When it rains, the flowers bloom

Waking up from my deep slumber on a Sunday morning, I noticed that the usual sunlight striking through my window was nowhere to be seen. It was 10 o’clock and, from my bed, I could already picture what the sky would look like. The familiar cold air of Baguio didn’t permit me to start my day earlier as it glued my blanket to my body like a second skin. But time was running, and I had enough rest.

As soon as I set foot outside our gate, I felt small drops of rain on my skin. I feared that it would be a downpour. Wearing my go-to outfit whenever I go to town — cap, hoodie, shorts, walking shoes — I traversed my way to my destination. After a while, the sky began crying.

The rain calms my soul. It transports me to Kim Shin and Eun-tak’s world. If only it’s that easy to find your soulmate under the pouring rain. The jeepney parked in its loading area and waited for passengers to fill its seats. I sometimes find it despairing, the conscious incapacity of humans to wait — be it in love or success.

The engine started, and the king of the road whirred us closer to the heart of the city.

As someone born in the city of pines, I’ve always had this connection with its festivities, with its colors, and culture. So, seeing the bright and bustling Burnham park made me frolic amid the gloomy atmosphere. But the park was only a stop and not the destination.

I walked, avoiding puddles of muddy water and slippery pavements, toward the road that led to the site of the First Philippine Commission — Session Road.

Baguio City celebrates the “season of blooming” or Panagbenga every February. This flower festival gathers people together in the spirit of Cordilleran values and virtues. As part of the celebration, Session road, the famous site of commercial activity in the city, opens its 1.7-kilometer stretch every Sunday to people to do various recreation and trade.

Minding my footsteps and expecting stalls covered with tarps because of the rain, I found myself looking at an unusual sight. There were no stalls for diverse products. Still, I kept an optimistic mood. After a few steps, I saw two young men doing chalk art on a wet road. The chalks didn’t fail.

Nothing can stop people from having fun. It seemed like every drop from above formed a sea, not of water, but of people. I continued walking, crossed Lower Mabini Street, and laid my eyes on four mandalas around ten feet in size. These giant mandalas were creatively and meticulously woven by Adelaida Guia, who once dreamed of only having her creations displayed along Session road but has now made a name for herself in the craft of crocheting.

The Abiakak, Guia’s first giant mandala, had a sort of earthy and ethnic feel. The other mandala looked classy and luxurious, and if one were to display it at home, it would surely be a center of attraction. Vibrance was present in her two other works as the choice of colors leaned more toward those that pop.

Passing by Calderon Street, the shrill voices of green men started piercing my ears. I was quite puzzled upon seeing not one but two of them. Despite their voices, people, especially children, took pictures with them while doing the ever-unique peace sign.

I didn’t feel I was walking on a slope, most probably, because I wasn’t in a hurry or the rain just slowed down the time.

Just past the stairs leading to The Baguio Cathedral of Our Lady of the Atonement, I heard a sound so musically satisfying. Pausing to take photos of two young men — one playing the guitar and the other singing his heart out — I caught myself humming to the tune of their chosen piece — “Hindi tayo pwede.”

A few establishments after, a group of people were dancing to the beat of pop and hip-hop music boosted by a large mono speaker. I took photographs of them being all energetic when I realized I also captured Don Henrico’s — a memorable place for me and my friends.

The rain stopped, but I continued walking, now on the other side of Session road. Oh, the tables have turned I told myself when I saw paw patrol mascots patting a kid on the head. The kid smiled joyfully and with utter amazement as if his dream finally came true.

Farther down the road, there was a clown giving animal-shaped balloons to kids passing by. Cosplayers were lined up with tip boxes in front of them. The four Sanggres of Encantadia were present. Pikachu and Doraemon were there, too. As soon as I took my second climb uphill, the rain began pouring harder. But I didn’t mind. I had my cap with me like a shield as it protected my glasses from getting wet.

I could only gaze at those families and couples taking selfies, kids walking their dogs, and people enjoying their meals in the restos with quiet admiration and reassurance that happiness is what we make it.

Blending in the crowd, I pondered how intertwined our lives are, how eccentric and obscure our mere existence is. We seek solace from the mundane, like how repetitive my walk along Session road was and how common the rain falls, to assuage this inability to answer questions of unfathomable depths.

But no matter how ordinary the rain is for some, it will always be something to look forward to. For when it rains, life presents itself. When it rains, the flowers bloom. And Panagbenga happens.