My Town, My Home

I was born and raised in a town where everybody knows everybody, where secret is a non-existing word and where gossip mongers put even the most relentless paparazzi to shame. But for all its people-imperfections, my town is a picture of utmost serenity: Waking up to the sweet chirping of the birds and sleeping to the soft rustle of the breeze; and breathtaking beauty: Lush greens against a sky of the bluest blue.

Life in my town is slow, really slow. My mom complains that progress will never see the light of day here. Honestly, I don't care. After the stress of living in the city, I welcome the leisurely pace of my town.

The church bells ring at 5 in the morning, and the faithful walk to church for the mass an hour later. By that time, my town has woken up to the noise of the roosters and the smell of breakfast. My favorite are the pandesal, literally, salt bread. Then I would dip those tasty bread into a cup of hot tsokolate, chocolate drink made from pure cocoa. Incidentally, it's my most favorite drink ever and nobody does great tsokolate than my grandmother.

The rest of the day, my town displays a sense of busyness. Some of the people go to the nearby city - the province's trade and education center - while the rest stay behind and just go about their daily routine. Whenever I come home for vacation, I immediately proceed to my grandma's house, where a steaming kettle of hot tsokolate awaits me, after breakfast at my own house. The rest of my day is spent lazing about the house, helping my aunt man the store, and listening to my grandma's story of her youth.

The church bells ring again at 6 in the evening for the Angelus, then again at 8 in memory of our dead. By that time, the town is quiet. Rarely do you see people roaming the streets. All other fun activities are done inside the houses. My town is as still as the night.

When I was in High School, I could hardly wait to leave my town and begin my adventure in the city. I likened myself to Belle from Beauty and the Beast: There must be something more to this provincial life. When I finally arrived in the city, I sometimes thought to myself that I will never come home to my town, even during the summer and Christmas vacation. Funny, but after only a year of city adventures, I was counting the days 'til vacation so I could return to my town and relax. It just goes to show that even the best of us have to eat our words. Or the city is just too stressful for my taste.

I try to come home whenever I can, and whenever I want to relax. There were times when I would just come home for a day, then it was off to the city again. It turned out it was more tiring that way. So when it was announced that it was going to be a long Halloween weekend, I grabbed a ticket home. It has been a while since my last visit. And it has been ages since a really long vacation. Right now, I'm in front of my dad's computer...yes, in this town where my mom said there'll never be progress. Of course, I will not equate her progress to mean wireless networks. She means it politically, a topic I will never write about in this blog. Then again, I might.

I'm enjoying this vacation, a treat that'll probably never happen again in another five years. I'll let you know...if I'm still bloggin', that is.