Barbra Streisand joined us in Baguio one weekend

When three best friends as merry as the sun took a vacation to the country’s summer capital, expect the pine trees to laugh with them as they hilariously painted Baguio City with silly laughter from sun up to sundown. And that’s no exaggeration.

Three raconteurs and okrayeras (opinionated beings) were together in the car  —  Jay Capiral, the college best friend I met in 1988; Manny Marinay, my first best friend when I started working in Manila in February 1995; and I — so ribbing was expected. Onion-skinned we were not,so the good-natured teasing started the night we all met up at UP Diliman’s University Hotel where we spent Thursday night. I came all the way from Cabuyao; Jay from Antipolo; and Manny from Apalit, Pampanga.

On Friday at 8 a.m., we rolled to NLEX after breakfast. Manny, on the passenger’s seat, vlogged away in the car. Outside it was beginning to rain; inside the car, it was already raining joy. Manny held on to his camera phone to record our madness masquerading as childlike joy.

When we hit San Fernando, we were already singing the songs of Barbra Streisand. Of course with a caveat to our driver, JP, that he should not be bothered at any time by the live singing in the car. JP, bless his kind soul, controlled himself despite the spectacle taking place in the car but later on burst with uncontrolled laughter. He was one of us, we thought — except that he’s married with five children and his passengers are all single, as single as the ones in the song of Beyonce — Single Ladies.

There was no karaoke playing in the car. What was captured in the vlog of Manny was all live singing, a cappella. I forced a baritone excerpt of Papa Can You Hear Me?; Manny did a sustained falsetto of People; and Jay purred like Grizabella in his rendition of Memory.

Memory — that’s what Baguio is all about. To the initiated, a trip to Baguio is always a beautiful trip down memory lane.

When we reached Rosario, a town in La Union and gateway to Baguio City via Kennon Road, Jay shrieked like a child when he recalled his Daddy Enrico trusting him to take the wheel on his first attempt to drive to Baguio all the way to their three-room family vacation house on Quezon Hill. As we drove past waterfalls cascading through the verdant mountain vegetation and wild pink flowers jutting out from the crevices of Benguet, Jay remembered his 19-year-old self, navigating the narrow, steep and winding road that led to their house. His father trusted him enough that if he could drive on the zigzag roads of Baguio, he could navigate the many roads of life.

My simple wish of having a photo op at the Lion’s Head monument on Kennon Road was granted. Call me a turista, I really am, but it was my childhood dream to behold the beauty of the lion up close and personal. Jay and Manny sang “When you wish upon a star” the minute my solo photo was taken with the Lion’s Head in the background. A cheap thrill, perhaps, to some; a glorious moment for me. Now, the word “Welcome” inscribed on the 40-ft. limestone sculpture meant so much more.

Shortly after the pandemic, Manny brought his entire family to Baguio City for much-needed bonding. Despite living far away from his siblings, Manny, the youngest in the brood of five, is always a family man. “I will always remember the joy in my sisters’ and brothers’ eyes because of that trip,” he said. It was a bittersweet trip because Manny wished his late mother Teresita was with them to witness their joy.

Food tripping in Baguio

Our first meal in Baguio was at Oh My Khan on Upper Session Road, for the yummy and spicy Mongolian barbecue. And yes, after lunch, Manny made sure our experience was captured in his mini-vlog. There was singing again. I sang a Chinese song, the one I made up in grade school. (If our schedules permit it, our upbeat, jolly selves that love to sing might consider doing a regular vlog.)

At the nearby Narda’s cafe, we had our coffee and dessert. While Jay and I were enjoying our barako (that was native coffee, what do you think it was?), Manny was upstairs fitting pure cotton jackets in an ikat weaving pattern. Narda’s is the home of world famous handwoven arts and crafts in Baguio. And since it was a musical trip, we serenaded the staff with Narda, a song by Kamikazee. We did not get a discount for our purchases but we received an ovation from the staff. Good enough.

Then to our cozy rooms at Forest Lodge (now called Forest Wing) in Camp John Hay we trooped. Heavy rains escorted us to the hotel. Jay and I were roommates. On our first night we learned the art of compromise. He couldn’t sleep without the TV on. I could not sleep with noise. He got his YouTube show on TV and I had it muted. We had sound sleep that night. Emphasis on the “sound.”

Manny stayed alone in the room across ours. “Alone” was such a lonely word so we suspected he entertained some ghosts in his room. Not the paranormal type. Perhaps the ghosts that we talked about in the alleged controversial flood control projects at the DPWH.

Since the needles of pine trees around Forest Lodge were heavy with rain and the fog literally entered our windows, we figured we couldn’t go out yet. So we engaged ourselves in a friendly game of pillow fight. Inside our room were three 50-something adults engaging in a childish game. That moment, we were three children roughing it up. There were no belly-aching, cry-babies. Only screaming ones. There was laugh-tear in our eyes.

The following day saw us eating breakfast at Café by the Ruins. The camote bread was filling. The Ruins’ longganisa, champorado and daing na bangus were palate-excellent.

Early lunch was at a charming café museum called Arca’s Yard on Ambuclao Road. It had a terrace perfumed by pine trees lining a cliff. We had orange chicken, camote fries and yogurt with wild honey and crushed pistachios.

Our last dinner for this trip was epic. Amare, an Italian restaurant fashioned from the former house of Vice President Fernando Lopez on Outlook Drive, served us melt-in-the-mouth medium premium steak and two kinds of bestselling pizza: quattro formaggi (four-cheese) and Costa crocante(pizza with hibe or dried shrimps and dilis with spicy chimichurri sauce). The dinner was divine — capped by Manny who refused to blow the birthday candle on his gelato cake. He forced Jay and me to blow the candle with him.

We woke up early on Sunday. Manny jogged around the area, basking in the glory of pure oxygen and timeless charm of John Hay.

By 9:30 a.m., we were already creating a Tiktok dance at the café at Narda’s for Jay to upload on his account. It was a good way to shake off the pandesal with strawberry jam, tocino and corned beef we ate earlier for breakfast.

At 10 a.m., with fog hovering above Upper Session Road, we began our descent to Kennon Road. We eavesdropped as Manny gave love advice to his colleague over the phone. And when he would catch us listening, Jay and I would burst into a song. Soon, Manny did another song of Barang  —  that’s Barbara Streisand.

We left the melody of our voices  —  and our crazy laughter  —  in the Cordilleras. That’s our way of saying that to Baguio, we will be back. Soon. *