Sights and Sounds: Binondo in Technicolor

       I know that Binondo, being a Chinatown, is one of the oldest city in Manila but it was just recent that I found out that it is in fact the oldest Chinatown in the world. I have been to this place countless of times especially during the celebration of Chinese New Year when every street and corner is adorned by traditional Chinese decorations. And if you’ve experienced it or have seen it on TV, in photos, magazines and what-nots then you know how this place becomes livelier and festive. But on a normal day, Binondo is just like any busy spot in old Manila. Except that most establishments here have included Chinese calligraphy on the signage and most people you walk by are not your normal Malay-looking Pinoys in most parts of the country but rather are people with light to almost porcelain complexion and with small slanted eyes we refer to as Tsinoys: Filipinos with Chinese descent.

I have always wanted to document the scenes and spots I find beautiful in Binondo. And like I always do, I want to do it in my own artistic vista (if there is any). And so I did. So here is a rundown of what I love most about Binondo.

 

The Bell Tower (And how the wires ruin the view)

      

        

       The classical Binondo Church is one of the main attractions.  Correct me if I’m wrong but I find the bell tower design reminiscent of a pagoda just like that of the Tiger Hill pagoda in China. How the church is unkempt makes it all the more vintage and beautiful.

A view of the church from the park

    










Plaza San Lorenzo Ruiz, the park in front of the church serves   many functions to the public.From giving a good view of the church to being a playground to street kids, sleeping areas for street beggars and to poor mothers bathing their kids in the fountain. It is quite sad of what it has become. 

One of the pagoda-like arches you’ll find in Binondo. Erected as a symbol of Filipino-Chinese friendship during the old days. 

            How many purple fire trucks are there in the world? One that has a glow-in-the dark flame design? Indeed, only in Binondo. 

Purple Firetruck

The flames glow up at night (or dark )

        

 

         

A silhouette of Roman Ongpin’s statue. Of whom the street was named after. 

      Jones Bridge. When I told my friend (who resides in the area) that I walked to and fro across the bridge to get a good view of the Manila Post office, I was quite stunned with her reply: “Good thing, you’re still in one piece”. I didn’t know it was dangerous. Or maybe because it was just because of all that Jeepneys and the killer traffic.

       

      Manila Post office. That renaissance inspired building that backdrop the river Pasig from Jonesbridge. One of the very few reminders that the old Manila was designed as a transplanted Europe in Asia before World War II unfortunately destroyed it. 

Manila Post Office

Sundown in river Pasig.View from Jones bridge.Reminds me of how the sun sets in the river Nile.

 

          What used to be a ferry station in Escolta. Old, non-functional and I believe abandoned. There used to be ferries that cater to local and foreign tourists alike, that cruise the river. I want it back one day. Hopefully if and when river pasig is cleaned and rehabilitated. 

     Never go home without “Eng Bee Teen”. For me the best hopia in the land. It comes in many flavors and variants. There’s the mochipia – a hopia with tikoy filling and then there’s the two- flavored hopia-combi to name a few (ube/keso is my favorite). And then there’s “Masuki” (formerly “Mamun Luk”). One of the oldest mami or noodle house in Binondo and in the country. The secrets to their recipes are handed down from old generations to present. Your Binondo experience won’t be complete without dining here after a day’s walk along the streets.

Binondo is one of the hundreds of beautiful places one may explore in Manila, Philippines. Yes there may be heavy traffic, dirty spots, street beggars and etc but hey, any big cities and world renowned famous spots have them, too. But amidst all these imperfections, Binondo is beautiful.You just have to look it up for yourself, within yourself.

(All images are amateurly taken and playfully edited by me, thus copyrighted)

 

This too, Shall pass!

I am in it again. And this is what I’m afraid of.

My roommate just moved out.  No matter how much I try to rearrange my things to make the room look like nothing has changed, I still cannot convince myself to not see and think how bare the room is.  And the bareness haunts me. I have always been afraid of bareness, of emptiness – thus, I avoid it in any way, any circumstance. I cannot wallow in it. Maybe that’s the reason why I always want to be around with people – friends or not. I always want to get lost in a big place and in a multitude of people, or of things.  It doesn’t matter how unfamiliar and hostile the environment is, the busier the better.

BUT, I have never since told anyone how I really feel, all the more show it. Most times I am misleading and in many ways, a contradiction to my very own physical self.  And you will never have a clue of what I’m really thinking about or going through. False pretenses? Not really. I guess I might have just built a wall so high and thick that people can never really see through me. Maybe my close friends do, maybe they don’t.

Ah, Melancholia. Why do you have to be this pensive? And why do you have to grow, as I grow, too?

OR maybe constantly listening to Adele’s “Rolling In The Deep” for an hour now doesn’t really help. So lemme just take a bath, go out and get lost again. 

Of Dreams and Broken Dreams…

 (Journal entry last Dec 2010)

Like any other kid, I wanted to be a lot of things. First, I wanted to be a medical doctor. With the idea of having to cure illnesses and save lives was something most Pinoy kids had in mind. Until I grew up and I realized that it wasn’t my dream after all. Yes, it was more like my parents’. They had it instilled in me so much that I carried it until high school. But before I segue to the complexities of puberty, let’s go back to the innocence of childhood.

 Then I wanted to be an archaeologist. I remember it took me some time and effort in perfecting how it’s spelled: ARCHAEOLOGY/ARCHAEOLOGIST. Never mind if I could enunciate it correctly or not (spelling bees were more kickass back in the days). I wanted it so bad that at one summer I buried myself with the 30-volume set of encyclopedia we had, almost every afternoon. Consequently, this fueled my gusto for information and love for reading. But then I realized I had stopped playing and going out. And that I was missing a lot of good old summer fun: the warmth of the midday sun; the rumble of steps during “bulan-bulan” or “langit-lupa”; the intensity to run across the lines uncaught or untouched in “patintero”; the clanking sound of a dilapidated tin can every time a worn-out “spartan tsinelas (or tsanilas in bisaya)” tumbles it, and so on. I was missing out the so-called “batang-kalye” life. Moreover, I was practically missing out being a KID. So at one point, I decided to lay down the books and leave all the learning and reading in school.

Then, thanks to the technology that was “the walkman” and “the component” (insert cassette tape and 5 in 1 VCD player), I got engrossed to music – And I loved it. In fact, today I had personified music and made it one of my friends and confidante. Yes, I did dream of being a musician not realizing that I had it in me. My mom plays the guitar and along with her siblings, was part of the “combo” back during hippie days. On the other side, my dad, let’s just say has an unrequited love for music. So like most Pinoys, musicality to me was and is inherent. At first it was just appreciation. Learning all the genres, musical legends, current trends and all that then ALAS! I discovered I can sing. My supportive folks were so into the idea of siblings in a band (insert The Carpenters and Jackson Five) and had us took formal lessons. I took piano and voice lessons, which had apparently lasted for only 2 months. NOT MY FAULT. My piano teacher (my voice coach, too) kept on (lightly) slapping my finger with a ruler every time I hit a wrong key. So as I was already anti-violence at that young, I told my mom I will no longer finish it and I’ll just forget my dreams of  going to Julliard, Berkeley or NYU conservatory of music before finally debuting in Carnegie Hall (yes, I had always been a big time dreamer).

So, many summer and school years past, and playmates and co-kids were hitting on puberty fast; the days of play had slowly gone by. Replaced with busy days of confusion over a roll-on or rub-on deodorant, shaving facial hair (oh wait, I never had any), smelling good (always do till now), looking good (let’s not discuss how pip squeak looking I was) and then flirting – the oldest, living sport of all time. But let’s not go there. That deserves another story in itself.

So high school was rowdy yet it was bliss at the same time and in between those days of pimples, ghetto clothes and slick, spiky hair, I was beguiled by the exquisite world of ART. I started drawing Japanese mangga/anime (insert Ghost Fighter, Dragonball Z, Samurai X and etc.), then as I went to college my inclination also graduated to landscapes, concept painting, photography, mixed media, literature, art films and almost everything about the FINE ARTS. I was aware that I wasn’t really good but hey, I made an impression AND reputation (I did win some visual arts contests you know). Like music, I didn’t know we also had art running in the family gene. My mother told that I had 2 uncles who were the something-of-the-someone of a famous painter (remind me again who, mom). Of course I was  doubtful but hey, it’s my mom.

The Arts for me was literally and figuratively an eye-opener. And with music, I have since treated both as brothers in arms. I love how it imitates life (or vice-versa) and how it is twice removed from reality (hello Plato!). But more than anything else, I am captivated by the aesthetics; there is difference yet there is always coherence; there is diversity but there is harmony; it’s multi-dimensional but it functions and affects as one.

I never dreamed of becoming an artist though. It was just more of a hobby to me. Besides, I know I’ll never make it. See, when you grow up and discover the world, you realize that you can never BE everything or have everything. But I never stop on dreaming – or chasing dreams. And I guess I never will, regardless of how many failed and broken dreams I had in the past. It always paints a smile on my face every time I reminisce on those dreams and how I futilely tried making them into reality. I get discouraged but I pick myself up and move on. Life is indeed hit or miss. What matters is that you keep on shooting.

Wait, I just realized, I was NOT like any other kid today. I was (and still am) a big dreamer – with eyes and ears wide open. Perhaps, the kids of today can learn a thing or two about the kids that we simply were back in the days. The “sosyal” (insert nouveau riche) might disagree but let’s have them kids now put down their ipads, psp’s and other self-confining gadgets and have them play “taya” or “taguan” and run around safely in neighborhood “kalye’s”. Let’s have them lie on grass, stare at the summer sky then close their eyes, imagine and DREAM.

And as for me, there’s more of life that I still dream about (Insert to be a ninja assassin, a vampire and superhero, etc). But I am coping up with living in reality now. And dreaming has to be left at least during sleep time to make way for life in the “real” world. Someday soon, I will travel the world – The one thing I always dream about now. Or better yet, gyrate ala boy band-dance-moves on international TV and be a POPSTAR. Just kidding...

and DREAMING.

Why I don’t want to be a Teacher.

                It’s funny how I don’t want to be a teacher when I was raised by not just one, but two teachers. In fact, I was even born inside the campus. Yes, both of my parents are in the academe and have been teaching practically their whole lives. I grew up marveling at their stacks and stacks of lecture notes, syllabi and unchecked student exam papers.  So given the environment, it should have come naturally to me to want to become a teacher, right? Wrong. I guess not in my case. Maybe because I was never really a good student, I was a lazy one and that’s something I’m not proud of. I still remember though how I hated being compared to other “teacher’s kids” because most of them were achievers and I was but chose to be just average. I used to excel, too until I grew tired of it. So come college I just settled for the passing grades and told myself “ok lang, pasado lang naman hinihingi ng gobyerno, eh”. I do regret it, because I know that had I just pushed myself, I would’ve graduated with honors, too. But I’ve already let it all go. 

         I wouldn’t say that being raised by teachers (both are professors in a government funded state –university by the way) is hard but there’s an extra pressure to it. You are after all expected to be proper and at the very least should know what common decency is. You of all people should be learned.  Growing up with teachers is definitely more like growing up with books, so to speak. You are fed everyday with news and information. But more than that, you grow up with values. You grow up with that constant need for learning and understanding. You grow up with consciousness and awareness of the world around you.

          To tell you honestly, why I don’t want to become a teacher, or maybe not yet is because I don’t think I have what it takes. I don’t think I’m that good enough for it. Teaching, being among the oldest of profession, is I believe the very reason why there is development and why there is change. Perhaps, it is one of the very reasons we are where we are, today:  A civilized world. See, when you teach, you impart your ideas, your knowledge and you influence. You basically share a part of who you are as a person. And because of all that, for me teaching is the most noble of all profession.

Given the chance to re-live my life, I’d still choose to be raised by teachers, by my parents. And with that chance, I would also re-do how I was at school. I would pay more attention to classes and would listen more to my teachers. I would value more my time as a student instead of hurrying up to graduate. And I bet, I would make my parents more proud. So to all the students, I suggest that you cherish and value your time that you spend in your schools and in your classrooms learning. Because even before you become engineers, nurses or lawyers, or whoever you want to be, there WERE your teachers…

Happy Teacher’s Day to all.

By the way, Y2K teens remember this movie? Helen Mirren rocked it big time  and of course, Katie Holmes

Life - Or lack thereof, at 25

(Journal Entry last May 2011)

Here goes nothing…

I haven’t really been myself these past months or perhaps these past few years.

Although my usual zest for life still seems apparent, I actually feel tired, restless and exhausted at the same time. I am in this world but I feel I’ve gotten disconnected. I’ve lost focus, gotten off- track and now settles for the dismal comfort of mediocrity. I hate to admit that I am lonely because I actually am not – or, maybe there lies the problem: Denial.

“Age is just a state of mind” - I used to say, until I realized it slowly is taking its toll. Never mind back pains and all that old-age sickness, not there yet. I JUST turned twenty-five. And so I tell myself. The thing is, I know it’s relatively young but I feel otherwise.

“If only I could turn back the hands of time” - I bet we all want to.  I say this to myself whenever I badly miss something or someone:  Friends, family, my past bohemian life and what-have-I’s. I say this too, whenever I look back to the friendships and relationships that had gotten sour or lost due to foolish mistakes.  Let’s be honest, although should have, could have and would have may be the last words of a fool (that, as the song goes), there are indeed many things we want to re-do or undo from our pasts.

“Life is full of choices” - I hear it a lot and I do agree. There is always a sacrifice in every choice we make. But how do we know that we made the right one?  I know that mistakes oftentimes make us stronger, but what if we had chosen the non-mistake? Could life have been better? Could we have been stronger?  I am only left to ponder.

I honestly don’t know where I’m going to. Not with my life or with what I’m ranting about. I haven’t even been writing for a long time. I am in dire need to read and reflect, and Music – the one thing I rely on for such uneasy and discomforting times is not even enough to console me. Is it bad?  Have I gone totally lost or perhaps, had fallen far behind? They say that the fastest horse on earth would never reach its potentials until put on the right track. But who determines the right track?

Everything is all a blur. I have too many questions and what’s sad is that I used to find the answers. I’ve been telling myself that I need to start over.  But looking back, I think I might have never really started with life. Maybe because I never had tough issues growing up so I don’t suppose I have stood the “tests of life”. I admire (real) people whose life stories could earn an episode for any a primetime drama.  I get inspired on how they’ve hurdled on their own storms. It’s like their life stories are my own personal soap opera. I guess now I am in my own shallow, self-inflicted and ho-hum drama.

Sigh. TWENTY FIVE – When it’s not just a number anymore. But rather a long list of petty regrets and then some, when it has been a meander bus ride passing through curbs and slopes. And now I am stuck here in this bus stop of nowhere, in this limbo, in this milestone of existence. And I guess this is what you call a quarter-life crisis.

  

Rebirth

Like sundown to sunrise

… A new day unfolds

Like summer to winter

… A season approach

Like a sprout to a full foliage

… A tree’s timely growth

Like a bud to a rose in bloom

… A flower blossoms

Like a nestling to a peacock

… A resplendence behold

Like a pupa to a butterfly

… A life transforms

Like a gloom before a sunny sky

…A weathers’ changing

Like a drizzle before a rainbow

…A storm had passed

Like the waves to the shore

… I am washed anew

Like a baby to a mother

…I am reborn, too.

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Hopefully, I can keep up with this blog and not be the best in "Ningas Kugon" that I used to be.