Padre Burgos Retreat in 1999

I remember the very first time I came to this little town in a province called Quezon in the Philippines...

It was hot and humid for the home where we were staying was on a hillside and a sea just below it. But everywhere was filled with plants and trees. And oh, such strange-looking , iridescent birds just about flew here and there, and how they just sang such sweet high notes that I'm sure the grumpiest of spirits would mellow and coo along.

A Snippet:
Bob Villena, a Padre Burgos resident and local subdivision developer, gave me and my family a tour of his home and the "aplaya", or sea shore several meters away from his home. As we were walking down a hill towards the fishing boats docked along the sea shore of Punta, I spotted a tiny bird trapped in a fishing net used as fence line along the barrio road. Its feet and wings were so entangled in the fine nylon mesh that we had to cut off the nylon strands that were strangling the poor creature. Many hands (Bob's, my sister's and mine) held the tiny bird just so it could be safely taken out of its nylon trap. But finally, the poor little bird was free! And we released her to the open heavens and familiar trees.

I don't know about Bob or Daisy, my sister, but this experience touched me so much, I shed a happy tear. Month's later, however, I learned from my brother-in-law, who owned a house where we stayed in Padre Burgos, that Bob had all the fishing net lines used as fences - removed from the Punta area. I guess Bob, too, was touched.

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How I love the unstructured, rural look of the community! Dirt, rock and pebble road, or should I say, pathways, that lead to nooks and crannies of the hills and small houses that look more like mushrooms than dwelling places.

There are huge, bent trees that have so much character in them that somehow when you pass by them you can't help but pay homage to them and utter "With your permission, may I pass through, sir or madam?" You wonder if they could speak, and what stories they may spin of early Spanish lords commanding the pueblos, or Japanese officers planning an assault on resistance holdouts, or perhaps anti-government rebels egging townfolks to join their movement ... Oh, let them be. Let them remain mute witnesses to a colorful past ... So, may I pass through, ma'am?