The Sanitized Farm Experience

Listing the reasons of why and how we love her is an infinite enumeration. So among the list of an endless many, we dwell on some specificity. For one, the little one and I love D. for coming up with ideas for our weekend trips. We all love staying at home too, but she must have known that the little one needs to smell the grass, stare at open spaces, hear the sounds the world makes.

This weekend, we found ourselves at the "Balik Bukid" Country Fair at the Sta. Elena Fun Farm in Cabuyao. Sta. Elena is a gated community which is more of an estate, golf and country club over a farm. It also houses the Acacia school. We still dream about enrolling our little one in the that Waldorf school.

D. writes, We had a terrific time and I can tell from the face of the little one he found the whole place A.W.E.S.O.M.E. He laughed really loudly when we took him near the carabao resting beneath the tree but was really quiet when we rode the carabao-driven cart that took us around the farm. We decided to hang around the Kids' Playground where he enjoyed sitting on the swing, jumping on the trampoline, and balancing on the bamboo bars.

We chased chickens and geese, heard the cows moo out loud, and heard good music from the guest world/folk group who played. We were with M & L and their little one P. We all had time to lie in the grass. The farm folks let you use abaca mats for free. M. had a few cold cans of San Miguel Premium. I knew I can always count on him. Out there in the grass, thirsty from chasing little ones, it's a sweet quench.

We all had a genuine, wholesome-is-awesome time.


And you notice so many beautiful contrasts in the place, beginning with a farm within an golf and country club estate. We were trying to coin the term for it, and it gave the upper-class hippie feel. The folks who welcomed you at the registration site had the local bourgeoisie accent, or something that sounds like it. It's still summer, so some of the ladies who bought and sold products still had beach tans on mestiza skin. A foreigner who reeked of alcohol was drinking the organic beer they sold. This farm crowd and the owners/sellers at the fair had their own soapy-clean smell blended with the pervading smell of horse manure and cow dung. The wash areas will have flower or tea-scented soaps as well as newly-opened bars of white Safeguard.

The watermelon ice-drops we tried must've had a hint of mint and herbs and if that parch in your throat were a bull's eye, the ice drop hits it right on the spot.

Ultimately, the farm couldn't hold without a Starbucks. So there was a little Starbucks booth and people lined up. A real farm would barely have a real toilet, but this one had cleanest, nicest-smelling portalets we've ever used. We called it a sanitized farm experience. Except for the reasonably-priced food, we didn't even have to pay for anything.

It was also a quick, pleasurable drive and with no traffic. Playlists on queue, we cruised the Sky Way between 80-100 km/h and while driving requires concentration I thought a lot about how the little would remember how we drove as a family. We were home in a little over half-an hour. A 12km per liter fuel-efficient car like ours probably got us back and forth in less than 500 pesos. The toll fees would cost more than the gas.

With all the running around all day, the little one was already asleep in the car. D. & I have a dinner of soup and chicken wings with a few beers when we arrive home. We were tired. We describe "tired" uniquely, how this tired didn't make us distressed, but delighted. It left us eager, eager to live, as though we held the key to unscrew all these ironies.