Thanks to one of our office’s extracurricular activities, I was able to join Carlos Celdran’s All the Way Down to Chinatown tour on July 15.
The Binondo area or Chinatown is not entirely unknown to me. My brother’s ex-girlfriend lived in Binondo and he took me once or twice when he visited her. My mother, who was assigned to BIR Binondo years ago, introduced me to Jones Bridge, to Q. Paredes, to Ongpin, and Divi Mall. My friend Jen and I survived two Christmas shopping seasons in Tutuban.
This tour was different. I was expecting a tour full of sunshine and bunny rabbits (i.e., feel-good stuff); it was not. Instead, Carlos showed us a glimpse of Manila’s splendid past and its colorful but dulled present.
In one of the streets we visited, we looked at one dilapidated Spanish-style house. I was surprised when Carlos told us that we will go in. Inside were about ten different families living in the different rooms of that old house. Imagine a gated community crammed into just one structure. I’ll go back to this in a moment so for now, on with our tour.
After visiting the house, we went to El Hogar Filipino along Juan Luna Street. I understood that, back then, this was the Central Business District. It stood along the banks of the Pasig River. I could only imagine how beautiful it must have been back when the waters of the Pasig were pristine. And again, I could just imagine how grand El Hogar Filipino must have looked 70 years ago.
Next up was Ongpin. Now this street I knew, but what I did not know was one side street off it led to the oldest Chinese temple in Manila. We lit incense sticks and offered our prayers. Part of me was awed at this experience, part of me wondered if I was holding and waving the incense sticks right, and part of me thought of the opening scenes of Infernal Affairs 1 (I worship that movie, by the way).
We visited a Chinese restaurant and two bakeries in the Ongpin area, one of which Carlos described as the makers of the finest damn hopias around. After tasting that hopia, I agree with him. Apparently, my family did too. I remember buying 15 pieces of those hopias. They came in rather tiny packages. I bought them on Sunday and come Monday, they were all gone. Unfortunately, I cannot remember the store’s name nor the street name. I can only picture how to get there.
I am thankful I joined this tour because I have seen places I would never have visited. It was informative and entertaining—packed into a mere 2.5 hours. But what makes me appreciate a tour such as this is the way it made me think not just of sunshine and bunny rabbits. After all, real life is NOT just sunshine and bunny rabbits.
I am referring to our visit to that old Spanish-style house. It was an indescribable experience. When you visit a house, it’s customary that you greet the owner with a “hello” or a “good day.” Yet when we entered that house, I was speechless. All I did was look around me and half-listened to what Carlos was saying.
We went up to another floor of the house and saw people going about their daily lives—doing the laundry, fetching water, playing tong-its. We entered one of the “homes” and looked around. To me, it was just like going inside a gallery.
It was only until later that I realized that I haven’t even greeted the residents a “good afternoon” or thanked them for letting us peek inside THEIR HOMES. Until now, I still cannot accurately describe how I felt.
Part of me felt guilty because I felt I was intruding in their personal space. Imagine having a stranger look inside your room.
Part of me was dazed that these living conditions do exist. It is one thing to read about them or see them in movies or television, but another thing to see them firsthand. And these families pay, what, P2,000 per month to rent that small space and have very little privacy.
Part of me is ashamed to admit that I do not know the solution to their problems. I could only hope and pray for them.
(I pause as I picture that day’s events in my mind again.)
Whew. This tour sure packs a punch.
The Binondo area or Chinatown is not entirely unknown to me. My brother’s ex-girlfriend lived in Binondo and he took me once or twice when he visited her. My mother, who was assigned to BIR Binondo years ago, introduced me to Jones Bridge, to Q. Paredes, to Ongpin, and Divi Mall. My friend Jen and I survived two Christmas shopping seasons in Tutuban.
This tour was different. I was expecting a tour full of sunshine and bunny rabbits (i.e., feel-good stuff); it was not. Instead, Carlos showed us a glimpse of Manila’s splendid past and its colorful but dulled present.
In one of the streets we visited, we looked at one dilapidated Spanish-style house. I was surprised when Carlos told us that we will go in. Inside were about ten different families living in the different rooms of that old house. Imagine a gated community crammed into just one structure. I’ll go back to this in a moment so for now, on with our tour.
After visiting the house, we went to El Hogar Filipino along Juan Luna Street. I understood that, back then, this was the Central Business District. It stood along the banks of the Pasig River. I could only imagine how beautiful it must have been back when the waters of the Pasig were pristine. And again, I could just imagine how grand El Hogar Filipino must have looked 70 years ago.
Next up was Ongpin. Now this street I knew, but what I did not know was one side street off it led to the oldest Chinese temple in Manila. We lit incense sticks and offered our prayers. Part of me was awed at this experience, part of me wondered if I was holding and waving the incense sticks right, and part of me thought of the opening scenes of Infernal Affairs 1 (I worship that movie, by the way).
We visited a Chinese restaurant and two bakeries in the Ongpin area, one of which Carlos described as the makers of the finest damn hopias around. After tasting that hopia, I agree with him. Apparently, my family did too. I remember buying 15 pieces of those hopias. They came in rather tiny packages. I bought them on Sunday and come Monday, they were all gone. Unfortunately, I cannot remember the store’s name nor the street name. I can only picture how to get there.
I am thankful I joined this tour because I have seen places I would never have visited. It was informative and entertaining—packed into a mere 2.5 hours. But what makes me appreciate a tour such as this is the way it made me think not just of sunshine and bunny rabbits. After all, real life is NOT just sunshine and bunny rabbits.
I am referring to our visit to that old Spanish-style house. It was an indescribable experience. When you visit a house, it’s customary that you greet the owner with a “hello” or a “good day.” Yet when we entered that house, I was speechless. All I did was look around me and half-listened to what Carlos was saying.
We went up to another floor of the house and saw people going about their daily lives—doing the laundry, fetching water, playing tong-its. We entered one of the “homes” and looked around. To me, it was just like going inside a gallery.
It was only until later that I realized that I haven’t even greeted the residents a “good afternoon” or thanked them for letting us peek inside THEIR HOMES. Until now, I still cannot accurately describe how I felt.
Part of me felt guilty because I felt I was intruding in their personal space. Imagine having a stranger look inside your room.
Part of me was dazed that these living conditions do exist. It is one thing to read about them or see them in movies or television, but another thing to see them firsthand. And these families pay, what, P2,000 per month to rent that small space and have very little privacy.
Part of me is ashamed to admit that I do not know the solution to their problems. I could only hope and pray for them.
(I pause as I picture that day’s events in my mind again.)
Whew. This tour sure packs a punch.
Thanks to Rory and Mr. Wilz for the photo. :-)
3 comments:
I grew up having Saturday breakfasts in Binondo. I remember holding my mom's hands tightly (or hers holding mine) as we cross those very busy streets, careful not to get too close to the parked calesas (and horses!).
But I never saw Binondo the way you saw it at that tour. Somehow, it's inspiring how they choose to pay rent for a very small space versus building their house on a land they don't own.
I never thought of it that way. Thank you!
Manila, Manila, I keep comin back to Manila...there's no place like Manila... =)
sooo well-written, ces!
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