A Trip to Delightful
Ilocandia
by John Silva
I've seen the rugged coastline
and turquoise waters of Northern Luzon many times.
But it was always from a plane 39,000 feet
above on its way to or leaving Manila.
Joining up recently with a Museum Foundation of
the Philippines tour of Ilocos Norte and Ilocos
Sur, I had a chance to see this section of the country
up close.
We had five days to see the sights starting from
the heritage city of Vigan and winding our way,
church stops, roadside shopping stops, food stops,
through Ilocos Norte and further north to the coastline
once viewed from the air. Driving up to the
Cagayan border.
We were led by Maribel Ongpin, the museum foundation?s
chairperson, an intrepid leader/guide, and an Ilocana
from Baguio . She has been on this route many
times, stretching back to forty years ago when there
were no paved roads to speak of.
This trip was a re-discovery of my roots.
My father was Ilocano, however, my mother?s
Ilonggo heritage, particularly language, dominated
our home to the extent that my father learned and
spoke to us in Ilonggo. Every so often his
roots surprised us children when, in the company
of town mates, he would speak a language different
in lilt and tonality. When my father spoke
in Ilocano, he seemed a different person; there
was a beaming smile, a confidence and a warmth so
distinctly his own.
When we stepped off the bus in Laoag and boarded
our Fort Ilocandia Hotel van, I heard women
vendors milling about talking. The bus driver
said something. Departing passengers chattered.
It was all familiar. For the next few
days I was immersed in a place hearing my father's
warm voice.
La Preciosa Restaurant in Laoag was
our first Ilocano dining experience. On the
second floor of this converted nineteen fifties
house, we feasted on Pinakbet, Bagnet, and other
vaunted dishes of the region. Pinakbet, for
one is a stewed vegetable dish with a dominant piquant
taste of bitter melon. Bagnet is deep fried
roast pork slices rimmed with fat and skin, which
melts in your mouth. In California, my father
drove me on Sundays to fruit orchards in Salinas
where his town mates lived in work barracks. They
were all older men, who weren't fortunate enough
to marry and after years of picking, never got enough
money to return to Ilocos in the big time
fashion they had fantasized for years.
Dad would make me their son for that day and the
men would cook cauldrons of food and the Pinakbet
and the Bagnet were the
stars. I was skittish at first because they
had a pungent and oily taste compared to the staidness
of Visayan cooking. But my father cajoled me and
when I ate and ate voraciously, the old manongs
would chuckle, proclaiming to my grinning father
that his son was an Ilocano too.
It was my first time to Vigan
and for those with an eye for heritage
buildings, this city is pure eye candy. I had thought
that the tourist photos of old Vigan centered around
one or two streets. It turned it out that
these grand old houses and buildings were on many
streets and stretched many blocks. Driving down
a street, it was a hard choice to look to the left
or to the right, both sides displaying fine examples
of Spanish colonial style stone houses. Their
wide calesas, still used by the locals, pass by
frequently and add a picturesque to a snapshot.
The main tourist area, Crisologo St.,
lined in cobble stone has old houses stretching
as far as the eye can see.
There are two excellent museums in Vigan.
One is the Museo San Pablo, located
right behind the church on the main plaza. It
has, for its permanent exhibit, reproductions of
original photographs of Vigan taken by a German
photographer in the late 19th century. One
interesting photo is a shot of the church with its
belfry and beautiful old houses and buildings nearby.
A local curator couldn't hide his disdain
by pointing to a building in the photograph, closest
to the church. That is where McDonald's
is now. They've built a copy of our church
complete with a belfry. Sure enough, when
I stepped outside this lovely church and saw
the imitation across hawking burgers instead of
salvation, and ruining the aesthetics, I congratulated
myself and my many friends who've been boycotting
since McDonalds set up a faux colonial burger joint
on Balayan, Batangas church grounds. The church
just happens to be one of 26 deemed in the country
as a heritage site.
Philippine churches haven't been ruined solely by
soulless businessmen. Unfortunately, the enemy is
also within. On this trip, I saw some magnificent
structures. I am no expert on church architecture
but any lover of old buildings when confronted,
for example, with the majesty of Paoay Church
can intuit the genius of the Spanish priest/architect
and the indigenous artistry that intervened and
displays itself proudly throughout the building.
The grand interiors of many of the Ilocos
churches, with their high ceilings that cause one
to look up and ponder divinity, make one reflect
on how a structure instigates spiritual thoughts.
Despite the countless revolts by the natives
against the imposition of Catholicism, the
grandeur of Philippine churches has played a significant
role in why Filipinos have embraced a foreign religion.
(Paoay Church, Paoay, Ilocos
Norte)
But now, many are
totally ruined, defaced, deformed by their own parish
priests and bishops who have taken upon themselves
the ill-equipped role of being architectural stewards.
Laoag Cathedral, once majestic,
now stands roofless and without funds to complete
a disastrous plan to replace its wooden beams with
a steel roof. Sarrat Church has
a façade done up beyond recognition from
its original design. One weeps over Dingras
Church and its crumbling exterior. A crafty
native artisan hundred of years back was able to
sneak in Indic designs here and there and one can
almost hear him laughing at his cunning. Today,
like me, he must be seething, as the church progresses
to ruins, the balustrades reeking of urine. If
there is to be a tourist plan for the region, the
churches, like Thailand's temples, could be star
attractions. At the rate it?s going, skip
the churches. No intelligent tourist
will pain themselves to visit structures mutilated
by priests who've destroyed their temples to god.
The faithful keepers of Ilocos history have been
the museums, most notably preserved by the Burgos
Museum in Vigan, administered by the National
Museum and housed in the home of a national hero
and priest. Along with two other reform minded
priests, Father Burgos was strangulated by
Spanish authorities in 1872 after the Cavite Mutiny
of 1872.
Despite limited funds, the Burgos Museum has maintained
the interior of a 19th century house including a
well preserved kitchen. The museum?s highlight
is the series of paintings recording the Basi Revolt.
The uprising, capture and eventual hanging
of the insurgents is one of the earliest visual
record of native reaction to colonialism and the
bravery of the Ilocanos.
The Ilocos Norte Museum in Laoag
is the finest example of a private regional museum
in the country. Housed in the former Tabacalera
warehouse in the city center, this lifestyle museum
displays artifacts - clothing, utensils, farm implements
and varying woven baskets - all well described and
laid out. In this cavernous brick building,
they fitted a two-storey house so you can wander
through various rooms and get a feel of provincial
life. The temporary exhibitions gallery had
an interesting exhibit on the Ulnas, the increasingly
rare work sled drawn by carabaos. It is an
impressive museum and must not be missed by travelers
and museum aficionados. The very best of pasalubongs
and souvenirs are found in their museum gift shop.
(The flying buttresses of
Paoay Church)
I harbored trepidations
over visiting the Marcos Mausoleum in Batac,
where the body of the late dictator Ferdinand Marcos
is displayed. I was an anti-Marcos activist,
living abroad and on an enemies list that prevented
me from returning. It?s been many years now
and, the country has progressed little after his
ouster.
We were ushered into a dark room with a domed ceiling
hovering over Marcos' body, lit up and laid out
under glass. A recorded Gregorian chant was
playing and an eternal flame billowed at his foot.
The body, his face, his hands invited curiosity
and questions. Is this real or is it wax?
The face looked different and unrecognizeable.
The hair style seemed the only faithful fragment.
I had come to meditate on a man that altered
a nation. Instead, I encountered a grotesque
pitiful sight shorn of any remaining decency. The
sycophants of Lenin and Mao thinking they could
hold on to power by transforming their dead idols
into taxidermist creations have been proven wrong.
Likewise with the former president. History
and deeds will judge him, his waxed figure notwithstanding.
Our party drove north to Pagudpud and
along the way stopped at the Bojeador Lighthouse,
a well worn but still very handsome structure on
a steep hill. Climbing sixty steps of a spiral
staircase, one is rewarded with a breathtaking view
of the coastline, the pounding surf and a deep blue
ocean beyond. My mind kept comparing the scene
to other vistas. A California coast. Torremolinos
in Southern Spain. Oriente Province in Cuba.
A voice in me admonished my silly attempt to frame
what I was seeing with sights elsewhere in the world.
Here, in front of me, in our country,
was a stunning view to behold. And it is simply
that.
This late revelation for many like me that our country
is so beautiful arose because there was nothing
up north that marred and hid its charm. Imagine
the delight of driving for countless kilometers
on well paved roads (thanks to President Marcos)
and the cleanest of surroundings and, most importantly,
without the garbage of cell phone advertising banners
strewn about and liquor signs pounded on age-old
trees. As we motored along the winding coast,
there were long silent moments, each traveler reveling
in the forgotten splendor of their homeland.
In Pagudpud, we stayed at Pannzian Resort, a delightful
cluster of cottages on elevated grounds fronting
a beautiful bay. The owners, three brothers
and a sister manager, have an abiding love for nature
and it is evident in the tended garden, the recycled
driftwood furniture and the pervasive use of thatch
and bamboo throughout. They served the most
delectable meals. The daily activities recommended
included visits to waterfalls and
mountain trekking. A small
group in the party opted for a motorcycle drive
to Adams, a remote mountain town forty minutes
away.
"We only live once" I thought to myself
as I clambered on a motorcycle and held on to my
driver as we began the drive inland. I stuck
myself with earphones, turned on classical music,
and hummed a Mozart Andante as we entered a deep
virgin forest.
There is a daring spirit accompanied with feeling
vulnerable when riding a motorcycle. We
drove through mud and rocks and streams and rivers
with our vehicle sliding about every so often. My
young driver though was relentless and cool which
made me stop worrying. Instead, I pulled out
my camera and daringly snapped pictures as we zoomed
up the mountain.
It must have been the trees, thirty stories high.
Or the several waterfalls we passed. Or
the children of Adams that danced and posed for
me. Or the mothers by the river pounding their
clothes clean. Or the sheltering sky. Whichever
it was, Betty's voice came to mind above the din
of the motorcycle?s roar. She's my New York
friend, an elderly soul mate who was upset when
I decided to return to my country. It was
at a party and a friend had asked why was I returning.
Betty overheard the question and she remarked,
laced in sarcasm and affection, "Oh,
this John. He's going to the Philippines to
be a Filipino."
The boundless beauty of Ilocos, a place that
bore defiant heroes with a language my dear father
proudly spoke. So much more to learn and enjoy
about this part of our country. Betty was
right on the nose.
John Silva is senior consultant
to the National Museum. A great teacher on grantwriting
and advocacy writing, he is passionate about the
Philippines and regularly writes in his blog,
http://johnsilva.blogspot.com.
For
more information about the Museum Foundation of
the Philippines and future tours, call 404-2685.
