Frank Sinatra once sang, “I want to be a part of it, New York, New York.” Tony Bennett crooned about leaving his heart in San Francisco. Our very own Hotdog declared that there’s no place like Manila. New York, San Francisco, and Manila are all great cities worthy of the songs dedicated to them. But I have to agree with the band members of Cambio when they sang, “Wala pa ring tatalo sa Divisoria,” or “Nothing beats Divisoria” (at least when it comes to shopping).
For those poor souls who don’t know about DV, as Divisoria is fondly called, it is located in the heart of Manila, specifically in the Binondo area. It’s basically one huge marketplace. So why do I say that nothing beats shopping there?
Well, where else in the world can you buy men’s pants for P20? Admittedly, the pants are secondhand, ukay-ukay quality — vintage, to put it nicely. If that doesn’t appeal to you, then fret not, for there are lots and lots of other things that will catch your fancy.
The P20 pants may not be your cup of tea, but maybe skinny jeans, shorts, shirts, shoes, jackets, headwear and underwear are. If you can wear it, the vendors at DV have it, and at a fraction of the cost too! (Have I told you I’m frugal — er — cheap?) After buying a whole new wardrobe for the summer, then you can buy matching accessories from the same area. Creative folks can make their own from the materials sold in some of the stores.
Not a big fan of fashion? There’s also “boy” stuff there. Inexpensive motorcycle helmets, MP3 players and electronic razors, along with the usual hardware stuff we girls can only look at with bemusement, are just some of the things that guys prefer to browse for and buy. Forgive me if I can’t give more examples; I was too busy staring at the cute bags at the opposite stall to notice what the men were fussing about.
For kids, there are toys and stuffed animals aplenty — these are the types that can actually be used (and abused!) by the curious and fun-loving, not the expensive collectibles children play with once before being shelved and displayed by their moms for future use (translation: for use of their grandchildren). In fact, you can fill an entire toy chest with a variety of things — from balls to remote-controlled helicopters, from stuffed toys to Hello Kitty gumball machines — all for the price of a single Nintendo DS game cartridge.
Truthfully, inflation is nonexistent in Divisoria. Your P1,000 can buy a lot of stuff, some of it unnecessary. An electric mosquito zapper for a hundred bucks, anyone? How about a P50 sewing machine the size of a stapler? Most the stores offer wholesale prices if you buy six or more of an item. Forty-eight ballpoint pens, sold together, sell for P60. Prices are generally lower than in the malls and other markets, and even with that said, you can still haggle to bring the price lower. Can you imagine getting “buy one, take one” reading glasses for P90 in a department store? I don’t think so.
Going to Divisoria is always an experience, and not only because it’s a great place to spend your hard-earned money. Every visit is made special because of the environment itself. It’s certainly an assault on the senses, welcome or not.
Visually, it can be overwhelming. For as far as the eye can see, there are stores and vendors selling the most useful of items (tarpaulins, kitchenware) to the most inane (drain de-clogger, artificial cacti). People of every shape, size and color mill around, and you end up with a distorted sense of their presence — are they coming or going? Shopping, browsing, accompanying? There for pleasure or business?
In the olfactory department, you are exposed to an odd mix of fresh fruit, rotten fruit, freshly-bathed humans, and sweaty humans. Add an occasional blast of jeepney exhaust, dried fish, and dog poo and you have the smell of DV, which is pretty much how all public markets smell. Unfortunately, the aroma of human bodies disguised by cologne (bought in DV, too?) trumps all other scents.
Let’s not forget the sounds of DV either. “Ate, koya, ano hanap n’yo?” (Ma’am, sir, what are you looking for?) can be heard in most stores. Barkers loudly advertise their products while standing on monoblock chairs so that people can better see and hear. A steady hum of customers haggling with vendors floats in the air while tricycle drivers deftly navigate through the crowd. Occasionally, you’ll hear people cursing that they’ve been hit by pintsize kargadores or have been robbed by snatchers. There is never a dull moment in Divisoria. It is a fever-pitch economy that drowns out the extreme poverty lurking at the bottom of this ocean of cash-only transactions.
The many tastes of Divisoria are as appetizing as they are affordable. White corn — which is sorely missed along Katips, where Japanese sweet corn supposedly has its humble beginnings — is found at practically every street corner. Honest-to-goodness Chinese food is juxtaposed against the “fast food” offered by giant chains like Jollibee and McDonald’s, Chow King (not-so honest-to-goodness), or Goldilocks. If you ask me, I like street food — gulaman at sago, fried siopao, hopia, calamares, taho, dirty ice cream — all found in DV’s dusty streets. Mmmmmm! Thank goodness I had my hepatitis shot!
Last (and definitely the least) is the sense of touch. Really, save for the girl stuff I prefer, there is nothing you would want to touch in Divisoria. Unfortunately, touching things and people is unavoidable. Touch is a bit of an understatement. Jostled, squished, and elbowed (sometimes, groped) are much more appropriate words to describe the feeling of moving through the sea of humanity along the narrow passageways of such places as 168 and Divisoria Mall.
I’ve visited DV a number of times since I was small. I used to hate it because of the heat, the people, the smell, and all of the other sensory attacks I just mentioned. I guess I didn’t care much for shopping back then.
Now, I would never miss an opportunity to trek all the way to this grand old market so rich in sensory and historical delights. Many of my friends agree wholeheartedly with me. A few others, my brother included, scowl at the very idea of spending a few hours there, much less a day. That’s the thing about Divisoria; you either love it or hate it, nothing in between.
So many words have been said, written, and even sung about DV. I’ve given my share right here, right now. However, there really is no way to capture the magic of Divisoria on paper. You can describe it down to the minutest detail, but that’s still not enough to paint a perfect picture of this famously infamous bazaar. You’ll just have to experience it for yourself to understand and get a feel of the real Manila.