Forest bathing in Manila

TBy

here are no long views in Arroceros Forest Park. Covering just 2.2 hectares of land at the foot of Quezon Bridge in Manila. There are no wide, endless horizons. Instead, a thick growth of tropical flora: some 61 species of trees and around 8,000 kinds of ornamental plants crowd out the narrow footpaths. ‘Masukal’ would best describe one’s first impressions.

I follow the narrow paths that crawl about the property like a random root system. Dried yellow leaves, pea-sized black fruits, and small, fragile lilac-tinted neem blossoms litter the uneven concrete pavers. The recent days of monsoon rain has caused the soil to erode and now rich brown loam has caked over parts of the winding walkways.

Shinrin-yoku. Forest bathing. This Japanese form of natural therapy involves taking in the sights, sounds, smells, and textures of the forest. The forest bather takes her time to breathe in the elements of the forest, connect one’s mind and heart with nature. The pace is slow, gadget-free, and intuitive. The bather can decide when she is done.

One may come out realizing how our modern urban life has detached us so much from the inherent healing abilities of the earth, and therefore poor health. But the ultimate result is to come away with a clearer head. At least, that is one of my goals for this midweek morning. There are parks that are closer to where I live. But today, I wanted to cocoon myself in a thick, ‘masukal’ blanket of green – without the hassles of driving out of town.

A dense cover of vegetation rises above and around. Wide, glossy leaves contrast with long and slender ones in all shades of green. The buttress roots of the older ficus or balete trees undulate from their trunks like the skirt of a ball gown. Their thick leaves mingle with frail acacia and others in the canopy above. The crisp scent of the plants mingles with the heady aroma emanating from the damp soil and the still, grass-choked man-made pools.

The midday sun blares down relentlessly in a rare break during this this rainy season. But the canopy cools the ground, casting soft shadows. The past weeks of relentless rain and flood moistens the skin.

To one side, a growth of bamboo quivers as birds flit between the tops of the reeds. The bird calls make up a strange auditory mix: some highpitched and melodious, while others let out a throaty gurgle. One may notice the scrunch of dried leaves and twigs underfoot or the scrape of rubber soles on stone. Or the muffled rumble of the nearby LRT and the siren of a passing ambulance right outside the perimeter walls. The buzz of innumerable hiding insects layer over these individual sounds.

And then the tinny squeal of microphone feedback: “Good morning po! So, magsisimula na po tayo sa programa natin!” calls out a hoarse yet lively male voice. A small tree planting activity commences. Small groups of three or four comprised of local park and Department of Education employees, as well as students scatter about the property, holding seedlings aloft.

They dig, dig, dig to the sound of pop dance music blasting through the P.A. system. This is the Philippines, after all. As the song goes, planting may not be fun, but a peppy song can turn it into something, uh, festive.

Despite the disco, the humble tree planting event was a welcome thing to stumble upon. Like the rare birds and plants that find sanctuary here, Arroceros faces the occasional threats of so-called development. Google the park’s name and the page will yield a long list of articles underscoring the struggle of fending off plans to pretty much bulldoze everything and cover the property in concrete. And yet a handful of young trees planted on city ground testifies to a particular awareness. We need nature more than it needs us.

The disco beats end soon enough. And we’re back to your regular programming: the ambient music of a tropical forest, dotted with bursts of giggles from young students and the chatter over how to compose their field notes.

The park is not pretty. There are no signs that educate you on the plant species and other information. No quaint cafeteria, no spots marked out for the perfect selfie backdrop.

Here, one does not find the comfort of urban order and predictability. Rather, a forest with its wild, random, yet comforting textures permeating the senses.