Ever wondered how the “City of Pines” looked and felt like back in the day? This pandemic, despite the disruption and damage it has caused, has invariably turned one of our favorite summer destinations into a pristine oasis of calm and unspoiled beauty. Perhaps, as the author writes in an open love letter to his beloved Baguio, the way the city was meant to be.
Text and photos by BLAS OPLE TIANGCO
Dear Baguio,
Ever since I first went up to the mountains to get to know you, I was immediately captivated by your charm. There’s no other way to describe how I felt back then: A classic case of love at first sight! Almost 25 years later, that love affair has yet to wane. On the contrary, the feeling has become even more intense with each passing year.
I remember how my jaw dropped and my eyes popped at the sight of forest-green mountains leading to your doorstep, as the Victory Liner I was in slowly ascended Marcos Highway. I was suffused with unexplained joy and excitement. Even before you took me into your arms, I realized soon enough, you already had a special place in my family’s heart for the simple reason that you were witness to my parents’ honeymoon, when two young people, so in love, first dreamt of starting a new life together as one.
And when I gazed at their honeymoon photos as a child, I wondered when would fate finally intervene and be kind enough to introduce me to you. And when that moment did arrive, I wasn’t the least bit disappointed. Like a movie star during the golden age of cinema, when instant filters and beauty apps were mere figments of the imagination, you were far more beautiful in person than you appeared in pictures.
That was May 1996. In succeeding years, I’ve come to love you even more, through good times and bad. And at no time, except perhaps soon after the 1990 North Luzon earthquake, is it more poignant and necessary to get to know and appreciate you even more than today, as I see glimpses of the old Baguio I once knew—cool, clean, fresh and nearly devoid of tourists—as well as the much older Baguio that I will never know, as I shelter in place today in the garden city of my dreams during this global, pandemic-induced lockdown.
But nothing happens without attendant consequences. So, pardon me, my dear Baguio, if I vent off some steam.
First, it has been tough adjusting to the strict curfew. For the first time in my life, I, like countless Baguio citizens, can’t go out of the house as I please. To make matters worse, I’m just renting a small, 25-square meter unit. That doesn’t leave much room for me to ruminate, much less pace, which an active person like me is wont to do.
I love running down your streets as well as nearby mountains, as I breathe in your crisp, relatively clean air. But because of the Luzon-wide Enhanced Community Quarantine (ECQ), such an activity has been banned for the time being. Even walking aimlessly around Burnham Park, your pride and joy, isn’t allowed unless you need to pass through on your way to one of those essential errands.
Forget about walking in a straight line, from one point to another, these days, as one has to go through multiple checkpoints just to get to the market or grocery. Once there, you have to spend a few hours more lined up before you could hope to finish your business. This delay, as you probably know, is in keeping with social distancing measures and limits to the number of people allowed in almost all establishments. And since I don’t drive a car, I also have to haul everything off back home through your winding, ascending and descending streets, my Baguio.
If there’s one thing I can’t complain about though, it’s lack of exercise. Still, I’d rather run long distances freely under your watchful gaze than walk home carrying several days worth of grocery. But who am I to complain, my dear, when others are in a worse fix than I am?
Actually, I’m greateful. As difficult as it is, Mayor Benjamin Magalong immediately thought of ways to mitigate the disruption the ECQ has brought to you, his city. For one, unlike most big cities in the Philippines, you, my dear Baguio, offer, no matter how limited, public transport services to its citizens.
On the second day of the ECQ, for instance, he summoned all barangay captains to a meeting, and from there they agreed to provide a community vehicle for each barangay’s use. For the first time in my adult life, apart from such common, pre-COVID 19 activities as basketball tournaments and beauty pageants in my native Batangas, I’ve never seen so many ordinary people volunteer on the barangay level. You should take pride in your children. The spirit of bayanihan has never left you, Baguio, even for one second.
City hall also decided to allow certain jeepneys to get accredited to enable them to transport more people living in various localities. This they did without throwing social distancing guidelines out of the window: in lieu of 23 people, for example, each jeepney now ferries just 10 to 12 passengers. Some drivers have even incorporated transparent plastic divisions in the middle and in between the jeepney’s benches and seats as added precaution.
Once crowded, chaotic scenes at the Baguio Public Market during the first few days of ECQ eventually gave way, albeit gradually through the mayor’s introduction of new measures over a short period of time, to a more orderly system based on scheduling of shoppers, assignment of exclusive entry and exit points, one-way routes for vehicles and strict adherence to freshly painted social distancing markers on sidewalks leading to major essential establishments, among other measures.
The likelihood of people crowding, bumping and invariably infecting each other with the deadly coronavirus as they buy food and various provisions was dramatically reduced and, on good days, even eliminated.
And thanks to your shifting schedules imposed by the LGU, I was able to experience city life outside my home at almost all hours of day within the prevailing curfew period during the last two months.
To give you an idea where I live, my rented unit is 1.5 and two kilometers away from Burnham Park and the Baguio Public Market, respectively. And since I have to pass through Burnham Park to get to the market, I was able to witness your iconic landmark, my Baguio, nearly every day in all its emptiness and solitude.
No more Zumba classes in the mornings that once drowned out the sound of endemic and migratory birds. No more runners going around in circles seemingly trying to outrun each other along the park’s walkways. No more mindless dog lovers leaving behind their doggies’ poop in complete disregard of signages reminding them to be more responsible pet owners by maintaining cleanliness.
In lieu of these man-made disturbances, I’ve come across, it seems for the first time in decades, various birds chirping and flying from one perch to another. With the morning sun rising in the distance, mist—not smog—that was once absent or barely visible has now regularly made its presence felt across the man-made lake, along with the morning dew.
Who knows? What I’m witnessing now is probably a semblance of the Burnham Park my parents once reveled in, even for only a few days during their honeymoon, so many moons ago—a sanctuary for the harried soul, a place of rest for the weary traveler, a haven for wide-eyed and romantic lovers and newlyweds. Once again, the park’s pristine beauty has become a stark reminder of the need for us to maintain clean, green open spaces if we are to survive and even thrive in the modern, chaotic world we have unwittingly created for ourselves.
Like many people, my love, I have to admit that I can’t wait to get back to work, earn a living, run, eat out and brave the “new normal,” whatever that means. Truth be told, however, part of me will miss certain aspects of Baguio life under ECQ—no huge public gatherings at the park, no irresponsible tourists who turn the venue into one huge trash bin, no man-made noise that drowns out the soothing sounds of nature.
But no matter what, Baguio, you can always depend on me to defend you, to take you as you are, come hell or high water, to love you, warts, pollution, traffic, overcrowding and all. If every thing, no matter how seemingly bad or destructive, comes with a silver lining, this pandemic, I’m now very certain of, has given me a rare and perhaps once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to experience you as you were meant to be experienced. Hopefully, it’s not yet too late or impossible for all of us who treasure you dearly to turn back the clock.
Love,
Blas
Blas Ople Tiangco is a business continuity/disaster preparedness professional for almost 15 years now. He’s also a marathoner/ultra-marathoner who loves to take random snapshots using his iPhone 11 Pro Max. Apart from doing strategic marketing, he’s passionate for timepieces and is a member of the Rotary Club of Cubao, Quezon City. He has a cat named Ginger Grace who constantly nags him in the morning.
