WHAT better situation to put into satire than the Holy Week. It’s when we’re supposed to be religiously observing the sacraments of this solemn period and enjoying the long respite that comes with it, but end up experiencing the exact opposite instead.
For most of us, the Holy Week equates to a long holiday. It offers the long-awaited break to unwind so we unhesitatingly grab this opportunity to book tickets for the hottest destinations that are trending in our tourist meters. I too look forward to this week as this is one of the rare times that I can get to spend more than just a night back home. But past experiences have taught me to lower my expectations. Contrary to the general perception that this should be a time to relax far from the rigors of work, the Holy Week has officially become a Haggard Week in my personal vocabulary.
For most of us, the Holy Week equates to a long holiday. It offers the long-awaited break to unwind so we unhesitatingly grab this opportunity to book tickets for the hottest destinations that are trending in our tourist meters. I too look forward to this week as this is one of the rare times that I can get to spend more than just a night back home. But past experiences have taught me to lower my expectations. Contrary to the general perception that this should be a time to relax far from the rigors of work, the Holy Week has officially become a Haggard Week in my personal vocabulary.
It so happens that the place I call home is one of the prime tourist spots in the archipelago nowadays. Thousands of tourists flock to this municipality that has a holding capacity which is enough only for 10,000 people—give or take a few hundreds, to be able to maintain the serenity of the place. It’s after all one of the attributes that attracted visitors the most; the languid and tranquil way of living that one expects in a rural area, a 5th class municipality to be exact.
Not that I am against the boost of tourism in the place. I am all for its development as it’s undeniably the major livelihood for a lot of the locals. More and more villagers are investing on tourism-related ventures and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. However, we should not discount the fact also that not everyone is a direct stakeholder of the heightening of tourism. I’m sure a lot of fellow Sagadans share my sentiments on this, especially when it comes to this period. Which brings me back to my Haggard Week reflections.
First off, getting a seat for that six-hour rollercoaster ride back home is as good as impossible. You have to fight hand and claw with everyone else, locals and tourists alike to be able to get a seat. Okay, exaggerating there. There’s no concept of early seat reservation so you have to tolerate the really long queue to get your own ticket. You have to be truly early, earlier than the newspaper guy. Better yet, camp out in the bus terminal. If you get lucky, you can be in the center seat for that six-hour bumpy ride.
With your already tortured butt, you arrive home to a rural-turned-urban municipality. It’s a parade of SUVs and private cars that are haphazardly parked along the main road. You long for that deep sleep when all you can hear are crickets and the occasional dog howls but the 9pm curfew is no longer observed. The city noise comes with the influx of tourists. To cap things, all throughout your stay you get to deal with haughty tourists who get to say things like, “Saan ako makakakita ng Igorot?” or “Weh! May wi-fi pala dito sa bundok?” Local hostility is then inevitably bred. Apologies for this resentment and antagonism but mutual respect should be observed if visitors expect us to be accommodating locals. I could go on painting this somber picture but even writing all these down stresses me already.
This year’s no different. I just hope that although the much-anticipated reprieve wasn’t really experienced, the essence of the Holy Week was still observed in one way or another.
Not that I am against the boost of tourism in the place. I am all for its development as it’s undeniably the major livelihood for a lot of the locals. More and more villagers are investing on tourism-related ventures and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. However, we should not discount the fact also that not everyone is a direct stakeholder of the heightening of tourism. I’m sure a lot of fellow Sagadans share my sentiments on this, especially when it comes to this period. Which brings me back to my Haggard Week reflections.
First off, getting a seat for that six-hour rollercoaster ride back home is as good as impossible. You have to fight hand and claw with everyone else, locals and tourists alike to be able to get a seat. Okay, exaggerating there. There’s no concept of early seat reservation so you have to tolerate the really long queue to get your own ticket. You have to be truly early, earlier than the newspaper guy. Better yet, camp out in the bus terminal. If you get lucky, you can be in the center seat for that six-hour bumpy ride.
With your already tortured butt, you arrive home to a rural-turned-urban municipality. It’s a parade of SUVs and private cars that are haphazardly parked along the main road. You long for that deep sleep when all you can hear are crickets and the occasional dog howls but the 9pm curfew is no longer observed. The city noise comes with the influx of tourists. To cap things, all throughout your stay you get to deal with haughty tourists who get to say things like, “Saan ako makakakita ng Igorot?” or “Weh! May wi-fi pala dito sa bundok?” Local hostility is then inevitably bred. Apologies for this resentment and antagonism but mutual respect should be observed if visitors expect us to be accommodating locals. I could go on painting this somber picture but even writing all these down stresses me already.
This year’s no different. I just hope that although the much-anticipated reprieve wasn’t really experienced, the essence of the Holy Week was still observed in one way or another.