The Sampaguita Lads

Walking instead of taking the public transport in going home every afternoon after work has always been my option since I stayed in the city for years now. 

Although only a few kilometers away, it enables me to sweat out and feel rejuvenated from the day's work.
 
Did any instance that I missed noticing these little boys selling strung sampaguitas in front of the church where I attend mass every Sunday. These boys approximately aged from 10-15 years old. Frail as their bones just like everybody of their age don't understand and can't withstand the risks that comes with it as a consequence.
 
Some days ago, one approached me and offered sampaguitas.More than a dozen suspended on his tiny hand. I tried to draw out coins from my pocket but unfortunately I only found the bunch of keys for the house and office. He was disappointed not able to sell a piece. I promised him to buy the next time I met him.

A bunch of them also sells candles across the street alongside with pedestrians. Curiously I asked one of them,"Where are your parents."

"In the house." he politely answered.

While sitting on a bench right beside the entrance of the church, I realized how fortunate and blessed I am, not wearing the shoes these kids are wearing when I was of their age.

Had these kids taken their meals? Are they in school? Had they enjoyed the value of being worry free and unaffected by those around them?

They have the answers. It might not be the best response they could ever give, but enough to prick a little bit of the our hardened and numb hearts.

Eventually, I would see to it that I have coins in my pocket, that by the time I'll bump to any of those lads again, I'll make a shine on their face.

The Second Time Around

It was my second time to visit Baguio City, not in any way related to my work, which was the reason why I set foot to the city last year. This time it was more of recreation and relaxation.

From the airport, we spent the whole night in a bus heeding towards the city.We arrived at dawn. The freezing atmosphere welcomed us, heartwarming for first timers. We parked at Victory terminal where vans for hire eagerly waiting for passengers.

An unreluctant man speaking in our dialect offered his service, he claimed his from Cebu. But we doubted if he really is. The tone of his voice sounds like from Mindanao. Despite that, we boarded his van, drove around the city to get the best price for our accommodation. This made us able to express more and be understood. All of us speak the same language as the driver do.

We're looking for a place accessible to the city and a walking distance to the Burnham Park. It would be beneficial to our health and at the same time our pockets. The hotel few meters away is the market.

Our plan originally was to settle in a house wherein we can cook the meals ourselves. We even brought some dried fish. Its nice to eat such on unusual temperature like Baguio. Weighing both alternatives , we stayed on a cozy hotel. A European inspired design and architecture , with a taste of the pine spirit. The furnishings although old but well-maintained. The room accommodation comes with it a breakfast to its guests.

The entire morning on the first day was entirely spent in bed to energize ourselves for an exciting afternoon activity.

We walked to Burnham Park. Rented a boat . Paddled left and right to keep it moving on the lake. We took turns in rowing it to get a taste of how its done. 

This could be a different story, I did this thing barely two decades now when I joined my relatives at sea for fishing.

Our next stop the playground for the young at heart just across the park. We rode the bump cars. Riding and bumping each other. We laughed . Giggled. Joked. And every body's favorite ate until twilight.

Morning came. Everybody was alive again. We scheduled for a tour within and the outskirts of the city. The van driver fetched us at exactly 8:00 in the morning. Our adrenalin gets going.

Baguio Chinese temples sparked the tour, typically comparable to the Taoist temples of Cebu. The Lourdes Grotto, the zigzag road, Camp John Hay where we do the war games and the zip lining, Mines View Park ,the PMA. Unfortunately, we didn't bumped with local teleserye characters Dave and JR. 

The weaving station, the Mansion, the replica village of Mountain Province and neighboring provinces, an artist's haven. The multi-awarded artist gallery house which the name I could not remember was awesome. The strawberry fields, unfortunately its an off- season, we only saw the greens scattered like mushrooms all over the place.

The day ended with much contentment and satisfaction. We hardly felt tired. All we had were memories of happiness, evidenced with multitudes of pictures that even time can't erase.