One fine Sunday, my parents and I went to Baliwag to visit distant relatives to inquire about their health and also to inspect the area. I jumped at the opportunity to have a look at what Bulacan has to offer in terms of land. I wanted to see for myself if the soil is suitable for farming since one personal goal in life is to buy a large piece of land to develop as a farm where I would like to retire, away from the bustling metro. Though a city-bred idiot, my training in archaeology exposed me to province life, a life I presume to be ideal after I have witnessed the possibility of living in utmost simplicity.
On the road, I wondered what if I could drive, then maybe I will be able to go on a road trip anytime I want and stop wherever I want to be able to fully explore a place. Commuting limits one's mobility and eats up a substantial portion of one's time so for the first time in my life, I considered saving up for a car with very good engine built for rough roads. Of course, I don't know if that dream is achievable since I have a number of reasons (not excuses, mind you) not to own a vehicle, apart from not having the financial means.
A week later, I woke up some 30 minutes earlier than usual on a Saturday morning and suddenly thought of walking in an unfamiliar place. A couple of years back, whenever I feel this itch to roam on foot, I would always go to Quiapo, Sta. Cruz, and Binondo, never missing Escolta since the area still has remnants of bygone years. This time though, I felt a strange urge to explore Bulacan, something I have been putting off for a long time now. So I did a quick research on the internet on how to commute to Bulacan. My first chosen destination was Malolos.
But whatever small plan I had was ripped into shreds when, waiting for a bus along EDSA, I eyed a bus bound for Baliwag and without second thoughts, hopped inside. The next thing I knew, I was questioning my actions and at the same time, assuring myself that I will be fine. I have roamed Ilocos all on my own last year and I can certainly do the same in Bulacan. Besides it would also allow me to do my part for the Wikipedia Cultural Heritage Mapping Project even though I am already having doubts as to whether I can contribute anything at all given my ultra hectic schedule.
While in the bus, I tried to recall how the roads we passed by a week ago look like, together with commercial establishments as landmarks. Good thing the bus stops in the marketplace which is just a few steps to the church. The moment I set eyes on that massive church, I immediately knew it was Augustinian. For some reason it reminds me of Paoay Church in Ilocos because of the red bricks used. Then I learned its name was actually St. Augustine Parish Church. The side of the church used to be a convent which was described by Fray Joaquin Martinez de Zuniga as having a peerless beauty in all of the Philippines. (He was a historian and the author of "Historia de las islas Filipinas".)
Unfortunately I wasn't able to go inside and check the interiors of the church. They only open the church when there is a mass because according to one caretaker, students from nearby St. Mary's School would make the sacred grounds as dating place. Children nowadays... Sigh!
I did enter the small chapel on the side of the church. It was dimly lit, the place very small and very quiet where one enters only to pray. I said a quick prayer and left.
Since it was close to lunch time, I looked for a nearby restaurant, ready to sample what Bulacan has to offer in terms of food. I picked Lin Mer's Bakeshop and Restaurant where I had a plate of pancit malabon. It doesn't disappoint but I sure could appreciate having a bigger serving, plus chicharon bits since the province is famous for its chicharon with backfat. (YUM!!!)
Off to my journey. I had the option to ride a tricycle to Bustos but I chose to walk, since it involves crossing a bridge. Little did I know that my legs would tremble at the slightest vibrations I felt as I took my first few steps. I remembered how, during my freshman year in college, a classmate had to hold my hand as we crossed a hanging bridge in Tagaytay because I suddenly found myself unable to move. That was kind of him. And then I thought of how my sisters also held my hand when we were in the mangroves in Aklan. So again I contemplated for a while about my nonexistent love life. (yuck! Now is not the time for self-pity. LOL)
In Bustos, I saw Sto. Niño Church which was under renovation. According to a construction worker whose sleep was disturbed by my sudden appearance, the church was set to expand. Wow! Unfortunately I wasn't able to speak to the parish priest and shortly after endured the loooong walk back to Baliwag to take a jeep bound for Plaridel. On the way, I passed by the Old Municipal Building in Baliwag which is now converted into a museum but unfortunately is closed on weekends. (Just what kind of tourists are they expecting if they close on weekends???)
So anyway on the way to Plaridel I saw Sto. Rosario Parish Church which is not really old but I wanted to take a good photo since it looks neat. Again I was met with closed doors and the lady in the parish office told me they only open the church during mass. This surprised me a lot since in all my travels, at least the side entrance to the church is always open. At the back of the church is a cemetery, which i did not enter because the gates were also locked. Sigh.
Off I went on my way, determined to finally visit the famed St. James the Apostle Church (aka Quingua Church) in Plaridel. I failed to drop by in 2012 when I first became familiar with the town for my 3-day visit to the Lumang Bayan archaeological site. The archaeo peeps told me the church was one of a kind and I had made a mental note that time only to act on it this year. (Talk about procrastination. Hohoho!) When I finally saw the mosque-like façade, I felt the same feeling of awe that swept over me when I laid eyes on St. Augustine Church earlier. It was just so unbelievable that a Christian church would incorporate a Muslim architectural design but I really found it really really cool!
The church has its own museum but unfortunately, they only open it when there are special exhibits. Wanting to spend more time with this church complex, I stayed on and bore witness to a wedding. (*bitter mode haha) By the time the wedding ended, it was raining a bit already and the dark skies seemed to tell me to go home since I promised to cook dinner that night. However, I wanted to have one last stop, Malolos, my initial target destination.
Still another wedding greeted me when I entered the magnificent, historical Our Lady of Mt. Carmel Church, more famously known as Barasoain Church in Malolos. I would learn later on that it was the wedding of an officemate! Since it was getting late that time, I decided to just take a look inside really quickly and then get materials from the office regarding the history of the church though since the church is very famous, mainly because of the Malolos Congress.
It rained hard when I was about to go home but I still managed to buy a liter of blueberry yoghurt with carabao milk and quesong puti in a small shop near the church. I was already on my way home when I realized I forgot to buy packs of chicharon! Fail!!!
Well, I'm definitely going back.
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