The arch
welcomes you to the province of Quezon. Tiaong is its gateway town.
Alas. The welcome arch for the province of Quezon is again covered
by banners, these ones welcoming you to Villa Escudero" - Sarap
Mag Babad" and "Maligayang Pagdating" - banner greetings
compliments of Ginebra San Miguel, from afar seemingly blazoned by
a pair of gold-clad horn-tooting Deco angels. And to boot, there's
a political poster of Chavit for Senador and a GTS DSL ad.
For
shame. For shame. But, it has been worse. Time and again, the arch
gets plastered and wrapped up by posters of political ads, alcoholic
beverages, mall announcements, and a motley of advertisements that
you can barely see the golden deco angels tooting their welcome. Thankfully,
there are recurrent doses of civic-mindedness that occasionally manage
to clean up the arch, waiting for the next assault of commercial abuse,
misuse and defacement. The insert on the right displays another Escudero
banner abusing the arch, announcing "Karera Hacienda."
But that's Tiaong. Small town, Philippines.
It gets most of its name recognition from Villa Escudero's resort
entrance on the left just inside the welcome arch. Otherwise, it would
have lingered in small-town anonymity. it's. . . . Uhmm. . . . .Where's
Tiaong?. . . . That town between San Pablo and Candelaria. Uhmmm.
. .. Tiaong? Hindi ba doon maraming NPA?
I use to call it Sleepy Hollow, Philippines.
A town that time forgot. Caught in some time warp or twilight
zone. I always marveled at how little changed in the interim
of visits. But inevitable with time, there were small changes
that taken together are measures of progress.
From the arch, the stretch of Maharlika highway
that cuts through Tiaong - Lalig, Poblacion, Lumingon, Lusacan, Talisay,
Lagalag and Masen- into Candelaria, reveals strings of fast-food carenderias
and clusters of make-do stalls hawking seasonal fruits, pawnshops,
grocery stores, banks, and hardware stores, the essential cockfight
arena, a sprouting of new buildings for retail commerce and services,
recently built handsome stone residences hinting of OFW monies contrastingly
interspersed between older dwellings and buildings.
The
town switches off at dark, the shallow breathing of nightlife provided
by about a dozen beer houses marked by out-of-season christmas lights,
a few passing off as roadside cantinas, most others unmistakable in
providing for the town folk's generic testosterone needs of wine,
women and song, or rather, beer, bar girls and videokes.
But the winds of change have been blowing Tiaong's
way. There has been talk of the "bullet train" station in
Lalig. Recently, construction and excavations at the Tiaong end of
the Escudero properties have started, with whispery gossips about
a casino, shopping mall, helipads and all. Giving credence to the
talk and setting it off—a "high end" residential community
for the "new burgis," and to boot, a new McDonald's is already
up and running, . But this is all happening on the arch-end of Tiaong,
designed to draw in the commerce of travelers and the weekending tourists
and burgis.
But of the old Tiaong, most of the gentry - hacienderos
and illustrados - have long gone. Many of the old families have left,
in search for greener pastures. Very few have returned. Some chose
to stay and with grits and guts, fashioned a living, achieving measures
of small town successes. For many who stayed, there was no choice.
With the same grits and guts, but shackled by misfortunes of impoverishment
and diluted opportunities, many barely manage a hand-to-mouth existence,
living on the fringe, marginalized in their their lives of unending
struggle amidst impossible odds, propping up their hopes and dreams
with hueteng, lotto, doses of prayers and a resignation to God's will.
Salt of the Earth, with their thousand and one stories.
I am one of those who came back to Tiaong, after a long absence,
returning with a vision and a dream, building Pulang
Lupa, setting up a foundation. Kin and friends ponder the why
and the madness. But It was a decision slow in the making, brewed
from many nights tippling on lambanog with my brother.
Why? There are many answers, many reasons, each
one easily impassioned. It's my birthplace. Firstly, I was born in
that old abandoned haunted stone house
with "the crocodile" in the middle of the front yard.
Too, there are so many childhood memories, too corny and sentimental
for the telling.
After eight years, there have been disappointments,
failures, regrets. . . and a faltering vision. Now I ponder the
madness of staying on. And I ponder that madness from up where
I can look out into a panoramic vista of the Tiaong countryside.
A view unlike any other in Tiaong. . . . Tiaong. My town.
So, weary traveler, after you have seen of Tiaong
what you have come for or just passing through this Any Town, Philippines,
come on up and see Tiaong from the White House at Pulang Lupa atop
the small hill in barangay Lumingon.
And It's free admission. . . Really.
And if we both find idle time, I can share
with you some of their thousand stories, of kapres, tikbalangs
and white ladies, and some stories to break your heart, some
to make you smile,
Uhmm. . . there will be a charge for a tipple
or two of the lambanog.
A resort replete
with all the essentials for a memorable experience. The slow carabao-drawn
cart ride around the grounds while being serenaded by native folk songs.
. . The Museum that houses a unique collection of religious art and
antiques and eclectic miscellany that could easily absorb two hours
of your visit. A wading lunch by the waterfalls indulging on a spread
of native cuisine. Bamboo rafting, a cooling dip into the pool, and
on weekends, a cultural show to highlight your visit. 
.
. . AN EFFORT THAT LASTED
TWO YEARS. . FLOUNDERED, THEN. . . OOONGED-OUT AND PFFT!