14 April 2017
Growing up, Good Fridays were somber affairs spent at home, with the radio broadcast of the local church's reenactment of Christ's seven last words (Siete Palabras) in the background. Boisterous games were a no-no, and although we were sometimes allowed to play, we had to do it quietly.
I think my parents have finally outgrown their strict adherence to tradition (in the same manner that, as they've gotten older, they have become more tolerant of their kids' quirks and have become more liberal in accepting their children's lifestyles), and basically just said "Okay!" when we told them that we were going on an ATV ride on Good Friday.
(But I guess my Catholic upbringing has been deeply ingrained in me that before we set off, I uttered a prayer, apologizing for defying tradition and asking God to keep us safe.)
No regrets though - the ATV ride up Mayon Volcano, going through the streams and crevices created during Mayon's various eruptions, hiking up the lava wall, exepriencing God's work - these were more spiritual than staying home listening to the Siete Palabras on the radio.
Growing up, Good Fridays were somber affairs spent at home, with the radio broadcast of the local church's reenactment of Christ...
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