A nostalgic look at my childhood in Pardo from the 1960s to 1980s; days of roaming the fields, fishing, kite flying, and seaside picnics. Once rich with nature and tradition, the landscape was forever changed in the 1990s with the rise of the South Road Properties (SRP).
Let's continue my story:
Speaking of Pardo
Pardo is the name of the place where I spent most of my childhood days. From the late 1960s to the early 1980s, Pardo became a significant part of my childhood. Though it was about 10 kilometers from the city proper, life there was slow, simple, and deeply rooted in folk traditions and beliefs. It had an atmosphere that allowed children to roam freely and play without worry. Everyone seemed to know everyone, no matter how far apart you lived, people were still considered neighbors.
In either direction, just a few miles of walking would lead you to the mountains or the sea. I remember spending days with other kids searching for spiders in the hills, or heading out to the sea to gather clams, shrimps, small fishes, and crabs. The path to the mountains was lined with coconut trees, fruit-bearing trees, and the occasional scattered house. Toward the sea, you’d pass through rice fields, banana groves, more coconut trees, and mangroves that stood guard between the paddies and the brackish banks of the river.
During high tide, the breeze would pick up, blowing steadily and carrying with it the rustling of leaves and the flutter of wild birds, butterflies, dragonflies, bees, and other insects. Sometimes, I would accompany my father to fly kites in open fields, or we’d go fishing together on his boat during his days off. Those moments were pure magic, a carefree blend of joy and contentment, as if I were under the spell of nature itself. The fresh scent of damp earth mixed with the salty air from the sea was like a healing balm to my young soul. It always made me feel alive and happy.
Scenes like those were once common all over the Philippines, and I consider myself lucky to have experienced them in Pardo during the 1970s. But today, those landscapes have vanished. Where wide fields and open shorelines once lay, now stand clusters of houses, some areas have even turned into urban slums.
Back then, high tide meant swimming among the mangroves and along the riverbanks. At low tide, we’d venture into the wide, exposed seabed to gather shells, shrimps, crabs, and tiny fish. Families would often come out for picnics, enjoying what the sea generously offered. They brought cooked food and shared meals together. I usually had corn grits with fermented fish. Sometimes, I’d even rub the slimy surface off a jellyfish using sand, then washed it in salty sea water before soaking it in vinegar, it was surprisingly delicious!
