Stepping into History and Tinikling the Traditional Way

It was time for us to go back to Intramuros for an exploration. Intramuros is an old walled city left by the Spanish when they ruled the Philippines for 400 years. The thick stone walls are now weathered with years of use, pollution and a few world wars. Black tarnish and green moss compete for the most space of the wall. Inside narrow cobblestone streets are encased with European architectural buildings and piazza styled homes.

There are, of course, still the jeepneys and the poor areas of the city that remind you we are still in the Philippines, yet the European touch thrives. We parked the car in a lot in between two giant cathedrals dating back to the 1500s (one of which I have photos in the post “The Cemetery is closed...but the church is open”). Of course some guy wearing shorts and a white t-shirt came up and asked for money for parking. I paid him 20 pesos (Fifty US cents) even though I am pretty sure the lot was free public parking anyway. He watched Boeing while we were gone.

The northern most part of the city is Fort Santiago. In between the river and a moat, Fort Santiago is another walled complex within the walled city.  Both the Spanish and the Americans used the Fort at different times and remnants of their barracks can still be seen. The Spanish barracks are old red brick now crawling with beautiful vines and moss, while all that remains of the American barracks are large grey cement walls with boarded up windows. Tall trees and untrimmed bushes surround the house so even in broad daylight I thought it looked creepy. Lady Hiva said, “Cool! Can I have the camera to take a picture of that?” (Did I ever mention that I detest Halloween and that is her FAVORITE holiday? I prefer more happy holidays like Christmas.)

Jose Rizal was imprisoned here before his execution. I posted about him too before when we went to Rizal Park. He was the father of the revolution to free the Philippines from the Spanish colonizers. They have rebuilt the home he was imprisoned in and now is a memorial to him. He was a brave man, one who stood up for his beliefs even when it was a huge personal sacrifice.

 

We watched the end of a wedding at San Agustin Cathedral and decided from the two weddings we saw here in Intramuros, this must be the place where wealthy people get married. At the end of the wedding the couple let two white pigeons go. Must be symbolic, not sure how. I will have to ask someone. I thought it was funny because the pigeons only flew 5 feet and landed on the car just behind the photographer. I hope the length of the flight of the pigeons does not symbolize the length of the marriage. Yikes! Old ladies started to grab them to make them fly away but they just hopped to the other side of the car!

 Next we went to explore Casa Manila. A huge home built in the Spanish/Italian piazza style. The home looks like it is hundreds of years old, but truly is was a project of Imelda Marcos in 1981 so the building is about our age. It was beautiful—white rock walls, hardwood floors, elegant staircases, and a variety of chandeliers. They style of reminded us of Iolani Palace in Hawaii. We spent almost an hour looking around it. We liked it so much that even Lady Hiva, who tells me daily she DOES NOT want a big house when we build someday, said that she wants a house with an open court yard and all the rooms have large windows that open to it. Thanks Imelda. Actually, it was sad to think that this lavish house was built for tourism purposes when there were thousands of starving people that could have used the money.

We ended up eating at Barbara’s restaurant--a buffet that included a cultural dancing show all for under $30 total! Barbara’s has dark ornate pillars and furniture to match with white linen table cloths and expensive silverware. They sat us in the window booth that of course over looked the courtyard from the fourth floor. They staff was extremely friendly and wanted to know why we were only “eating a little bit.” The truth is, our plates were already piled high.

They did Spanish dances, traditional Filipino cultural dances from all the islands and some mixes of both (like Filipino dance steps to salsa music). I thought it was fun to see the tinikling steps. I remember when Madre had us go to Pier 1 Imports years ago to buy bamboo so she could teach her class how to tinikle. She had learned in Hawaii when she went to school there. I always thought it was a Hawaiian dance until I went to Hawaii to school and found out it was actually Filipino.  

The Cemetery gates are locked: NOBODY is Getting in. The Church is open: NO photos

Boeing was acting up so he had to visit the Ford dealership to be worked on. Our “30 minute oil change” turned into 5 days and several thousand Pesos later. Frustrating? YES...Hiva told me I needed to be nice before  I would call or when we went into the dealership. (That is why she is so great for me, only if I could be more loving like she is naturally) So before I dialed the number or while I was waiting at the desk because the “only cashier is on her lunch break” I practiced my best ‘see-I-am-happy-smile-even-if-this-is-really-really-annoying-right-now smile (if you have never seen someone do it, it is similar to someone that has bad facelift and they are permanently smiling so hard it is painful) and repeated in my head “I can be nice, I can be nice, I can be nice.” I would finish the conversation pleasantly surprised how well I handled it despite my boiling irritation only to have Lady Hiva roll her eyes and say, “You need to remember they are Heavenly Father’s children too. And the cashier needs a lunch at work just like you do.” OUCH! I have SO far to go.

We went to Intramuros just North of Rizal Park. Intramuros is an old Spanish Colony from thousands of years ago. It is surrounded by an ancient wall that if you took out the Jeepneeys honking outside you would think you were in Europe. There is now a golf course around the outer edge and beautiful moss growing on the old rock wall. As you enter Intramuros it feels like an older, slightly dirtier version of a European city. Complete with cobblestone streets, large piazza style homes, and cathedrals. It was fascinating to see.

There were really no designated places to park—I guess the Spanish did not think of EVERYTHING back in the 1500s. So I pulled up to a random empty lot, walked over to the two security guards across the street with really big guns and asked  if I could park there; in Tagalog of course, it seems to get more brownie points that way. They agreed and just to be nice as we walked by them towards the Cathedral I gave them 50 Pesos ($1 USD). The one guard shook his head no, said, “No Sir, its ok.” But in Viper like action his hand snapped forwarded snatched the money and stealthily pocketed it like nothing had happened.

The Cathedral was beautiful. I guess it is the 8^th one built on the spot. The first was in 1500 something and built out of bamboo. It burned down…go figure. Candles+wind+bamboo=LARGE S’more party. The stone building there today is stunning. There was a wedding going on so the man at the door  told us the Cathedral was still open but asked us to not take photos. I had the camera so I agreed; knowing that Lady Hiva would not want me to take them anyway. About ten minutes into being there I had veered off into an alcove reading the intriguing history of the building’s many evolutionary stages, Hiva came over and said, “I want some photos, can I have the camera?” So off she went and took photos of the gorgeous building while hiding around the giant stone pillar from the guy at the door! –Wait?! Who did I say was my example earlier? But, hey I did not complain, we have some sweet photos of the place now.

As we were driving in one section of town we passed several poor areas. It is still amazing to me that there are people who drive Porsches and Ferraris, have gated homes with 10 maids, shop at Gucci and Louis Vuitton, and eat at restaurants for $100 a plate and then two kilometers away there are people who ride bikes or push carts that have been built out of scrap materials and usually walk wherever they need to go,  sleep on cardboard under the trees or overpasses, wear the same outfit every day until it falls apart, and could feed the whole family for 3 months for $100. As we drove up one street it was obvious—to the left were miles and miles of poor home structures called “squatters,” and to the right were large pristine sky rises built in the last three years. Photos just don’t do the feeling justice.

We decided to ride up and see the American cemetery. A smaller version of what Arlington National Cemetery looks like. We arrived at 5:15pm and the guard told us it was closed and we were NOT getting in. He gave us a brochure to look at and told us nicely that “you will like to come back tomorrow, very beautiful tomorrow when open.” I thanked him for his kindness and then factiously wondered as I walked back to Boeing if after hours the Cemetery becomes a hideously ugly place after it closes…I guess we will see the beauty of it another day—between 9 and 5 of course.