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, its resort
entrance on the left just inside the welcome arch. Otherwise, it would
have lingered in small-town anonymity. it's. . . . Umm. . . . .Where's
Tiaong?. . . . That town between San Pablo and Candelaria. Umm. .
.. 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 used to marvel at how little changed in the interim of visits. But
there have been changes, the slow sprouting of commerce and stores
that line the roadsides.
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, commercial
ornamental plant gardens, the essential cockfight arena, schools,
and recently built handsome stone residences hinting of OFW monies.
A diversion road bypasses the town proper and barangay Lumingon.
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.
And the winds of change
continue to blow Tiaong's way. There has been talk of the "bullet
train" station in Lalig, with ongoing efforts to dismantle and
"relocate" the tabing-riles communities squatting
by the railroad tracks from Lalig to Lagalag. 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, Hacienda Escudero, 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 of 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, a decision slow in the
making, brewed from many nights of tippling on lambanog with my brother.
Returning after a long absence, delusional with a vision and possibilities,
I built Pulang Lupa, atop a hill in
Barangay Lumingon, and to boot, set up the Pulang
Lupa Foundation that has been vehicle to the education and community
efforts for the barangays of Lumingon and Lusacan.
Why? There are many answers, many reasons, each
one easily impassioned. It's my birthplace and hometown. 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, corny and sentimental
for the telling; halcyon days in that bucolic life — picnicking
the rivers, walking or carabao-carting or treading the rice pilapils
into the remote villages, roots and memories forever weaving together.
Inevitably, I returned to Tiaong.
Of course, there are days when I stray into pondering
the wisdom of having returned. In many ways, It is a microcosm of
Small Town, Philippines, suffering the generic afflictions of rural
existence – poverty, unemployment, marginalization, and the
pervading culture of dishonesty. It is a difficult balancing act of
failures and successes. And pondering the madness of returning is
inevitable. But in those sunset times, with colors splashing in from
the west, and the mountains of Banahaw and Cristobal dusking blue,
my resolve is renewed, the failures are diminished, the disappointments
forgotten, and the successes exaggerated.
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 indulge in this panoramic
vista of the Tiaong countryside. A view unlike any other in Tiaong.
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, many to make you smile.
And admission is free. . . really.
And I might throw in a free jigger of 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!