VILLA DE QUIROS: HISTORY SAYS NO. 5 IT IS

I was born in this sleepy and quaint town of Aringay, La Union in the 60’s where almost everyone knew of one another. Wednesdays and Sundays were market days and people converge in the market site to buy their goods, exchange pleasantries, chat and gossip, debate and discuss political happenings as well as see friends from other towns. Folks from Caba, Agoo and Tubao as well as merchants from Pangasinan and Pampanga join the throngs of Aringayenos doing business on market days.

Villa de Quiros in 1960s

Our house was a little more than 100 meters away from the market. It was always Number 5 since then. I forgot what the street was before but upon President Marcos’ entry to office, it became Marcos Avenue through an enabling ordinance. It became Number 5 Marcos Avenue. Now the number changed to 593 to my consternation. I asked if the Municipal Council passed an ordinance to renumber houses in the town and I got a resounding no. I realized it was a barangay initiative. I was to contest that change as I have to provide documents to prove the change of my address every now and then, but I got exasperated, I just maintained the previous number with some funny results. Since the present number is 593, some delivery men look for number 5 on the other end of the road. It is good there are cellphone numbers indicated in the delivery slip, they can call us and tell the direction to our house, to which now I call Villa de Quiros. Anent to this. During the Spanish period 1820s, they have allocated house numbers too. In the Baptismal record of my grandfather, the barangay was called, Don Diego Padilla and the old address is referred to as No. 5 Barangay Don Diego Padilla. By historical records, this is always Number 5 in this street. It is already an old house. It was constructed after the war. It is now 73 years old and is a mute testimony of what had happened through those years. It is even a mute spectator of the joys, pain and laughter of my 57 years in life. It is also a hodge-podge product of repair due to the tears and weakening it had through the years. But it remained its form as it fought through the years of bounty, scarcity, joys and laughter, pains, misery and loneliness. My dear little home of 73 years may now be declared a national treasury for surviving more than 50 years. I am also wondering if the big mango tree in front of the house is as old as our house since it was already a mature plant when I was a toddler.

1950s infront of the house

I saw an old picture of my cousins posing in-front of the house. The fence was made of bamboo. I noted that a coconut tree grew in-front of the house as well as a jasmin (rosal) plant and a guyabano (soursop). Back in my younger days, the front yard as well as the backyard are basically orchards. At the side of an enlarged kalapaw (bamboo nipa hut), was a coffee tree orchard. The orchard took a beating when my maternal aunt built her house in the area. Now the house had a concrete fence with an orange steel gate. There are still plants - ornamental and fruit bearing trees like the jack fruit, indian mango, atis and the citrus trees. The houses in front of the big house gave way during the 1991 big earthquake but the old house stood tall. All through the years, old folks went beyond, no one ever thought of dismantling it and erecting a modern house befitting the times. Repairs were only made on it.

Why the sudden nostalgia? Well, change is change. It is inevitable. It maybe difficult but we have to grow from it for the better. Writing memories and correlating it to what we have read about the distant past is both a travelogue and a mind exerciser. We become historians ourselves.