There must be more than this provincial life

I grew up in a rural town in a province northwest of Manila. When I was younger, we had a poultry and piggery business, and some cows as well. Imagine the smell that wakes you up every morning, and it’s not as aromatic as coffee is. As a child growing up though, I loved every minute of it. I chased piglets around, took care of chicks, played in the mud and had old sacks of rice or used tires for swings. My grandmother taught me how to build fire (I have this weird attraction to fire, maybe because we use it a lot); we used it for preparing the ground for planting, preparing the mango trees for fruit bearing season, pest control (bye bye mosquitoes!) and cooking rice outside. Grandma always had this theory that rice cooked on top of wood tastes better than those cooked in rice cookers. I had the luxury (or the necessity depending on the viewpoint) of catching fish for dinner like tilapia, catfish (-_- ugh) and mudfish and cleaning them. The market was at least 20 minutes away, muddy and smelled of fish and livestock but I loved it (minus the smell and gooey feeling on your feet)

When I grew older, I was given the privilege to study in the city. My parents thought it would give me more exposure and access to more quality education. It was not easy (I’m not much of a city girl, I like staying at home and having a bit of a slower pace). I still got the chance to go home every chance I could, and it was honestly a relief to just go home and explore. I had the theory that city people loved to argue and talk about the things they read in magazines or see in the international news and miss out on the everyday people; however, a lot of the education you really get is just through the many groups of people you meet (regardless of political affiliation, financial knowledge or employment status). It did matter to me that I would hang out with a lot of my parent’s friends from church and I grew up having a lot of ‘spiritual moms’ who I still hold dear to my heart until today. Going home to the provincial life helped me detox, for lack of a better term. I was always in the back (with nothing but plants), traipsing around with my dogs with a sketchbook or notebook (for writing poems and prose). There were times I had a camera to grab photos of the sunset or of other ‘wildlife’ like migratory birds, owls (pretty animals!), snakes and lizards.

There must be more than this provincial life. The feeling of very fresh air that grazes your cheeks. The ability to laze around in a hammock during a very hot summer day just reading a book. Those long summer nights with power interruption, just talking about any and everything with family. Those summer days with my ‘business endeavors’ such as selling green mangoes, making halo-halo, popsicles and cold refreshing drinks. The simplicity of life. The luxury of time. The warmth of people. I kind of really miss it. :)