Baguio Was a Literal Shitshow

By ordinary standards, this trip to Baguio was kind of a failure. To start with, there was the 2am flight from Singapore to Clark, which sounded fun (eat reunion hotpot, go straight to airport!) but on hindsight did not set us up for success. Jon took antidepressants to help him sleep, but they kicked in mid-hotpot. I was left to lug around all our baggage plus a drugged-up travelling partner. 

When we landed at Clark airport at 5am, I discovered that it was not possible after all to Grab to Baguio. We went to the station to wait for the 8am bus, grabbing some lumpia and siomay for breakfast on the way. Hmm, that must have been how the diarrhea bout began. 

We've always eaten street food and drank boiled tap water while travelling, even in places like India and Sri Lanka, with no issues. So experiencing Montezuma's Revenge for the first time in the Philippines (which seems very sanitary! their toilets always sparkle!) was a surprise. Although it didn't stop us from going out and walking around Baguio's fabled hotspots (Camp John Hay, Burnham Park, Rizal Monument, Baguio City Market, Ili-Likha Artists' Village etc.) the need for a toilet was a bit troublesome to manage. 

More importantly it prevented us from enjoying Filipino food, which I had really been looking forward to. We had a sublime meal of lechon liempo and sinigang on the first day but could not tolerate much after that. Imagine going to the land of adobo and only being able to stomach plain udon at Genki Sushi! No wonder our morale went out of the window.

On the other hand, we managed to get delightfully lost in a barangay by following a balut-seller around. I like the tightly-packed houses of this mountain city, with its little locally-named lanes (''Hombrebueno-Cogan Street'' after two noted residents, ''Slag Alley'' after... uh... do we want to know?'') and wonderful community services (free rabies vaccination for cats and dogs). After that, Jon bravely bought a balut. He cracked it open as an accompaniment for dinner - 6 flavours of Lucky Me! cup noodles which we taste-tested in our Airbnb. (Winners: seafood shrimp tonkotsu and bulalo.)

I guess 5 days was just too long to spend in Baguio City. We were pretty much done with the sightseeing by Day 2. I thought we'd go on a lot more pleasant hikes, but the warnings about Baguio's crowds were no joke: every footpath and picnic patch in Camp John Hay was so trampled as to be entirely denuded of grass. It was also the weekend of Panagbenga, and the streets were choked with car exhaust, making me want to stay in rather than endure the traffic. 

We were left with a whole lot of free time to wrestle with our demons, and ended up having some of the deepest heart-to-heart talks since we met. You know how once a year Senior Management corporate types would fuck off to some golf resort for a few days for a planning powwow? Yeah, I used to sneer at that too, but now I see how removing yourself from the day-to-day grind can help with big-picture thinking.

Among other things, we needed to deal with me being (a) non-binary and (b) polyamorous. I think these 2 facets of my existence have been the main reason why the upcoming wedding and recent extramarital crush have been so bothersome. And after 235982732 Where Do We Go From Here? talks, we finally came to an alignment. I won't say it was easy. Our relationship had been pretty much on autopilot for the past 5 or 6 years, with all the habits and dynamics of your typical cis/het/monogamous pairing. Well, obviously, we've outgrown those templates, to the point where this ultra-performative, ultra-traditional wedding ceremony actually gave me the creeps.

The big hash-out continued well into the last day. Well, if nothing else, at least it eliminated the intense boredom of an 8-hour wait at Clark airport. (Just Baguio things: the coach to the airport has a 5pm service, but they don't take advance reservations for that, so we had to take the 2pm bus. And our flight was at 1.20am...)

On the whole, I wasn't sure what to think of the culture in Baguio. Despite the pleasant mountain air and preponderance of pinewood furniture, it was very much a city; that is, zero eye contact or smiles. The Filipinos are extraordinarily adept at moving in a crowd; we did not bump into a single person once or get trod upon (things that happen on the reg in Singapore). They also burst into song randomly, eat large amounts of carbs, have picnics and naps in parks, and call one another Sir and Maam. It's good to know the latter isn't just an irritating affectation imposed by employers of domestic workers.

Maybe it's because I had been reading Noli Me Tangere, but I was disappointed by the lack of political action besides the usual Free Palestine posters in the indie bookshops. Wasn't it supposed to be a university town? But I did read about a Marx reading group in Beckoning Baguio, by local poet/academic/writer Ivan Emil A. Labayne. Sadly, Labayne seems to have moved to Manila. I wondered if it's because Baguio doesn't have that much space for intellectual goings-on. It certainly feels like a very commercial, pleasure-driven city rather than a thinking one.

Oh well. It was nice knowing you, Baguio. I leave you with a picture of a sinister oversized teddy bear in an abandoned building.