Be One with Makiling

 

The kapa-kapa--an indicator of primary rainforest 
(Picture by Sara Pacia)

The magenta-pink beauty of this endemic Philippine flora captivated England so much that in 1854 it received an award from the Royal Horticultural Society of England. No one had yet seen such an unusual plant, with four brightly-colored leaves forming a cape over its stalk of small white flowers hanging overhead from the high bark of thick trees. The exotic kapa-kapa (kapa is Filipino for “cape”), as it is called in the Philippines, has since become popular among plant lovers. 

 

Metro Manila dwellers may not have to look far to see this plant themselves, as they are only a car ride away from where the kapa-kapa was first discovered: Mt. Makiling.

Marikina with the Papa

From inside a car on a sunny Sunday morning, I saw how time can change things: fix the road from potholed asphalt to smooth concrete, rename buildings or weather them down, add stoplights, and wash away homes; so that when one comes back to it, what was once home is now unrecognizable.

Walking Tips for the Would-Be UP Freshie

From http://tagta.ni.guissmo.frih.net/2009/06/up-diliman-map/

Good old Murphy once said anything that can go wrong will go wrong. Who knew he was talking to freshmen—or to me, for that matter, hiding in the restroom at Palma Hall; chin-length hair expanding because of the humidity, face contorted in worry, and back swimming in sweat; as if water were thrown at me, landing on my nape and gluing a clump of hair onto my skin?

No one told me there were shortcuts within the University of the Philippines’ Academic Oval, and I was too enthralled by the fact that this campus was actually big enough to have a 2 km oval to bother.

But please, no matter how amazing you think the huge campus can be: Never walk half the UP Academic Oval and back on a hot June day, wearing thick blue jeans and a heavy back-hugging backpack—no matter how much you think you’ve outgrown your heavy pubescent sweating.

Riding on the Old Days

The afternoon was hot in Binondo, Manila’s Chinatown, and the sun beat down on pedestrians’ backs. It was the kind of heat that experienced walkers know will bring rain in a few hours, or maybe even minutes.

 In the hodgepodge of stone and wooden houses and contemporary concrete buildings are the kalesas, horse-drawn carriages dating back to the time when the Philippines was still under Spain, either roaming the streets or parked by the shade of the historic Binondo Church on Ongpin along with the 21^st century cars and tricycles that already outnumber them.

  Mang Benjie and his kalesa were parked past Carvajal alley, where a left turn from the narrow street market would lead straight to the Church. He was one of three kutseros waiting for passengers to board amidst the calls from competing tricycle and pedicab drivers offering faster transportation. Business was slow that day—it has been for years with all the quick, new and motorized competition—so Mang Benjie and his horse had time to lounge by the shade.

Kutseros like Mang Benjie offer trips around Chinatown, and for the traveler on a tight schedule, this could be the best way to see this historic place in an hour…or to experience the kalesa before it’s gone.

Chewing Into History

“Hainanese chicken?” the day manager asked, raising a square plate with rounded edges and a bowl of light yellow rice, almost white in the light, her bespectacled face frazzled by the noise 15 chattering college students were making at her restaurant on a lazy Monday afternoon.

             Four tables were lined up before us, their warm light brown tops turning even warmer and even lighter in the early afternoon sun. The group, all raring to eat, filled the restaurant with questions about the menu: What looks good? What does this mean? Do you think this is good? What are you getting? If some had ordered earlier, they were already eating. Either way, the table was too busy to notice the poor manager.

        “That might be theirs,” one by the restaurant’s glass doors, finally noticing the brunette, mumbled, pointing to the middle half of the four aligned tables. 

        With new hope the manager smiled and tried again: “Hainanese chicken?”

The chicken lay boiled and chopped on clean white porcelain with sweet soy sauce, chili paste, and blended ginger...

           
            No answer; it seemed the whole table was too focused on eating their roti canai and tom yang goong to hear me ask whether or not we did order that darn meal.