HOMECOMING

I WENT home to Narvacan, Ilocos Sur (320 km north of Manila) to attend my father’s 71st birthday last November 11. “It might be my last,” he went on when he invited me a month before. So off I went, and gave respect to my father who’s now suffering a heart ailment. But I found the opportunity to visit my hometown and to REALLY get home.

I awfully wanted this homecoming, not only for my father’s sake, but also to fulfill a wish for myself. That is, I went home to unburden what seems to be a heavy load inside me, to return and discern the essence of my life again, and to see if I had achieved what I had dreamt to achieve as a child to achieve, and had done things to make my parents and my childhood playmates proud. 

It’s a perfect moment of reconnecting ties, a rekindling of relationships, and a revisit of that bond that connects me with my kin and the place of my birth. 

And my homecoming would not be complete without a visit to Paraiso ni Juan, a low-profile but beautiful beachside landscape in Barangay Sulvec, and a trek in its rocky shores to a local landmark as if in a pilgrimage for a hidden sanctum.

This time for my latest homecoming, two of my classmates in PUP College of Law accepted my invitation to visit Paraiso ni Juan. This might not be a setup, of course, because while I only have personal reasons to reach the spot, I have desired my visitors to appreciate the beauty of the place, telling them that they couldn’t really say they visited Narvacan when they haven’t gone to Paraiso ni Juan.
 

Several steps away from the rocky shoreline of Paraiso is the Immagamang, the local name for the two-storey-high craggy boulder, where a grotto of the Virgin Mary stands solitary on top. This seaside landmark, which got its name from the Ilocano word agamang meaning “rice granary or storehouse,” is very visible when you are travelling on a curve of the coastal road several kilometers away. 

Although both were first-timers in Ilocos and for this kind of trek, my friends willingly braved the craggy shorelines with me.

There was a part of water which we have to cross to get there. We took off our sandals and folded our pants higher. It was high tide, and the swells were big, while some parts were very slippery. We were fortunate that a relative who also drive us to the place was kind enough to guide us until we reach the wide flat area just below the rock. We lingered for a moment to catch a glimpse around the enticing landscape, that calm and shimmering blue ocean surrounding us, with the verdant coastal hills and mountain ranges providing a picturesque backdrop on the other side, everywhere illumined by the silvery glow of the morning sun. My friends heaved a sigh of relief as they looked back on that part of the shore where we have started.

I took the lead in climbing the rock using the man-made steps on its side (this was not yet made when I was young, so back then only the brave and able would dare to climb the rock with bare hands).

There’s always something about the rock that simply tugs at my heart. As I gaze at the pristine water of the South China Sea at its foot with its intermittent swells breaking at the craggy shores, I can feel the warmth, love, and tranquility of the surroundings.  And best of all the memories it brings are endearing.

During my college days, I couldn’t help looking at the solitary rock while passing this place on my way to Vigan. Because the place is situated in the northernmost boundary of Narvacan, the rock would serve as a perfect marker that would tell me I am leaving my hometown, and when I went home after a week of study in the kabisera, it would be a welcome mark for my homecoming (our home is in Nanguneg, which is situated at the town’s southernmost boundary). When I was in high school, our rowdy group of all boys would haunt the place as a favorite getaway for the awesome view, for fun and adventure, as we loved to race around the rocky area, and for a dive. 

My late wife’s had also scaled the rock with me during our vacation in Narvacan in 1999. She liked it so much when, after a tortuous trek and a risky climb on the side of the rock, we reached the top and got to see the view.

And when I was on top of the rock this time, it was like feeling in love again. That kind of love that makes you feel lost, and yet you know you’re safe. If only I could stay here alone until sundown, I might find the solace I am looking for after a tragic event in my life. I would like to think of my immediate future and at least feel some sense of peace and consolation.

Even for a brief moment with my classmates on top of the rock, I had at least the feeling, that thrill of being on a familiar spot, and be finally home.  

Three days after that climb, I went back to Manila with my friends. It was really for a brief visit, as my life, work and family have been enmeshed in some other place. But again that particular day of November was a moment of being at home and feeling the real comfort of a seafarer after finding a sturdy shelter from a “storm.” And like just any traveler, it was the solace of a home that I tried to seek and succeeded even for the briefest time.

I feel I’ve been uprooted again from my home, away from my father and the whole family, our close-knit clan, our neighbors, and a newfound love. I thought of another homecoming soon, or I risk wasting my life in loneliness away from home.