Mention Bicol and the word “hot” easily comes to mind. Hot, as in the lava that flows from Mayon Volcano. Hot, as in the steam that spews out from the geothermal fields of Albay. Hot, as in the men and women who, if we go by surveys and statistics, seem to have no regard for family planning. Hot, as in the siling labuyo (bird’s eye chili) that grows in just about every backyard, ready for the picking.

I don’t know exactly why, but the Bicolano tongue seems to have a higher “spicy” threshold. Sinigang (sour soup) isn’t complete without its dip of siling labuyo crushed in fish sauce. Grilled fish is a bore without the requisite soy sauce spiked with sili. Even veggies–especially if they’re swimming in coconut milk–have a certain bite to them. A bite that will send the non-initiate running for a glass of water.

My tolerance for the hot and the spicy did not manifest until when I was already out of Bicol. Call it the latent Bicolano in me, but I never really thought that I have the “hot” tongue. Until my dormmates pointed out that my soup seem to be hotter than theirs. Or that my dip is a lot spicier. Or that I seem so happy wiping the sweat off my brow while eating spicy ginataang santol.

The sisters and the cousins who have since moved elsewhere are one in saying that they miss the sinus-clearing cuisine of home. Talk about scorching, but we do pride ourselves in eating Bicol Express, a truly fiery concoction where the chili is not merely flavor enhancer but main ingredient. It’s one dish that is definitely not for the faint of heart: I have seen one too many first-timers getting all teary and sweaty.

There are, of course, tamer versions of the fabled Bicol Express (which, I believe is named for the train that used to penetrate the heart of Bicol) with a lot more meat than chili. There are also the pinangat and the laing–both made from taro leaves. For me though, and for most of the fire-eating Bicolanos, it has to be hot, hot, really hot.

You know what they say about small towns: one blink and it’s gone.  In a way, that’s what Sorsogon is.  The commercial center is made up of two main streets branching into little side pockets.  When the planners laid out the town 50 or so years ago, they probably had little idea that “Berlinas” and wheels would eventually take control of the road. Or that Sorsogon would eventually be a city.  Which explains why traffic can be a little off-putting during rush hours.

But there is much, much, more to Sorsogon than its seeming smallness.  Beyond the L-shaped commercial district are open spaces that point to a wide, wide world.  Venture just a little farther from Rizal Street and you get a heady view of the the sea and the mountains.

The Baywalk at Rompeolas

The road leading to my office is flanked by fields of green, with the majestic Bulusan Volcano looming right ahead.

From where I blog, the beach is but 10 minutes away.  Going there doesn’t take much planning; you just decide to go, and there you are.

Bacon Beach

When I was younger, I felt hemmed in by what I thought to be a small town.  There was something very limiting about the way the rays of the sun slanted at 5 p.m. As if marking the end of yet another blah day.

But now there’s some comfort–and a lot of promise–in the same slant.  It makes me look forward to going home, and to another beautiful day.

Every four months or so, the rice fields of Sorsogon turn from bare brown to green to golden yellow.  (The city harvests 11,000 metric tons of rice from 2,400 hectares of rice fields annually.)  My favorite is this shade of green, when the grains start to show and the air is rife with the promise of growth.  This shade of green means food on the table and, for the commuter food for the eyes and the soul as well.

We are, as most Filipinos, big rice eaters.  We eat rice three times a day–sometimes more.  Needless to say, there is comfort in this shade of green.  We will have our rice, after all.  And all things grow from there.

The Sorsogon Provincial Museum is right smack in the middle of the city. It is a few steps away from the ever bustling Capitol Grounds. Fewer steps, even, from the Provincial Gymnasium which, on regular days, is anything but quiet.

You wouldn’t know that you’re in the midst of all the busyness, though, the moment you step into the museum. The building itself is part of the story. Built in the early 1900s, when the Americans occupied the islands–it used to be the Sorsogon Provincial Hospital. When the hospital had to move to somewhere more spacious, the building served as temporary shelter for a host of government offices. Eventually, it became a forgotten part of history, in an almost forgotten part of town.

In 2009, after much lobbying, looking for funds and laborious restoration, it finally became the Sorsogon Provincial Museum. The Kasanggyahan Foundation and the Sorsogon Arts Council–through the late and lamented Tootsie Jamoralin–was at the forefront of the project. They made sure that the turn-of-the-century structure remained faithful to its original form: a stylized bahay na bato (stone house) with wide, sweeping windows, high ceiling and a courtyard. Part of the original flooring–polished wooden planks hewn from enduring hardwood–was retained.

The museum is divided into three galleries.  Gallery One displays burial jar covers, hunting tools and shards of jars discovered in caves in Sorsogon.  Among others, the artifacts tell of the Sorsogon of  our prehistoric ancestors, when life was dictated by the elements and the rising and setting of the sun.

Gallery Two is of a more genteel, more colonial era.  It displays everyday things from the Sorsogon of my mother’s stories.  There’s a display case of baby booties, keys and crayons plucked out of the 1920s.  There are rows of charcoal-fed flat iron, a humongous metal wine container, wooden chests, bottles for storing fermenting vinegar, tools that paint a picture of long, happy hours spent in the kitchen.

Gallery two opens into Gallery Three, which continues the turn-of-the-century-everyday-Sorsogon theme.  A polished round narra table—carved from a whole trunk—dominates a portion of the gallery.  On it is a collection of oil lamps that must have lit up many moonless nights, when electricity wasn’t a necessity.  Also in Gallery Three are reproductions of old photographs of Sorsoganons living in more idyllic times.

There are other areas as well.  One room—the library—holds the collection of Mr. and Ms. Magazines donated by its founding publisher, Eugenia Duran-Apostol.  She is the same journalistic genius behind The Philippine Daily Inquirer.  Ms. Apostol is, of course, a Sorsoganon. One corner also displays memorabilia, including props and costumes, of the Sorsogon Arts Council.

Past the courtyard and near the library, is the section devoted to the “natural” Sorsogon.  One corner features a replica of the butanding (whaleshark) which frequent the waters of Donsol from October to May.  (The butanding is largely credited for putting Sorsogon on the country’s tourism map.)  A veritable seafloor of off-white sand beneath the faux butanding is an invitation to explore the province’s wonderful beaches.  Whalebones are also on display—proof of the rich marine life hereabouts.  Prints of the various tourist spots in the province complete the section.

Admittedly, the Museum is still in the process of building its collection.  There are artifacts yet to be displayed, pieces still to be pried from private collectors.  Still and all, the museum does its best to tell the story of Sorsogon.  By weaving together colourful vignettes, it gives us a peek into what life was then, and how lucky we are to have such a heritage.

From my mom’s garden. Gotu kola (Centella asiatica) is said to improve memory

The first thing you will notice from the highway is how green Sorsogon is. From the stands of trees lining the highway, the ricefields and the hills, everything is green, green and green.

Green takes on many shades here. There’s ricefield green, there’s forest green, there’s manicured-lawn green. Green is on the table, in gardens, through windows, and along the highway. Green is the color of the distant mountains after a quick shower. It is the color of the sea in April, when it is at its calmest. Green, in fact, is everywhere.

Here are some of Sorsogon’s greens:

Green view from a green room

Future greens at the EDC Complex nursery

Still more greens at the EDC Ecopark

On holy ground: this garden at the El Retiro Center is lovingly tended by praying hands

Blanched okra

Sitio Suhi boasts an enchanting shade of green

Bamboo grass set against a more cosmopolitan green

The green makings of the fabled Bicol Express

Other greens are here, too: dailypost.wordpress.com/2012/11/16/weekly-photo-challenge-green/

Where I work, Christmas kicks in when the first of the man-made stars makes its way past the guard, through the lobby and on to the second floor. It’s an annual competition among the city’s barangays (communities): every December, they display lanterns/stars fashioned from local materials in hopes of outdoing one another and bagging the top plum.

The parol (Christmas lantern) is a Filipino tradition that is kept alive here in the city.  Derived from the word farol–Spanish for lantern–the parol represents the Star of Bethlehem, which guided the Magi as they traveled to seek the manger where the Baby Jesus was born. More than just a Christmas ornament, the parol is seen as a symbol of hope, an allegory for the triumph of light over darkness.

This year’s parols, displayed in time for the Sosogon Festival, are colorful paeans to creativity.  No longer confined to the bamboo-and-paper creations of yore, they tell of painstaking hours spent cutting and shaping ang putting together.  The materials are just as varied: there are crab shells, wood shavings, bamboo, shells, leaves, grass, plastic bottles, disposables given a new purpose.

Inasmuch as the parol tells of journeys, so too does the Sosogon Festival. The term sosogon, from which Sorsogon got its name, means tracing, following the path of the river to get to the town.  As the city gears up for a week of tracing history, making new paths and forging ahead, we look up at the stars around and above us and think of journeys made and journeys yet to be taken.

Some of Sorsogon City’s stars:

Sending good wishes for a bountiful, beautiful 2013 from my little pocket of the universe to yours.

May the new year ring in new beginnings, new journeys, new forks in the road, new adventure, more inspiration and more things to blog about.

Maogmang bag-ong taon sa gabos!

We started the day with no clear itinerary. We just took the southern route, and when our tummies rumbled lunch, we turned left and headed for one of the natural pools at the foot of Mount Bulusan. After two hours of prying the kids away from the water, we decided to go up Bulusan Lake.

The lake is one of Sorsogon’s major attractions. Perpetually green presumably because of algae, the lake is surrounded by secondary-growth trees that contribute to an even greener landscape.

Green is, in fact, everywhere. On the two-kilometer ascent to the lake, lush foliage provides a canopy that almost blocks out the sun. Erosion has carved out the hillsides, and to the right there are gigantic ferns and vines tenaciously clinging to the sides. All in varying shades of green, of course.

Bulusan Lake is one of two lakes in the 3,672-hectare Bulusan Volcano National Park (BVNP). It rises 635 meters above sea level and is almost halfway up Bulusan Volcano, which has an elevation of 1,559 meters. From up here, you can hear birdsongs, chirps and the occasional rattlesnake. A hawk circled up above when we were there.

Over the years, tourist-friendly activities have been introduced along the perimeter of the lake. Kayaks, boats and water bikes are there for those who have limited time to explore the lake. For the more adventurous, guided eco treks along the inner and outer crater are also being offered for P150 and P250 per head.

Despite these, and despite the carloads of visitors that flock to Bulusan, the lake has managed to preserve a certain sense of serenity. Timelines and deadlines are set aside here, and it is enough to sit still and take in the green, great majesty of Bulusan Lake.

Other majestic from-above posts are here. Oh, and here’s a photo taken from above in our first stop, Nature Park in Irosin.

For this week’s challenge, I will venture a little farther from my hometown. Yup, that’s Mayon Volcano–the world’s perfect cone–in the background.

The town of Daraga in Albay is an hour and a half away from Sorsogon. Getting there is easy: you just follow the stretch of the Maharlika Highway, past rice fields, bowers of trees and a sprinkling of communities–some fast-paced, others laid-back. You know you’re nearly there when, on clear days, the majestic Mayon Volcano stands proud on the horizon, an open invitation to witness the wonders of Bicolandia.

Mayon Volcano is, of course, the muse of Bicol. Its perfect cone is the perfect backdrop for the I-was-here travel shots. It dominates the Albay skyline as well and is visible from all the province’s towns. From parts of Sorsogon, too, and from the rest of the region, especially along coastlines.

The Cagsawa Ruins in Daraga is one of the best viewdecks of the fabled Volcano. It is also a testament to the beauty–and destructive temper–of Mount Mayon. From 1724 up until 1814, Cagsawa Church was a solid, seemingly unshakable symbol of the Catholic faith in Bicol. All that changed on February 1, 1814 when a particularly violent eruption buried the church and the thousands who sought refuge behind its stone walls. All that is left today is the belfry, portions of the stone walls and a spectacular view of Mayon.

The day we were there, Mayon was hiding behind a thick blanket of clouds. There were a handful of tourists just the same, some gamely posing for the touristy shots choreographed by the guides. Just when we were about to leave–after making the rounds of souvenir shops and sampling the refreshingly spicy sili shake–Mayon decided to show herself. The sight–no matter how many times I’ve been fortunate to see it–was simply stunning!

Mayon is indeed the beautiful maiden–the Daragang Magayon–of Bicol. She may constantly be in the background, but she certainly knows how to command attention. Sadly, as the ruins of Cagsawa prove, she can also be disastrous. Sixteen hours after our visit, Mayon spewed ash and smoke, in a phreatic explosion that killed five mountaineers.

Ah, majesty and mayhem, indeed!

Here she is again, this time calm and serene, from the coastal hamlet of Sto. Niño in Sorsogon.

Hop on over here for more takes on the in-the-background theme.

Nothing says “Good morning” than breakfast. And in a place where rice and ricefields abound, breakfast is ultimately a heady mix of rice cakes and made-from-rice goodies. Pair them with a steaming mugful of coffee (yup!, there’s one made from ground rice, too) or hot chocolate and you have the quintessential Sorsoganon breakfast.

The recipes for these kakanin are handed down from generation to generation. Over time, semi-mechanical mixers and grinders have made prep time shorter, but there is no denying that churning out these rice products are just as tedious.

During fiestas and special occasions, making these kakanin is a community effort. The men are usually tasked with getting coconut fronds and banana leaves, the older women–they who have inherited the recipes from those who came before them–do the grinding and the mixing, and the younger women–who will eventually inherit the recipes–spoon the mixture into coconut or banana leaves for the final steaming.

Here are some of Sorsogon’s breakfast fare. And here are other good morning finds.

A kakanin sampler–including puto, hinagom, maja blanca, suman, espasol and biko made by the women of Basud

Glutinous rice is spooned into these woven coconut leaves and steamed to make ibos

Puto lanson (steamed ground glutinous rice) topped with cheese