‘Ruralismo’

This is what the rain leaves—rich vegetation. Sugarcane fields, grasslands, muddy ponds, damp carpet of fallen leaves.

I’ve always taken pride in being a small-town girl. Where I am, life is slower. Whenever I feel weary of my online gigs, I make tracks to the sea or the hills. The city is 56 kilometers away. Whenever my friends and I want to bond over endless conversations, we just have to walk a bit and sit under the barrio skies and really talk. I remember one night when we spontaneously decided to camp under the stars. We did not have to take the bus to go far.

I am really grateful for the beauty that is around me, and I keep reminding myself of that whenever I feel I want to live inside some movie (and be this waitress in an old diner who listens to stories of lonely strangers). Here, we have waterfalls and long winding roads (great for road trips and bike rides). Here, we have old coffee shops where P10 means a mug of barako—organic and cheap. I take long walks and sometimes go jogging in the morning or at dusk, and I get to marvel at the similarities of sunrise and sunset, how the former gives hope, and the latter, poetry.

I’ve also learned to appreciate much more how I bond with my family. My siblings and I are not used to costly recreation. We go to play out there, with nature. Spending these moments with my siblings is something I am really thankful for. There’s no bigger wish than for them to grow in appreciation and care for these giving playgrounds—the waterfalls, mountains, trees, seas and vast fields.

Our parents cook most meals for us, and we still cook over mud stoves.

When I am with my other family (in an area nearer to the city), life is also slower—well, except when Quip and I have deadlines to beat. He and his sister Bambi live near the sea, too. Usually, we take aimless walks and pick shells. We have this plan of making accessories out of the shells we picked and some functional art from the broken glass and ceramics.

Quip and Bambi are awesome cooks, very creative.  We usually share delicious healthy meals. Another bonding time for me and him: buying in the local wet market (mostly fresh vegetables) then shopping at the nearby ukay-ukay. We are always on the hunt for quaint corners in the city whenever we feel like eating out. One of our favorite places for inasal (roasts) is Papang’s Place, which is tucked in between eskinitas just a few steps from Calle Real. We feel that its key to yumminess is the perfect way of marinating food overnight. And its sawsawan (sauce) is just a burst of spices. Whatever kind of night it is, we have some cheap wine and easy-listening mix tapes.

On some days, I get lost in other cities and provinces (this is a great way of seeing the world and others beyond what the mainstream media tell me). The experience of being somewhere else is certainly irreplaceable. I still go nostalgic when I feel the places I’ve been to miss me back. I still go all autumn-ish when I recall my days in Europe.

But, there is something calm and tender whenever I think of my life in a small town. And all the bus rides near the window. I think it’s the very reason most dogs, when inside a car, love sticking their head out.

Kristine Buenavista, 28, says she is a ghostwriter.