I WANTED to write about Barangay Lamacan in the southern town of Argao, which celebrated its fiesta yesterday.
In fact, I was supposed to go there last Friday night for the besperas.
I had it all planned out.
I would go to the bus terminal after my daily jog. I figured I would get there past 9 p.m., head straight to the Sarchez house on Suyco St., and then drink till the wee hours of the morning under the canopy of their giant mango tree.
It used to be me, Uncle Mawe and his brother-in-law, Uncle Lester, but they’ve “mellowed” down in the last couple of years. So I have been bonding with my younger cousins whose passion for the bottle rivals my own.
I thought I would head back to the city after lunch the next day. I had work.
But the weather last Friday wasn’t conducive to traveling. It started to rain in the afternoon.
Plus I knew the terminal would be full of passengers going home for the weekend. I didn’t feel like lining up for a bus.
Also, I didn’t count on a fellow runner, Lyn-Lyn, to bring “snacks” to the oval because it was her daughter Iyah’s birthday.
So after our minimum five-kilometer run, I and other members of our A2Z Runners Club gathered around the back of her SUV where she had laid out a spread of rainbow cake, donuts, puto, puso and lechon.
The cake was a present from Oscar. Allen bought the soda. Someone brought peanuts. I brought my appetite.
While we ate, it dawned on me that the thought of drinking into the night was not as appealing as it used to be.
It was then that I decided to skip Lamacan’s fiesta.
Many people who know me are probably raising their eyebrows right about now.
I never usually turn down a chance to enjoy the country’s award-winning rum with cousins and friends. But lately I have. Several times.
It has nothing to do with me getting a little bit on in years. Or maybe it does. And I’m just in denial.
Maybe I’m in the last phase of a mid-life crisis.
After all, I already kicked the smoking habit four years ago. And to think that I puffed that cigarette for almost 30 years. I also shed 80 pounds in a span of three years, and managed to maintain the weight.
I remember talking to my cardiologist several years ago after I underwent a thorough checkup when I turned... you know.
He asked if there was any chance that I would give up drinking. I shook my head. Smoking? No deal. So he suggested that I lose some weight.
Apparently, I couldn’t have my cake and eat it too.
Anyway, that’s two vices down.
But before I picked up smoking and drinking and socializing when I was 15, I was a bit of a nerd. And a prig.
Which might explain why I have been getting on my high horse lately. Or why I’ve preferred to stay home after work and read or listen to music. With a bottle of “milk” as a constant companion, of course.
Oh, who am I kidding?
Argao’s main fiesta is in September yet. And I’ve never skipped both fiestas in the last 24 years.