(Reposting for halloween.) BAGUIO GHOST STORIES By Ernie & Noel Zárate A LOT OF FILIPINO GHOST STORIES have been going around lately. Some get printed; others get dramatized on the major TV channels. Most of these tales of horror are set in old houses located in out-of-the-way places—often in those antique Spanish style mansions called “bahay na bato,” complete with the theatrical effects of dusty cobwebs and torn lace curtains, the sound of creaking doors and chains being dragged. A great number of these tales are frightful accounts of unnatural and supernatural incidents cloaked in the dark mystery of these old houses. Old houses are rare in Baguio. In fact, Baguio cannot even be considered an ancient city. The oldest houses there would not yet be a hundred years old. It was only after the turn of the century, about 1909, when the country became a colony of the USA, was Baguio founded. It was the Americans who designed and carved the city out of the pine-clad mountains. But if the Americans are credited for building Baguio, they were also the very same culprits who destroyed it. Sometime towards the end of World War II, barely forty years after its establishment, waves upon waves of heavy bombers of the USAF dropped tons upon tons of bombs into the city. “Carpet bombing” they called it. Long time residents of this mountain city will tell you a lot of stories about the grisly deaths of many foreign missionaries who were so resolute in their belief the omnipotence of prayer could save them from death that they stayed behind and refused to evacuate despite the apprehensive prodding of the city leaders concerned about their safety. It is sad to note that most of these religious were killed in the midst of their prayers. They say that persons who die suddenly, especially those who undergo violent deaths, are most likely to appear as ghosts because they neither realize nor accept that they are already dead. This is why most of the early stories about ghosts in Baguio involved priests and nuns. The old folks of Baguio claim that when everything is quiet—like in the wee hours of the morning—one doesn’t hear the usual piercing silence while inside the Baguio Cathedral but the faint gasps and moans of the suffering and the dying nuns. These would gradually become louder and louder only to be silenced if an extraneous sound is made, no matter how tiny—and then in a few seconds the ghastly gasps and moans would start all over again. ONE OTHER ANECDOTE GOES THIS WAY: To atone for what he considered a very grievous sin, a young boy made a promise to attend the first mass every day for nine consecutive mornings at the St. Vincent’s Church in Campo Filipino. After a few days, he had gotten the habit of waking at an early hour so he did not need an alarm clock anymore. He would get dressed and walk to church in the darkness before dawn and would always be on time for the start of the mass. He continued with the routine even after completing the nine masses he had promised. One cold morning, he woke up as usual, washed up, and perfunctorily wrapped himself with warm clothes, then set off for church. It was strangely foggy that morning hence he did not notice that the lights of the church were still closed, so was the main door. In the misty haze, however, he could make out several Belgian nuns in their familiar white habit and black headdress who seemed to be slowly walking to the church from their dormitory building nearby. One of the nuns broke off from the line, approached him and said in a soft and muffled voice, “You better go home first, my son. The church is still closed.” The young boy answered, “Thank you, Mother,” and was about to leave when he got curious. Why did the voice of the nun sound so muffled? He turned around to look closely at the nun and saw why. Her gruesome, grotesque face had wads of cotton sticking out from her mouth and nostrils! IT’S PROBABLY THE WEATHER. At an altitude of around 5,000 feet above sea level, Baguio City is blessed with a cool climate all year round. Because of the biting cold on ordinary nights, one won’t ordinarily see people walking out in the streets—especially in those out of the way thoroughfares and lonely side roads far from the commercial center of the city. Then there’s the chilling, enveloping fog and the dim light of occasional street lamps that create a spooky ambiance of long shadows with sinister nooks and crannies in the eerie darkness. Couple these with the silence of being alone, fear of the unknown would then creep in to set the perfect environment for one’s imagination to go to work at heart-thumping speed. Other than that, Baguio would be just like any other city with its share of gothic tales—that’s what jaded and calloused or maybe unimaginative people would tell you. But you and I know that ghost storytelling in the City of Pines is an activity option that could be a lot of fun during cold nights in front of a warm fireplace where it would be comfy and cozy to snuggle close to another not just for warmth but for the security he or she can offer. The scarier the story, the closer the snuggle, right? It may be also due to the fact that many houses in Baguio are empty the whole year round, to be occupied only during Holy Week or when the owners find time to bring their families up there for a weekend respite from the sweltering summer weather of Manila. It is also said that traveling spirits who roam the earth usually borrow these uninhabited houses for their abodes. They love undisturbed places, or rather, places that are not usually disturbed. The popular “Spirits Disco,” for example, was so named because ghosts used to abound there. But now they’ve all gone. If the persistent low decibel percussion beat from the disco’s large speakers was already quite bothersome to the neighbors in the vicinity, what more to the spirits within. In the past, the large wooden house would be locked and barred, tranquil and quiet the whole year round except during once-in-a-while visits by the former owners. The same is true with most of the vacation houses maintained by big corporations that are only occasionally occupied by families of their top executives or visiting guests. These become perfect havens for the many earthbound spirits who still roam the city, especially after the tragic 1990 earthquake where hundreds met their death in an instant. SOME PEOPLE CLAIM THEY SEE PEOPLE up to now at the ruins of Vermen Pines along Bakakeng Road years after many hotel guests perished in the killer quake and the structure long been condemned as structurally unsafe. Ditto for the Nevada Hotel, fronting the former main entrance of the former John Hay Air Base, it still has a number of occupants who have not yet checked out, according to pedestrians and security guards—although the building has long been demolished and no longer exists. Where Nevada Hotel used to be now stands a hip joint of establishments called Nevada Square. A group of young psychics called the Spirit Questors claims to have “sent forward” several “lost souls” from the site where the ill-fated Hyatt Terraces Hotel on South Drive used to be. Some passersby swear they can still hear cries for help and see dim figures darting hither and thither against the spotlight that illuminates the area at night. In fact, the recommended ritual is to honk one’s horn when passing beside the former Hyatt location, lest one would run over an unknowing spirit crossing the street. A number of those listed as missing in the aftermath of that tragic earthquake have never been found. Many say there are still many bodies left unrecovered in the ruins and debris. The lot remains vacant to this day. BAGUIO’S LATEST TOURIST DESTINATION, the new SM City-Baguio, was erected in the year 2002 on that hill property where the former Pines Hotel used to stand—a breathtaking promontory overlooking the mountain metropolis. The spectacular view is not the only attraction of the mall, however. Recent visitors have reported seeing faces in bathroom mirrors that would not be there a second later. One horror-struck patron even gave a photographic description of someone apparently dressed like a fireman in the ladies’ room of the mall! A probable explanation for these apparitions is the fact that the Baguio City Fire Department lost four firefighters in the disastrous blaze that razed Pines Hotel way back in 1973. AND IF OLD MAN-MADE STRUCTURES WEREN’T ENOUGH, some “undead” beings have also found a way to haunt a tree and spook the local city engineering office at one time. “Club” John Hay has closed to motorists its entrance gate in front of Nevada Square and is now accessible from only two entry points: one through Baguio Country Club and the other via Loakan Road, the more popular gate. Taking the Loakan entrance from Military Cutoff Road, the motorist will notice that in front of Hotel Veneracion the road seems to widen by about ten to twelve meters and then shrink back to its usual two-lane width. In truth, there once stood right smack in the middle of the road a giant acacia tree whose trunk was about two meters in diameter. It was also allegedly enchanted. A few years after the war, when the plans were being laid out to construct a shorter road connecting Kennon Road’s Camp 7 to the city, the large tree was found to be exactly in the center of the proposed route. The initial solution was quite simple: bulldoze the tree. Reports have it that the efforts to uproot the tree in this manner proved futile and resulted in mysterious deaths or serious illnesses of those involved. These rumors quickly spread like wildfire. So terrifying was the scare surrounding the circumstances that befell the workers that, to avoid further misfortune, the engineers decided to widen road and build AROUND the mysterious, ill-omened obstacle. Needless to say, that poorly lit portion of Loakan Road subsequently yielded its own series of vehicular accidents oftentimes claiming lives, even though the Baguio General Hospital was just less than a kilometer away. In the 1980’s, workers brave enough to place public service above superstitious fears painted the base of the tree with yellow luminous paint to warn unwary motorists of this giant obstruction. That small and seemingly harmless task brought unexplained severe illness to the hapless workmen. They are said to have since relocated and fled Benguet Province to escape the curse. Sometime in 2001, the haunted tree just “died”—quite naturally, it seems—after standing on that spot for what may have been hundreds of years. In 2002, the venerable “Loakan Tree” was finally felled without any problem, cut up into hundreds of pieces and burned as firewood. GHOST HUNTING IN BAGUIO would customarily bring an adventure-seeking group to another spot along Loakan Road where two U.S. military cemeteries are found. Cemetery No. 2 is the more notorious. If one is coming from the airport or the Philippine Military Academy, it is located on a grassy knoll on the right side of the road that goes up a slope towards Baguio. A carload of teenagers, out for an exciting evening escapade, once paid a visit to the place in search of Casper or his companions but regretted having done so afterwards. This is how the story goes: Nothing macabre or horrifying occurred when they noisily fooled around at the quiet gravesite. So, after getting tired of scaring, teasing and poking fun at one another, they decided to call it a night. They squeezed back into the car and settled down for the drive back to the city. But then the car refused to start! For a while, the boys in the group still thought the driver was pulling somebodys leg so they continued kidding each other. Worry started to creep in when they found he was telling the truth. The guys looked under the hood but nothing seemed to be wrong. The tank was half full but car just wouldn’t start. It was already two in the morning so there were no more vehicles passing the area. No one wanted to walk back to the city—one would have to hike a long distance—aside from recognizing the impossibility of getting a mechanic at that ungodly hour. They decided to wait. (At least the moon was exceptionally bright. It was a cloudless night.) Because of the many attempts to get car started, the carburetor flooded—so was the diagnosis of the problem by one of the guys. The car was parked beside the gate of the cemetery so he suggested that they try jump-starting it by letting it freewheel down the slope. But it was a bad idea. The engine wouldn’t get going and now it would be a Herculean effort to jump-start the car again because it would have to be pushed up steep hills either way. After many more worrisome minutes (that to them seemed like forever) of fretful waiting and recriminations, a passenger bus passed by—the first trip to the mining town down the mountains—but it refused to stop despite the frantic cries of the teenagers. A few minutes later a speeding taxi followed. Again it refused to stop. They all felt downhearted. “I guess they have to build up speed and gather enough momentum to be able to go up the steep incline,” explained one of the guys. Another long hour passed before a second bus came by, and again did not stop. But this time, they saw the conductor hang out from the running board of the bus as it faded away in the darkness and shout at them in Ilocano: “Aglualo kayo!” (“Pray!”). In angry retaliation that was more of disgust, one of the boys cursed back in Ilocano, “O-----inayo!” An eerie silence fell on the group when suddenly a whiff of ice-cold air blew on them. Moments later, the boy who shouted invectives at the bus conductor collapsed and went into an epileptic fit. He shook violently, his eyes rolled and froth formed in his mouth. The teenagers did not know what to do. They lay the suffering boy on the ground and tried to quiet him down. All of a sudden each one of them became aware that the fine hairs on their arms and at the back of their necks were all standing on end. One girl started to cry, but the other girl was able to muster enough courage to start praying out loud in a trembling voice. The others quickly followed suit. That simple religious act seemed to have a calming effect on the boy with the seizure. He stopped shaking and his breathing started to become normal. They helped him get inside the car. After extemporizing some more prayers for the dead, the girl then instructed the designated driver to take a crack at starting the car again. This time, with just one click, it started! They all heaved sighs of relief then said another prayer of thanks. They drove home without talking to each other. Awful things sometimes happen when insensible people make fun of the supernatural or desecrate the homes of those resting in peace. Lucky for those kids, they realized their mistake early enough. BAGUIO TAXI DRIVERS tell of yet another creepy occurrence, one that usually took place at Outlook Drive, not far from the area of the former Hyatt Terraces. They recount about a mysterious woman, (some say it is a white lady), who would walk to the middle of the street to stop a passing vehicle. Naturally, a driver would have to step on the brakes to avoid hitting her. She would then ask to be brought to Mines View Park, but would disappear before getting there. Well, there was this big, brave, macho driver who refused to be pressured into believing such a story. One dark night, he passed by the area and, soon enough, THERE WAS THIS WOMAN IN WHITE FLAGGING HIM TO STOP! He swerved his cab, did his best to avoid running over the lady in white, and drove on. All the while he kept saying to himself, “This is not true… it is just my imagination…” When he looked at his rearview mirror to find out what happened to the woman, he was shocked to see the woman already in the backseat STARING ANGRILY AT HIM WITH BLOODSHOT EYES! Again he told himself, “This is not happening… this is not true...” and stepped hard on the accelerator. The engine whined in response but his car didn’t accelerate. It just crawled ever so slowly. He shifted gears but still his car maintained a slow pace. Momentarily, he focused his attention on the gearshift of his car, shifting again and again while revving up the motor. HE LOOKED BACK AT HIS REARVIEW MIRROR AND FOUND HER GONE! He even turned around to have a good look and, beyond a doubt, she was no longer there. He sighed in relief but as he settled down to face the road once more, SHE WAS SPREADEAGLED ON TOP OF THE HOOD OF HIS CAR WITH HER FACE PRESSING AGAINST THE WINDSHIELD! This time, she had an evil smile on her face. The story goes that some other taxi driver found him early the next morning near the Baguio Country Club, still seated inside his cab, still clutching with a tight grip the steering wheel. His hair had all turned white. He was shaking and blabbering, “It is true… it is true…” They say the poor fellow is now confined in a mental hospital somewhere in Metro Manila. SCARY, ISN’T IT? But these are just stories. Only stories. Then again, when you are in Baguio, you cannot always blame the nippy weather as the cause of the chill running down your spine.
Posted on: Fri, 31 Oct 2014 00:03:44 +0000
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