In the midst of a busy city life, how refreshing it was to be invited to a traditional barrio fiesta. We responded to just that last May 15, the feast day of San Isidro, patron saint of farmers.
After a 45-minute drive from Rosario town heading east towards San Juan, Batangas, we arrived at our destination, the home of Cardo and Eden, in a mountainous barangay called, what else, but San Isidro.
Along the way, we crossed a longish stone bridge spanning a river that thankfully hasn’t been dumped with animal waste as is the custom in other places. Cardo was to say that small shrimps and crabs could still be caught in the river lined with lush greenery, along with this tiny fish called gurami.
Past the stone bridge, the landscape in rural Philippines continues to change. Where nipa huts used to stand, there are now modern homes, usually low-rise bungalows and a few two-storey structures.
At the end of the road, we were told, is a modern farm-resort owned by an outsider, meaning someone rich who bought a property in the barrio. The price of land in San Isidro has been rising, just like anywhere else, as more and more outsiders build vacation farms there, thanks to its relatively cool weather in the ‘ber months.
In the humble home of Cardo and Eden, the couple prepared a sumptuous spread of various pork dishes plus a special tinola using native chicken which Eden raises in her backyard teeming with fruit trees of all varieties. Mangoes, caimito, camachile, duhat, chico, chesa, susong kalabaw. Name it, she’s got it, including those fruits we seldom encounter in the market these days. Or those our palates have completely forgotten.
Eden is an older sister of Pilar, who’s married to my brother, Noel. Our other host and guide was Argee, a sister of Cardo.

The author (seated) with his hospitable hosts

Barrio fiesta lunch of pork dishes—and ‘tinola’
After a fulfilling lunch, while seated on wide bamboo benches, we set out to watch two young boys, no older than 10, preparing to fly their big, hand-made kites. We watched them on a hot summer day in this wide, open field soon to be planted to sugar cane.
We noticed that change has, indeed, come to Philippine barrios as a high-powered tractor grazed around the field instead of good old carabaos doing the task of clearing, plowing the area.
How nice to know boys in the far-flung barrios still fly kites, play catch, run relays, no matter if modern technology has touched them as well. I also saw at least two basketball courts between hills and valleys. At the same time, I caught a couple of homegrown college students filming vlogs.
Eden narrated that the night before, a dance was held on the vacant lot, pure ground, uneven, unpaved, fronting the chapel, attended by not only young people, but also by senior citizens looking for a good time.
Tonight, she said, another dance was scheduled in the same open air, decorated with red and yellow ribbons hanging up there and made from recycled plastic. She said she hoped this time, they would play some of the songs from her youth, those by Engelbert Humperdinck, Tom Jones, Nora Aunor, and even Victor Wood.

A forest up close

The remaining beast of burden
A highlight of our visit to San Isidro was a close-up view of a series of hills and low-rise mountains called Matandang Gubat, which we used to admire from a distance from another place and time, in barrio Mabunga, where my father had a sprawling sintoris (orange) farm. I remember Tatay saying his uncle, Jose, inherited from their grandfather a huge property in Matandang Gubat where old, old trees and giant monkeys ruled.
True enough, Eden confirmed both stories. I was so pleased to having been this up close and personal with Matandang Gubat, which I hope to climb before I reach 100 years old, which is like next year.
Attending barrio fiestas means one has to be prepared to hop from house to house for more eating parties. It was a good thing that Gina, Pilar’s niece, had prepared merienda fare instead as a variant from all the pork dishes that are the hallmark of every barrio fiesta.
Throughout Batangas province, fiestas and similar celebrations are a showcase of all food dishes that end with ‘do.’ Menudo. Adobado. Estofado. And then some: Caldereta. Afritada. Pochero. Dinuguan.
What discovery did I like the most? It is that some traditions never fade while other people in other places have forgotten them, especially those in urbanized towns and barangays near the center. Most of all, I adore the endearing hospitality that marks every visit.
Thank you very much, Eden, Cardo and Gina. May pasalubong pang masarap na mangga, saan ka pa (There’s even a take-home of luscious mangoes)? And not to forget, the plastic supot-pabalot named after a Sharon hit song!
As we drove back to town, courtesy of my brother-in-law, Regor, not the TV villain, I could hear the strains of Sylvia La Torre’s song, Fiesta, ringing in my head: “Fiesta sa isang bayan, kami ay nagpunta, pagkat isang taga-roon, mahigpit ang anyaya…
“Sa tuwing mayrong fiesta talaga, ako ay nagtataka, Upang kumain nang masarap ay pinipilit ka pa, Maghapong kaina’y nagdaan pagkai’y naubos na,
Kung bakit itong may bahay natuwa pa.”