Visiting the Cebu of My Childhood

The last time I was actually in Cebu was in 2009. I was attending a conference with a friend and the launching of a book we helped to edit. That was the last time I was able to go to Cebu to spend some time with my uncle and cousins. All other times I have been in Cebu, I was just passing through on my way to Dumaguete City—the island where my mother is from.

I was born and raised in Cebu. My family moved to Manila, the country’s capital, in 1995 so the Cebu I know is NOT the Cebu of SM and Ayala Malls and party places that tourists and settlers know today. My family also lived in the old part of the city, where streets are narrow with houses made of wood not wide and paved in gated subdivisions of big concrete houses.

I was supposed to spend two days in Cebu after vacationing in Bohol Island for a few days but due to bad weather my trip to Cebu had to be moved a day later and I had to find other ways to get to Cebu from Bohol. I took the fast craft from Cebu to Tagbilaran, Bohol and it was the longest two hours of my life! The waters were so rough that children had started to throw up due to seasickness and some of the passengers were already crying because of fear. I was afraid. If the boat capsized, the lower deck passengers (me included) would surely be trapped. I have never prayed so much in my life. No, wait. I have! On a rainy motorbike ride during a trip up the mountains last year and last month on a plane as I flew through a typhoon. Water, land, and air. I think I have reached my quota of scary travels for the next five years.

Anyway, I vowed never to leave from Tagbilaran on my way back to Cebu since the Tagbilaran port was more exposed to westerly winds (habagat). I decided to leave from the Tubigon port of Bohol. That was an adventure in itself. I found a motorbike with a driver who was willing to drive me 54km (33 miles) north of Tagbiliran City at 5AM so I can get on the bigger, more stable boat at the port of Tubigon that leaves for Cebu at 7AM.

I got to the Tubigon port at 6:30AM and found out that the ticketing office was not at the port! An LPG tanker driver offered to bring me to the ticketing office since he was also getting a ticket for the tanker he was driving across to Cebu. He also offered to put me down as “guest crew” of the tanker so I wouldn’t have to pay the fare. I was tempted for a split-second but decided against it because the roll on-roll off ferry docks in Mandaue City and I needed to go to Cebu City, which was 8km (5 miles) away. Besides, that would mean I would be obligated to make small talk with the kind driver from Bohol about being Cebuano, something my introvert self wasn’t too keen on doing at 7AM. Haha.

It would have been my first time to ride an LPG tanker had I taken up the driver's offer to be "guest crew."

The boat I was on docked in the Cebu City port mid-morning and I was picked up by my uncle. After a quick, lunch I made my way to Casa Gorordo Museum. I might have been in third grade when my school went to Casa Gorordo for a field trip. I love visiting museums and old houses and I attribute that to my Casa Gorordo experience as a child. I love the stories these museums and old houses tell.

And I love the memories of my childhood that are brought up and the feelings of nostalgia that they evoke. The wooden floors remind me of a time my older brother and I would sprinkle baby powder on our wooden floor, wear socks, and then slide pretending we were on skates. I broke my arm “skating” on our wooden floors. I also like touching the rattan furniture and I am reminded of the times my grandparents from Dumaguete (my mother’s parents) would visit us and my brother and I would sit with our grandpa and listen to his stories.

Casa Gorordo Museum
The dining table on the left, around six feet in diameter, is made from a single plank of Molave/Tugas wood.

From Casa Gorordo I took a 10-minute walk to Museo Sugbo. This museum only opened in 2008 and is housed in the old Cebu provincial jail. The museum has twelve galleries but my favorites were the pre-colonial gallery and the World War II gallery. I really appreciated how the descriptions were in Cebuano with the English translation in a smaller typeface below them. Here are a few interesting facts from this trip:

1. The structure of Museo Sugbo is made from coral stone blocks.
2. In pre-colonial times, the people of Sugbo flattened their skulls because this was considered beautiful.
3. Cebuanos are unapologetic snobs. Haha. The entrance fee for foreigners is 60% more than the fee for Filipinos. The cashier’s window has a sign that says: “If you consider this discrimination, please be reminded that you are not forced to visit Museo Sugbo.” That made me chuckle.

I also went over to St. Theresa’s College (STC) where I spent my elementary years. I have three brothers and my father was worried I wont grow up to have ladylike manners. Haha. My family is Protestant so my father had to pull a few strings just so I can get admitted into this school run by nuns. I remember STC being very strict with dress codes. On days that we weren’t wearing our school uniforms there were strict guidelines as to the appropriate clothes students can wear. No shorts, no flip flops, no sleeveless tops, no big/chunky earrings. On the day that I visited my alma mater, the security guard wouldn’t let me in. Haha.

This was the outfit I was wearing on the day I visited STC.
No wonder the guard wouldn't let me in; the nuns would be livid. :P

I had the famous Cebu lechon and puso for dinner. After dinner I took a walk down Jones Ave/Osmena Blvd to visit the UCCP Bradford Church and admire the additional buildings being constructed for the Visayas Community Medical Center (VCMC), formerly Metro Cebu Community Hospital.

What is a Cebu visit without lechon and puso? :)

My siblings and I were Christened in UCCP Bradford; I grew up attending Bradford; my father and his siblings attended Bradford; my grandfather was a pastor at Bradford; my grandmother was a Bible teacher at Bradford; and even my grandparents’ wakes were held at Bradford. I have very fond memories of running up and down the ramp from the ground floor to the main sanctuary on the second floor wearing my frilly Sunday dresses. When my grandfather passed and we had already moved to Manila, we all went home to Cebu and I attended a Sunday service at Bradford for the first time after a very long absence. It was humbling to realize that from the very beginning, so many men and women had already been part of my faith journey.

United Church of Christ in the Philippines Cebu Bradford Church

I was born shortly after noon on Christmas Day (after my parents attended Christmas morning service at Bradford which was next door to the hospital) at the Metro Cebu Community Hospital (MCCH). My mother worked at this hospital as a staff nurse until we had to move to Manila. Annex 2 ward. I remember hanging out at the nurses’ station, waiting for my mother’s shift to end. I remember enjoying the disinfected smell of hospitals. MCCH was such a small hospital then. Now, it is being built into this huge structure.

Two new buildings being built for the Visayas Community Medical Center

I walked home from the hospital. I walked the road I walked as a child when I attended kindergarten at Bradford School. The houses remained the same. This part of Cebu was still the Cebu of my childhood. It was I who has changed. This trip made me realize that I will always be proud of being Sugboanon but Cebu is no longer home.

I left Cebu for Davao the following day with contentment in my heart. Walking around Cebu for a day was like flipping through the pages of a college yearbook when you’ve already been working at your dream job or have long passed board exams. It’s great to be reminded of how fun and awesome college was but nothing really compares to living in the moment you have spent four years working towards.

After you have gone through the pages and looked at pictures in the yearbook, you always close it and put it back on the shelf. And on days that you need to be reminded of where you came from so that you have a better appreciation of where you are at present and where you are going… You know where to look in the shelf.