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This is the blog of Ian Rosales Casocot. Filipino writer. Sometime academic. Former backpacker. Twink bait. Hamster lover.

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Sunday, November 10, 2024

entry arrow9:00 AM | A Walk to Taclobo



Calle San Jose Extension in Taclobo in the early evening of Friday surprisingly buzzes with the lightest traffic, and somehow I find it easy to walk, with my usual pace, the street’s length [until Bag-ong Dalan, that is, which is really an old road that has been officially named Ciriaco Espina Street—and yet for some reason is still being called by locals everywhere with that unofficial, and terribly untrue, moniker]. I like my pace, like someone in a hurry to get somewhere. But it’s a loose kind of hurry, and I’ve always walked fast especially when alone. Perhaps I like the feel of the breeze that I conjure with my speed. And I like the feel of the little sweat I accumulate in the effort—and then I quickly realize that it has been a while since I’ve really walked. Because I’m breathless, and walking is effort for someone out-of-shape a year out of the pandemic.

I’m here in Taclobo to visit the significant other who’s very sick.

I opted to walk all the way to Taclobo from The Bricks Hotel along the Rizal Boulevard, where I had been all afternoon doing an assortment of work [and one informal workshop]. I did not plan to walk, but traffic in the major thoroughfares of Dumaguere was, as usual, horrendous. And while I bid my time by the sidewalk hoping to be able to flag down a tricycle, I instantly knew while I did a good bit of waiting that I would not be able to get a ride.

But I had to get to Taclobo to visit the significant other who’s very sick. I know environmental factors are at play in his surging fever and a terrible bout of coughing—other people in his household are sick as well—but I knew this illness is stressed-induced as well. He’s been battling stress and anxiety at work for a few weeks now. It’s all very sad, to be honest.

“You’re walking all the way from the Boulevard to Taclobo?” the significant other texts me.

“I think I need the exercise,” I reply.

But, really, it is the traffic that has prompted the need to walk. Traffic has been terrible in Dumaguete lately. Once, after work, I mused briefly about going to CityMall to catch a movie. But a thought suddenly came to me: “Nah, the traffic along the National Highway will be terrible.” And I realized then that that was the first time ever in my life as a Dumagueteño that this notion of “traffic” has prevented me from going elsewhere in the city. We used to make this jokey claim: “Everywhere in Dumaguete is just ten minutes away.” Is that still true today? Not too long ago, I once had an engagement at 58 EJ Blanco Drive, where the Arts and Design Collective of Dumaguete is headquartered, and I had started off from my apartment in Tubod, which is really just five minute ride away. With the significant other driving me in his car, we soon found ourselves caught in Hibbard Avenue traffic—and it actually took us 45 minutes to finally arrive at our destination. By then, the event was practically over. [I’m sorry, Geraldine Solon, for missing the bulk of your book launch! I blame traffic.]

I have casually asked around for the reasons of this sudden surge in Dumaguete traffic. The usual answer I get is the “broken, and old, traffic infrastructure”—which is really just how people describe the narrow city streets and the forbidding lack of parking. But I counter that with this observation: that old infrastructure has always been there, and we’ve had bad traffic before—but why only now does bad traffic in Dumaguete really underscore an unequalled badness? What is different today? The tricycles? The number of tricycles in the city has remained constant over the years. The cars? Perhaps the cars. Maybe many people bought cars during the pandemic—prices were slashed so low then—but quarantine somehow mitigated their presence on city streets. Only now, in our “post”-pandemic world, with quarantines now a fading memory, have all these cars suddenly converged on Dumaguete’s roads, choking them for hours on end. I’ve asked around: “How many car dealerships are there in Dumaguete?” Nobody could give me the exact answer, but someone said ten. Is that true? Why do we have so many car sellers in our city? And can these car sellers give me some statistics about how many cars they sold during the pandemic?

I’m told: “I don’t think they’ll give you their sales numbers.”

“But I can try,” I’d reply.

“Nah.”

“Do you think LTO can help?”

We broke into laughter with the ridiculous idea of LTO helping.

But I have to get to Taclobo to visit the significant other who’s very sick. He’s worried about being sick, and being away from work. He’s under pressure enough to fret. He has a raging fever, and godawful coughing—and I seethe that he is being reduced to this ball of pity and sadness and illness. Really seethe.

I seethe sometimes, too, when I go home to Tubod after my classes at Silliman, and find the way to be the ultimate pedestrian maze. I usually take a short tricycle ride to get to and from work, but these days, the constantly terrible traffic along Hibbard Avenue has made me walk more often. It’s a short distance anyway. And I’ve come to like stopping by Kohi to grab a cup of cappuccino or latte. That stretch of Hibbard Avenue until the crossing of Gothong Avenue [popularly called the Lo-oc Bypass Road] and Venancio Aldecoa Jr. Drive [popularly called Laguna] is traffic hell, an unrelenting carmaggedon. And it’s not just the cars on the road, it’s also the cars usurping the sidewalks for parking. There are no sidewalks anymore along the Silliman University stretch of Hibbard Avenue. So pedestrians like me actually walk on the actual street itself, because that’s the only available space to move forward. Sometimes I pray I do not get sideswept by a reckless vehicle from walking down the actual street. Then again, hahaha, all the vehicles on the road are moving like molasses.

I like walking anyway, especially as much-needed exercise to my very sedentary lifestyle. To be honest, I’d probably walk a lot more if Dumaguete wasn’t hot and humid.

But now, it is the early evening of Friday, and it is cool, and I have a sick beloved to visit in Taclobo.

Along the way, I am able to visit some of my favorite shops, like Dudley’s, and I buy some foodstuff—the Japanese muffin is to die for, and the Hokkaido bread is a staple—which I’m usually not able to when I’m riding a car. That only underlines what urban studies have been saying: foot traffic, not motor traffic, is what brings people to shops. Let’s encourage more people to walk for the economy’s sake!

But I wish Dumaguete was more walkable.

I wish there were more trees to shade sidewalks so that we can walk even under the hot Dumaguete sun.

I wish there were more suitable parking in Dumaguete.

I wish Dumaguete drivers were not lunatics. [A lot of them are.]

I wish we didn’t know that when traffic enforces are on hand, traffic actually gets worse.

I wish some workable system of public transport can be devised, so that people with cars do not have to use their cars anymore. [I can’t blame people from buying cars, especially if they live in the outskirts of the city—or live in the neighboring towns. But do they really have to buy humongous cars? If I were a powerful entity with convincing powers, I’d force everyone to buy small cars, like a Picanto, which is perfect for Dumaguete’s roads. My significant other drives a Picanto. He’s smart that way.]

I arrive at the significant other’s home in Taclobo and the feel of his skin is like touching lava. He moans a “hello.” I commiserate, I baby, I watch over him. I also tell him he should go to the ER to get a medical certificate. For the folks at work. He nods. His mom makes me eat dinner they’ve Grab-ed over from Don Roberto’s. I eat and we talk about the latest episode of Survivor. We all hate Andy. Alas he’s half-Filipino, but he’s so stupid.

Later, his mom drives me home.

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