by Pransism

Our trip to Naujan was one great escape. For, as was always the case, we were not really allowed to wander outside the borders of Calapan. To find oneself far from your house in the night in the island poses one big problem – not too much public transport is available. And thus the trek to Naujan had this element of real adventure and risk which I actually enjoyed reminiscing up to now.

I do not exactly remember how one could get there. We boarded a jeep I recall and we were the last ones to drop off close to the town center, that’s all. It was not that far for if we would check on its history (which I would omit here for I have just read about it on the internet; you could check that out yourself, chance reader), there has been a time when Naujan has been actually a part of Calapan. There has been a dispute over the jurisdiction of some agricultural lands and Naujan won most of it. Thus the vast rice fields we saw on the way to the place.

The town itself looks simple and predictable, classic town of the Spanish time. A school on one side, then the church on the other, and the plaza at the center. But certainly, the big houses that still stand there make testament to the culture and life that once existed there (or is it still there?). I was really overwhelmed by those, as if those houses have just been weathered, and could have stand in more grandeur if not for that inevitable deterioration.

But the elementary school there certainly is not contemporary, for it is in the style that must have been made after the War through the help of the Americans. And the Naujan Academy has in its seal the year 1945, which says the age of their existence in the town.

It would have been more fulfilling if I was more conscious of the place, taking notes of the important details and info. But we were of course more into picture taking and food tripping. One first-time is Sampaine (or Sampine as the Batangeños call it), which we found on a local carinderia. The dish was certainly hot; being goat meat, but not all was meat! Almost half of it was just fat. And as aself-proclaimed health conscious then, I contented myself with scraping its sauce or juice.

Now here’s the part I have alluded to earlier. We decided to go back to our place a little late. We went to the market to look for any vehicle that could take us to Kurba (or Curve), a place which was connected to the main highway, which leads to main Calapan City. But apparently, not so many people there go outside around sunset. So we found ourselves anxiously waiting in the outskirts of the town for any vehicle, private or public, that could just bring us to Kurba.

There was some woman (yes, I think it was a woman as far as I can remember) on the way to her home. But her place would not reach or pass by Kurba and so the driver of tricycle refused to bring us there. Only much later that one tricycle driver finally agreed to take us there.

With another session of long waiting, a service van from Roxas (if my memory does not fail me) bound for the Calapan accommodated us and brought us back to Calapan. Oh, what a day indeed!

(This article originally posted at the blog Backtrails)