Baguio City, the Paradise of My Youth

(This essay was abridged from an unpublished book, entitled "Spectrum of Living." It is dedicated to people who grew up in Baguio and who continue to nurture it in their minds and hearts. For me, Baguio City was paradise. It had its mountains of pine trees and green grass. It had sunflowers and the cool breeze....)

Perched below the historical landmark of Baguio Cathedral is the center of paradise. It was Strike and Spare Lanes, my home.

Back in the 1950s and 1960s, “Strike” was the only building on our side of the street of Mabini. Four roads, including Mabini St, bounded it. To its right was Session Road, with the Philippine National Bank as corner building. To the left was General Luna St. At the back of Strike was Assumption Road; across it is St. Louis Center (now St. Louis University). A stairway from St. Louis leads to the Baguio Cathedral.

Strike had a perfect setting. Its foundation was dug up from a hill, such that the remaining hilltop was almost level with the rooftop of Strike. Around Strike, sunflowers, shrubs and grass covered the hilltop. I don’t know for sure, but the story I heard was that Strike was built atop the ruins of a hospital destroyed during the war. The ruins became part of our fantasies. On the left side of Strike (while facing it), a 6-feet tall and 20-feet wide stonewall stood silently, complete with ancient cemented stairs on both sides. Sunflowers also surrounded it. That was our castle, where we build on our dreams.

On the other side of Strike was an old fireplace, standing neatly on top of the hill, with no supporting walls and surrounded by grass, shrubs and dandelions. The fireplace chimney rose to 10 feet. It was our tower to the world and the one where we would send smoke signals to the rest of the city. The entrance of Strike itself was a twelve-step stairs, surrounded by a beautiful garden of roses, lilies and carnations which Uncle Ben, the gardener, religiously tended. Strike was the center of Paradise, with the forbidden fruits inside the building, forcedly chewed when the grown-ups (mom and dad and the rest) spit their venoms.

My brother and I shared equally our hilltop - the castle, the fireplace, the flowers, grass and the rooftop of Strike, with the neighborhood. In front of Strike, across Mabini St., were the neighbors, the kids that compose our little league. The Baguio Hardware Store was home to a hybrid of Fil-Italians. To the right side of the hardware store was the Doña Aurora Building, which housed the theater, a two-floor bowling alley, and four stores. Among the stores was the home of our Fil-Chinese neighbor. Further right of the Aurora Building is the Ang Tibay Building, where the sons of a policeman lived. Also, living within the Ang Tibay Building compound was a rich kid and another Chinese family. Further right of the Ang Tibay Building is the corner of General Luna St.

Along Gen. Luna St, across the street of the hill left of Strike was Baguio Tech (now the University of Baguio). It also had its mountain, covered with grass, where we would venture away from our hill in a fit of adventurism. But what was most interesting about Baguio Tech is its little museum. In a big glass cage, it housed a big boa constrictor, a ten-foot snake that feed on chickens. I used to wonder: “was it really the great (to the nth degree) grandparent of the snake that deceived Adam and Eve?” Could a snake really cause the original sin and the destruction of paradise?

To the left of the Baguio Hardware were the Olympian Lanes and other building all the way down Session Road. There were other families too, with kids having their own league. But they did not belong to our little league, not until later.

Field of Dreams

Life in our paradise depended on the seasons of the year, which were only rainy or sunny, summer vacation or December break, weekends or weekdays. The events also depended on the time of day and the hit movies.

When the “Green Beret” was shown, starring John Wayne, we played war games, with honesty as the policy. There was no such thing as being wounded; you were dead when you cross the line of fire and your opponent was first to shout “bang.” We had guns made out of twigs of the marapa-it (Ilocano for the sunflower plant). The guns may be a pistol, a rifle or machine gun, but aim was more important. Once, Rolly, a rich kid, came to the game with a top-of-the-line toy machine gun, complete with periscope and which fired rounds of ammunitions, rat-tat-tat. While we were envious, rules are rules and Rolly’s gun had as much firepower as the rest. Rolly would die if caught flatfooted.

When the “Three Hundred Spartans” was shown, we were all Spartans, with shields of plywood and axes made of galvanized iron sheets from Baguio Hardware. Our opponents were the marapa-its. From one end of the hill where our castle stood, we faced the sunflowers. At the battle cry, we attacked mercilessly, i.e., cutting the sunflower plants as close to the roots as possible, complete with the “yah’s” and “oh’s” of battle. We struggled amidst hidden dangers – the shits duly feasted by worms and houseflies, the “voodoo-vodoo” (a red caterpillar with spikes like a porcupine), the cobwebs and spider X, the huge rats and the trap vines. At the end of the day, and despite being bruised and soiled by the spurts of green blood of sunflower plants (sometimes, with slippers stinking from the smell of shit), we, the Spartans, crushed thousands of enemy soldiers.

Paradise was a commune, with the bigger boys and girls as dads and moms, respectively; while everyone else was the children. We built several houses from marapa-it stems held together with “lanot” (local vine), covered by marapa-it leaves and dried grass, and adorned with flowers. Each house has its own little chimney from stone pipes and hollow blocks obtained from a nearby warehouse. The boys (assisted by the girls) cooked the meals (usually, kamote or sweet potato laid by the fire, rice cooked in a big empty milk can and boiled sayote tops).

When “The Lone Ranger” was shown, we were either lone rangers (each with a mask, paper cowboy hat and two guns tucked in the side pockets of his pants) or Indians (with caps of feathers plucked from the neighborhood gamecocks, and bows and arrows made of bamboo). In the war games, either all the lone rangers or the Indians were routed and tied in the center, fronting our fireplace. Before sunset, a peace pack was reached. We gathered dried sunflower roots (called “baboy-baboy” or pig-shaped), twigs and stems, and build a bonfire. While seated around the fire, the bigger boys shared their stories of fairies and ghosts, and we, the younger kids listened. At times, the fire was built in the fireplace itself, with the smoke from the chimney signaling a peace pact.

We had all sorts of others games, such as follow the leader, hide and seek, making sand bowls (using water or our urine as mixture), the battle of the bulge (hitting tanks made of sticks and stones of the opposite camp), high jump, and dog fights, with our own life-size airplanes (“Tora, Tora, Tora”). We were extremely creative, making switchblades out of popsicle-sticks, alkansiya (piggy bank) from Indian mango seed, and miniature pool tables and scooters.

Burnham Park

Burnham Park was the ultimate in Baguio paradise. It was only two blocks from my place, crossing Session Road, down to lower Mabini St., crossing Harrison Road and “presto!” - Burnham, with its big football field fronting the grandstand (During the 1960s, it still had its share of mountains and shrubs). The field was the scene of many war games, gun battles, and catch me games. Every summer, it was also the place where we catch the grasshoppers and pry the soil for the beetles, which hid underground. Both grasshoppers and beetles were cooked and eaten back in our mountains.

Further ahead of the field was Burnham Lake (the size of two football fields), then, still with its clear waters and several species of fishes. (Many a times, this was were we catch fishes and played hide and seek with the caretakers of Burnham). Surrounding the lake was a rectangular road where the rented out bicycles, scooters and small cars would circle around. To the left of the lake is the children’s skating rink, which rented out, aside from skates, the tricycles, kiddie go-carts, jeeps and small bikes. At the center of the skating rink is a huge umbrella made of stone, where people could sit and move around. Further ahead of the lake was the children’s playground - the slides, the seesaws, the swings, and the merry-go rounds.

Every weekend was a whole-day treat, with the bigger kids organizing the itinerary. From the allowances saved from the weekdays, we afforded the ten centavos go-cart rides (which became 25 centavos, then 50 centavos). The bigger boys of course, rode on the bicycles, while the younger ones either chose the mini-jeeps and cars or the tricycles. At times, it was the boat rides in the lake, where we had races in our “canoes.” The bigger boys made sure that nobody was left out. Even if you had no money, you would have your share in the rides. The other choice (during times when everyone had no money) was enjoyed the children’s playground. There, we played hide and seek, cat and mouse, the war games and our version of touch the ball.

The weekends of May and December were particularly special. Aside from being vacation, these were times when flowers bloom, small birds abound and wild fruits were in abundance. These were the times for hunting and the kids had elaborate preparations for the hunt. We had our cages for the birds and glass jars for the tadpoles and frogs. We had slingshots, rubber bands and sticks for the bird traps, with grasshoppers as baits. We had nets for the tadpoles.

At the back of the skating rink is the public library, then the huge Auditorium (where the annual Baguio sports fests were held). At the back of the auditorium was our little forest, with its little brook and share of tadpoles and frogs. There we had out hunt. After sunset, we brought home our haul – little birds in cages, tadpoles in aquariums (glass jars), grass-hoppers with their share of grass in coffee jars, spiders in matchboxes. We also brought home a bunch of wild black berries and guavas.

The following day, the neighborhood was given a treat. The hunters made a local zoo, showcasing our haul of birds, tadpoles, spiders, plus a variety of other insects and animals, including stray cats, lizards, earthworms, including my dog, Julie. It was complete with all the landscape and fun fare – mini path walks to each sort of animals or insects, duly labeled.

Sunny and Rainy Days

In the 1960s, summer in Baguio was a triple-treat of fun and gaiety, with the carnival and the Tour of Luzon (and its caravan of shows), coinciding with the city’s Summer Regatta. The carnival was set up regularly at the football field or at the Rizal Park (right of Burnham Lake), with its ferries wheel, merry-go-round, the airplane and boat rides. It came along with the bingo, the games of luck – the targets, the wheel of fortune, the shots (of toy soldiers), the mouse game, the bean and the card games. Then there were the shows – the acrobats, magicians, sharpshooters, and the freaks, such as the dwarfs, the woman snake, the fairy and the “taong-gubat” (chicken eating wild man).

The bi-annual Tour of Luzon, a bike-a-thon came with free novelty shows of movie stars. These were the times when we came face to face with our favorite movie stars. I remembered the stars of 1966, such as Gina Pareno, Ramil Rodriguez, Bert Leroy Jr., Loretta Marquez, Ricky Belmonte and Rosemarie Sonora. (Only Gina and Ramil are active, playing parent or grandparent roles. Loretta, Bert and Ricky already passed away. Ricky and Rosemarie’s daughter, Sheryl, became a movie star and a mom.)

The Summer Regatta was an annual festival timed during the Holy Week. It featured on-the-spot contests, such as painting, woodcarving, scouting skills (knot tying, semaphore), the battle of drum and bugle corps and bands, the dog show and boulder boring (among big mining companies). It also had the special features such as the go-cart racing, the parade in review of the Philippine Military Academy. At night, it had free movies of old films right at the football field, usually cartoons and the life of Jesus Christ.

Back in the mountain of Strike, the kids of Mabini St. had their own mini-carnival. We had our own stage shows, where each of us had the chance to sing, dance or mimic a favorite line from the movies. We pretended to be the wild man, the snake woman or the fairy. The smaller ones were automatically the dwarfs. We also had our own games – the acrobats among us would show off their cartwheels, handsprings and summersaults.

During the rainy days, the indoor hobbies included stamp collection, snakes and ladders, spinning the bottle and sharing of comic books. We had our share of singing, following the words of the monthly song hits book, “2000 Popular Hit Tunes” and the weekly Teenage Songs and Shows (TSS), which had the latest tunes.

After the rains, especially after a thunderstorm, we would wake up early morn, (when the fog was still thick and the dews glistened among the grass), to gather mushrooms. In one of those mornings, I and two friends were gathering mushrooms in the morning sun, when we stumbled upon an odd looking yellow rock. After some argument as to whether it was a kind of special stone, such as pyrite or gold, I ventured to touch it. The stone turned out to be a nicely shaped “piece of shit” duly adorned by the sparkle of the morning dew and touched by the first rays of sunlight. (Even shit, when untouched, was a natural art form, like how modern art installations were. It was the outcome of a natural form of release, a wonder only possible with life forms.)

Paradise Remembered

The Baguio City of the 1950s and 1960s was definitely not the Baguio City of the 1990s and 2000s. Late in the 1960s, the beautiful garden fronting Strike was replaced by a two-floor building, with the first floor made into a row of stores and the second floor made into offices. The right side of Strike was also bulldozed, and with it, the destruction of our chimney and tower (this is reminiscence of the Tower of Babel, which the gods have destroyed). In its place were two big commercial buildings.

Although our castle on the left side of Strike remained, the mountain, together with the sunflowers, shrubs and grass was leveled to the ground and covered by cement and gravel. The place became a parking lot surrounded by small eateries and makeshift houses. This meant the destruction of a natural habitat of grasshoppers, earthworms and butterflies, spiders and the field of our dreams. (Incidentally, Strike and Spare Lanes was forever gone in 2007; it became one of a chain of Jack’s Restaurant.)

I forget when it happened. But pretty soon, Burnham Lake became murky and brown and the fishes, if any, could no longer be seen. The scooters and small cars were also gone and only half of the road around the lake was used for the bikes. The skating rink was still there, but confined to skating. The small bikes, go-carts and tricycles were transferred to the children’s playground. Our forest (and brook) was cleared and became a tourist landmark. At least, the flowers were maintained through the years.

The footfall ground also underwent some changes. The whole field was leveled and another grandstand was constructed opposite the existing one. Two big restaurants were also established on both ends of the field. From the vantage point of Harrison Road, the right side also became a parking lot. Through the years more and more people come to Burnham Park and more an more merchants ply their trade, such as selling quail eggs and balut (boiled pre-hatch duck egg), mais (sweet corn) and mani (peanuts).

In July 1990, an earthquake (a magnitude of 7.5 on the Richter scale) destroyed most of the tall buildings of Baguio and cost 500 lives. It also destroyed the Aurora Theater, killing the wife and kid of a playmate, Henry, who were unluckily trapped inside the store located in the movie theater. The Baguio Hardware beside it was also badly damaged, but, like Strike, was rehabilitated. However, the former owners, our Fil-Italian neighbors sold their rights to the place. In place of the Aurora Theater and Baguio Hardware were also rows of commercial buildings.

Where were the kids in the neighborhood? Most have migrated to the States - the Fil-Italians, the rich kid from Ang Tibay Building and my brother. “Timbong,” the eldest son of the policeman and the informal “leader” of our league, became Engineer Santi. I met him in 1989 in one of the mines of Benguet Corporation, together with “Catchut” (a.k.a. Johnny, brother of Henry) an x-ray technician. Tony, who also lived in the Ang Tibay Building became the owner of a chain of studios, such as Mountain Studio, located at the corner of Mabini St and Session Road.

Back in 1995, I met Henry, the eldest sibling of our Fil-Chinese neighbor. Next to Timbong, Henry belonged to the second line informal leadership of our league, together with “Paling” (younger brother of Timbong) and my kuya Rudy. As we were reminiscing the good old days, Henry opened his wallet and showed me an old picture. It was a picture taken in the steps fronting the umbrella of stone at the center of the skating rink. It showed the core of our little league, with small me standing in front with my co-small ones. At the back were the bigger boys and girls. Henry took the picture with his first camera, back in 1960s.

Sometime in 2006, I met Judith, a younger sister of Henry. She became an accountant of St. Louis Center, where most of the kids studied in elementary. I also met Lily, one of our Fil-Italian neighbors; she was with a granddaughter, walking along the Abanao Square Mall. Except for her and an elder sister, Lily’s ten other siblings migrated to the States. She shared that “Pig-ol” (a.k.a. Robert), a younger brother of Henry met my brother in California. When her family gave up the lease for Baguio Hardware, she couldn’t pass by Mabini St. for at least a year; for her, the pain of loosing her own home and paradise was excruciating.

The Legacy of the Young

Like the Beatle song, “In My Life,” played: “there are places I remember, all my life, though some have change…” Paradise was not lost; we merely grew older, with the memories forever etched in our hearts.

Memories of paradise lingered on in my mind and heart, even as I grew older. They kept me alive and hopeful, like constantly wishing a fairy tale to come true. I suppose kids who had their share of acting and playing out their fantasies feel the same way. One may fall prey to the humdrum of daily living, like working or seeking food to feed family. But secretly, he wished he were the prince who woke up the sleeping beauty with a kiss or she was Snow White being pampered by her seven dwarfs.

Each one of us had his or her share of misfortunes in the harsh environment of grown-ups. But each of us also had his or her daydreams to ward off the follies of the adult world. Grown-ups translate these daydreams into fancy adult words, such as vision, mission and goal statements, through fancy technologies such as “imagineering” and “structured learning exercises” (SLEs), which are really children’s plays.

The daydreams were also translated into principles and guides to conduct, and passed on from generation to generation as culture, with its various labels, such as religion, governance and art. But beneath the surface of the cultural milieu is the heart of the child, born from its natural source beyond the non-physical world. The child-like qualities of human beings are also passed on, not from adult to child, but from the child in adults to their children.

Through the child in mom and dad, I was blessed to have lived in the paradise of Baguio as a child. I have passed on the legacy by permitting my children to grow up in the paradise I knew, which they have deciphered as their own. In turn, my children, who became married grown-ups, have also passed on the torch of being child to their own kids, my grandchildren. When I returned to Baguio City, with a new family in 2004, I was not only returning home to establish a new generation of kids like me. I was also re-living and passing on the pleasant memories of the paradise created in 1954.