Hometown

I spent most of my childhood in the expansive gated community of Ayala Alabang Village.

The aesthetics of my hometown made me feel free and safe. The roads were clean, most of the houses were well maintained, there were great parks. I'd see security guards on bikes or motorcycles doing their rounds. There would also be the occasional dog catcher on a motorcycle with a sidecar who, together with his giant-net-wielding partner, would chase down stray dogs, all throughout the village.

Our bungalow-type house was conveniently located a bike's ride away from a park and a few blocks away from several of my relatives' homes. We had a big garden which I enjoyed spending a lot of time in; I would either wander around, observing the plants and insects, or I'd be swimming in my little inflatable pool--surrounded by pool toys and shielded from the sun with a beach umbrella--. I had a favorite spot outside of our house, a small rock in our other little garden just outside the main entrance, I'd sit there, in my dinosaur printed undershirt and shorts, daydreaming as I watch the clouds go by.

Morning or mid-afternoon were my "wander around the outskirts of my house" time. As a child, everything seemed so big to me. My imagination would run wild amongst the fields and greenery of the parks and gardens. I would light up with enthusiasm or cower in fear at some made-up scenario or creature that, in my mind's eye, would materialize right in front of me. I disliked nighttime there. The bugs and bats flying around the dim orange-hued street lamps unnerved me. I'd skedaddle into my house once it got dark and those lamps lit up.

Well, I'm older now and I don't live there anymore. Looking back, I'd say my hometown was a good place to grow up. There are, of course, better places to grow up in, but Ayala Alabang Village was were I grew up and is a major factor on what I am now.