Blurry, But Unforgettable

It was sometime in the late 80s.  I remember riding a jeep to Calbiga, one of the municipalities in Western Samar, together with my Uncle Leo a few days before its fiesta.  Yearly attendance in the said occassion had been a family tradition, and me and Uncle Leo went ahead to help with the preparations.  Being a kid at that time, I found the trip long and boring.  But even then, I already knew how to appreciate the beauty of the natural scenery unfolding before me, and I still remember how the countryside looked like to this day.

The next day (or later that day), my mom arrived together with my siblings and some of my cousins, and treated us to  a snack at a nearby eatery.  After the treat, Mom toured us around town before going back to my grandmother's house for dinner.  The ambiance of the place had been one common of fiestas - busy hosts rushing last minute preparations, mobile stores selling toys and balloons scattered everywhere, students returning from the cities disembarking from almost every jeep that pass by, and visitors strolling and enjoying the festivities and the beauty of the sorroundings.

I've been to Calbiga many times for the same occassion, but I don't have the faintest memories of them all except for the fiesta of that particular year.  I guess it lies in the fact that it was the last time I've ever been to Calbiga to attend its town fiesta with my family.  A year later, Mom died in a sea accident...she was aboard the Doña Paz, together with my Lola's sister and her husband who were the owner of the house in Calbiga, and many other relatives.  After that incident, relatives in Manila stopped their yearly visits to Samar, and the festivities in Calbiga became a mere thing of the past.  Everything just changed.

Now, I have nothing but blurred memories of the many traditions that me and my family used to share when I was a kid.  If only I can travel back in time to all of them.

A few years ago, we started spending our summer vacations in Catbalogan again, our hometown in Samar, and passing by Calbiga every time.  Calbiga had changed a lot.  The rough roads that we used to enjoy walking had been made concrete.  The eatery that we used to eat in for our snacks no longer exists.  The whole town seems cramped that one can no longer breath.  But it's still Calbiga.  My grandmother's house still exists, though no longer as homey and as busy as it used to be.  The river that we used to bathe in still looks clean.  Maybe, just maybe, traditions will start anew.