a long long time ago in a country far far away...
The whole trip, or rather the reason for the trip, surprisingly enough, started well over five decades ago, during the Spanish Civil War. There, nine La Salle brothers were martyred during one of the blackest years of Spain's Catholic history.
It is said that as a brother was being lined up for execution, he was given a chance to deny his being a brother; he could easily have passed himself off as a gardener of sorts. He did not do so, and he was led in front of a firing squad. When they fired, each rifleman missed their mark, and the brother stood there, unharmed. The officer again gave the order to fire, but in fear or repentance, the riflemen ran away. Frustrated, the officer went to the brother, pointed his pistol at the brother's temple, and emptied five rounds in quick succession.
To die a worthy death is the fulfillment of a worthy life, and truly, there is no greater cause than to die for God, no better life than one lived for God. And so the whole trip was about recognizing the brothers' contribution to the faith; last November 21, 1999, the brothers were cannonized, raised to sainthood.
the trip
I will not lie; buses will someday be the death of me. I hate buses. There is no vehicle more crowded, more... inhibiting... than the bus. So I skip the recollection of the hours spent on the bus; it was uneventful anyway.
Instead, I go directly to the boat ride; we rode a catamaran, a stylized version of the hydrofoil. I suppose you just can't avoid being sea sick, or at least nauseated, when on a small, fast boat. The rolling waves when travelling at a leisurely 10 knots become like pot-holes on an asphalt road when travelling at 30 knots. More than one stomach was turned, and more than one meal was regurgitated. I was among the luckier few who had stronger stomachs; I even managed to sample the boat's "Captain's Cheese Burger" - though I doubt the Captain really cooked the burger. I suppose I've had better, but it was thick, it was juicy, it had cheese, and most of all, it was there.
One thing I immediately noticed when I stepped out of the boat - Bacolod is HOT. As in really hot. Then I realized it was noon, so maybe that was it. But it was still hot, even for noon. Fortunately, a bus was already waiting for us, and we set out for the University of St. La Salle campus the moment we arrived.
On the 20 or so minutes that it took to get there, I noticed something peculiar about Bacolod: it has a *lot* of chicken restaurants. Which is a good thing for me, because I love chicken. It never really occured to me that Bacolod was known for its chicken. In the time I spent studying in Diliman, I frequented Chicken Bacolod in Katipunan, but I never quite associated chicken with Bacolod like batchoy with La Paz.
kow ching
After getting settled, we had the opportunity to roam a bit and eat our lunches. Now, Bacolod is sort of like Tomas Morato in Quezon City: it has restaurants everywhere. And where do we go to eat? Why, Chow King of course. I'm still kicking myself.
notes in blue...
The mall, Robinson's something, was rather nice. Not too many people crowding the place, and I spent like well over two hours at a music store playing with their Nuno Series guitars. Manily a metal/blues hybrid inspired by my teacher and mentor, I began doing some licks, until I just lost myself in Santna. It was hard to leave that place; my fingers were still aching for more music. Looking around, I thought to myself, what instrument can I bring? Cheap, small, but still nice? Answer: the harmonica, lovingly called the Blues Harp.
Now, this was the first time I ever played a harmonica... utterly no experience at all. And to my delight and surprise, it was one of those intsruments where you can't go wrong. Really. There are no sharps or flats, so basically all you have is like C Major (or A Minor) - but I'm still not sure of the octaves... it sounds like it has two, but I'm not sure. I can't wait to try it with guitar accompaniment.
of God and chicken
We went to church soon after that, which is always an uplifting, though predictable, experience. And I finally got a taste of what Bacolod chicken is. Strangely enough, it tastes like... chicken. Though the waiters looked at us rather funny when we ordered chicken fat.
"it's raining, aren't we?"
It was 5 AM, and I just woke up, to find that everybody else was already awake too. I can't believe it was only 5. A friend noted in passing that it was raining, and I added "aren't we", remembering an old joke. Soon we were laughing doing silly things. I only noticed this just then: people are loud in the morning. We were talking like everybody else was deaf. Which is not altogether a bad thing; at least we had plenty of time to prepare for the day. At around 6:30 we had breakfast at Jolibee's.
Nothing interesting should have happened, except that we arrived about 10 minutes before 7, so the store was still closed. The people inside saw how many we were, and since there was a slight drizzle, they let us in, and, to quote my friend, "we came in while they were still closed", which made us laugh all over again. It's the kind of joke that you had to be there to appreciate, I guess.
the whole point
And so finally we get to the point of the entire trip: the celebration mass. I must say, the service was really good, and the choir was excellent.
The mass was held at the University of St. La Salle - Bacolod's Coliseum, where the local Metropolitan Basketball Association (MBA) games are also held. It was quite a sight; the stands were filled with students and teachers, the court with guests and more students... easily the largest mass I've ever attended.
The priest talked about the martyrs' contribution to the faith, and the gift of having been able to stand by one's faith in the face of death. A fitting end to a life well-lived, one might say, for there is no greater, more overwhelming reason to die than to die for what you believe in.
We remember these men, these nine brothers, who have died so that the faith may live, and we honor them. We honor their lives, their works, their integrity, and last Sunday, we honored their deaths. We say thank you, and are better for it.
BYTES KICKS OFF BROOD WAR TOURNAMENT