Why My Family Always Returns to Adiangao, Camarines Sur

For most people, summer means a vacation. For me, it means going home to Adiangao, San Jose, Camarines Sur. Every time my family travels back for a major holiday, we aren’t just crossing geographical distances; we are reconnecting with a cultural identity that might have been “prolific in the past” but needs our help to stay alive today. The sights and sounds of Adiangao are the background music of my childhood. It’s the place where the salt air hits your face the moment you step out of the car, and the pace of life finally slows down to match the rhythm of the waves.

In Adiangao, the dining table is a way of remembering, sharing, and celebrating. During our family reunions, the centerpiece is always Dinuguan, which is my father’s absolute favorite food; ours is uniquely Bicolano, rich and savory, and often shared during the biggest celebrations of the year. We also feast on Laing, the iconic Bicolano dish made of dried taro leaves and thick coconut milk. For dessert or snacks during our long summer afternoons, we always have Suman, our local rice cakes that remind me of the “Curated Dishes” mentioned in heritage studies, where the story behind the food is just as important as the taste.

Our culture is also deeply embedded in the specific places and words we use, which connect our language to the soul of our land. For instance, when we see a light drizzle during our summer hikes, we call it Tagithi, a word that carries the same name as the local Tagithi Ilog and Falls. Trekking through the cool waters of the river toward the falls is a tradition in itself, connecting us to the geography of San Jose. We also use the word Cawa; while it commonly refers to a large cooking pot, in Adiangao, it describes the natural rock basins of our falls where my siblings and I have spent countless hours swimming. These words and places carry a unique meaning for us that might differ from how they are used in other provinces. While these traditions are still known by my parents, I worry if the younger children in our family truly understand their depth as they spend more time on gadgets than at the riverbank.

As an NSTP learner and a future-ready teacher, I have a responsibility to help ensure our cultural heritage is practiced and preserved. We can do this by creating a “doculture” or a cultural documentary, such as this blog, to document the food, language, and landmarks like Busdak Beach and Tagithi Falls that define us. By sharing these stories, we make our local culture known to others so that it may continue to thrive.