Let me put that in a list:
· The rolling hills with the neatly trimmed grass. They’re my favorite backdrop for our Batanes pictures. These hills treat you to an unobstructed view of the horizon, which appears distinctly concave, like an outline of the earth’s curvature. You then see for your self that the world truly isn’t flat.
· The goats and the cows on the slopes and the hills...
I look at them and they're beautiful and serene. A wave of compassion sweeps over me. And I think this must be how vegans feel, because at that instance I almost decided to become one. Well, just almost, because I know I couldn't. I eat meat and I can live with that fact because I somehow believe that though the death of these animals can be painful, it’s not necessarily senseless and brutal. There's nobility in their death. I just hope then that when it's their time, they all fall in the hands of a grateful and tender slaughterer.
· Minimalism as a way of life. In this place, only the views are grand and opulent. Everything else is simple and “just enough”. And in a world with a penchant for sickening excesses, Batanes is a refreshing escape. Whether this counterculture is driven by circumstance or freely embraced as a philosophy is beside the point.
The fact is these people have always managed to get by on just enough, sometimes probably even on barely enough. From where I stand, it doesn’t look pitiful at all. Perhaps because you can sense that the people don't really need as much, and so enough is truly enough. For someone with complicated needs, that is an appealing, if not a liberating notion.
· The cozy neighborhoods of Basco. The narrow but paved and clean streets, right-sized houses (there’s only so much living space one needs), outdoor plants, the mom and pops, stand-alone produce and meat stalls, fresh catch sold in the street corners, neighbors catching up, bikes instead of noisy trikes… it’s almost my ideal neighborhood. It’s not fancy by anyone’s standard but it feels warm and cozy, and dignified. But if this same neighborhood were transplanted to Manila, it would feel so achingly different with the city’s oppressive stench, noise, and disorder.
· Chavayan, Sabtang, the community that shows how living in context and grace looks like up-close: The Dwell-worthy vernacular houses make perfect sense. People know and look out for one another. Services and labor are the main currency. Things are not typically bought but handcrafted or harvested. It’s a wholesome communal living that feels organic, and not a bit contrived. I think it’s charming (up to a point).
· The (famed) Honesty of the people. You sense It when you walk in the streets and see the occasional unmanned stores, wide open doors partly covered with flowing curtains (which is more for aesthetics than privacy), and the grill-less windows.
It stares you in the face when you walk into the Honesty Cafe which makes you wonder if this concept of a shop would work elsewhere in the country (I truly doubt that).
And then you spot It when you talk to the masseuse who say that they crave for Jollibee too but won’t give up their peace, quiet and fresh air for a chicken joy; to the young tour guide who prefers to have the plastic chocolate box over the Ferrero inside; to another local who says that life in the islands is hard work but never hopeless.
· And so there’s dignity. I like that best in a people.
There are still a few more things I love about Batanes but for now this list is enough.
Batanes is really beautiful. And a part of me hopes that it stays the same, because so much about it is rare and precious. But I worry what the booming tourism and cable TV (showcasing the lure of modern living) can do to its soul. I worry that it will make them feel, wrongly, utterly lacking. I hope it won’t but instead that it will reveal to them what treasures they have and the great possibilities those treasures could bring.
And then there’s a (bigger) part of me that hopes for some things to change, for Batanes to still evolve and turn into the BEST VERSION of itself, worthy of the world’s admiration and emulation. One only has to look to the Nordic and could see how even the seemingly least conducive and harsh lands (topography and climate-wise) can be an envy of everyone for its quality of life.
Batanes can be that. That is the possibility I see.
