Villamor, APO, and the ritual we keep
Today, we carry the world in our pockets, yet we sometimes take communication for granted.
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Daily TribuneToday, we carry the world in our pockets, yet we sometimes take communication for granted.
Driving to Villamor Golf Club on a Sunday was a breeze. The roads were clear, a rare treat in Metro Manila, and as “Pumapatak Na Naman ang Ulan” by the APO Hiking Society played, the drive felt calm and relaxing.
The song first hit the airwaves in 1978 as part of the APO Hiking Society’s Ten Years Together album. I was still in college then, writing for The DAWN, the University of the East’s weekly student newspaper.
As I navigated the roads to Villamor, I found myself unconsciously singing along: “Radyo, TV at mga lumang komiks, wala nang ibang mapaglibangan...” Funny how a song from decades ago can instantly transport you back to a different time when entertainment choices were limited.
Back in the day, families gathered around the radio, watched television together, or read comics because those were among the main ways to stay informed and entertained.
Out on the golf course, by contrast, everything still slows down: you talk face to face, walk shot by shot and measure time in holes, not notifications.
Today, smartphones, streaming platforms, social media, podcasts, YouTube and online gaming compete for people’s attention. Yet radio remains relevant — a lifeline during disasters, a companion for commuters, and an inexpensive, accessible way to reach large audiences. Television has also adapted, drawing big audiences for elections, major sporting events and breaking news, while networks stream their shows online.
Curiously, Pumapatak Na Naman ang Ulan never mentions newspapers, and the songwriters have never explained why. One likely reason is that the song is about passing the time while stuck indoors on a rainy day. Reading komiks fit that mood better than reading the news.
Komiks were enormously popular in the 1970s. Titles such as Pilipino Komiks, Hiwaga and Aliwan were household staples, offering readers an escape through stories, humor and colorful illustrations.
There may also have been a musical reason. Songwriters choose words not only for their meaning but also for their rhythm, flow and imagery. Replacing komiks with dyaryo or pahayagan would have changed the cadence of the lyric and perhaps diminished its charm.
The traditional komiks that the APO Hiking Society sang about have largely disappeared. But comics themselves have not. They have simply evolved into digital comics and webtoons, graphic novels, Japanese manga and American superhero comics, proving that while the format changes with the times, the love for storytelling endures.
Another line that struck me was: “At kung meron kang tatawagan... trenta sentimos ika’y makakaltasan.”
Yes, Juan, that’s how much a local landline call cost back then — 30 centavos. It’s almost unimaginable today, when communication is instant and practically unlimited through mobile phones, messaging apps and video calls.
That single line says more than just the price of a phone call. It reminds us of a time when every call had to be planned, every coin mattered, and conversations were often brief because someone else might be waiting to use the telephone.
Today, we carry the world in our pockets, yet we sometimes take communication for granted. That’s why a simple pop song about rainy days and phone calls still resonates.
Like the rest of Pumapatak Na Naman ang Ulan, the lyric isn’t merely about nostalgia. It’s a gentle reminder of how everyday life has changed — from the way we connect with one another to the value we once placed on the simplest things.
As I entered the gates of Villamor Golf Club, one thought crossed my mind: amid all the changes brought by technology, one tradition has remained untouched.
You still pull up to the bag drop, unload your golf clubs and hand them over to the waiting caddies. It’s a simple ritual, one that golfers have repeated for generations. No app has replaced it. No innovation has made it obsolete.
In a world where almost everything has gone digital, golf continues to honor its traditions. And perhaps that’s part of its enduring charm. Before the first tee shot is struck, the game quietly reminds you that while times change, some things are worth keeping exactly as they are.
