A walk to remember

Being a predominantly Catholic country, the Philippines' Holy Week is one of the busiest times of year. Thousands of people head home to their families, making travel around this time a nightmare. Buses usually sell out a month before, and plane tickets are costly. So instead of throwing myself into the chaos, I decided to reinvest my time, save a few pesos, and stick around Tabaco for the holiday this year.

A local ritual here is a Stations of the Cross walk up the Mayon volcano on Holy Thursday evening/Good Friday morning, starting in the foothills and finishing 12 kilometers later at the Mayon Rest House and Planetarium.  In addition to the walk thousands do on their own, there is also a 2 A.M. reenactment of Good Friday (a seemingly more pious tradition), with one person playing the role of Jesus Christ and carrying a wooden cross the whole way up. A few of my close Filipino friends partake in the former every year, and since I was around town, I thought I'd join them. It had always been on my bucket list, and I missed it last year being out of town.

We immediately started out after reaching barangay Buang, much to my confusion since I thought we were going to camp/eat and walk in the early morning. No problem though. To the top we go! Sari-saris dotted the road, selling food, drinks, and for some reason sunglasses (??). People were everywhere. And once again, I was the center of attention. I tried to blend in by sticking with Robert, Mark, and Jhunz, and by listening to music. At the second station, the rains started and the temperature cooled. Rain jacket...check! Ha Ha... Like that was really going to help... We were just getting started.

Flashlights lit the damp and crowded road as we forged ahead, stopping at each station along the way. Even in moments of prayer and solidarity, I found myself being stared (with laughter), gestured, and yelled at. I asked my friends about this later, wondering why I was the object of focus when clearly there was another reason for this journey. But I already knew the answer: "you are a tall, white man, quite possibly the only white person on the walk this year, and many of these people have never seen you before." Still, the blending of social and religious spheres amazed me.

As we made our way closer and closer to our destination, the rain continued intermittently, the air thinned, and a heavy fog set in on our route. Only shadows were visible in the distance. Bird chipping could be heard in the trees, and the coconut fronds swayed and bristled in the wind. The atmosphere made me think of the Garden of Gethsemane, or at least the one I envision. The fog was so thick that only the faint light up ahead indicated we were close. And suddenly, I was stopped dead in my tracks, surrounded my thousands of people. We had made it.

Mass was going on in front of the planetarium, but we made our way around back and up a dirt path to a grassy tract of land where a few of our other friends were already camped. Or so we thought. The rain continued to come down, saturating my already saturated clothes. Let's get in the tent! Slight problem: no tarp for the ground. We did our best to remove the water from the tent floor, and then proceeded to pile 10 of us in the claustrophobic 5x5 space. Quite a bonding experience. Dinner (by flashlight) was served. Drinks were flowing soon after. And the rain continued outside (and inside). Soon, everything was soaked. Thank god for the alcohol. With no real room to sleep, the conversation and laughter continued into the wee hours of the morning. The normally wonderful cool breeze was extra chilly today as I stepped outside to urinate. Shivering and shaking, I made my way back inside the "cozy" tent for a few more hours. Thankfully the rain did manage to keep the mosquitoes at bay.

Light broke around 5:30 and shortly after we began packing up our gear. I was looking forward to the sunrise from the mountain, looking down upon Tabaco, but the cloud cover prevented a breathtaking view this day. Our timing was perfect as we wandered down from our perch, catching the 2 A.M. reenactment as they reached the top. I was too cold to take my camera out for pictures. Only a handful of followers accompanied, I'm sure in large part due to the weather. We paused and silently reflected as they passed before heading home.

Robert asked me on our way back if this was one of the craziest things I'd ever done. Too cold, tired, and possibly still a bit inebriated to muster an emphatic response, I simply nodded. Yes indeed. Crazy and at times miserable. But well worth it  :)