A Passage to the Philippines – Day 5: Manila Intramuros

When I went to sleep at around one in the morning, I set my alarm to half past nine not believing that I could really sleep so late. I expected that even though I was tired, I would still end up waking up at around seven or eight because of my circadian rhythm. My first words upon waking to my alarm, therefore, were “oh my God!” It was not that I was upset but genuinely surprised that my body had finally asked for and given itself the amount of sleep it needed.

Since I had some messages to write and tasks to finish, I only left my hotel right before my twelve o’clock check-out. I was glad that I had already explored outside the city walls two days previously, so all I had left to see in Manila was Intramuros, the part of town “Within the Walls.” True to its name, this Spanish-built quarter retains its fortifications on all sides, within which the traffic is a little sparser and dominated by lightweight vehicles like tuk-tuks, bicycle rickshaws, and motorcycles. A number of people also offer rides in horse-drawn carriages, though I did not see a single one in use. Intramuros was formally established in 1571 when Legazpi declared Manila the capital of the Philippines. In 1574, the whole walled city was razed by the Chinese pirate Limahong. The quarter continued as the centre of the Spanish colonial administration until the Philippine Revolution of 1898.

I began my tour by walking up General Luna Street, along which most of the major attractions are situated. I first passed by the San Agustin Church, which was the first church built in Luzon, dating to 1571. Of course, the physical structure was destroyed and damaged many times, including by the aforementioned Chinese pirates and earthquakes. The church’s notable contribution to Filipino history is that it was the location where the Spanish Governor-General prepared the terms of Manila’s surrender in the Spanish-American War. During the Second World War, the Japanese army turned the church into a concentration camp.

The church was closed when I first passed by, so I continued north to the Manila Cathedral, another structure dating all the way back to Manila’s founding in 1571. The interior of the cathedral is less ornate than the Baroque decorations that fill the San Augustin Church from floor to ceiling, though it is a large, spacious building. North of this church, forming the far edge of Intramuros, stands Fort Santiago. The most important and best-preserved fortification of Intramuros, it is famous for being the place where the national hero José Rizal was imprisoned before his execution in 1896. A museum now stands on the premises of the fort dedicated to Rizal and his legacy. Interestingly, Fort Santiago was not the first fortification on this location: it was preceded by a wooden structure erected by Rajah Matanda, a vassal to the Sultan of Brunei and a Muslim ruler who was defeated by the Spanish.

Entering Fort Santiago proved quite a challenge. As I approached, I saw a large group of people crowding the entrance, all of them on their phones and none of them queuing to enter. I soon discovered why. The guards at the entrance were asking everyone to download a third-party application to buy tickets online and would not accept payment in cash. This rubbed me the wrong way for several reasons: I hate being compelled to download apps, I hate wasting my mobile data, and I hate enriching and entrenching multinational monopolies. Despite my protestations, however, the guards were adamant, so I contented myself with eking out a small victory by having the guard share his hot spot with me. I also refused to download the application and simply bought the tickets on the online portal.

Once my visit to Fort Santiago was over, I returned to the San Augustin Church. The front of the church is freely accessible to visitors, but one can pay to visit the larger complex, which includes the church’s sacristy, cloisters, and second-floor museum. I found the visit well worth the money, as the collection is impressive, from huge wooden altarpieces to colourful collections of processional vehicles. The second floor also offers a view of the church from right next to the organs.

Finally, I walked down to the Bulwark of San Diego, which is another large defensive structure and forms the southwestern end of Manila’s fortifications. Once again, I was asked to download the application, and the request irked me so much that I could not master my emotions and turned around to leave in exasperation It took me a few moments to recover myself, and I asked the guard whether he could at least share his host spot with me. As he did and as I tried to find the page online, I probed as to why the fort was not accepting payments in cash. The guard told me this was because of “a Christmas Party,” which raised more questions than it answered. This time, I could not master the process. I complained and complained until eventually, the guard gestured for me to slip him a bill behind his back and said that he would not be able to give me change. It happened so quickly that I did not even realise that I was essentially bribing him.

It was quarter past two by the time I finished my visit, and now it was time to meet my friend Sam for lunch. Cognisant of my dietary restrictions but hopeful that I would get to try local Filipino food, she picked a vegan restaurant that specialises in making meat-free versions of the local meat-heavy dishes like sisig and adobo. The drive took an hour and a half; even outside of rush hours, Manila traffic is a complete nightmare. I am told this is partly because of the politicking that has prevented the construction of an efficient public transport system. There are two families that essentially own everything in the Philippines, and their influence makes it impossible to decide on where the metro lines should run: building a metro station by one mall would bring business to one family and not the other, so it is safer not to build anything and have everyone lose. The biggest losers, of course, are ordinary Filipinos, who waste perhaps three or fours each day simply trying to get through traffic. It is sad to think how much productivity is being lost each day, reinforcing the country’s poverty, and perhaps even more sad to think about how much of their lives people lose out on for no good reason.

It took another hour and a half to get from the restaurant to Cubao, where I boarded yet another night bus. I had the driver drop me off at the intersection across from the bus terminal, and by an extreme stroke of luck, I found a lady selling towels on the overpass. I figured that I would buy a soft one to serve me as a blanket on the arctically cold ride. This time round, I was headed in the direction of Sagada in the mountainous north, but of course no journey in the Philippines can begin on time (eight o’clock) and without several fruit and snack vendors boarding the bus to show off their merchandise. This time, they were joined by a female preacher, who passed around envelopes to collect contributions for her speech about the imminence of Christ’s Second Coming. This was the only part of the speech that was in English, so it is entirely possible she touched on other topics as well.