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Project 8 Whodunit Blog

MYSTERY STORIES OF THE MTRACKERS AND OTCHO BOYS. Plus other stories and fiction about Project 8 in QC.

Project 8 Circa 1969

My dad, Maning, during those times when Project 8
was young and innocent.
We came permanently to Project 8 in the sweet warm summer of 1969, although in 1968 we already acquired our property here and been spending good time in the same. When we stayed for good, I was only 9 then and summer vacation had just started. Earlier, about 1968, my Uncle Tony and his wife Aunt Vicky, with some of Aunt Vicky's relatives, first stayed at our place while we were preparing to transfer to it from Hernani Street in La Loma, Quezon City. 

We were a happy family making regular picnic trips to our would-be residence, my dad being superbly devoted to my mom and doing all he could to please her and us. He was readying everything for our impending move into the new neighborhood. At last, we were about to have our very own house.

Everybody then saw Project 8 as a new village in a far-flung wilderness--if not "some remote mountains at the other end of the city"--that took forever to reach by car. Public transport was not available yet until about 1969 when some white DM buses and red JD buses came. Some folks seemed to dissuade us from leaving the known world to settle to an unknown village. But my dad, being an Ilocano, had the heart of a pioneer. He was among the first to study in Manila from San Juan, La Union and stayed in a boarding house in Sampaloc. In fact, he was among the four Filipinos who first flew in a plane above the North Pole.

From 1967 to 1969 my family often visited Project 8 to see how the three-bedroom house was doing, and it felt like going to the province via mountainous paths that winded confusingly, climbing up and down. The route through Grants, Benefits, and Auditing Streets were a bit rustic with patches of thick forests still standing--tall trees, wild shrubbery, and thick bamboo clusters. 

If you stood still and quiet enough, you'd hear the mesmerizing tweets of wild birds, even owls, and some strange-sounding creatures. Dwellings were housing projects in character, uniformly sized, designed and colored, differing only in the number of bedrooms by area, and very few were occupied. Thus, at night, the place, especially GSIS Village where our house was, seemed cloaked in dark rustic mystery, only flickering candles identifying which dwellings were peopled. Electricity was not yet available.

I could easily see distant mountains whenever I walked the street in front our house when we visited, and they always tickled a certain excitement in me. I had dreamed of camping out on such mountains with my dad, hoping our new life in Project 8 would make that dream come true, the mountains being easily visible. They looked so near I felt I could walk to them in minutes. My dream of being full-pledge boy scout often living outdoors would see fulfillment in Project 8, I was sure, so I couldn't wait for the day when we'd finally make our transfer to it.

Well, going back home at dusk to La Loma from the Project 8 visit often felt frustrating. I envied Uncle Tony and Aunt Vicky and her relatives enjoying the cool, sweet air of the place and the romantically quiet and relaxing ambiance. Brand new territories and neighborhoods always have that appeal in us, I guess. They seem to whisper new hope in our hearts--new beginnings.

1 comment:

  1. dear blogger
    my wife's parents also came from San Juan, La Union

    ReplyDelete