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JUST BE By
Bernadette Sembrano Flashback: 20-plus years ago. My family and I were on board our midnight blue Corolla which we nicknamed "chakaboom". Though normally I would be sandwiched between my two older brothers at the backseat of the car, this time I whined my way to the right side so I could get a better view, passing trees and mini-water falls. I still remember my mother pointing to another side of the mountain where they used to pass before Kenon Road was built. She used to tell me of how it was during their time, "it was colder in Baguio before", she used to say. And the pine trees? You can smell the pine far away from the city. I rolled down my window to feel the mountain breeze. Then I recall reading phrases of the poem about the tree by Joyce Kilmer, like a puzzle unfolding itself as you go up the mountain. "I think that I would never see a poem as lovely as a tree..." Whether it was poem, or Baguio filling up your senses, it was all part of the Baguio experience. It was perfect. The family would then take a momentary stop at the Lion rock, the official welcome to the city. At that time it still had its original granite color, later on, it became blonde, and thank God, they painted it black again. Visitors had to take turns to have their picture taken by the Lion. Present time: Badong, the driver took the longer route of Marcos Highway. I am not sure if the bust of the former dictator is still there, or what remains of it after it was destroyed. It was late and I just wanted to get home...or get to work. Let me clarify that. I visit Baguio when I want to take a break and live like a sloth for a good two or three days. This is an unspoken rule whenever I go to Baguio, and it has been this way for the past few years. But this trip was for work, which meant I had no choice but to get out of my solace. The coverage of the show was not tiring at all but lots of fun. It was refreshing to work amidst the morning mist and the beautiful sunrise. But I did something else that I would not normally do: Pass through Session Road. I had to because I had to report a situationer of Baguio in my noontime radio program in DZMM with Tony Velasquez. What greeted me were not flowers but FX Taxis in bloom! There were more PUVs than private cars and most of them were empty. The stretch of Session had a thin layer of smoke and there seemed to be less people taking a stroll. Where have all the people in Session gone? I got my answer when I went to the SM Mall. The whole of Baguio was there! Some friends brag about architecture of the SM Baguio. That it reminded them of Banawe Rice Terraces. But I couldn't share their sentiment. I miss the rustic Baguio and I wish I could see more trees. During my last trip what I saw were flyovers in Baguio, a priority project of President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo (at least that's what the sign read). But frankly, I don't think the roads or flyovers will solve the overflowing vehicles in the city. Baguio used to be a good place to walk or take a hike. Houses have also taken the place of trees. It is lonely to talk about the mystique of Baguio in the past tense. Panagbenga, a Kankanaey word which means a "season of blooming" lifted the spirits of the residents of Baguio especially after the earthquake of 1991. This was good news to everyone, the residents, the cut flower industry and tourism. I spoke with some of the participants and they had passion in them, more importantly, pride for the city. They had dreams of making the city a wedding capital, aside from being the country's summer capital. Everything from the floats and the performances were a labor of love. For a day they would dance in jubilation in Session Road and parade the flowers of Baguio: the best of the Cordillera people and culture encapsulated in one event! Oh, how Panagbenga reminds me of when the city was always in bloom, and not just for a season! I am unperturbed by this experience, and I still look forward to coming back to Baguio because the beautiful memories sustain me...because there are still wonderful things in Baguio to celebrate about. But I also wish that poetry lives to fill the soul of every person who comes to Baguio to visit. Trees I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the sweet earth's hungry breast; A tree that looks at God all day And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in summer wear A nest of robins in her hair; Upon whose bosom snow has lain; Who intimately lives with rain. Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree! ---Joyce
Kilmer
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