Notice: traveleanorism.wordpress.com evolves as a category of eleanornewmedia.com. The site takes on WordPress’ LightBright theme, one of WP’s elegant themes. The beta test of eleanornewmedia.com was undertaken two days prior to its casual launch on June 18. The author, Maria Eleanor, is very grateful you have been following her the past six months. She invites you for a chat on eleanornewmedia.com on your plans regarding extreme adventure destinations here in Cebu like canyoning, hiking/trekking, rock climbing.###
In Rupture
caption: This former print media practitioner on assignment in Sitio Kumayot, Inabanga, Bohol as “fault-finder” takes the time of her life to pose at the new earth formation deemed perfect for the next geological tourism spot here.
BOHOL, PHILIPPINES — Forty-year-old Roland Suerte held on to a house post when the ground shook on the morning of October 15, 2013. But the moment he saw cracks on the yard, he referred to as “slice marks,” an edgy Roland shouted at his wife, heavy with their sixth child due by October 20, and at their children ordering them to run for their lives.
“I thought that was the last of us. It was like a scene from a doomsday movie,” Suerte shared in Binisayang Bol-anon dialect.
Mariana Añasco, 59 years old, a widow, was tending her farm, 50 meters away from her house, on an early morning. She earlier had coffee and pieces of local bread called “pan kinamot” (mixed and kneaded manually) and was set to go home for breakfast proper when the earth trembled. She said she was almost through clearing withered leaves of a few banana shrubs when she noticed the earth move beneath her weight. At first, she held on to the banana trunk thinking she had an episode of nausea, but later on the world around her vibrated in such a horrible rhythm, she dropped on her knees and mumbled a prayer.
Emily Pisol, 24, saw how an earthen wall arose on a lot a stone’s throw from her house. She had a vantage view of the location, and when the temblor struck, the ground cracked! She described the ground rupture to seemingly gobble them up, while smokes of dust billowed, as though it was a clip of an apocalypse film.
“Pagtuyatuya sa akong gibarogan abi lang nako ba og ‘malikmata’ kay pagkurog dungan man miulbo-ulbo ang yuta. Atbang man gud kaayo ang luna sa among pultahan. Mikurog akong baba ug tuhod, uy (Swaying where I stood, I thought it was just a mirage because along with the tremors, the earth open before my eyes. Our main door was directly across the shaken lot. My lips and knees were shaking, uy!)” she narrated in tears. “Kusog kaayo nisaka ang yuta (The earth rose so quickly). Matter of seconds ra gyud. Abi nako gani matabunan mi (I thought we would be covered).”
* * *
Mamerto Bautista Torregosa, 53, former barangay chairman of Anonang, saw it happened right on a patch of land owned by his family. The fault line missed his and his sister’s houses by a hairline. “This used to be a flat ground,” he pointed to the earthen wall, “level man ni siya, as shown by a rice paddy. But now part of the rice paddy is higher than this one we are stepping on. And look at these crops,” referring to the sweet potatoes, “we have already removed them as these [the tubers] were already sticking out,” he detailed.
More than the eagerness to receive aid in food and shelter, 1000 affected residents in Sitio Kumayot demand reassurance they are safe near the “face” of a reverse fault line. They are just so distraught about the current situation, that Nang Mariana describes it to be “makabuang” (maddening).
As I was listening to harrowing experiences told and retold during my five-hour stay – in Sitio Kumayot, the only assurance I shared with residents frenetic about a new natural formation is the very information I gathered that morning of October 23: the fault line stretches along 100 kilometers, according to experts, manifesting well in Inabanga and on upland portions of Sagbayan and Catigbian. Only five kilometers have been surveyed initially, led by Dr. Teresito Bacolcol of the Philippine Institute of Volcanology and Seismology.
Phivolcs Director Renato Solidum recommends that “…no structures should be built on top of a fault and within the five-meter buffer zone on both sides of the fault.”
He called on Bohol leaders to “revise land use policy around the fault.” And that it will take years, even centuries, for pressure to build up again before a fault line can once more create a quake of such strength.
However, it has already jolted a new promise. Bohol is now a geosciences/geological tourism destination. Proof that opportunity is antithesis to crisis, and one has the choice and the power to use a predicament to one’s advantage.
A signage in white paint on recycled galvanized iron sheet, erected a kilometer away from the earth wall, warms us up to a new facet in touring: THIS WAY TO FAULT LINE!###
Cantabaco crag
by Maria Eleanor E. Valeros, #CebuBloggingCommunity
caption: Presumably a million-year-old gift to a community. The Cantabaco natural limestone formation is not only breeding ground/playground of rock climbers, it is also a reservoir that ensures water supply even in the weak El Nino phenomenon experienced here these days, putting the maximum heat index in Cebu at 39 degrees Celsius.
CANTABACO, CEBU, PHILIPPINES (June 4, 2015) — Rock climbing newbies Cedie Ong and Raymund “Digoy” Acojedo Rodrigo meet local guide Enie Yonson today for the consummation of their “lime lust” at the renowned natural rock formations here.
As assessed by Climb Philippines, an authority in the Philippines when it comes to rock climbing and the accompanying bolting and spotting projects, it was learned that Cantabaco is considered to be the best crag to date in the country.
Offering five areas, with all route possibilities graded 5.11 to 5.13 in the level of technical difficulty, Cantabaco natural wall offers promising rock trips to enthusiasts. The bolted part has reached to some 12 meters or nearly 40 feet. The highest point of the wall is placed at 160 feet, says Climb Philippines in its webpage.
True enough, Cedie and Digoy have their fill here today of adrenaline rush, rock romance, swearing they will be back to finish the fifth area that offers a cliff overhang which to them is not so hard but very technical to tackle for neophytes yet.
Enie, himself, who has rock climbing experience since 1994 said that climbing is not really proving you have the mastery over routes and can do climbathons. “It’s important that you enjoy what you are doing. You may finish half of the route today, complete half tomorrow. One guest even said in jest that’s already equivalent to one route, and that he is happy about his achievement. That’s the spirit. Enjoy what you are doing. You will master endurance later.”
Enie also shared that some climbers come and get frustrated at not arriving at their expectations. “Some swear. Thump on the wall. Some even punch the wall. How could you embrace a sport like this with an attitude like that? Come with a mirthful spirit, completing the routes will come easiest.”
This writer lives in Cantabaco’s adjacent barangay and has her fill of glee upon touching the walls – again – (call it déjà vu!) after decades of being literally detached from what used to be a childhood playground.
In the 80s to the 90s, near these natural limestone formations rush out refreshing waters. An area was developed as a public laundry site where neighbors converge on weekends. This was “social media” then; a wet platform for socialization, back when neighbors know each other so well and immersed in camaraderie.
Today it still is a source for potable water. In fact, the Toledo Water District taps service water in here. However, the number of springs has dwindled. Some crevices where water used to drain have in fact already dried up. Locals have it that detrimental activities such as small-scale to big mining operations may have angered the “elements” that guard the springwells, since mining involves chopping down of trees and blasting of boulders.
Moreover, Enie announced of a convergence come October of rock climbing enthusiasts all over the world to mark an anniversary of the official creation of a federation. This will be a busy time for the area to be used exclusively by fed members.
For companionship services and rates to this crag venerated by the “hardcore rock-ers,” email eleanor.newmedia@gmail.com or message FB: Eleanor NewMedia. ###
Canlaob canyoning
by Maria Eleanor E. Valeros, #CebuBloggingCommunity
Caption: Outdoorsy chums on a drift after seven leaps at Canlaob in Alegria. Photo by guide Cris Comendador.
ALEGRIA, CEBU, PHILIPPINES (May 31, 2015) — Fear is a very beautiful emotion. It makes you think twice, thrice. It assures you’re just too human to let go of your precious life any minute. But the power to control that fear is the most beautiful function of your brain. You engage in seven leaps even though you understand how great, sweet things can go wrong at some twists.
Canlaob River in the town of Alegria, over a hundred kilometers away from Cebu City, pumps up adrenaline rush via canyoning, which some outdoor adventure enthusiasts prefer to call “canyoneering” presumably to fuse canyoning and mountaineering which are two great outdoor activities.
Canlaob is around seven kilometers long, but the tackling requires from around three to four hours before one exits at the Kawasan Falls in adjacent Badian town (or near the major water source rushing out of holes on the ground).
There are varying heights to deal with – 10 to 15 feet, 30 feet to serve as “graduation jump” in capping the adventure; and another an optional 50-footer drop of which celebrity, travel show host Drew Arellano, is the only one so far among thousands of guests here, who was crazy enough to dare take the challenge.
With the prevalent dry spell, say extended El Nino phenomenon according to state meteorologists, the waters offered enough reason for us to enjoy the scenery, the greens, the boulders, the crystal-like formations, a loooong stretch of astounding, gorgeous gorge!
I am a Cebuana. A literally restless Cebuana. And I have almost been around town, nook and cranny. I made my share of leaps at Kawasan too, which is the most popular of all Cebu waterfalls, to date. But today I discovered Canlaob and is just sooo glad to be in perfect company — people who are out to chill even in the most challenging of territories; people who are “photophiliacs”: who will try every pose possible to make the situation worthy of the capture, cheese and freeze. LOL!
Seven jumps. Amazingly, the rocky promontories have ledges carved by raging waters. Nature definitely understands our playful ways. The last of these ledges is the perfect one, or it wouldn’t be tagged site for a “graduation leap.” It was a note on fear with a splash of sheer will. “I will die anyway, so why not do it now?” the nerves in my hippocampus compounded by a blow on my tummy, by some force of whatever, pushed me off my limits. And there – that most beautiful, daredevil, supercalifragilisticexpialidocious side of me – comes in union with the river, drifting to the rhythm of turquoise waters.
For companionship services so you won’t waste time and money haggling and figuring out who to ask what, email me @ eleanor.newmedia@gmail.com. Tag along outdoorsy chums only, those keen on jumping. This is a high-risk engagement, but local guides are already trained on swift water guiding management, search/rescue/retrieval. In PhP, the entrance fee is 20, the safety gears are up for 140 (set of safety floating device and helmet); while the exit fee in Kawasan is another 20. ###
I am Bukidnon!
by Maria Eleanor E. Valeros, #CebuBloggingCommunity
caption: DUAL SIM (School for Indigenous Minorities). This structure serves two purposes: as community chapel and as learners’ center to children who can’t travel 13 kilometers a day to the nearest regular school facility.
BUKIDNON, NORTHERN MINDANAO, PHILIPPINES — Maayad masulom!
This is a chant carried by the morning breeze across gurgling Bobonawan River, past a squeaking footbridge that leads to a community of Higaonons, a group of indigenous people.
On the mountains of Tamusan (some two hours away from Mindanao’s gateway in the north: Cagayan de Oro City), I become Bukidnon – maayad masulom (good day greeting or good morning). I become as good as the hearts of the settlers there: naive but enriched with the wisdom of the old earth, pastoral but ever-embracing to migrants.
I have this adulation for tribes. In fact, my online chatting handle is tribal wisdom. I consider it mortal sin to stop learning more on that thing you are passionate about. So when the invitation to visit Bukidnon for an outreach program cranked up my email inbox, I replied by being right here where I’m most needed.
The “outreach” tackled on documenting the concerns of the tribe, most importantly ancestral domain, schoolbuilding, decent farm-to-market roads, unified position against joining revolutionary groups that purportedly recruit members.
Maayad masulom!
This is a trill conveyed by the mid-morning sun across tall grasses before they were cut, roots pulled out, to give way to a patch for sweet potatoes. I am a tall grass pulled out of my comfort zone, my conventions, my convictions. I am replanted in Tamusan to learn that children report to “school” under the roof of an unfinished community chapel. The river spillway was destroyed by Typhoon Sendong and has not been replaced yet. The kids would rather gather in a makeshift classroom rather than travel 13 kilometers by foot to the real schoolbuilding.
Maayad masulom! This is a warble lugged by the approaching high noon across the richness of Bukidnon’s plateau marked by towering Kitanglad range. The potential to continue feeding a nation is promising here. The fruits of the earth, the rewards of agriculture are awesome. Name it, Bukidnon can cultivate it — agrinanas, pineapples, grapefruits, papayas, tomatoes, durians, lanzones, marangs, aubergines, bell peppers, rambutans, cayennes. I could only gosh forever!
Bukidnon is so blessed that even libgus (uncultured mushroom) grows just about anywhere the fungus can get a hold of.
Among the hands that toil for our food basket are those mayad (beautiful) and mayad tungkay (handomse) lumads (natives). I think that’s big, maayad reason to further take care of them, being essential in reinvigorating our granary, as we hew a path to sustain sustainability.
But some of them are already leaving their lands behind them as they seek overseas contractual jobs. Now, quite losing the battle for ancestral domain as they are recognized for stewardship only, and no legal holds to individual land titles.###
Understanding Mindanaw, Higaonons
by Maria Eleanor E. Valeros, #netizenmedia
MISAMIS ORIENTAL, NORTHERN MINDANAO, PHILIPPINES — Every summer has its own great story. Mine involves membership (finally!) to an indigenous people’s community.
The trip took six of us to Talusan, Balingasag here in Misamis Oriental wherein we were oriented of Minkadelum – the old Mindanao.
Tibalen, believed first man of Minkadelum (the old name of Mindanao), is said to have instructed his two daughters to look for freshwater sources in the event of a dry spell.
The elder, Si Dumalaguing, went eastward while the other, Si Maraweh, took westward. The former found Lake Ke-angkabeg while the latter found Lake Lanao. The sisters were able to locate two important water sources to ensure water supply despite an extended dry season.
Datu Dencio “Lolong” Lipiahan Sr., the Supremo of Talugan Ta Tagoloan – Higaonon Tribal Communities Federation, in a four-year documentation pursuit, shared “tribal wisdom” in our so-called adoption to the Higaonon community last April 2, 2015 here in Talusan, Balingasag, Misamis Oriental. After a ritual, we migrants are already called “bilaw” and are required to study customary laws. Two of six in our group have “lumad” bloodline, or are descendants of an indigenous tribe.
Contrary to previous impression that Manobos, Talakags, Matigsalugs, Talaandigs are separate tribes, it was made known that these are so called “ascriptions of Higaonons distributed all over Mindanao.” Therefore, a Talakag woman who joined our “adoption ritual” performed at the farmhouse cum office of Ritalinda, or Bae Makabulig (wife of Datu Lolong), is considered a Higaonon by bloodline.
Datu Lolong, a seventh-generation Higaonon chieftain, corrected initial information that early Higaonons were refugees from southern Asian regions like Borneo, Sabah, or Sumatra. He said that Higaonons are the original settlers (thus, indigenous) of ancient Mingkadelum, considered a nation in the Dawn Age of Mindanao. The Malay intermarriages happened when missionaries Sarip Kabunsoan married Dumalaguing, while Sarip Alaweh married Maraweh. These Malaysian brothers were also looking for freshwater sources while they were traveling through land bridge referred to as Ngembalukan. In fact, the intermarriage also symbolized unity of two nations.
Upon discovering the same lakes on top of mountains, the brothers have both blurted: Lenggad Min Danaw (danaw means lake in Malay), to their joy and excitement.
Today, Higaonons reach an estimated 1.8 million households. However, this is based yet on a 1986 census. They were said to be coastal people but were driven to the uplands by colonizers. The “nangalasan” lived in the forests, while the “nababalay” dwelled in the coastal areas. Ascriptions were based on how they were distributed all over Mindanao in time: Matigsalugs (near rivers), Talaandigs (on rolling areas), Ipatagen (plateau of Bukidnon).
They continue to till their lands. Some have found employment in haciendas cultivated into plantations of banana, pineapple, durian, marang, aside from cash crops and other vegetables. They were also tapped in the government’s national greening program. Some of them have already found employment out of the country with the help of technical skills training.###
Wrath of Daragang Magayon
by Maria Eleanor E. Valeros, #citizenmedia
caption: This blogger joins specks of dust near the Cagsaua Ruins, a belfry that serves as memorial of a past eruption of Mount Mayon that buried scores of Bicolanos alive.
ALBAY, BICOL REGION, PHILIPPINES — What force attracted me to Albay is the very same force that obliterated rice fields and homes in Guinobatan and Daraga.
Mount Mayon was ablaze almost every night from July 18 of 2006 with the number and size of incandescent rockfalls from the active lava dome increasing. And while volcanologists warned on August 10 of a major explosion as Mayon continued to eject lava down its slope, which spelled disaster, there I was gaping at the TV in our old newsroom admiring at the beauty and power of her activity.
As Albay was prepared to escape from magma buildup, typhoon Durian instead lashed, triggering deadly landslides. Mud, rocks and volcanic ash swallowed vast rice farms and inundated towns throughout Albay that were once subjects of postcards for their panoramic and charming rural life. Lahar flow killed scores and covered large portions of the village of Padang in mud up to houses’ roofs.
The wrath of Daragang Magayon (or “Magandang Dalaga”/Beautiful Maiden, believed guardian of Mount Mayon) spilled lahar flows from the roof of the mountain in Guinobatan to the town of Daraga. Amazingly, the floodhead spread to form two rivers upon reaching a good distance from the Cagsaua Ruins. Yes, the Cagsaua church which became a refuge to some 1,200 people two centuries ago. When lava flowed on February 1, 1814, the most destructive eruption of Mayon, it buried the town of Cagsaua, the church and the townsfolk. Only the belfry remained above the new surface. It stands anew today as a memorial after nature spared it from being smashed by tumbling, rumbling boulders.
It stands here today, beautiful but still haunting to serve, perhaps, as a living testimony as to how alive fire-spewing mountains and towering fountains are. And on how helpless we are before nature’s fury.
If there was one very bad experience in coming to Legazpi City, at a time when it was recovering from a series of disasters, had nothing to do with mocha-colored water pouring out of the tap. It was the overcharging of fare rates that hurt me most. For somebody unaware of actual rates here, most drivers asked double to triple the real rate.
“Kanya-kanyang diskarte talaga. Sa hirap ng buhay ngayon dito pagkatapos ng Durian, kelangan talaga mag-survive ang mga drivers,” a trike driver explained things. But was kind enough to charge me fairly when I directed him to bring me to a cheap hotel where my partner and I could wash up. We were “caking up with ashfall” as earlier that day we passed by Irosin in Sorsogon on our way to Legazpi. Irosin was on zero visibility because another volcano, Mount Bulusan, was spewing columns of ash.
The hotel, across a mall, was indeed for travelers on shoestring budget. Since the mall is nearby, my partner and I shopped for chocolate-coated and caramelized pili nuts (all-time favorites!). Its proximity to the city terminal allowed us to walk from the hotel in going there for our next trip.
At that time farm managers turned to nurturing not grains anymore but making hollow blocks out of volcanic materials deposited in rivers, as well as artstone pieces carved from volcanic rocks.
Mang Jun, 42, for example, sees a new livelihood in sculpturing Santo Nino icons from the volcanic rock deposits. He also carved designs taking on inspiration from Atlas (that piece with globe on shoulder), Madonna and Child, and the Pieta.
While volcanoes fascinate us, they frighten us at the same time. Volcanic mountains burst into flames as glowing rocks fly from the depths of the earth and cause enormously devastating lava flows.
But volcanic activity never stops to fascinate me. This adulation had drawn me to Mayon – this admiration for something inanimate, yet so full of life and power it is able to direct the course of some Bicolanos’ destiny.###
Musings in Molobolo
by Maria Eleanor E. Valeros, #newmedia specialist
TUBURAN, CEBU, PHILIPPINES — Poetry is oppressive.
Even when the initial desire was just to check how much freshwater there is in Molobolo that meets immense Tanon Strait, I could still hear a parade of verses waiting to be born!
What did Eve Merriam say about poems? It doesn’t always have to rhyme, but there’s the repeat of a beat, somewhere.
I hear it in the gushing of flowing water. Oh, good Lord! There’s too much water wanting to leap out to sea. Something you will never learn where it has come from and where it will be going next – from brimming rivers to cascading falls to shimmering oceans.
I was with Sagarmathaji Rain, my only child, at the wash area of Molobolo Spring Park in Tuburan weeks ago. I love the beat and grind of country life here, attuned to the symphony of laundry clubs (palo-palo). The motivation was to immerse again in the laidback-ness of Cebu countryside, to dip in revivifying waters. No hurry. To watch my son enjoy the rush of too much water, to admire his skin wrinkle in the cold, and hear his teeth chatter to the point of surrender. But he instead refused his meals, wanting the whole afternoon to wade in, defy the current.
Poetry is onerous.
It aches even when the heart had already resigned from the desire to pursue; even when the hands had long given up. I could have written about how fast time flew, how swift my boy has grown, how wonderful it is to embrace back the wind. But I never did.
I will never know irony. The word befuddles me. I thought, all the while, that when you’re in pain, it is easier to weave conflict into poems. That you have a deep inkwell to draw inspiration from when you come face to face with the incongruity of what is expected and what actually transpires. But I never saw my pain in there the way it would wave its crinkled hands before me while here dabbling with assignments in my mobile workstation.
Poems must have that inner chime that makes you want to tap your feet or swerve in a curve.
I heard a childish shriek from my boy in his failed attempts at scooping fallen leaves swept away by the current. More than tapping my feet or taking a bend, I would want to swim in his laughter. It was devoid of pretense, misery. The whole world was his at that time that I hardly can share with. It was just a moment for me. Something that I will never get a hold of in perpetuity. As soon as the day is over I would be back to cursing the world that so “fearfully and wonderfully shaped me.”
There’s a lilt, a leap, a lightning-split. Thunderstruck, the consonants jut, while the vowels open wide as waves in the noon-blue sea.
Oh good Lord, what is irony? It is supposed substance poems are made of. Its absence likens a poet to a proud blogger sans a reader.
You hear with your heels, your eyes feel what they’ve never touched before. Does that mean I should see fins always on a bird? Or how about feathers on a deer? Maybe, poems are made for us to taste all colors, inhale memory and tomorrow, the tang of today.
Molobolo: your whimpers grate on my nerves all the more that conviction never to justify in poems what’s unsuitable, disagreeing and inappropriate. Maybe, there’s much water too gurgling in my head drowning sensibilities.
I will never come to terms with how the literati have always wanted poetry to be defined. I am drowned, as always, by the proud and the loud.###
HAIR YE!
Hair ye! (A note while traveling…)
by Maria Eleanor E. Valeros, #newmedia specialist
CEBU, PHILIPPINES — It would be unfair to blame shampoo commercials and rebond services for women’s current whims of flaunting jet black shiny long hair. But it seems that because product ads have heedlessly referred to tying-back long hair as the dullest way to deal with hair grooming, girls nowadays are seen letting their hair down even in public conveyances.
In the past, when women were more careful, they travel with bandanas on. When I was younger, I took it as a way to keep off soiling one’s hair because we have to navigate dusty rough roads. On early morning travels, I assumed that the bandana’s major function is to protect us from “tun-og” (mist).
Lately, it dawned on me that because women were more decorous and proper then, they’ve taken it a point to keep their long hair in a knot or, if left flowing, the strands should be kept by a bandana from thrashing onto a seatmate’s face or getting into somebody else’s mouth.
Quite many times I traded barbs with girls inside public utility jeepneys who observe do-or-die the “ilugay, iwagayway” (let down, let loose) fashion in hair worship. I have pointed out many times that I don’t even grow my hair that long to avoid becoming source of other people’s discomfort. Since I’m a commuter, it is a “mane” concern to keep my tresses where they should be. Only on my crown and not stuck on some other glossed lips.
I would, in my meanest, sarcastic tone, point out how cheap are hair ties nowadays. And should one insist to let fly that hair beside me I will in time be in charge of pulling those tresses to emphasize a disgusted stance. There was one instance when the woman got irked at the reproof and harked back “ka-istrikta baya nimo uy!”
I gave him “the eye,” and retorted: “Palit og imong sakyanan para di namo makaon imong lusa (louse).” This would be one lousy thing to reveal, but some women adore too much their long hair they rarely spend half that much energy checking on what parasites have been thriving there for ages now. The way I saw it, it was like a season of winnowing done on her crown. Minute particles, like chaff, scattered all over. Truth be told: Lice! Lice! Lice!
I hate to blame this pop behavior on shampoo and rebond campaigns. It takes to propagate a meme to capture a market. But everything should have its rightful place under various circumstances.
Women who pull up their hair, tie it back in a ponytail appear lovelier because they become more prim and proper. Combing hair back and collecting it in a chignon or a shintaro, perhaps, doesn’t make girls less girl-looking.
I already bumped onto a nurse who, while on duty, let her hair down. I could not stop myself from chastisement, most especially that she was attending to an elderly relative of mine. She told me the mane is on conditioning after a rebonding session. She’s got a pretty face, mind you, but on that day she looked disgusting, and oh so out of place. An elderly lawyer, an events specialist, a practicing physician have joined the bandwagon too, but at least they have their own vehicle and there’s no way we could be juxtaposed in the same PUJ, or bus. But the sad thing is that these are the jobs that require women to be in proper grooming. Or what’s Deportment for?
Flight stewardess, bankers, management trainees, customer service personnel who are required to look neat and nice and kempt in hairnets do not look less feminine. They exude respectability.
They save a bad word from flying their way on a manic Monday. They also become peace advocates when they keep their split-ends from crossing my way.###
The Fort
by Maria Eleanor E. Valeros, #newmedia specialist
caption: SIZE 6. This writer tracing the steps of Rizal from his cell to Bagumbayan.
INTRAMUROS, MANILA, PHILIPPINES — The city lives on!
Fort Santiago, a 16th-century defense structure, served as the military headquarters of the Spanish, American and Japanese regimes.
During World War II, it was a dreaded place where hundreds of men and women were jailed, tortured, and executed by the Japanese military police – the Kempeitai. But it was destroyed by American forces during the 1945 Battle of Manila and was restored as a public park after Congress declared it a Shrine of Freedom in 1950.
For Php40 the ticket entitles visitors free entrance to all facilities, beginning with the Intramuros Visitors Center which gives an overview of various attractions in the Walled City.
I had a romance again with Philippine History 101 when I relearned that before the Spaniards arrived in the Philippines, communities prospered along the banks of Pasig River. One of these was a palisaded fort called Maynilad (old name of Manila).
Ruled by Rajah Soliman, the citadel was a trade center for Asian goods. But peace in the thriving community was shattered upon the arrival of Spaniards led by master of camp Martin de Goiti and later by conquistador Miguel Lopez de Legazpi.
On June 24, 1571, Legazpi founded the city of Manila on the site of the old settlement. The city became the capital and seat of Spanish sovereignty in the Orient for over three hundred years.
Threats of invasion by Chinese, Japanese, Dutch and Portuguese pirates prompted the construction of defenses consisting of high stone walls, bulwarks and moats. The walls stretched to 4.5 kilometers in length, enclosing a pentagonal area of approximately 64 hectares. The area consisted of residences, churches, palaces, schools and government buildings. Entry was made possible through gates with drawbridges which were closed before midnight and opened at the break of dawn. It was in this manner that the city earned the name Intramuros, meaning “within the walls.”
And there within Intramuros is the Fort. Adaptive use of this famous historical landmark makes certain areas ideal for open air theater, picnics, and promenades. The Baluartillo de San Francisco Javier where military supplies were kept when this was built in 1663 already serves as an attraction.
Other parts worth visiting are the Almacenes Reales or the Royal Warehouses where the Spaniards stored the goods brought in by the galleons just across the Plaza Moriones, a public promenade until it was fenced off by the Spanish military in 1864.
Next to the picnic area and refreshment kiosk is the archaeological excavation of Artilleria de Maestranza, a foundry which cast cannons and ammunition during the Spanish period.
In front of the main gate of Fort Santiago is the moat, the first line of defense surrounding the fortified city with water. The fort stands at the tip of the delta where Pasig River meets the Manila Bay. It is named in honor of Spain’s patron saint James, Slayer of the Moors or Santiago Matamoros whose wooden relief decorates the main gate to the fort.
After the moat, the Medio Baluarte de San Francisco and Baluarte de San Miguel guarded the fort from the river and the bay, respectively. The Plaza Armas was the fort’s main square. North of the plaza is the Dulaang Rajah Soliman, an adobe building now used as a theater. At the western side of the building is the chapel-cell where Rizal spent his last night on earth. Brass shoeprints would help visitors trace the path of Rizal when he walked to his execution site at Bagumbayan on December 30, 1896.
I then checked if I could be in his shoes. He’s a size 6. Fit in.
Across the plaza is the Rizal Shrine. It stands on the site of a brick building where Rizal was imprisoned from November 3 to Dec. 29, 1896. As always no cameras are allowed inside the museum, so it would be best to stay for a moment longer to appreciate implements of the young Rizal when he was experimenting with insects and his collection of tools when he practiced ophthalmology.
There is also a collection of his notes from a young, inquisitive child who questioned why the baby moth loves to flirt with the lamp’s flame; to his books on social cancer – the “Noli”, the “Fili”; photographs of some of the women said to be beguiled by his wit and charm – puppy love Segunda Katigbak, cousin Leonor Rivera, foreigners O Sei San and Josephine Bracken; and his habiliments that include winter clothes he wore in Germany as a medical student.
Also inside the fort is a terraced garden where the residence of the Fort Commander, called Casa del Castellano, was. Its dungeon, which I find most interesting for its eerie atmosphere, served as a cellar for food supplies.
A Memorial Cross marks the common grave of approximately 600 bodies of guerrillas and civilians found inside the powder magazine of Baluarte de Santa Barbara after World War II. The bulwark began as a wooden platform which protected the entrance to the Pasig River in 1593. Storage vaults and the powder magazine were added in 1599. The Falsabragas de Sta. Barbara and Media Naranja were false walls which protected the main bulwark in case of heavy bombardment from the river.
The Fort opens at 8 a.m.
Warning though: Don’t be fooled by those caritela (horse-drawn carriage) drivers who would charge “Php250 only” for a trip to nearby Malacanang or to Manila Zoo or to Luneta from the fort. The “per hour” charge, as they argued, isn’t written on their so-called tariffs. We were charged P1,250 for the entire journey. Instead of arguing though, I haggled for a “pakapin” (add-on) to Binondo or Chinatown to get a glimpse of Eng Bee Tin famous for its hopia and tikoy, and then straight to North Harbor where I set off for a return trip to Cebu.###
TRAVELEANORISM 