Cock Fights and Chess Matches

exploring "real Manila"

By Bri Vos

April 1^st, 2015

From 'Vanilla' to Manila

The suburbs of Metro Manila are clean and bright and full of food from other places. On one street in the “little Italy” area of Taguig you can find Mexican taco, Lebanese shawarma, NYC lower east side bagels and Vancouver comfort food restaurants. The 7-11s are as numerous and repetitive as Starbucks in Seattle and the german beer halls and american pharmacies outnumber the jeepneys. Not that this is all bad. We loved getting to know the clean side of Manila, the presentable side, the side that you’d take home to meet your mother. However, we really flew half way across the world to see the real Manila and so early one morning we hailed a taxi and asked to be dropped in Malate.

The driver turned in his seat to face us and said “Are you sure? Do you know Manila at all?”

We said, “Nope, but we’re going to.” And so we did.

Manila Bay

Our first stop was a scenic stroll along Manila Bay, which may be the sketchiest body of water I’ve ever seen. Tankers dotted the horizon as far as you could see and the smell of trash and oil hung heavy along the rocks lining the bay. There were a few snack vendors and their very mangy pets cruising along the promenade but other than that, there wasn’t much to stick around for so we crossed the street and headed into the heart of Malate.

Crossing Roxas street is pretty much an all out game of chicken. When we finally got up the nerve to step out into the street, we were startled to hear someone shout at us “No! Wait!” so we jumped back onto the curb.

He ran over to meet us, shook our hands and when Patrick asked him name he said “Today, I am your hero!” He continued to chat to us about how he was a gay monkey in a past life living in the trees above Roxas street all the while dancing non-stop to the music in his headphones and then, when the lights turned, he gave us his blessing to cross.

Malate

We cruised through streets teeming with people and garbage and cats and dogs and kids and heat and dust. We sought out billiard halls and street vendors selling green mangos and fish sauce and swam through hundreds of men on a single street corner watching a chess match. This was the Asia I know and love. We waved off petty cabs and cat calls and making our way, by foot to the gates of Intramuros.

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Intramuros

Intramuros is like no place I’ve ever seen. The walled city of the Spanish that was near flattened during WWII bombing raids by American and Japanese troops is still a marvel of Manila. Our first stop was a restaurant run by nuns who make dishes named after bishops. From there we walked to St Augustine’s church where we hummed and hawed over whether or not to pay the $2 CND a person to enter and I am so glad we did. The cold stone walls lined with 100s of years old oil paintings hemmed in a central courtyard with fountains and gardens.

When we’d had our fill of the touristy sights we headed into the back alleys and lane ways of Intramuros. Though this historic city within a city has turned tourist destination, it is still very much the playground of barefoot, dirty faced street kids. We wandered their turf, stumbling across line ups of cock fighting champions crowing at passerby. We watched local artisans make functioning model jeepneys out of paper and we watched the sun slant against the Spanish tile street signs.

Back to Malate

So we headed back into Malate, this time by petty cab after haggling for a block and a half while he slowly peddled beside us. Our stomachs brought us to a street ramen place where the street kids swarmed in and out of the tables. With one hand on my bag, we ate kimchi and drank 90 cent San Miguel Pale Pilsens to put down the dust in our throats. While we drank, Patrick drew some napkin portraits for a pair of street kids who - I’m pretty sure - didn’t succeed in pocketing any of our cash.

The sun went down while we watched Manila stream past us on the street so as night came on we wandered towards home, stopping in a bar to listen to a local reggae band practice while we drank a jug of mojitos. Eventually we hailed a taxi, found our way back to Taguig and fell asleep as we fell into bed knowing and loving just a little bit more about “real Manila”.