As usual, I have new pictures posted from my trips. Rapu-Rapu Island and PenaFrancia Festival are the recent additions.
Festivals are, in general, a good time. Religious festivals are, at least in my alternative-reality view, usually an awkward event. I don't believe what the christian masses and, as such, cannot appreciate the spiritual impact on the lives of so many people. In my more judgemental past, I thought it would be impossible to enjoy a religious festival simply for what it was because I did not share the values of anyone else attending.
Friday, fellow PCV Jarod and I biked 100km up to Naga city through the pouring rain to kick off the weekend with sore legs and the mental significance of having made our own pilgrimage. After 5 and a half hours of sitting on a seat and cranking our legs up and down, we finally made it to town and felt like, if the festival was a disappointment, at least we did something that weekend.
The party had been constant all week, but all events culminated on saturday with what is called the fluvial procession. Every year for the last 300 or so, Naga City has had a christian celebration where 2 large, metal icons are carried around the city by a rather pious mosh-pit. Once the icons reach a river at the other end of town they are then boated back to the church from wence they came on a barge towed by hundreds of canoes. It is quite the spectacle and, since I missed it last year, I was looking forward to seeing something as significant for a large percentage of my fellow Bikolanos.
We watched the first of two icons pass and be attacked by countless people who wanted the good luck that comes from touching this symbol of christianity and Bikolano-hood. I took pictures and watched people go crazy. When the second symbol passed, I ran down, charged through the crowd and touched the hulking metal burden.
Some may say that my difference in belief is enough to make my participation in this event a mild blasphemy, but I disagree. As with most traditions that have been handed down, generation to generation, their true meaning and intention becomes lost and they are more of a cultural phenomenon that unites a group. Although, in my mind, metal is metal and physical contact with a symbol has no reason to change me as a person, simply being involved in an event that the people with whom I live and work is enough to make me feel like a more culturally aware person. Everyone I talked to about attending the festival and touching the icon thought it was a good idea and encouraged me to experience this spectacle first-hand.
Enough pontificating.
Me in Naga. Icon passes by. I touch icon. Icon is placed on boat. Boat is brought, quite conveniently, below my hotel balcony. Pictures were taken. Connectiveness was felt between myself, other volunteers, and Bikolanos alike.
Good times.
