It seems we have destroyed the whole town and still could not find a decent jar of peanut butter. Morong is such a dormant little territory.
Cut off to the west by the Manila bay and the mountains of Bataan, the town is in effect unheard-of were it not for a pair of notable pasts.
In ’76 they built what could’ve been the country’s first nuke plant here. The multi-billion $ setup got mothballed by politics, Pinoy-style.
In ’79 hundreds of thousands fled the horrors of Indochina War. The “boat people” crossed the high seas and ended up on the sands of Morong.
Being the big-hearted nation that we are, the good government harbored Lao, Vietnamese, and Cambodians. You know, ‘so that others may live.’
Google for Morong, Bataan and you get beach resorts. Morong = beach resorts. Sands and sea. I’m in the mood to break the monotony right now.
The erstwhile refugee center is now a hall of cheerless faces. War doesn’t determine who is right — only who is left, Bertrand Russell said.
One of two fishing boats which ferried 65 men, women and children from Nha Trang to Morong. The vessel braved the powerful waves for a week.
The boat people left a legacy in cooking. In a small corner in Biniritan is Loleng’s Hutieu-an. Their ‘BUN TIT NUONG’ or ‘HUTIEU’ is divine.
More on the peanut butter, Vit settled for a cheese spread before finding one in a sari-sari store. Morong is not that spiritless after all.
Tomorrow. So what’s tomorrow? Tomorrow I shall be at the Photomarathon. Does my Canon make me a photographer? No. It makes me a Canon owner.