Behind the fog: keep an eye out

The sunflowers are out, and in Baguio, that means Christmas is just around the corner.

Our two elder children spent most of their lives in Manila, but spent most of their holidays in the summer and Christmas up here. One time, when we entertained the thought of moving down to Manila those two said: we cannot imagine spending Christmas elsewhere but in Baguio so if you do move to the lowlands, you have to make sure that we spend Decembers up there.

How can you blame them – the chill, the fog, the nights warmed by a fireplace or a bonfire, nothing compares to a Christmas in Baguio.

I don’t mean to be a Scrooge here, but in the last couple of years, it seems that bad things are hatched during this time of the year here in our beloved city. Take the SM expansion plan, for example, which was announced at around December of 2011 with plans to start construction early the following year. They probably thought that catching the community by surprise that way would not give them enough time to voice out their opposition. Thanks to the likes of Michael Bengwayan, Chyt Daytec, the Cordillera Global Network led by Atty. Chris Donaal, Glo Abaeo and Gideon Omero and the thousands of concerned citizens who took the streets to stop the sacrifice of 182 trees for a parking facility.

The following Christmas, alliances were made, holy and otherwise, in preparation for the 2013 elections. We ended up with the same old faces up in City Hall whose concept of development is limited to the use of chainsaws, bulldozers and cement mixers, which meant more woes for this abused city in the years to come.

Christmas 2013, a party was allegedly held at an alleged private property on top of a prominent mountain in the city allegedly attended by who’s who in the local media community allegedly hosted by a public official newly-elected to a new position who during the campaign swore to be a protector of the environment. That same property is now in the middle of a controversy and a serious environmental issue when more than 700 trees were mowed down to pave the way for a planned resort. Between the time of that party and the time some concerned citizens discovered the massacre of trees, not a squeak was heard from the media personnel who were at that party who knew of the plan as early as then.

What are we saying? It’s Christmas time once again, go visit the Christmas Village at the Country Club, or maybe the light and sound show at The Manor or the artificial snow fall at Le Monet, enjoy the chill at any one of the remaining parks in the city, or simply, let’s be merry and make it as meaningful as possible, but keep an eye out for it is during this time of the year, under cover of fog, that shenanigans usually occur in our beloved city.

Noli me tangere in the time of Binay, et al

The abuse now comes not from the hands of colonizers, but of our countrymen, and the primary cause of our misery comes not from the abuses themselves but from our refusal to see these abuses for what they truly are - crimes against the people. Noli me tangere, Jose Rizal called his portrait of Philippine society more than a century ago - do not touch it, do not talk about it, know that it exists yet just grin and bear it.

It's how it was then, it's how it still is now. Rizal, through Padre Florentino in the latter part of the sequel to Noli, EL Filibusterismo, asked what need we have for freedom when the slaves of today are the tyrants of tomorrow?

Jejomar Binay, Vice President of the Republic of the Philippines, current front-runner in the race to Malacanang in 2016, is at the center of the country's attention. We did this to Makati, we can do the same for the rest of the country - that sums up his justification for his ambition to become the next President of this country - he offers images of high-rise buildings, underpasses with escalators, luxury cars along the streets of the Central Business District where Dionisia Pacquiao can purchase a handbag that costs as much as three years' worth of blood, sweat and tears for the common Filipino worker. Hidden beyond the concrete monuments is the rest of Makati, representative of the rest of this country: Filipinos living below the poverty, nay, dignity line.

The ongoing Senate hearings on corruption charges against Binay and his family want to turn our attention to the systematic, institutionalized plunder of the city's coffers that's been going on for as long as the Binays have been in power in Makati that made it possible for the family to own what's been alleged as "Hacienda Binay," the size of which can probably provide land to all of the thousands of Makati's homeless and more.

Why aren't there a million people massing up along EDSA, a million voices calling for justice? Because to a lot of us, being in power means getting away with plunder, an opportunity to serve selfish interests. For if not, nobody would dignify the moro-moro that is Philippine elections - for how can anyone justify spending millions of pesos to win a seat that would pay a few thousands a month for the next three years?

Try tallying up the cost of winning the chairmanship of any one of Baguio's biggest barangays, put it next to how much a barangay captain gets as salary. "Ang swerte naman niya," we say about the young man who's been accepted to the police force, not because he has been given the chance to serve the community, but because he now has the opportunity to get his hands dirty with money earned questionably.

A cancer that's spread from head to toe, that's how deeply rooted corruption is in this country. Public service is an empty concept for most - the public's welfare can easily be set aside for the opportunity to pocket SOPs from inane public infrastructure projects like parking lots and gates in parks, throw in dozens of monograms on overpasses and waiting sheds.

But consider, too, the role models this country had - the friars and governors-general for three centuries, the yanks for half, fellow Asians for a few years, no wonder we had Ferdinand Marcos for a couple of decades and two plundering presidents more recently one after the other. For that's what we were taught power translates to: impunity. It's time we change that.

I've said this before and I say it again - for all of the failings of PNoy's administration, perceived or otherwise, it's efforts to punish people in power for crimes against the people is setting this country on the right track. But that "daang matuwid," as straight as it can be, is an uphill one and we can only get this country up there if most of us will get behind and help push it up. It's time we say no, being the president, vice president, a senator, congressman, governor, mayor, barangay captain, policeman, a person behind the desk at any government office does not give you the right to steal from the people, to take away hope from the farmers in the fields, the workers who carry hollow blocks on their backs from sun up to sun down, the children who walk kilometers before sunrise to get to school in time to sing "Aming ligaya na pag may mang-aapi ang mamatay ng dahil sa'yo."

Really, it is not, well, "OK lang" for people in power to steal, whether billions of pesos or a ream of bond paper, from the people. If the Binays, Revillas, Enriles, Estradas and for that matter, the Aquinos, et al did commit crimes against the people, they must be punished.

Let me quote, albeit with a bit of paraphrasing, from playwright Malou Jacob's translation of Padre Florentino's conclusion in El Filibusterismo in the play, "Pepe" -

Ang ating kasamaan ay sa atin din buhat, huwag natin sisisihin ang kahit sino. Hanggang ang bayang Pilipino ay wala pang sapat na tibay ng loob upang ipahayag ang kanyang karapatan sa lipunan at patibayin ito, sa pamamagitan ng sakripisyo ng ating sariling dugo, samantalang namamasdan natin ang ating mga kababayan na nakikisama sa mga nang-aabuso, upang kutyain ang ang mga inabuso. At hangga’t nakikita nating pinupuri sa tulong ng pilit na ngiti ang mga lalong nahahalay na kagagawan, at nagmamaka-awang humingi sa pamamagitan ng tingin ng isang bahagi ng napala.

Be and let be

It’s a simple question nobody seems to have a simple answer to: why are some people gay?

I was invited to be a speaker at the 5th Parents’ Congress organized by the Child & Family Service Philippines and the SLU Sunflower Children’s Center last October 11, and I was assigned this topic: “Doing Good for our LGBT Children: Psychological Tips on Raising Happy Gay Kids.”

I arrived early so I got to listen to the presentation of Ms. Annie Salvador, and she said something that almost made me review my own presentation, perhaps even revise it: according to research, “homosexuality MAY NOT BE ENTIRELY learned or acquired.” Caps mine.

I sat there, waiting for my turn at the podium, thinking: I don’t have scientific research or studies to cite, and only had experience to go by. Does that count?

Because, see, I was born in the 70s, to a mother who’s a theater actress. You know what they say about theater, so yeah, I grew up surrounded by gay people. In fact, I was told that at my Christening, all my godparents were gay men save for one woman. One of them found time to gather butterflies to release in church to celebrate my baptism. Another came in drag.

Later in life, at 14, I myself would enter the world of theater. My very first professional gig was directed by a brilliant theater artist - gay. That production was handled by one of the best stage managers in the industry - gay. I was curious about what goes on backstage and worked as a stagehand for a while before eventually becoming a stage manager myself eventually. And as one, I got to work with some of the greatest theater artists in the country, and a lot of them were gay.

In all those years working for various theater companies in Manila, easily half, maybe more, of my colleagues and friends were either gay, lesbian or bisexual. I even learned to speak the lingo, which prompted my own mom to ask me one night: are you gay?

So why am I straight? All the “ingredients” were present for me to “learn” or “acquire” homosexuality. Heck, I even found my gay-couple friends’ relationships kinda cool that I actually wondered if I could ever be in one. But when I thought about it, I found the idea of myself being intimate with another man repellent, perhaps in the same way that a gay man would find the idea of being intimate with a woman repellent too. Bi/pansexuals are lucky, if you ask me.

On the other hand, I have a son who was raised in a “straight” environment – as a child we played all those “masculine” games, I taught him to climb trees, play basketball, hit cans with a slingshot, he had monster trucks and action figures, etc. He’s gay, and proud of it, as I am of him too.

See, from where I stand, it’s not a virus, nor a bacterium that anyone can catch. Nor is it a “mannerism” or “skill” that can be learned or acquired. We are either born straight, gay, lesbian or bisexual – some of us embrace our sexual orientation, whatever that may be, and live happily outside the closet, others spend their lives inside it and in denial, oftentimes forced to do so by external influences: relations, peers, community, society.

But who can really deny nature? Dams burst because we try to deny water’s nature. Grass will grow no matter how many times you mow the lawn. Birds in cages can never be as beautiful as the ones soaring in the sky.

So yeah, be and let be.

Sunny side up

count your blessings

one coin
at a time
the garbage truck's late today 

and the car's all out of gas

so you walk

and walk some more
carry all that on your back
and one 

by one
you drop them
leaving traces 

on the ground

remember never to walk this way again

today's happiness is 

two sunny side up eggs

New day

Woke up to a heavy downpour. It's half past five in the morning and power's out, and there's hardly any light outside that the trees swaying in the wind are giant silhouettes dancing to an eerie symphony of howling wands, rain bearing down on roofs, branches breaking, windows left unlocked slamming. The dance of the fallen, I thought. Nothing else is moving in the dim kitchen except me and the clock on the wall. I light a candle.

The 20th of September, 2014, the 13th typhoon of the year makes landfall. The neighbor's rooster crows a hopeful crow, the only reminder that this is still, despite the tempest, indeed a brand new day. You know, the first of the rest...

It is much brighter now, light finds a way through thick clouds. The porch is littered with leaves. Bamboos not strong enough to withstand the gusts, or flexible enough to bend in the wind, lay on the ground. I will clean up later when the rains slow down a bit.

But it is a new day. I've forgotten how fresh the air felt after a storm. The wind sweeps and the all that water washes away all that is yesterday's, and we're left with a clean slate. On this 41st year, a clean slate.

And there - today is, indeed, a good day and a good way to celebrate a birthday.

If it's not on Facebook

Bumped into someone who was involved with the protest against the expansion plan of SM City Baguio yesterday and he asked: "why did you leave our group?" What do you mean? I asked back. "Why did you stop?" Stop what? "Protesting against SM?"

So if it's not on Facebook, it doesn't exist? Or if you're not on Facebook, you're nowhere?

Nah, I never stopped believing that it's wrong to easily sacrifice the majority's welfare and future for the benefit of a few. I just stopped believing that ego-tripping, posting links and commenting on comments on Facebook will save the environment.

Sunday mornings

At home. I love them. 

Put that phone down

Photo from techpp.com

Common sight at most gatherings these days (be it a performance on stage, graduation ceremony, a spectacular sunset, a baby's first steps, etc.): people with their smart phones held up to record the spectacle.

I was at a nephew's wedding where my wife was ninang and I volunteered to take photos and I had to compete with dozens of guests and relatives for the best angle to take photos of important moments during the ceremony and the reception. During the entrance of the entourage, of the bride, when groom received the bride, when they sat down, when they stood up, when the priest blessed them, when they put on the rings, when they were pronounced man and wife and when they kissed as a married couple for the first time, they were there, with their arms stretched out, phone in hand... click.

This images would go in Facebook status updates and photo albums, or on Twitter or Instagram, and will be buried under the deluge of the next day's status updates and memes and viral videos and the occasional petition for world peace.

In the meantime, years from now, perhaps at the couple's 10th anniversary, the next family reunion, when they look back at that beautiful day, they won't remember exactly how the moment felt as much as they would remember how that phone felt in their hand and how the scene looked on their tiny LCD screen.

That's a lot of people's first impulse right now at anything worth remembering - look, a beautiful flower!, uh, oh, a car accident, a full moon!, a sunset, a sunrise, a nice plate of delicious food, heck, even intimate moments between a man and a woman and a man and a man and a woman and a woman... take a photo or a short video clip.

And years from now? They won't be able to relive that same moment in the same way as those they experienced with their senses - how it looked not through a screen but as seen by their eyes, how the aroma of that dish whetted their appetite, how it actually tasted, how the environment felt, how the music played in the air. They will be reliving the moment they took out that phone and took a photo of something or other.

Sure, there are moments that are worth capturing in a photo or video, but unforgettable moments are better experienced with the senses, and that's exactly what makes them unforgettable.

Put that phone down more often, really, and smell the flowers.

This fine young man

This is what we woke up to this morning: a photo of two of our children at a demonstration against the government's inaction to SM's proposed expansion project that would result in the removal of 182 trees on Luneta Hill. In the photo, our son was holding a placard which was photoshopped to show the following:

"Aliping for President 2016"

The photo has since been taken down, thanks to the anonymous poster who granted our plea to do so, and as irresponsible and below-the-belt it was, and as much as I feel so guilty for allowing myself to be among those who were at the forefront of that protest movement that resulted in our children being dragged into the mess, we'd like to put that behind us. So there, thank you, whoever you are, Save Baguio of Facebook.

But let me tell you about that boy.

His critique of my work, particularly as a theater artist, is among those I value the most. He was not even three when he first started asking me questions about my production of "Pepe," a play on the life of Jose Rizal written by Malou Jacob which our theater group, Open Space, first staged in 1998, the year he was born.

In one of our re-stagings, he asked why the first part of the performance depicted our national hero rather comically, and what the real story was behind the slapstick that I as Pepe and my co-actors presented onstage. He asked why Pepe said that he was also Placido Penitente, Isagani, Basilio, Simoun, and Padre Florentino. One evening after watching that Disney movie, "A Bug's Life," he quipped, "Flick is just like Pepe, right Papa? He wanted to change things."

And he never let get anything in the way of what he believed was right, I would tell him some years later.

He liked that performance-art piece, "Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll," very much and our conversations about the characters in that piece were way more meaningful than ones I had with much older people. He would particularly rave about the segments "The Artist" where the actor ranted about how technology has forced him to stop making art, "Dirt" that depicted how we've managed to turn our world into a human cesspool, and "Benefit" that depicted, among many other ills of this social epoch, how detached some people are from reality, etc.

He's good at everything he puts his heart in. He was six or seven when he first got hooked on football, and once scored seven goals in a tournament. After being awed by good friend Ethan Ventura's guitar playing, he wanted to learn how to play too, and has since been filling up the house every now and then with Bach's Bourree and blues riffs. He took up taekwondo for a couple of years and has a haul of dozens of local, regional and national bronze, silver and gold medals in his room. You should see his photos - he's taken up photography recently.

He reads, and reads voraciously, lapping up literary gems from Marquez to Murakami to Nabokov to Tolkien to Tolstoy. And Rizal, El Filibusterismo is among his all-time favorites along with One Hundred Years of Solitude which he read, and had long discussions with me about, when he was 13. Our conversations about that play, "Pepe," has gotten more interesting too after reading Noli and Fili.

We disagree about many things - the challenges of rearing a teenager, but we do agree a lot on many things too. Like how the concrete pine tree, which has since been removed, at the top of Session Road was a symbol of the many wrongs about our city today. Or how misguided the decision was to fence Burnham Park and pour concrete on much of the Rose Garden.

He wouldn't cross the road when the light is red and there are no cars in sight, even if he's the only one standing at the curb - he's stubborn that way. He was the first to decide to boycott SM when their expansion plan was announced late in 2011, and has since been boycotting the mall. While his siblings, too, supported the family's decision not to patronize a corporation that threatens to put its interest ahead of that of the community's and would voluntarily join me during demonstrations against the planned removal of 182 trees, he was the one who stood with me, a heavy video camera on his shoulder, during most of the rallies. When school started along with the hearings on the case we filed against SM, DENR and DPWH, he would always ask me at the end of the day how the last hearing went.

His grasp of this particular environmental issue never failed to amaze me. I always thought that he could debate any of SM's apologists and supporters and be able to clearly express all that is wrong about their expansion plan.

When the news of Congressman Nicasio Aliping's destruction in Mt. Kabuyao broke out, he was very agitated. This 15 year-old found it hard to comprehend how grown-ups like Aliping, who looked people in the eye during the campaign and vowed to be a protector and steward of the environment, someone who's supposed to represent the people's best interest, can do something like that.

He does his best to do his share - from simple things like simply saying "huwag niyo na pong i-plastic" when buying something from the neighborhood sari-sari store, to speaking his mind about social issues that's affecting his immediate community, his country, his world.

It broke my heart when the anonymous Facebook user chose an image of him to forward his own agenda - he didn't deserve it. I felt guilty even, very guilty in fact, that he was dragged into the mudslinging that's been going on when what the community needs now is to unite to defend the welfare, dignity and heritage of this beautiful city. I have that same photo, in fact, taken during that church-led demonstration against SM's expansion plan and the government's apparent inaction, nay, endorsement of it. He was asked by the organizers if he would like to hold up a sign at the head of the rally, and he rather shyly agreed, but proudly did.

The anonymous netizen could have chosen to satirize me - been getting a lot of that from people who don't really know what forwarding the Luneta Hill cause entailed then and what forwarding the Mt. Kabuyao cause is taking now. But yeah, I'm fair game, but not my children, please. Not any child, please.

It's easy to grab a photo online, alter it, type in an insult, defamatory statements, smear one's reputation on a Facebook status update, I'm glad my son knows that, and knows too that it takes way more than that to sincerely forward an advocacy.

I'm even more glad that, seeing how he handled that offensive altered photo, that it takes more than that to break his resolve to stand by his principles. I don't have much in life materially, there are so many things that I will not be able to give him, but if there's one thing I'd like to be able to ensure that he has, that's it - prinsipyo.

That's Leon, the boy that the offensive photo tried to put down, our son, one of five children, five beautiful children with their heads held up high knowing that they're doing all they can to be responsible children and citizens of this city, this country and as children of the universe, while their feet remain planted firmly on the ground.

He's a fine young man, and we're very proud of him.

That proposed parking facility (what they will and will not tell you...)

They will tell you that the proposed construction of a parking facility at the Melvin Jones grounds is a necessity that must be implemented to help decongest the Central Business District of the city.

What they won’t tell you is that this initiative is not a fool-proof solution to this problem. In fact, taking their justification at face value, it appears to be a foolish proposition. Burnham Park is within the Central Business District of the City of Baguio, and they’re proposing to get all those cars out of Session Road and its immediate environs and get them into the proposed parking facility at the Melvin Jones grounds. Obviously, this will just move to congestion from one part of the CBD to another – a public park. Yes, a public park where most of Baguio’s residents who cannot afford a day at the mall or a weekend playing golf at an exclusive country club go for recreation; a public park where children play and get closer to nature and breathe fresher air. The proposal is have a couple of thousands of vehicles added to the thousands that pass through the park spewing noxious fumes in a haven for clean air, peace and quiet.

Traffic congestion occurs when there are more vehicles within a road network designed to carry a much lesser number. Their proposal is to attract thousands of vehicles to an area flanked by Harrison Road, Lake Drive, Shanum St. and Jose Abad Santos Drive . Save for the latter two which don’t experience much heavy traffic, the other two roads already suffer congestion practically at all hours of the day.

They will tell you that there is no other place to build this facility but in the only remaining sizeable piece of open space in the CBD.

What they won’t tell you is that they refuse to entertain the proposal to build their proposed parking facility in an area that’s already being used as a parking lot – the area next to the Athletic Bowl. They will tell you that it’s too small. But even if you offer suggestions such as building smaller facilities in different parts of the city that would distribute the volume of vehicles to a much wider area instead of concentrating the traffic in one, which makes more sense if the idea is to decongest, they will still insist that the Melvin Jones grounds is the best place for it.

They will tell you, that the proposed project will not harm the environment. And they will tell you, too, that they will “put back” the field on top of this proposed facility after it’s built.

What they won’t tell you is how much disturbance the construction will cause in the area’s eco-system and that there is no telling exactly how much environmental damage it will cause until it’s built and in operation. But think about it: with dimensions of roughly 230 by 100 meters or an area of 23,000 square meters or a little over two hectares, imagine how much earth would have to be removed to construct this facility. Imagine, too, how much rainwater that much space absorbs and what will happen to that much water when the area is concreted. Perhaps they also won’t tell you about the incidences of flooding in the area in recent years and how this construction project might worsen the situation.

The Baguio Water District, still reeling from the effects of Congressman Aliping’s Mt. Kabuyao shenanigans, and long struggling to provide water to the city's residents, operates wells in that area. The Melvin Jones grounds is an aquifer – a natural water storage facility. So they probably won’t tell you too about how much it will affect the water supply of the city.

Lastly, for now, if we bring up Presidential Decree No. 1216 which states, and I quote, “WHEREAS, there is a compelling need to create and maintain a healthy environment in human settlements by providing open spaces, roads, alleys and sidewalks as may be deemed suitable to enhance the quality of life of the residents therein;” and goes on further to state that “WHEREAS, such open spaces, roads, alleys and sidewalks in residential subdivision are for public use and are, therefore, beyond the commerce of men;” their lawyers might argue, as one did during a forum they hosted, that the aforementioned law has since been modified. What? Why? When? By who? We, non-lawyers, might ask.

And that, my friends, summarizes the modus operandi of the proponents of this proposed destruction of an important part of the city’s heritage – they will bend, pervert, corrupt the laws of the land to forward this misdirected initiative and perpetrate this injustice.

Inayan and Gawis ay Biag

I just came from a road trip with my son. I needed some photos of various Cordillera cultural icons for a project and I thought that this would be a good opportunity to let my son, and eventually and hopefully soon every single one of my children, in whose veins run the same blood as the people who call this awe-inspiring mountain range home, to experience the same sense of belonging that I did from the very first time my mother brought me here as a child, to the time I would come here every time I needed some time away from the dog-eat-dog world that was, and is, Manila as a young man, to the time I decided this is the place I want to spend my life in.

Banaue, Ifuago, ca. 2014

As a child I fell in love with Baguio specially when it rains. I loved the warmth of the homes of my mother's friends, and the warmth of their friendship. I was awed by the serenity of Sagada, the majesty of the Ifugao landscape, the scent of the mountains, I could go on and on. I wasn't surprised at all when one day, after a trip alone across the Cordilleras that ended with a stay at some friends' home in Baguio, I decided to give up our place in Manila and make this beautiful city my home. 

We arrived in Kiangan at sunrise, and after going around the town, all the while reminding my son that this was where his grandmother spent her early years as a child, we proceeded to Banaue. It felt good that some friends I met there more than a decade ago, particularly the owners of a restaurant that would eventually be my regular stop whenever I was there, remembered me. Like old friends, we were welcomed warmly. We left our bags at the restaurant before proceeding to Batad.

What used to be a 2 to 3-hour trek is now a mere hour's walk and if the project of building a road from the main road proceeds as scheduled, by early next year motor vehicles would now be able to go all the way to Batad. And while the thought that even the physically-challenged, persons with disabilities, or the elderly will be able to experience the beauty of the place was welcome, I also wondered how the influx of tourists would affect the culture and landscape of Batad.
We have seen this in Banaue, where there are now less farmers, carvers, weavers and way more store-owners, innkeepers and restaurateurs.

My son, Leon, taking it all in (Demang, Sagada)

We proceeded to Sagada from there and while having coffee at a roadside cafe, we noticed how every 15 minutes or so a huge truck would pass carrying heavy construction equipment - more roads are being paved.

I needed a photo of a Patpatayan and an authentic dap-ay, which had us abusing our van over rocky roads to get to Demang, Sagada where we met Biag, the current village chief. He was named after Biag, an ancestor who is said to be the first settler in Sagada. Biag is a staunch advocate of the preservation of indigenous culture. "This is one of the curses of modern education - the younger generation now know very little about native wisdom." His house, built in the mid-80's, was the last one built through the Ug-ogbo, or reciprocal labor system. "I did not spend a single centavo on labor when I built this house," Biag shared, "people in the community all contributed, that's how it was before. And later on, when the time comes that they need my help either in building a house or working their farm, I will be there for them. But now? Everybody wants money." 

With Biag of Demang, Sagada

He's especially saddened that the concept of "Inayan," which may be translated simply as taboo or "must never be done," which Biag considers as among the most important life lessons that a person must learn, is now lost on the youth. For example, it is Inayan when someone diverts the flow of water to his own farm and deprives others of irrigation. It is Inayan to cause so much damage to nature for one's own selfish interest.

While listening to Biag talk, I was reminded of the more than 700 trees that were cut on Mt. Cabuyao to pave the way to a resort owned by the family of our very own congressman. That is, as I understood from Biag, definitely Inayan. It makes me wonder how Congressman Nicasio Aliping, now the representative of the people of Baguio, an Igorot who traces his roots to where Biag himself comes from, can do something like that.

If there's one life lesson that I wish my son will never forget from this road trip, it is the thought that Gawis ay Biag, or the beautiful life, can only be achieved if one lives it in harmony not only with the community but more importantly with the environment.