Grime and nostalgia in Escolta

MANILA, Philippines - We took the MMDA ferry to get to Escolta from Guadalupe last Saturday afternoon. Its motor trembled and rumbled as it made its way down the Pasig River, shaking the ship’s deck and its benches while Fur, my photographer, and I looked on. The sights, smells, and sounds of the river were exactly as I imagined them to be — descriptions that have been written and said one too many times.  We were on a tour organized by the Heritage Conservation Society-Youth (HCS-Y) in collaboration with the Escolta Commercial Association, Inc. (ECAI) and it was #SelfiEscolta day.

Our “tour guides” were members of the Kapitbahayan sa Kalye Bautista or KKB, a Quiapo-based organization. I say “tour guides” because I found it odd that we had to be toured in the city where we live. They donned yellow camisas de chino with embroideries stitched on the chest, and they told us stories of the places we passed through, historical niceties that prepped us for the nostalgia that was Manila. At times, they would serenade us with old songs that were written for that place; for Santa Cruz, Santa Ana, the Malacañang, and the heroes of Pandacan.

With our party was Ms. Filipinas Heritage, the cause’s poster girl. She was majestic in a yellow saya, a morena with a smile that erased all doubt whether or not Filipina beauty truly existed. But only children in raggedy clothes bore witness to our small river parade. Every barangay on the river’s east and west banks had them. From one barangay to another, these brown and boney kids were no less enthusiastic to cheer and wave at us.

Arriving at Escolta

It took us roughly an hour to get to Escolta. And upon stepping out of the ferry, we were practically left to ourselves to find out more about the place. Ms. Filipinas Heritage went near the event’s stage where she was hounded by onlookers, taking pictures of and with her. Our guides changed to regular clothes and likewise assumed civilian roles. Fur and I took on our tasks and went around Escolta to see for ourselves what the place was all about.

Escolta rests on Manila’s east side, or what most call “the other less-touristy side” of the city. While its west side is famed for structures that have existed since Rizal’s time, Manila’s Escolta was put up during the period of the American Occupation and the Post-Liberation years. Escolta staged a time when the buildings’ architecture, not advertisements, were seen as the best way to communicate certain lifestyles. These were designed by renowned architects like Andres Luna de San Pedro (Juan Luna’s son), Ramon Irrureta, Francisco Muñoz, Carlos Arguelles, Jose Maria Zaragoza, Pablo S. Antonio, and Juan Nakpil.

Most of us have seen its pictures circulating online — taken in film using low- fidelity cameras, Instagram’s granddaddy showing what one would consider a 1950s film set. What lies in Escolta now is but a shadow of its former glory; a has-been high street tangled in electrical wires, laden with plastic disposables, reeking of sewage, and its buildings caked with solidified smoke.

However, the HCS-Y aims to resurrect Escolta and initiate what they call the adaptive reuse of its old buildings. They know that the buildings along Escolta can no longer serve exactly the same purposes they did before, what with shopping districts these days looking less personal and more a product of branding. Nonetheless, they believe that these buildings can be restored to look the same way they did, serving purposes that would be more suitable for today’s urban dweller.

While walking up and down Escolta, I felt both joy and gloom. There was joy in knowing that once upon a time, Filipinos believed in making beautiful and intricate structures. There was joy in knowing that once upon a time, aesthetics took a higher priority over construction costs and what the real estate industry these days calls “space maximization,” or leaving no room for artistic design for the sake of assuring a return of investments. But there was gloom in knowing that, in the end, this sensibility didn’t last. There was gloom in seeing such beauty and strength fade. Once more, Time proves itself the greatest critic.

What history teaches us

The challenge for us was not to fall prey to nostalgia, especially nostalgia for a time that wasn’t even ours. To merely imagine Escolta in a cleaner, well-lit place is to fall into the same trap as to desire living forever — it is ultimately a denial of the present and of our short time here on earth. Nothing can tell that better than fine and mighty structures falling into the hands of man, decommissioned, cracking, and crumbling to the ground. Nostalgia is fleeting, a stolen moment that, likewise, steals us away from the present to serve only itself. History, however, teaches us more than mere nostalgia — it teaches us who we are in light of those who have lived ahead of us.

Ours is a time when it’s easy to see that we as a people were given a lot. Paradoxically, these days, it’s also easy to see that we made too few with what we had. We may have a river that takes us up and down the city conveniently, but we’ve made it toxic and unsightly. We may have beauty queens like Ms. Heritage Filipinas, but we also have malnutrition plaguing our urban poor. We may have the grand and beautiful architecture in Escolta, but we also see that it is made ugly by our habits and our poverty of mind and material. We are prone to getting dazed, confused, or finally, lost.

Today is an age of contradiction. We tiptoe on that critical point where there is barely a balance between living and dying, between becoming only a moment in the past and living on in the present. Take a picture or perhaps, a selfie, just to get your bearings straight. Because what you do next — whatever that may be — is bound to tip the scale.

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