noon, puno ng pangarap at sigasig para sa kanyang napiling larangan. Halos tatlong mahahalagang taon ang kanyang ginugol sa loob ng kampus, panahon na humubog sa kanyang kaalaman at pagkatao.
Habang nakatayo ako ngayon sa gitna ng luntiang kampus, napatingin ako sa mga nagtataasang puno ng akasya. Sa aking tantiya, ang kanilang matatandang sanga at malalaking katawan ay sumaksi na sa mahigit isang siglo ng kasaysayan. Isang katanungan ang sumagi sa aking isipan: Gaano kaya sila katatag at kalaki noong mga panahong si Excelso ay naglalakad sa mga landas na ito? Mayroon kaya siyang mga natatanging alaala na nauugnay sa mga kahanga-hangang punong ito?
Ang mga puno na aking nasisilayan ngayon ay marahil ang siya ring mga saksi sa kanyang mga araw dito, bagama't tiyak na iba ang kanilang anyo noon – marahil mas batang puno na may mas sariwang dahon. Tila may isang mahiwagang sinulid na bumibigkis sa aking unang pagdalaw sa misteryosong Bundok Makiling at ang pag-aaral ni Excelso dito. Bilang isang estudyanteng probinsyano noon, hindi malayong isipin na si Excelso ay labis ding namangha sa malawak at kaakit-akit na kapaligiran ng kampus, sa mga gusali nito, at sa samu't saring nilalang na bumubuhay rito.
Sa paglipas ng mga taon, sariwa pa rin sa aking alaala ang madalas niyang pagbabahagi sa amin, kanyang mga anak, ng mahahalagang kaalaman at kasanayang kanyang natutunan sa Los Baños. Ikinukuwento niya nang may galak ang tungkol sa pag-aalaga ng iba't ibang uri ng hayop – manok, baboy, kambing, at iba pang sakahang hayop. Hindi rin niya malilimutang banggitin ang kanyang natutunang pagkapon ng mga baboy, kalabaw, baka, at maging kabayo, isang kasanayan na kalaunan ay kanyang ginamit din sa aming pamilya bilang aming pansamantalang ‘beterinaryo’ tuwing kami'y nagkakasakit. Personal ko ring naranasan ang maturukan ng nakakatakot na mahahabang heringilya nang ilang beses noong ako'y bata pa! Kaya naman, hindi ko maitatanggi na mayroon akong bahagyang trauma pagdating sa mga injection! Tunay ngang sa UPLB hinubog ang kanyang kaalaman sa modernong agrikultura at pagsasaka.
In 1955, a young agriculture student named Excelso was studying at the prestigious University of the Philippines Los Baños (UPLB). He was only nineteen years old at the time, full of dreams and enthusiasm for his chosen field. He spent almost three precious years on campus, a time that shaped his knowledge and character.
As I stood today in the middle of the lush green campus, I looked up at the towering acacia trees. In my estimation, their old branches and large trunks had witnessed more than a century of history. A question crossed my mind: How strong and large were they when Excelso walked these paths? Did he have special memories associated with these magnificent trees?
The trees I see today are probably the same witnesses to his days here, although they certainly looked different back then – perhaps younger trees with fresher leaves. There seemed to be a magical thread that bound my first visit to the mysterious Mount Makiling and the years Excelso had spent here. As a provincial student at the time, it is not far-fetched to think that Excelso was also deeply amazed by the vast and attractive campus environment, its buildings, and the diverse creatures that live here.
Over the years, the memory is still fresh in my mind of how he often shared with us, his children, the valuable knowledge and skills he had learned in Los Baños. He would tell stories or boast about caring for various types of animals – chickens, pigs, goats, and other farm animals. He would also never forget to mention how he learned to castrate pigs, buffaloes, cows, and even horses, a skill that he later used in our family as our temporary ‘veterinarian’ whenever we got sick. I also personally experienced being injected with scary long syringes several times when I was a child! So, I can't deny that I have a slight trauma when it comes to injections! It's true that UPLB shaped his knowledge of modern agriculture and farming.
7/16
Dahil Linggo, binabalot ng katahimikan ang buong campus. Tila walang bakas ng mga estudyante at guro. Malamang na nagpapahinga silang lahat sa kani-kanilang mga dorm.
Tahimik kaming naglalakad patungo sa pasukan ng Forestry Park. Nagsimula ang aming magaan na pagbibiruan ni Kuya J.
‘Atin ang UPLB ngayon!’ ang aking pahayag.
‘Ang ganda sigurong mag-aral dito. Lalo na kung may gelpren ka!’
‘Sinabi mo kuya! Isang matayog na pangarap yan. Pero noong nag-aaral tayo sa UST ay may gf ako.’
‘Sino?’
‘Kaklase ko no’ng high school sa probinsya.’
‘Noong panahon natin, iba ang concept natin ng gf?’
‘Totoo pre. Ang kaya ko lang gawin noon ay panakaw na holding hands at goodbye kiss – yung mabilisan.’
‘Ang crush ko noon ay si Regina. Maala mo? Yung anak ng adviser namin sa Varsitarian? Pero paano ko liligawan yon, anak siya ng diyos!’
‘Crush ko din yon. Dahil parehong kaming nasa College of Engineering.’
‘Crush ng bayan yon!’
Abala ang aming mga mata; bawat bagay ay bago sa aming paningin; panay ang aming pagpitik hanggang sa marating namin ang entrance ng Park. May bayad ang pagpasok: P30. Ngunit dahil ipinakita ni Kuya J. ang kanyang mapanghimalang Senior Citizen card, nakakuha siya ng kaunting bawas; naging P24 na lang ito. Nakasabay namin ang isang pangkat ng masisiglang senior citizen na siklista; bawat isa sa kanila ay nakinabang din sa discount. Sementado ang daan patungo sa Eagle Base – ang simula ng trail paakyat sa tuktok; kaya maraming siklista ang nagpapadyak dito. Mayroon ding isang dosenang riders na naghihintay sa bukana. Para saan kaya ang mga motorsiklong ito?, ang pagtataka ko. Nasaan na kaya ang mga nababalitang kabayo ng Makiling?
The campus was shrouded in soothing silence. It was Sunday. The students and teachers seemed to be resting in their dorms, enjoying an early siesta.
We walked leisurely towards the entrance of Forestry Park.
‘UPLB all is ours now!’ I said.
‘It must be nice to study here,’ Kuya J responded. ‘Especially if you have a girlfriend!’
‘You said it, brother! That was a lofty dream. But when we were studying at UST, I had a girlfriend.’
‘Who?’
‘A classmate of mine in high school, from our province.’
‘Back then, our concept of a girlfriend was different?’
‘It’s true, sir. All I could do back then was to secretly hold hands and kiss goodbye – the quick one.’
‘My crush back then was Regina. Remember, she was the daughter of our advisor at Varsitarian. But how could I date her, she was a princess!’
‘I also have a crush on her. Because we’re from the College of Engineering.’
‘She’s a hometown crush!’
Our eyes were busy; everything was new to us. We kept snapping until we reached the entrance. There was a fee: P30. But because Kuya J. showed his Senior Citizen card, he got a small discount; it became P24. We caught up with the group of enthusiastic elderly cyclists; each of them also benefited from the discount. The road to Eagle Base – the start of the trail going to the peak – is paved; pairs of cyclists were pedaling up and down. There were also a dozen motorcyclists waiting by the entrance. What are these motorcycles for?, I wondered. Where have all the legendary horses of Makiling gone?
8/16
Sinisipon at inuubo ako. Sa unang gabi ng aking pagdating mula Japan, naglibot ako sa buong Malate nang dalawa-tatlong oras. Labis ang dami ng nagkalat na basura, panghi, anghit, bantot, lansa, at alingasaw ng mga kalye lalo na sa gabi. Maraming hukay at hinuhukay; maraming tae ng aso sa daanan ng tao. Sa kahabaan ng Pedro Gil, malapit sa Taft Avenue, sa tapat mismo ng isang convenience store at isang lumang apartment, bumubulwak ang maitim at mabahong dumi ng tao mula sa isang manhole at baradong paagusan. Literal akong napapikit sa tindi ng nakasusulasok na amoy. Sising sisi ako’t wala akong naisukbit na mask sa aking bulsa. Hindi ko maisip kung paano natatagalan ng mga residente at manggagawa sa lugar na ito ang araw-araw na paglalanghap ng nakakasakit ng ulo at nakalalasong hangin.
Bigla kong naalala ang usapan ng isang grupo ng estudyanteng Hapon sa lobby ng hostel: "Firipinjin ha iwakan wo kanjinai ne" (ang mga Filipino ay tila hindi nakakaramdam ng anumang pagkabagabag o pagkaasiwa). Napangiti ako nang mapait, kasabay ng lungkot. Totoo ang kanilang sinabi: tila naging manhid na ang pang-amoy ng ilang residente ng Metro Manila; marahil, pati na rin ang kanilang pagiging sensitibo sa maruming kapaligiran.
Pagdating ko sa aking silid, lalong tumindi ang aking pag-ubo at sipon. Kinabahan ako – baka simtomas ito ng Covid19. Ang pagod ko mula sa mahabang paglalakbay (dalawampung araw sa Amerika) ay tila nadoble ang bigat.
Ang tanging hinahangad ko ngayon ay sariwang hangin at katahimikan. Kahit kararating ko pa lamang, gustung-gusto ko nang tumakas – lumayo sa lungsod na nakabibingi at dugyot.
Kaya naman, pagkatapos ng aming mini-docu festival, lalong sumidhi ang aking pagnanasa ng masarap na simoy. Hindi nagbago ang aming pasya na bumiyahe patungo sa luntiang Bundok Makiling, sa bayan ng ating pambansang bayani binawi ang buhay sa pamamagitan ng muerte por fusilamiento. Siyanga pala, kapansin-pansin ang pagkakahawig ni Kuya J. kay Jose Rizal, lalo na sa kanyang hati ng buhok at ang natural nitong pagkaalon-alon. Noong hindi pa siya senior citizen, halos mapagkakamalan silang pinagbiyak na pinya.
Dogs in the city + Dogs in the countryside
I have a runny nose and cough. On the first night of my arrival from Japan, I walked around Malate for two to three hours. There was a lot of garbage and filth; the walls and electric posts smelled of piss; the stench was unbearable especially at night. There were many holes and digging; there was a lot of dog poop on the sidewalk. Along Pedro Gil, near Taft Avenue, right across from a convenience store and an old apartment, dark and foul-smelling human waste was gushing from a manhole and a clogged drain. I literally closed my eyes from the intensity of the pungent smell. I was so sorry I didn’t have a mask in my pocket. I can’t imagine how the residents and workers in this area can endure the daily inhalation of headache-inducing and toxic air.
I suddenly remembered the conversation of a group of Japanese students in the hostel lobby: "Firipinjin ha iwakan wo kanjinai ne" (Filipinos don't seem to feel any discomfort or awkwardness). I smiled, bitterly, along with sadness. What they said was true: it seems that some Metro Manila residents have lost their sense of smell; perhaps, as well as their sensitivity to polluted environments.
When I got to my room, my cough and runny nose got worse. I was nervous – maybe they were symptoms of Covid19. My fatigue from the long trip (twenty days in America) seemed to have doubled in weight.
All I wanted now was fresh air and silence. Even though I had just arrived, I already wanted to escape – away from the deafening and filthy city.
So, after our mini-docu festival, my desire for an unpolluted breeze became even stronger. Our decision to travel to the lush green of Mount Makiling, the hometown of our national hero who was executed by firing squad, has not changed. By the way, Kuya J. bears a striking resemblance to Jose Rizal, especially in his parted hair and its natural waves. Before he became a senior citizen, Kuya J. and Jose Rizal could almost be mistaken for split pineapples.
9/16
Naaalala ko ang tagpo sa SM Calamba na aming nadaanan kanina. May bababa na pasahero sa harap nito. Titigil ang aming bus. Bigla kong maiisip si Dr. Jose Rizal: Kung gising ang tanyag na manggagamot at nobelista, at mamimili sa SM, ano kaya ang kanyang bibilhin? Noong isang araw, ako’y nasa SM Megamall, at doon ay kumain ako ng mainit na ramen at malinamnam na gyoza. Ang optalmolohista, ano kaya ang kanyang pipiliin? Ang sikat na Chicken Joy ba? O isang simpleng double cheeseburger? Matutuwa kaya siya sa isang tasa ng latte kasabay ng isang malambot na muffin? O baka naman ang kanyang panlasa ay mananatiling tapat sa mga pagkaing Pinoy tulad puto at bibingka, o iba pang katutubong luto?
Magugulat din siya na sa bawat sampung taong makakasalubong niya sa loob ng mall, maaaring anim sa kanila ay nahihirapang humakbang dahil sa bigat ng kanilang katawan? Gaya nang aking nasaksihan sa Megamall at Robinson’s – maging bata man o matanda, ang daming hirap at mabagal maglakad dahil sa sobrang bigat. Magtataka rin kaya siya na bihira ka nang makakita ng mga balingkinitan na dalagang Filipina ngayon? Na madalang na ang kasing hinhin at yumi ni Leonora Rivera? Mababahala ka siya na pabigat na nang pabigat ang pinapasan ng kanyang lupang hinirang? Ewan ko lang.
Tangis-Bayawak 「fig tree (Ficus variegata)」
Ang tawag ng mga naninirahan sa loob ng Bundok ng Makiling, sa Los Banos, Laguna, sa punong ito ay Tangis-Bayawak.
‘Bakit po ito ang pangalan niya?’ ang tanong ko sa isang pangkat ng naghahabal-habal na kalalakihan habang naghihintay sila ng isasakay. ‘Bakit nananangis ang bayawak? Sino ang tinatangisan niya?’
‘Kasi,’ paliwanag nila, ‘kahit ilang ulit aakyatin ng bayawak ang punong yan, hindi siya makakaayat; lagi siyang nalalaglag. Dahil masyadong madulas ang balat ng punong ito.’
‘Ay gano’n po ba. Ang bayawak pala ay laging bigo sa pag-akyat ng punong ito. Lagi siyang nananangis. Kawawa naman siya.’
‘Opo, lagi siyang lalaglag.’
May ugaling mapagpatawa ang mga habal-habal boys.
I remember the scene at SM Calamba that we passed earlier. A passenger gets off in front of the mall. Our bus gently pulls over. I suddenly thought of Dr. Jose Rizal: If the famous physician and novelist were awake this time, and he went shopping at SM, what would he buy? The other day, I was at SM Megamall, and there I had a steaming bowl of ramen and a plate of succulent gyoza. The ophthalmologist, what would he choose? Will it be the famous Chicken Joy? Or a simple double cheeseburger? Would he be content with a cup of latte along with a rich banana muffin? Or would he remain true to Filipino foods and stick to púto and bibingka, or other native cuisine?
Would he be surprised that out of every ten people he meets inside the mall, six of them have difficulty walking because of their excessive weight? As I had witnessed at Megamall and Robinson’s the other day – whether young or elderly, more Filipinos are having difficulty walking and moving. Would the Calamba-born national hero also be surprised that nowadays, you rarely see slender Filipina ladies? Has someone as slim and graceful as Leonora Rivera become rare? Would he be worried that the burden of his Chosen Land has become heavier and heavier? I don't know.
Tahig-labuyo / jade vine
10/16
Sa lilim ng mga nagtatayugang puno ng akasya, mahogany, apitong, tindalo, bagtikan, kamagong, at mga naglalabitin na tahig-labuyo o tayabak (jade vine), patuloy ang aming pagpipitik ang paglalakad ni Kuya J. Patuloy din ang walang-patid na pagharururot ng mga habal-habal na naghahatid ng mga hikers palusong at paahon.
Naaalala ko ang kwento ng aking tatay, noong mga panahong niya dito sa UPLB, mga kabayo raw ang pangunahing sasakyan ng mga tao sa lalawigan. Ngunit ngayon, ang bakas ng kanilang mga yapak ay tila tuluyang nang napawi sa mga daan.
‘Kuya,’ tanong ko, habang ang sariwang hangin ay humahaplos sa aking mukha, ‘nakabasa ka na ba ng anumang sinulat ni Rizal tungkol sa kanyang pag-akyat sa Makiling? O tungkol sa mga sari-saring puno, hayop, at bulaklak na matatagpuan dito sa nahihimbing na bulkan?’
‘Hindi pa,’ tugon niya, ang kanyang tingin ay natigil sa dahon ng mga pakô. ‘Ang tanging nabasa ko lamang ay ang tungkol sa alamat ni Mariang Makiling na isinulat niya sa wikang Kastila.’
‘Siguro'y labis din siyang namangha sa mga higanteng puno na bumubuo ng luntiang kulandong sa gubat ng Makiling, hindi ba?’
‘Oo, puring-puri niya.’
‘Sumakay din kaya siya sa isang matikas na kabayo at buong siglang ginalugad ang bawat sulok ng bundok na ito bago niya naisinulat ang kwento?’
‘Wala akong matandaan na siya’y sumakay ng kabayo. O binanggit na mga hayop maliban sa usa, baboy-ramo at manok na dumalaga. Dapat siguro basahin ulit natin ang mga akda niya.’
‘Hmmm. Dapat nga siguro, Kuya; dahan-dahan nating balikan ang mga akda ng ating bayani. Baka may matuklasan tayong bago.’
Pugad ng hantík na bumagsak mula sa puno ng mahogany
「A hantík’s (big red ants) nest that fell from a mahogany tree」
In the shade of towering acacia, mahogany, apitong, tindalo, bagtikan, kamagong, and hanging tahig-labuyo or tayabak (jade vine), Kuya J and I continued to walk and snap pictures. The endless rumble of habal-habals carrying hikers up and down killed the songs of the birds.
I remember my father's story, during his time here at UPLB, horses, he said, were the main means of transportation for people in the province. But now, the traces of their footsteps seemed to have completely disappeared from the roads.
'Kuya,' I asked, as the fresh breeze caressed my face, 'have you read anything Rizal wrote about his climb to Makiling? Or anything about the various trees, animals, and flowers of this dormant volcano?'
'No,' he replied, his gaze fixed on the fern leaves. ‘But I’ve read his version of the legend of Mariang Makiling that he wrote in Spanish; but I don’t remember the details anymore.’
‘He must have been very amazed by the giant trees that form a green canopy in the Makiling forest, right?’
‘Yes, he was; very much.’
‘Did he also ride a graceful horse and explore every corner of this mountain with great enthusiasm before he could write the legend of Mariang Makiling?’’
‘I don’t remember him riding a horse in the story. But he mentioned some animals like deers, wild boars, and hens. We should read his works again.’
‘Hmmm. Yes, we should read them again. Maybe we’ll discover something new.’
Dieffenbachia seguine + lily + pakô
11/16
Pagkatapos ng tatlong oras na marahan at parang walang-sadyang paglalakad, sa wakas, narating ko ang dulo ng sementadong daan, ang tinatawag nilang Eagle Base. Naiwan pang nagpipitik si Kuya J. sa malayo.
Sa lilim ng mga nagsasalimbayang puno, may tatlong lalaking nakaupo, nagpapahinga. Naroon din ang isang maliit na tindahan kung saan abalang nagluluto ng turon at lumpia ang mag-asawa. Umupo ako sa bangko.
‘Magkano po ang lumpia?’
‘Anim po.’
‘Ang turon?’
‘Anim din po.’
Lagpas alas dose na, at labis ang aking gutom; hindi ako nag-agahan. Ngunit isang pambihirang bagay ang nangyari: biglang nawala ang aking ubo, at ang sipon ko ay malayang dumadaloy. Ang gaan ng aking pakiramdam! Sa loob ng tatlong oras, ang sariwa at dalisay na hangin sa lilim ng mga nagsasalimbayang mga puno at bughaw na langit ay tila humilom sa aking kapaguran at karamdaman. Nalinis ang aking baga at lalamunan sa biyaya ng kalikasan! Isang himala sa Bundok ng Makiling. May himala!
Nakaubos ako ng sampung lumpia, anim na turon, at apat na ‘polo shirt’ – isang uri ng balingkinitan na saging na ubod ng tamis.
At uminom ako ng malamig na tubig ng isang mala-uhog na buko – ang preskong sabaw nito ay pumawi sa aking pagkauhaw.
Dumating ang Senior Citizen, halatang pagod at hirap sa kanyang paglalakad. Sumasakit ang kanyang paa — may kalyo ang kanyang talampakan dahil sa suot niyang gomang sandalyas at kawalan ng medyas.
‘Kaya pa?’ tanong ko.
‘Kaya pa naman.’
‘May dala akong extrang medyas, gusto mo?’
‘Di na. Kaya ko pa naman.’
Sa nagdaang bagyo, maraming malalaking puno ang nabuwal at pinagpuputol. Ang mga trosong nakuha mula sa mga nasalantang puno ay nananatiling nasa kinasadlakan nila; hindi hinakot.
‘Bakit po hindi kinukuha ang mga troso,’ tanong ko sa ginoong nagluluto ng turon. ‘Sayang, di po ba? Nabubulok lang sila?’
‘Ang Makiling Park ay isang national park. Hindi siya pribado. Kung pinayagang manguha ng kahit putol na kahoy ang mga tao, isang iglap lang kalbo na ang Makiling. Matagal na sanang ubos ang mga puno rito kung hindi idineklara na national park ito.’
‘Pero yung mga binuwal ng bagyo ay pwede hong pakinabangan di ba?’
‘Kinukuha naman ng College yung iba; ginagamit din nila sa pag-aayos ng unibersidad.’
‘Mabuti po kung ganon.’
Kumain din si Kuya J. ng turon, lumpia, at saging; may dala siyang isang litrong tubig mula pa sa Antipolo.
After three hours of slow and seemingly aimless walking, I finally reached the end of the paved road, what they called Eagle Base. Kuya J. was left behind, snapping in the distance.
In the shade of the swaying trees, three men were sitting, resting. There was also a stall where a couple was busy cooking turon and lumpia. I sat on the bench.
‘How much is lumpia?’
‘Six.’
‘The turon?’
‘Six also.’
It was past twelve o’clock, and I was very hungry; I hadn’t had breakfast. But something extraordinary happened: my cough suddenly disappeared, and my runny nose was flowing freely. How relieved I felt! For three hours, the fresh and pure air in the shade of the luxuriant trees and the blue sky seemed to have melted away my fatigue and cold. My lungs and throat had been cleansed by the grace of nature! A miracle on Mount Makiling! There is a miracle!
I finished ten lumpia, six turon, and four ‘polo shirts’ – a type of slender banana that is extremely sweet.
And I drank the cold water of a young coconut – its freshness quenched my thirst.
The Senior Citizen arrived, obviously tired and struggling from his walk. His feet hurt — his soles were calloused because he was wearing rubber sandals and no socks.
‘Can you still manage it?’ I asked.
‘I’m okay.’
‘I brought an extra pair of socks; do you want them?’
‘No. I’m fine.’
During the recent storm, many large trees fell and had been cut down into logs. But the logs remain where they had fallen; they had not been taken away for good use.
‘Why aren’t the logs not taken,’ I asked the gentleman cooking the turon. ‘It’s a shame, isn’t it? They’re just rotting?’
‘Makiling Park is a national park. It’s not private. If people were allowed to take even a single piece of wood, Makiling would be bald in no time. The trees here would have been gone long ago if this hadn’t been declared a national park.’
‘But the ones that were felled by the typhoon can be put to good use, right?’
‘The College takes the rest; they also use it to repair university buildings.’
‘That’s nice.’
Brother J. also ate turon, lumpia, and bananas; he brought a liter of water all the way from Antipolo.
12/16
Nakipagkwentuhan ako sa mga kalalakihan na nakaupo sa lilim ng mga puno. Ang bawat isa sa kanila ay mayroong sariling motorsiklo, na kanilang ginagamit sa paghahabal-habal bilang dagdag na kita sa kanilang pagsasaka at pagkokopra. Isang daang piso ang kanilang singil sa bawat pasahero, maging paakyat man o pababa. Gayunpaman, kung nais naming tahakin ang daan patungo sa tuktok, sa halagang isang libong piso, isa sa kanila ay handang sumama hanggang Peak #2 (may taas na 1110m/3642ft). Mahigpit daw na ipinagbabawal ang pag-akyat nang walang kasamang gabay; ito ay upang maiwasan ang pagkaligaw at anumang maaaring kapahamakan.
‘Nasaan na ang mga kabayo ninyo?’ tanong ko sa kanila. ‘Bakit wala na akong nakikita sa daan?’
‘Ako,’ sagot ng isang lalaki na wala ng ngipin, ‘may tatlo pa akong alagang kabayo.’
‘Talaga?!
‘Oo. Ginagamit ko sila sa paghahakot ng mga niyog na pang-copra.’
‘Katulad din sa Lalawigan ng Quezon, kabayo din ang pinangbubuhat nila. Di ba?’
‘Oo, sa Katagalugan, kabayo ang sinauna naming sasakyan. Hindi katulad sa Gitnang Luzon na kalabaw ang gamit.’
‘Sila ang una ninyong habal-habal!’
‘Hahahah. Parang ganon na nga! Hindi na namin sila ginagamit sa mga sementadong lugar. Panahon na ng mga motor ngayon.’
‘Bakit isang libo ang singil ninyo sa mga gusto magpasamang umakyat?’ iniba ko ang usapan.
‘Dahil sa pagbaba namin, wala na rin kaming kita.’
‘Hahaha,’ biro ko. ‘Parang taksi rin pala.’
Noong dumating ako sa Ninoy Aquino International Airport, sumakay ako ng ‘metered’ taxi. Pag arangkada ng pulang taxi sa Roxas Boulevard, lumulundag ang metro nito; hayop sa bilis ang pagpapalit ng mga numero. Mula NAIA hanggang sa Malate Robinson’s, umabot ng 800 pesos ang patak ng metro. Nang iabot ko ang isang libo, ‘Ser, wala po akong barya.’ Anak ng jueteng lord, naging isang libo ang pamasahe. Kararating ko pa lang, hinoldap kaagad ako. Only in the Philippines! (Nang umuwi ako sa Japan, nag-Grab ako; kulang-kulang na 400 lang pesos ang binayaran ko).
Sa totoo lang, hindi talaga kami pwedeng tumuloy sa tuktok ng Makiling. Una, si Kuya J, ay nakasuot lang ng crocs sandal na walang medyas; lalong lang mababalatan ang kanyang talampakan. Pangalawa, hinihingal na ang kapwa ko Senior Citizen. Pangatlo, ang magbayad ng isang libo ay labag sa kalooban ko. Bagamat, may nalalabi pa akong lakas (madalas akong umakyat ng bundok sa Japan), hindi kami handa sa pag-akyat hanggang sa unang rurok ng maalamat na bundok. Ayokong pilitin ang sitwasyon.
Pagkatapos kong maghimagas ng karagdagang pares ng 'polo shirt', naglakad kami pabalik sa gate ng College. Dumaan kami sa Kumukulong Putik (mudspring) na malapit sa unang Checkpoint; dalawang oras din ang aming binuno sa paglalakad pababa patungo sa bukal ng asupre. Malayo pa lamang kami, matindi na ang amoy na bumabalot sa paligid ng putikan; kakaiba at matapang ang tama habang papalapit kami sa kumukulong kumunoy. Pinagmasdan namin ni Kuya J. ang maliit na lawa ng tila mga nadurog at natunaw na mga bato.
‘Dito siguro nagmula ang konsepto ng impyerno,’ sambit ko. ‘Kumukulo, umuusok, at walang tigil sa pagbuga.’
‘Dapat,’ tugon ni Kuya J, ‘yung mga may kasong heinous crime ilulob dito.’
‘Ang lupit mo naman, Kuya.’
‘Siguro dedbol agad. Lapnos!’
Hahahaha.
May dumating na dalawang kabataan na may dala-dalang vlog camera.
‘Noong unang punta ko rito,’ sabi ng guide, ‘kasing laki pa lang siya ng palanggana. Ngayon, parang ilog na.’
‘Ang bilis pala lumaki,’ sagot ng vlogger. ‘Baka sa susunod, di na tayo makalapit sa kanya.’
Bago naming tuluyang nilisan ang bumubulwak na putikan, pumitas si Kuya J ng isang mahabang dahon, at kumayod ng konting putik mula sa gilid ng kumunoy. Ipinahid niya ang putik sa palibot ng kanyang nangangating bukong-bukong, na nag-iwan ng tila makapal na pulseras ng putik sa magkabilang paa niya.
Sa aming paglalakad pabalik at pababa, lalong sumasakit ang kalyo sa talampakan ni Kuya J. Hirap na siyang humakbang. Ayaw pa rin niyang magsuot ng medyas. Talagang dahan-dahan na ang kanyang paglalakad; halos hilahin ang mga paa.
‘E, kung umakyat pala tayo sa tuktok, bubuhatin siguro kita pababa?!’
‘Hehehe. Ngayon lang naman nagkaganito. Dati umaakyat naman ako na ito lang ang suot ko.’
Walang humpay ang pagharurot ng mga habal-habal. Winawasak nila ang katahimikan ng rainforest. Ang awit ng mga nagliligawan at nagsasagutang songbirds ay nalulunod sa ingay ng mga motor. Maging ang pusod ng rainforest ay di ligtas sa polusyon na dulot ng ingay ng mga makina.
Patuloy ang aming pagkuha ng mga larawan hanggang makarating sa isang pook-tambayan. Tatlo ang bibit ni Kuya J na camera: isang lumang iPhone, isang snapshot na Canon IXY, at isang Olympus ng DSLR. Marami siyang pabigat na dala. Sa aking leeg, isang Olympus lang ang nakasabit.
I chatted with the men sitting in the shade of the trees. Each of them had his own motorcycle, which they used to transport mountaineers, giving them additional income from their farming and copra processing. They charged one hundred pesos per passenger, whether going up or down. However, if we wanted to go up to the peak, for a fee of one thousand pesos, one of them could accompany us to climb Peak #2 (elevation, 1110m/3642ft). Climbing without a guide was strictly prohibited; this was to prevent getting lost and any possible harm.
‘Where are your horses?’ I asked them. ‘Why don’t I see any of them on the road?’
‘In my case,’ replied the toothless man, ‘I’m keeping three horses.’
‘Really?!
‘Yes. I use them to haul coconuts for copra.’
‘Like in Quezon Province, they also use horses to carry them. Right?’
‘Yes, in the Tagalog region, horses are our ancient means of transport. Not carabaos like in Central Luzon.’
‘Horses were your first habal-habal!’
‘Hahahah. It seemed like that! We don’t use them on paved areas anymore. Now is the era of motorbikes.’
‘Why do you charge a thousand pesos to a hiker who you guide to the peak?’ I suddenly changed the subject.
‘Because when we get down, we don’t charge any fee anymore.’
‘Hahaha,’ I joked. ‘It’s like a taxi then.’
When I arrived at Ninoy Aquino International Airport, the other day, I took a ‘metered’ taxi. When the red taxi pulled up on Roxas Boulevard, its meter was jumping with joy; the numbers changed at a breakneck speed. From NAIA to Malate Robinson’s, I was charged eight hundred pesos based on the meter. When I handed over a thousand, the driver said: ‘Sir, I don’t have any change.’ Son of a jueteng lord, the fare became a thousand pesos!. I had just arrived, and I was robbed immediately. Only in the Philippines! (When I returned to Japan, I took a Grab; I only paid a little less than four hundred pesos).
To be honest, we really couldn’t go to the top of Makiling. First, Kuya J was wearing only crocs sandals without socks; his feet would only get worse. Second, my fellow Senior Citizen was already panting. Third, paying a thousand pesos was against my principles. Although I still had some strength left (I often climb mountains in Japan), we were not just ready to climb to the first peak of the legendary mountain. I didn’t want to force the situation.
After munching another pair of ‘polo shirts,’ we walked back towards the College gate. We quickly visited the Kumukukong Putik (mudspring) near the first Checkpoint; we spent two hours walking slowly down to the sulfur spring. We were still far away but I could already sense the distinct smell of volcanic activity; the odor got more intense as we approached the boiling quagmire. Kuya J. and I looked at the small lake of what looked like crushed and melted rocks.
‘This is probably where the concept of hell originated,’ I said as if enlightenment had suddenly dawned on me. ‘It boils, smokes, and keeps spewing.’
‘Those criminals sentenced due to heinous crimes should be thrown in here,’ replied Kuya J. matter of fact.
‘You’re so cruel, Kuya.’
‘Maybe they die instantly. Burned and melted!’
Hahahaha.
Two young people with vlog cameras arrived excitedly.
‘When I first came here,’ said the guide, ‘it was only the size of a basin. Now, it’s like a river.’
‘It’s growing so fast,’ replied the vlogger. ‘Maybe next time, we won’t be able to get close to it anymore.’
Before we finally left the gushing and boiling mud, Kuya J picked a long leaf, and scraped some mud from the edge of the quagmire. He spread the mud around his itchy ankles, which left thick bracelets of mud on both his feet.
As we walked back and forth, the calluses on Kuya J’s feet hurt even more. He had a hard time taking steps. He still didn’t want to wear socks. He was walking slowly; he was almost dragging his feet.
‘Well,’ I said, teasing my hiking partner, ‘if we had climbed to the top, maybe I would have carried you down?!’
‘Hehehe. It’s the first time this has happened. I used to climb with only these sandals on my feet.’
‘The next time we climb,’ I said, ‘we should be more prepared.’
The habal-habals were constantly buzzing. They were destroying the silence of the rainforest. The songs of the birds courting and their conversations were drowned out by roaring motorbikes. Even at the navel of the rainforest, I said, the trees are not safe from the noise of machines.
We continued taking pictures until we reached a place to rest. Kuya J had three cameras: an old iPhone, a snapshot Canon IXY, and an Olympus DSLR. He was burdened with weight. Around my neck, I had only one Olympus dangling.
13/16
Sa wakas, nakabalik na kami sa loob ng malawak na kampus ng Kolehiyo. Anim na oras din ang aming iginugol sa paglalakad. Sa isang tambayan, uupo kami at magpapahinga. Halatang sumuko na ang Bataan para sa mga paa ni Kuya J. Agad kong dinukot ang isang malinis na pares ng medyas mula sa aking backpack at iniabot sa kanya.
‘Dapat talaga magmedyas ka,’ puna ko.
‘Wala nang balikan to, ha.’
Isinuot niya ang medyas na may bahagyang ngiti.
‘Isang malaking tuklas ang Bundok Makiling,’ ang pahayag ko, puno ng pagkamangha.
‘Oo nga,’ sang-ayon niya. ‘Ang dami pa nating maaaring tuklasin dito. Kumbaga, bahagya pa lang tayong sumawsaw sa kanyang kagandahan.’
‘Ito pa lang ang ating unang pagdalaw. Tiyak na mayroon pang susunod,’ masigla kong dagdag.
‘Ako, technically, pangatlo na,’ pagtatama niya. ‘Una, noong 1974; miyembro ako noon ng Boy Scouts. Natatandaan ko pa ang clove hitch at bowline na pagtali. Sumali kami sa isang Jamboree at nagtanim ng mga puno.’
"Ano’ng uri ng puno ang inyong itinanim?’
‘Yan, ‘di ko na tanda. Ang pangalawang punta ko ay kasama ang mga miyembro ng camera club. Pero may sasakyan kami noon. Kaya sandali lang kami.’
‘Anong alaala ang pinakatumatak sa iyo mula sa Jamboree?’
‘Noon ay bagong-gawa pa lamang ang kalsada. Ipinagawa ito ni Marcos. Napakaraming dahon sa magkabilang gilid; tila bagong lagas lamang ang mga ito. Halos wala kang madaanan dahil sa kapal ng nakatambak na mga dahon,’ paggunita niya.
‘Dahil siguro sa dami ng mga puno na pinutol upang magawa ang kalsada?’ hinuha ko.
‘Maaari,’ maikling sagot niya.
‘Walang gaanong kwento ang tatay tungkol sa pag-akyat sa tuktok ng Makiling. Mas interesado siya sa mga bagay na bago at moderno. Palagi niyang ipinagmamalaki ang mga modernong kagamitan sa pagsasaka at paghahayupan, na nakita at nagamit niya rito, lalo na ang mga traktora, ang paggamit ng abono, at iba't ibang gamot para sa hayop at halaman,’ pagbabahagi ko.
‘Balik tayo rito sa susunod mong bakasyon,’ paalala niya.
‘Oo,’ pagsang-ayon ko. ‘Hindi pa tapos ang ating paglalakbay.’
‘Siyanga pala,’ bigla niyang naalala, ‘nakatapos ba ang erpat mo sa pag-aaral dito?’
‘Gaya ng nasabi ko na sa iyo noon, hindi siya naka-graduate.’
‘Bakit?’
‘Dahil sa huling taon niya, sa hindi inaasahan, naging batang ama na siya.’
‘Talaga. Kung gano’n, hindi rin natapos ang kanyang paglalakbay?’
‘Hindi, pare. Kaya siguro tayo’y narito ngayon. Kahapon, kapiling ko ang mag-aaral ng PUP. Ngayon, marahil dinala tayo rito ng alaala ng kanyang pagiging estudyante.’
‘Hmmmm.’
‘Naaalala ko, dito rin ng master ang kuya tungkol sa kasarian ng mga halaman (plant genetics), pangunahin ang palay at tabako. At natatandaan ko, dalawa o tatlong beses ko ring siyang dinalaw sa kanyang kasera sa labas ng College. Dinalhan ko yata siya ng konting pera.
Dahil bahagya nang gumaan ang aming pakiramdam, sinimulan kong biruin si Kuya J.
‘Kumusta naman ang bago mong crush?’
‘Ayon, medyo bumubuti na ang kanyang kalagayan; nabagsakan kasi ng mesa ang kanyang hita,’ sagot niya na may bahid ng pag-aalala.
‘Paano nangyari 'yon?’ tanong ko.
‘Naitulak daw ng kanyang tatay,’ paliwanag niya, (noong buhay pa siya) ‘ang mesa, kaya bumagsak ito.’
‘Sino ang kasama niya sa bahay ngayon?’ usisa ko.
‘Siya na lang. Ang kanyang mga anak ay may kanya-kanyang pamilya na. Marami ngang sira sa kanyang bahay, kaya gusto ko siyang tulungan,’ malambing niyang wika.
‘Pagkakataon mo na 'yan, Kuya. Magpa-alipin ka bilang karpintero!’ biro ko.
‘Iyon nga ang plano ko. Alam kong kailangan niya ako, at kailangan ko rin siya,’ seryoso niyang tugon.
‘Kuya, kung sakaling dumating ang panahon na ihaharap mo na siya sa dambana ng pag-ibig, huwag mo akong kalilimutan, ha? Uuwi ako mula sa Japan para maging best man mo!’ pabiro kong panunukso.
‘Malayo pa 'yan. Pero hindi natin masasabi,’ natatawa niyang sagot.
Hahahaha.
Ipinagpatuloy namin ang paglalakad hanggang sa makakita kami ng isang jeep na patungo sa labas ng kampus. Agad kaming sumakay.
Finally, the vast grounds of the College campus welcomed us once more. After three leisurely hours of wandering, we arrived at a waiting shed - a huge refuge for two senior citizens of the republic. I was drenched in sweat and quickly changed my shirt. Kuya J's feet were ready to fall like Bataan. My hand instinctively reached into my backpack, retrieving a fresh pair of socks which I promptly offered him.
"You should really wear socks," I insisted gently.
"There's no returning, okay?" he said, accepting the offer.
He slipped them on, a smile on his face.
"Mount Makiling is a revelation," I declared with genuine awe.
"It truly is," he agreed, his gaze drifting towards the towering mahogany trees. "And we've barely scratched the surface of its wonders. It feels like we've only just begun to marinate ourselves in its beauty."
"This is just the first of many visits, I'm sure," I added.
"Technically, it's my third," he corrected me. "The first was back in '74, during my Boy Scout days. I still remember practicing clove hitch and bowline knots. We were part of the National Jamboree and even planted trees."
"What kind of trees did you plant?" I inquired, curious.
"Ah, that detail has faded with time," he admitted. "My second visit was a brief one with my camera club. We drove up and didn't stay long."
"What's your most vivid memory from the Jamboree?" I asked, eager to hear more.
"I remember vividly, the road was brand new, a project of President Marcos. The fallen leaves on either side were so thick, like a mountain of leaves. It was almost impassable."
"Perhaps because of the number of trees felled to build the road?" I mused.
"Maybe."
"You know," I shared, "Father never spoke of climbing Makiling's peaks. His fascination lay in the modern advancements he witnessed here – the tractors, the fertilizers, the various medicines for the plants and animals. He always boasted about those."
"Let's make another trip when you're on your next vacation," he suggested.
"Definitely," I affirmed. "Our exploration is far from over."
"Oh, by the way," he suddenly remembered, "did your father ever finish his studies here?"
"That's a good question," I replied. "As I mentioned before, he didn't graduate."
"Why was that?"
"Life intervened," I explained. "His final year coincided with the unexpected arrival of fatherhood."
"I see," Kuya J said softly. "So, his Los Baños, or rather, his Makiling journey was... interrupted?"
"Precisely. Unfinished. Perhaps that's why we find ourselves here today. Just yesterday, I was with students from the Polytechnic University of the Philippines. Maybe the echoes of Excelso's student days drew us back."
"Hmmmm. Perhaps," he mused.
"Actually, wait," I said, a new memory surfacing. "My elder brother also studied here. He earned his master's degree in plant genetics at this very College, specializing in rice and tobacco. I remember visiting him two or three times in his apartment just outside the campus. I think I even brought him some money."
Feeling refreshed after our brief respite, a playful mood overtook me. "So, how's your new crush doing?" I teased him.
"Well," he replied, with a hint of concern in his voice, "she's doing a little better now."
"Oh? What happened?"
"A table fell on her leg."
"How on earth did that happen?"
"Her father," he recounted, "apparently leaned on it accidentally, causing it to collapse and fall on her."
"Who's with her at home now?"
"She's alone. Her children have their own families. And her house... it needs a lot of repairs. There's significant damage. I want to help her."
"This is your moment, Kuya!" I exclaimed, patting his back. "Time to dust off those carpentry skills and be her knight in shining… well, perhaps sawdust-covered armor!"
"That's exactly what I'm planning," he admitted. "I know she needs me, and if I'm honest, I need her too."
"Kuya," I said, "if the day ever comes when you walk her down the aisle of love, don't you dare forget me, okay? I'll fly all the way from Japan to be your best man!"
"That's a long way off," he replied. "But who knows what the future holds?"
Hahahaha.
Our conversation continued as we resumed walking, our spirits lighter. Soon, the welcome sight of a jeepney heading out of campus appeared, and without hesitation, we hopped aboard, eager for the next chapter of our day.
14/16
Pagkalabas namin sa luntiang campus ng College, dumiretso kami sa isang cafe para magpahinga at mag-internet. Ang pangunahing pakay namin ay maghanap ng tunay na hot spring – yung bukal mismo, hindi swimming pool na lumalangoy sa chlorine. Ito ang kambal ng aming hiking. Ang mga kabataang staff ng cafe, na taga Los Baños, sa kasamaang palad, ay wala pang karanasan sa pagligo sa bukal na nagmumula sa dalisay at mainit na tubig ng Bundok Makiling. Kaya, wala silang maibigay na anumang impormasyon.
Sa highway pa-Calamba, ayon sa website na nabuksan ko, may mga hotspring resort sa gilid ng daan. Sumakay ulit kami ng jeep at bumaba sa Barangay Pansol – na kilalang sentro ng mga ‘hot spring’ at kung saan tanaw na tanaw ang Makiling.
‘Perfect ito,’ hikayat ko kay Kuya J. na sabik nang maligo at magpahinga. ‘Habang naliligo tayo, matatanaw natin ang Makiling.’
Pumili kami ng isang resort na nasa tabi ng highway, na ang likuran mismo ay ang Makiling. Dumidilim na kaya medyo nagmamadali kaming makahanap ng matutuluyan.
Sa reception, ipinaliwanag ko ang aming kailangan: isang kwartong dalawahan para sa isang gabi. Nagtanong ako, ‘Dahil ang pangalan ng lugar po ninyo ay may “hot spring resort”, ang tubig po ba sa mga pool ninyo ay galing mismo sa bukal ng Makiling? Mainit po ba talaga?’
Tumitig sa akin ang recepcionista. Tila ngayon lang siya nakarinig ng ganitong tanong mula sa isang bisita.
‘Ser,’ magalang niyang tugon, ‘Malinis po ang tubig sa mga pool namin, at katamtaman lang po ang init.’
‘Pero galing po ba sa bukal? Wala pong chlorine?’
Tumingin na naman siya sa akin. Bahagyang nag-isip. Sa kanyang likod ay nakikinig ang isang staff na medyo may edad. Nagtinginan sila; nag-usap sa mata.
‘Ser, mayroon pong kaunting chlorine ang mga pool namin.’
‘Maraming salamat po.’
Sapat na ang kanyang tapat na sagot. Wala na akong ibang tanong. Sa unang tingin ko pa lang sa pool, alam ko nang may halong kemikal. Asul na asul ang tubig at hindi umaagos.
‘Magpahinga na lang tayo, Kuya,’ yaya ko sa aking kasamang senior citizen. At least mayroon tayong matutulugan ngayong gabi.’
Isang libo’t limang daan ang bayad sa bawat isa. Dahil may Senior Citizen card si Kuya J., isang libo’t isang daan lang ang kanyang binayaran.
Bago kami pumasok sa kwarto, lumapit ako sa pinakamalaking pool at sumalok ng tubig. Hindi malamig, hindi rin mainit. Amoy ko ang chlorine. Malayo sa aming pinapangarap na bukal. Hindi ito tunay na ‘hot spring’. Ito ay palanguyan para sa mga hindi marunong lumangoy sa ilog o dagat. Para ito sa mga taga-lungsod na gustong makalanghap ng hangin sa probinsya. Hindi ito para sa aming mga senior citizen na naghahanap ng mahiwagang bukal na magbabalik ng aming nawawalang lakas.
Having left the verdant grounds of the College, we headed straight to a cafe to rest and get a digital connection. However, our main goal was to find an authentic thermal spring – not a swimming pool swimming in gallons of chlorine. This was supposed to be the twin of our hiking trip. The young staff at the cafe, who were from Los Baños, unfortunately, had no experience bathing in a hot spring generated by Mount Makiling. So, they were unable to offer any guidance.
The digital promise of roadside hot spring resorts along the highway to Calamba gave us hope. We hurriedly hopped onto another jeepney and got off at Barangay Pansol – the acknowledged center of these thermal waters and where one face of Makiling is in view.
‘This is it, Kuya J,’ I urged, sensing his eagerness to plunge into the bath and relax. ‘While we bathe, Makiling itself could be our vista.’’
It was getting dark, and we were exhausted. Thus, we promptly selected a resort along the highway, with Makiling right behind it.
At the reception, I articulated our simple needs: a room for two and an overnight stay. Then, the crucial inquiry: “Given your establishment’s designation as a ‘hot spring resort,’ does the water in your pools originate directly from Makiling’s thermal spring? And is it naturally heated?”
The receptionist’s gaze was one of bewildered surprises, as if such a basic question had never graced her ears.
“Sir,” she responded with polite composure, “the water in our pools is clean, and its temperature is… moderate.”
“But is it spring water?” I pressed, “And are the pools free from chlorine?”
Her face became sour as she considered my persistence. Behind her, a more seasoned staff member listened intently. A silent exchange passed between them; a language spoken through their eyes.
“Sir,” she continued, regaining her demeanor, “our pools do contain a small amount of chlorine.”
Her honest answer was enough. I had no more questions. From the first look at the pool, I knew it reeked of chemicals. The water was too blue and stagnant.
‘Let’s just rest, Kuya,’ I suggested to my fellow senior citizen. At least we have a roof over our heads tonight.’
The fee was fifteen hundred pesos each, reduced to eleven hundred for Kuya J. with his Senior Citizen card. Before we entered the room, I went to the largest pool and scooped up some water. It wasn’t cold, it wasn’t hot either. I could smell the chlorine, lots of chlorine. It was far from the volcanic spring we had dreamed of. It wasn’t a real ‘hot spring.’ It was a swimming pool for those who didn’t know how to swim in the river or the sea. It was for city dwellers who were desperate to breathe in the air in the province. It wasn’t for us senior citizens looking for a magical spring that would restore our diminishing vitality and vigor.
15/16
Sa paggising namin, dahan-dahang hinawi ni Kuya J. ang kurtina, tila ba may mahalagang sorpresa siyang ibubunyag. Maliwanag na at binulagta kami ng isang pambihirang tanawin – ang isang mukha ng Bundok Makiling ay bumabati at nakatayo sa aming harapan!
‘Di ba kay ganda ng umaga kung ang unang babati sa ‘yo ay si Binibining Makiling?’ pagbati ko.
Hindi na ako nasagot ni Kuya. Pitik na siya nang pitik. Pagkatapos niyang kumuka, pampalubag-loob niya:
‘Sulit, kahit di tayo nakaligo. At least nakita natin si Makiling paggising natin.’
Kasama ang breakfast sa aming binayaran.
Cornsilog si Kuya at dangsilog naman sa akin. May kapeng barako, juice, at ilang prutas din na nakahain sa hapag.
Sumalok ako ng barako. Ang lalagyan ay paper cup na manipis. Paghawak ko nang bahagya sa labi nito, tumupi ito at muntik na akong maligwakan. Labis na nagtitipid ang resort. Lumapit ako sa recepcionista.
‘Mayroon ba kayong mas matibay na cup? Muntik na akong mapaso.’
‘Ser, doblehin na lang po ninyo ang cup,’ casual na tugon ng empleyada.
Mayroon nga siyang agarang solusyon. Subalit, nasanay na ako sa Japan na kapag nagreklamo ang isang kustomer, ang unang reaksiyon ay paghingi ng paumanhin at pagpapakita ng pag-aalala. Nanibago ako sa kultura dito sa Pilipinas pagdating sa serbisyo. Matagal na akong naninirahan sa labas ng bansa.
Gamit ang pinagsapin na paper cup, maingat akong sumalok muli ng barako.
‘Pagkatapos gamitin ang paper cups ay itatapon,’ pagrereklamo ko sa kapwa ko senior citizen. ‘Bakit hindi tasang plastik o lata?’
‘Labis na pagtitipid o kawalan ng foresight,’ ang kanyang sagot.
Sa katabi naming mesa ay may anim kabataang propesyunal na nag-uusap tungkol sa paglalakbay at trabaho. Lahat sila ay malalaki at matataba. Maingat din nilang tinatanganan ang kanilang mga kape.
‘Hindi pa tapos ang ating lakbay-Makiling, pre,’ wika ko na may bahid ng pananabik. ‘Ito’y simula lang.’
‘Oo nga, hindi pa tayo nakaaakyat sa tuktok at nakakaligo sa bukal,’ sang-ayon niya.
‘Tama, pre. Pero kung susundan natin ang pagdaloy ng Kumukulong Putik, siguro, sa bandang dulo, dadalisay at maiipon ang malinaw na tubig sa isang sanga nito. Maaari tayong makaligo roon,’ pagbabahagi ko ng aking hinala at pangarap.
‘Magandang ideya 'yan!’ masiglang tugon ni Kuya.
‘Sa dulo ng agos, may bukal na naghihintay,’ pagdidiin ko.
‘May babalikan pa pala tayo,’ nakangiting sabi ni Kuya.
Pagkatapos ng aming simpleng agahan, agad kaming tumuloy sa makasaysayang bayan ng Calamba. Sabik naming hinanap ang puso ng pook na sinilangan ng bayaring binaril sa Bagumbayan.
When we woke up, Kuya J. slowly drew the curtain, as if he was about to reveal an important surprise. It was already bright, and we were greeted by a fantastic view – Mount Makiling was standing in front of us and with a huge smile.
‘Wouldn’t the day be beautiful if the first creature to greet you was Binibining Makiling?’ I asked.
Kuya couldn’t answer me. He was absorbed in snapping. After he had finished, he offered a consolation:
‘Staying here is worth it,’ he justified, 'even though we were not able to soak in a thermal bath, at least we woke up next to Makiling.’
‘I agree,’ I said. ‘Overall, this trip is still a good one.’
Breakfast was included in the accommodation.
Kuya J had cornsilog (corned beef, sinangag/fried rice, itlog/eggs. I had dangsilog (dangit/dried fish, sinangag/fried rice, and itlog/fried eggs. There was coffee, juice, and some fruit also served on the table.
I poured some coffee. The container was a thin paper cup. When I lightly held the edge of the cup, it bent, and I almost spilled it. The ‘spring resort’ is extremely frugal. I approached the receptionist.
‘Do you have a stronger cup? I almost got burned.’
‘Sir, just double the cup,’ the employee replied casually.
She did have an immediate solution. However, I thought that when a customer complains, the first reaction is to apologize and show concern just like what they do in Japan. I felt I have become ignorant of the culture of service here in the Philippines. I’ve been living abroad for a long time.
Using the layered paper cups, I carefully poured another helping of coffee.
‘Two paper cups to be thrown away after use,’ I complained to my fellow senior citizen. ‘Why not use plastic or tin cups instead?’
‘Too much cost cutting, or lack of foresight,’ he replied.
‘True, Kuya,’ I said. ‘Let’s finish our meals.’
Next to our table sat six young professionals talking about traveling and work. Surprisingly, they were all massive. They too were careful with their coffee cups.
Our Makiling journey is not over yet,’ I said to Kuya J., with a hint of excitement. ‘This trip is just the beginning.’
‘Yes, we haven’t climbed up and bathed in the thermal spring yet,’ he agreed.
‘That’s right. But if we follow the flow of the Kumukulong Putik, maybe, towards the end, the water gets filtered and will collect at one of its branches. We can bathe there,’ I shared my dream.
‘That’s a good idea!’ Kuya replied enthusiastically.
‘At the end of the mud stream, there's a thermal spring waiting,’ I insisted.
‘Let’s come back again,’ Kuya said with a smile.
After our simple breakfast, we immediately headed to the historic town of Calamba – the birthplace of the martyred man at Bagumbayan.
Habang abalang nangangampanya ang mga pulitiko sa darating na halalan, dumadaan ang isang tricycle sa isang lumang bahay sa Calamba, Laguna noong ika 27 ng Marso 2025. Ilang araw na lang ang nalalabi at gigibahin na ang dating marangyang kolonyal na gusaling ito. Ano kayang pananaw ni Bb. Camille Villar tungkol dito?
「While politicians are busy campaigning for the upcoming elections, a tricycle passes by an old house in Calamba, Laguna on March 27, 2025. Only a few days remain before this once glorious colonial building is torn down. What would aspiring politician Ms. Camille Villar say regarding this issue?」
16/16
Bilang pasalubong, bumili si Kuya J. ng dalawang malalaking piraso ng guyabano: isa para kanyang pamilya at isa para sa crush niya.
‘Dadalhin mo ba talaga sa kanya ang isa,’ tanong ko.
‘Oo,’ sagot niya. ‘Talagang ipapasalubong ko.’
‘Iba na talaga ang umiibig,’ biro ko. ‘Handang magdusa.’
‘Hehe.’
Mabigat ang dalawang malalaking bunga at sagabal sa pagbibiyahe. Tumuloy ako sa aking tinutuluyan na hotel at umuwi siya sa Antipolo. Pagkaraan ng dalawang araw, nag-chat kami ni Kuya J sa FB.
‘Kumusta ang guyabano ni Crush? Ano’ng nangyari?’ tanong ko.
Agad siyang sumagot nang maikli at malutong: ‘Nahinog, kinain, nag enjoy.’
Hmmm. Magandang pangitain. Pinusuhan ko nang tatlo:
Pagkaraan ng isang linggo, at nakabalik na ako sa Japan, nag-chat ulit kami.
‘Pagkatapos ng guyabano, nagkita ba kayo ni Crush?’ ang follow up ko.
‘Nag-lunch kami.’
‘Wow! Naka second base ka na kuya.’
‘Nag-crunchy laing at halo-halo kami; ayaw nya mag halo-halo kc sobra tamis raw; eh di ok, tipid. Ako lang nag-halo halo; matamis nga; sobra!’
Mukhang maganda ang daloy ng batis.
‘Me “date” uli kami. Next weekend. Di ko pa alam what time: lunch, merienda, early supper?’
‘Manood ba kayo ng sine?’
‘Ndi pa cguro; malaking plano yon. Maganda sana sa Pansol, mukhang papayag. Kaya lang, as usual, time at timing ang challenge. Pero once sumama sa akin ng out of town yan . . .’
‘At least lumalabas na kayo; at pareho naman kayong single.’
‘Out na sa friends namin na kami na. Pero wala pang formal declaration of courtship.’
‘Baka nababagalan na sa yo, kuya?’
‘Hahaha!
‘Nahalikan mo na ba, kuya?’
‘Ndi pa. Pero, pag nag-Pansol kami 2 lang, yun na yon. Kahit wala mangyari basta sumama na d b.’
‘Oo naman, spiritual muna bago physical.’
‘Hehe. Tsaka magkakabistuhan na. Ndi group outing eh; kami lang.
Bahala na. Susunod naman lahat pag nadebelop na.’
‘Ilabas mo na ang tapang mo kuya bago mag 70 ikaw.’
‘This year na sana.’
Sa susunod na taon, sa Marso, muli kaming dadalaw sa Bundok Makiling.
‘Hitik sa kwento ang Makiling,’ ang parang naging nilay niya.
‘Sobrang dami,’ sagot ko, ‘kaya balik tayo.’
‘Gusto ko galugarin ang UPLB campus at ung streets of Calamba City.’
‘Pwede’
‘Pero walang kasamang gf kc ibang aktibidad yon: pang maniniyot at dokyumentarista lang tayo.’
‘Sige, kuya,’ sagot ko. ‘Pag-uusapan ulit natin ang bagong kabanata ng iyong hindi-matapos tapos at kapanapanabik na kabanata ng iyong pag-ibig.’
WAKAS, pansamantala. Itutuloy . . . . .
As a gift, Kuya J. bought two large pieces of guyabano: one for his family and one for his crush.
‘Are you really going to bring one to her,’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘I will definitely give it to her.’
‘Love, indeed, is mysterious,’ I joked. ‘Ready to suffer.’
‘Hehe.’
The two large fruits were heavy and a hindrance to travel. We parted ways: I returned to my hotel and he went back to Antipolo. Two days later, Kuya J and I chatted on FB.
‘How was Crush’s guyabano? What happened?’ I asked.
He gave a brief and concise reply: ‘Ripe, eaten, enjoyed.’
Hmmm. Good omen. I awarded him three hearts :
A week later, and I was back in Japan, we chatted again.
‘After the guyabano, did you and Crush meet up?’ I followed up.
‘We had lunch.’
‘Wow! You’re on second base, kuya.’
"We had crunchy laing and halo-halo; she didn’t want to have halo-halo because it’s too sweet; fine with me, economical. I had the halo-halo; indeed, it’s sweet; too much!’
The stream seemed to be flowing smoothly.
‘We’re going on another “date”. Next weekend. I don’t know what time yet: lunch, merienda, early supper?’
‘Are you going to watch a movie?’
‘Not sure yet; that’s a big plan. It would be nice to go to Pansol, it seems like it’s going to be okay. But, as usual, time and timing are the challenge. But once she came with me out of town . . .’
‘At least you’ve been going out; and you’re both single.’
‘The news is out with our friends now. But there's no formal declaration of courtship yet.'
'Maybe you're a bit slow, kuya?'
'Hahaha!
'Have you kissed her, kuya?'
'No, not yet. But, if we go to Pansol, just the two of us, that's it. Even if nothing happens, if she just comes along, that would be okay.'
'Of course, spiritual first before physical.'
'Hehe. Besides, everyone knows it already. It's not a group outing; just us.
Bahala na (come what may)! Everything will come to its place once it’s developed.'
'Show off your courage, kuya, before you turn 70.'
'This year, hopefully.'
Next year, in March, we'll visit Mount Makiling again.
'Makiling is full of stories,' he said after a period of reflection.
‘A hundred stories,’ I replied, ‘so let’s go back.’
‘I want to explore the UPLB campus and the streets of Calamba City.’
‘Okay.’
‘But without bringing a girlfriend,’ he gave his own condition, ‘because that’s another activity: it’ll just be for snappers and documentarists.’
‘Okay, kuya,’ I replied. ‘We’ll talk again about new episodes of your never-ending and exciting chapters of your love.’
The END, temporarily. To be continued . . . .
I'm slowly savoring your story. Not finished yet, but I wanted to say how much I like it. AND the beautiful photos!