Vanishing Sights

Having lived all my life in the big city, I am accustomed (sadly) to seeing the dreariness of grimy concrete and clouds of toxic fumes. Whenever I can, I always retreat to places for a drastic change of scenery, towards places that abound with the lush green and clear blue of Mother Nature.

Right after Christmas Day, instead of hustling through crowded malls and gawking at garishly lighted window displays, I spent a few days with family in my father's hometown in San Juan, Ilocos Sur.

To a city dweller, uncommon sights of cattle grazing in the field with the brownish-greenish mountains in the backgroup can be found at the end of hours-long taxing trips.




How many of you would ever know what it's like to sit on a carabao? At least my daughter and my nephew now have stories to tell about how much more fun it is to ride a carabao-drawn sled and how shocking it is to watch a gigantic blob of animal waste drop to the ground along the ride.



The afternoon on the countryside was sidelighted by strolling through a corn field, trying to pet a baby goat before realizing that its mother was just close by, and picking up red onion bulbs from a stack laid to dry on the ground.