I love to walk.
Day or night, rain or shine? It’s hard to decide the best time to walk. I love the feel of the cool air during early morning walks with only the occasional bird announcing the arrival of the sun. Evenings give me a chance to glance at the stars and reflect on the day that passed. I come alive when walking in the sun—with hat and shades of course! And walking in the rain brings back childhood memories of paper boats and wiggly earth worms coming up for air.
Most walks are uneventful— most times with my lonesome self. Just my thoughts to keep me company. But there have been a few walks that have been quite memorable. Like the surreal walk through the hills of Cappadocia, Turkey. And, that time my daughter and I got lost and walked for 4 hours in a forested area of St Remy, France. But those are stories for another time.
I smile now as I recall a more recent walk that took place two weeks ago in the backroads of my grandmother’s farm.
My sister, M, had come to visit. She has been residing in the US and the last time she visited the Philippines was 7 years ago. She was eager to renew ties with relatives and friends as well as check out old haunts around the farm.
It was 6 in the morning and the air was chilly as usual. Soon the house will stir to life with breakfast preparations. Smoke from the old wood fed iron stove whiffed through the house.
But first, M and I will take a walk.
“Let’s go,” I called to my sister as I laced up my rubber shoes.
First stop was at the grave site of grandmother and grandfather— close to the house and beside a small chapel. Looking up, we see the thick stand of trees on a nearby hill.
Because it had rained hard the night before, we carefully skipped through puddles and gingerly walked through some mud.
Along the way, we saw a young boy and a girl. They were on their way to fetch water from a spring.
As kids, we used to visit the spring to check for turtles. The turtles are gone now but laundry continue to get done by the women folks.
Not too long into our walk, my sister called my attention to a man who had quietly joined us and was trailing behind us. I took a side glance and noted that he was muscular and had a bolo slung on his left side. Having seen too many thrillers, I decided to face my fear and casually, I turned to face him.
“Maayong buntag ‘Noy,” was my greeting.
“Maayong buntag sad,” was his response. He gave me a respectful smile.
“Asa man ka padung ‘Noy,” I asked.
(Where are you heading?)
With the same respectful smile, he answered, “ Gi-sugo ko ni Inday C na pakuyugan mo.”
(I have been asked by your aunt to accompany you)
M and I laughed with relief to realize that he was no assassin but our very own close-in security sent by my aunt. The area is noted for cobras and although I have gone alone through the same route many times before without incident, my aunt did not want to take any chances.
Every now and then as we turned a curve or reach a good vintage point, Mt Boga-boga would show her majectic self. Mt Boga-baga has a solid rock facade on one side and we still saw the skid marks made by bullets fired by American soldiers during WW2 in an attempt to flash out retreating Japanese soldiers.
Before long, not only did we have protection but our “body guard” was quite helpful answering our questions about plants and birds and cobras.
We spotted a young carabao and his mother. They temporarily blocked our path but moved along without protest at the urging of our “body guard/guide”.
20 minutes into our walk, we reached a man-made pond that was fed by the rain water coming down from the hills. It was just as lovely as we remembered it to be.
My sister and I recalled that time the floating hut we were on got stranded in the middle of the pond. It was a while before a cousin came by to pull us back to shore. We continued our walk and occasionally, a dog would come out barking from under a lonesome hut.
We will probably be the most exciting thing the dog will come across the whole day. The presence of our guardian made us bold enough to shoo the dog away.
The road was getting narrower as we came across a brook close to some rice paddies.
We were quickly warned by our guardian of the leeches that liked to hang out in the clear water.
The sun was coming on strong as it moved up into the sky. It was time to turn back as our stomachs reminded us that breakfast was waiting for our return.
As I turned around to thank our guardian, he was nowhere in sight. As quietly as he joined us, he had just as quietly disappeared into the thick forest cover.
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I am a firm believer of the health benefits from a good walk. But more than anything else, a good walk increases one’s positive attitude in life. Problems may not be solved but walking does provide an avenue to release stress and anxiety. Ultimately, being able to walk is a great reminder of how beautiful the world is and how lucky I am to be alive! For that I am grateful.
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Now a good walk is sure to build up one’s appetite to take on challenges head on. And appetite we did have when we returned to my grandmother’s house. On the table were cups of hot tsokolate and fried eggs.
Plus the left-over lechon from our Sunday lunch celebration was now transformed into paksiw.
Mind you, this was the Visayan version—meaning no bottled liver sauce added.
I challenge you to try the following recipe--- but do take a walk first before you indulge.
Visayan Style Lechon Paksiw
2 kilos left over lechon—best if you can get hold of the head and knuckles (feet)
1 head garlic, crushed and peeled
4 T vinegar
4 T soy sauce
1 T pepper corns
4 T brown sugar (more or less depending on how sweet you like your paksiw)
3 bay leaves
Any left over lechon stuffing (the lemon grass/onions/etc inside the lechon's cavity) , optional
about 2 cups of water
Salt
Throw everything in a pot and bring to a boil. Then lower heat to a simmer until meat is tender. Adjust seasoning and serve with lots of rice.
Walk again after your meal.
