Nothing Ever Happens in Botolan Entering Botolan, either from the north or south, is like entering any other town in the Philippines. The landscape is a boring movie reel of flat houses made of unpainted hollow blocks, weather-beaten pawid with falling cogon roofs, simple houses with small windows and the intermittent carabao or cow masticating perpetually while grazing in the grass. Once in a while, your attention latches onto a big, beautiful house, which definitely would be owned by a retired balikbayan or a Filipino working overseas in Japan. Or, a person swinging a dead snake or fresh fish to catch the attention of a hungry motorist. Yup! This scenery has rolled out in front of me many, many times.
But why do I yearn to go back to Botolan, again and again? Why does my heart sing a quiet song when my husband tells me to pack up because we're going home?
It's an enigma. Because nothing ever happens in Botolan.
Botolan is a coastal town, pretty much at the navel of the province of Zambales. It revels in the bounty of the West Philippine Sea and the kind accommodation of the Zambales Mountain Range. Botolan is the biggest town in Zambales in terms of land area and has the distinction of having the famous Mt. Pinatubo in its premises.
The people are pretty much set in their ways. Although the encroachment of modern technology is palpable, the core values and habits of its inhabitants are still provincial.
And I guess this is why I love Botolan. If the sea would always provide a good catch and an immense breathing space so that my soul can breathe, if the mountains would always be there to embrace me against the strong rains and mighty winds, if the people would always feel the need to help me in my most trying times, if these happen every single day, then,
nothing ever really happens in Botolan.
Nothing Ever Happens in Botolan Entering Botolan, either from the north or south, is like entering any other town in the Philippines. The landscape is a boring movie reel of flat houses made of unpainted hollow blocks, weather-beaten pawid with falling cogon roofs, simple houses with small windows and the intermittent carabao or cow masticating perpetually while grazing in the grass. Once in a while, your attention latches onto a big, beautiful house, which definitely would be owned by a retired balikbayan or a Filipino working overseas in Japan. Or, a person swinging a dead snake or fresh fish to catch the attention of a hungry motorist. Yup! This scenery has rolled out in front of me many, many times.
But why do I yearn to go back to Botolan, again and again? Why does my heart sing a quiet song when my husband tells me to pack up because we're going home?
It's an enigma. Because nothing ever happens in Botolan.
Botolan is a coastal town, pretty much at the navel of the province of Zambales. It revels in the bounty of the West Philippine Sea and the kind accommodation of the Zambales Mountain Range. Botolan is the biggest town in Zambales in terms of land area and has the distinction of having the famous Mt. Pinatubo in its premises.
The people are pretty much set in their ways. Although the encroachment of modern technology is palpable, the core values and habits of its inhabitants are still provincial.
And I guess this is why I love Botolan. If the sea would always provide a good catch and an immense breathing space so that my soul can breathe, if the mountains would always be there to embrace me against the strong rains and mighty winds, if the people would always feel the need to help me in my most trying times, if these happen every single day, then,