Before I proceed filling in words about this undoubtedly lady-like church, attributed mainly for its pink hues, which many of the normal girls have them as their favorite colors. Yes? Except me I think. The world is too varied that singling out one color makes the chances of delightful and otherwise less delightful discoveries slimmer to begin with. Do I even make sense? haha Well incidentally, this cathedral in Baguio City is named after the Lady of Atonement and I'm not quite sure if there's some bleary connection with it to the choice of the cathedral's color.
Anyway, let me sidetrack a bit. I'm not continuing to talk about the colors but the so-called fate of this blog.This blog has recently made a complete turnaround with no chances ever of going back. It all happened after I accidentally changed the template without even me realizing it. With how brilliant I am, my template backups were sucked into their own black holes that I'm left with no choice but to make the most of what the accidental new template has to offer.
Enjoying the new ride, I decided to change the way I write by diligently pressing the Shift-keys as needed. I have blatantly confessed in my About page that I have this blog for my goal in elevating my English capability with grammar and spelling, rightfully thrown into the pile. The previous 187 posts obviously do not stand a chance because everything was carelessly in small caps. To cut this increasingly long sidetrack, I'm pretending I'm having a clean slate with my blog. I hope you're sticking with me though. Pretty please? *puppy eyes*
Now back to the main topic (before the frustration of being puppy-like adorable gets me). My family visited the Baguio Cathedral during our quick visit to the highlands at the end of May this year, our last hurrah for summer which the unforgiving rains mercilessly meddled into. Oh, don't let the blue skies fool you!
These are my parents who were trying to catch their breath in the middle of a very long steep climb to the cathedral. We adhered too readily to the direction of the map in my phone, that we decided to take the side entrance along Session Road. Coming from Hotel Veniz, where we were staying, we firstly stumbled this entrance. We all decided to go through with it, a consensus as echoed by my parents. It was in the morning and a little bit of exercise wouldn't hurt, right? Or so we thought.
I have been overly taking advantage of my age, seemingly undaunted with the likelihood of physical stress during travel. I end up constantly pushing myself to my limits because God knows, how long this vigor will last. It's obvious that I forever uphold "seizing-the-moment" campaign to the whole wide world. Seriously, 'cause no one can predict life and we can only hope for tomorrow to turn out fine.
Away from that preachy serious note, I need to remind myself that I don't share the same strength with everyone else, my parents justly included.
But here we are, beaming "good morning" smiles while we waited for the English mass. An Ilocano mass was scheduled prior but none of us understands the dialect. Quite interestingly though, there are a few words that are the same as Cebuano. This is one of the joys of living in a diverse archipelago with too many dialects, that my brain tries to grasp but fails.
The cathedral dates back to 1920, the year when construction was started. This religious edifice was made possible by Belgian missionaries who came to Baguio for a Catholic mission. The church served as evacuation center during the World War II, when Japanese bombed the city and it also stood as hope to the people, having left unscathed from the dreadful bombings.
This post is actually deliberate that it follows my Notre Dame Cathedral post and I had thought of the idea one night, when I tried to sleep but my mind still refused to rest. I have unfortunately a hyperactive mind in the worst timings! Anyway, I don't intend to compare the two because I had distinct experience in each. Unlike the Notre Dame though, Baguio Cathedral doesn't have its building materials, imported from a foreign country (supposedly Belgium in this case). But more than that, I like the fact that it sits on top of the hill and I have to give into the gratification of a rose-colored facade.
It was also one of the rarest times I get to attend a mass with my family. The little things that we all shared as a family. My brother's antics that never fail to get under my sister's skin. And everything else in between. Yes, all of these inside the cathedral. Oops...
This is the more conventional entrance to the cathedral, where you go straight to the front. This entrance is further up ahead of the Session Road, which is already close to SM Baguio.
By this time, the blue skies were already almost overpowered by the menacing dark clouds. I was definitely being truthful when I said, we only had half day of sunshine in Baguio. However, borrowing a quote that came about during one of the recent tragic floods in the Philippine capital, "The Filipino spirit is waterproof."
Indeed!
o-O
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