The Holy Week is upon us, and I am set to go home to Baguio City. However, after more than an hour of waiting in line at the bus terminal, I was able to get a ticket... for 1:30PM the following day! Things are looking congested for my beloved hometown once again.
Last weekend, my wife and I visited the Baguio Cathedral to celebrate Palm Sunday. Some photos can be found at the Baguio-Quezon blog.
When I was a kid, the Holy Week meant the start of the summer vacation and the end of classes. So we'd be in the provinces, usually in Pangasinan or Dagupan, my father's hometown. As we play outside, the elders would caution us to be very careful because if we get hurt, it will take a long time to heal. At 6PM, the Angelus is prayed along with the rosary. We would also take a bath on Thursday afternoon because it was prohibited to do so on Good Friday when Jesus died. We were also told not to make so much noise and not be joyous for that week, for in those days, our Lord is suffering.
The Holy Week means a lot more to me now, and while I am not the meditating type, I find joy and consolation in the fact that Someone up there cares for me.
Til next week, have a meaningful Holy Week and advanced Happy Easter!