*I wrote this a thousand years ago on a little book I always have in me wherever I go. I’m posting it here kasi wala lang hehe…
Jalajala Rizal is where I grew up. JJ is a somewhat destitute, joyless town. You’ve never probably heard of it. Heck, you won’t even find it in old Philippine maps. But that’s okay.
That luckless town doesn’t have any running potable water. Telephones were installed only recently, like a million years after it was invented. Cable TV is just a myth so forget about the internet. Jalajala has no fire truck, no public market and the municipal building is as big as some barangay hall in Pasig. Fast food stores are still an unknown in that poor town but that’s okay because the town people don’t have any doughs to buy those Macs and Bees.
Nightlife is dead. You’ll be damn lucky if you find 10 living people at ten in the evening. Hell, you won’t see anyone at 10:15. Try 3 in the morning then you’ll see people already awake and nakatambay. Go figure. Even during the day, you won’t see many people especially during weekdays. Summer is happy times, but compare that to others, it seems we’re forever mourning. But that’s okay.
Jalajala has no real culture, no history worthy of any history books. If a tourist wants to know where the good spots are, we’ll show him the town exit because I’m sure he’ll fid the Holy Grail first (wherever it is) than find a good spot in Jalajala. Good spot? Hahahaha that’s a good one.
Basically, we have nothing. We have no traffic jams here, no pollutions, no gruesome crimes happening, no NPA-MILF-Abu Sayaff and that’s no kidding. All we have are quiet time, clean air, little mayas chirping merrily. All we have is time in the world and time here moves oh so slowly. But hey, that’s okay right?
This is my kinda town.