Manila (28 February 2009)

Daniel Burnham once depicted Manila as “possessing the bay of Naples, the winding river of Paris, and the canals of Venice.” The Manila of today certainly doesn't fit this description.

When I was in high school, I used to commute all the way to the Rizal Memorial Sports Complex from our old house in Novaliches, Quezon city. I hated every minute of the hours-long jeepney ride. Manila seemed foreign to me, with its narrow, clogged roads. The heat and the humidity were like an unwanted blanket on a hot summer day. My lungs heaved twice as hard through the smoke-filled air. Everywhere I looked, I saw urban degradation. The city is the microcosm of everything that has gone wrong with our country. What was once a centerpiece of the Pearl of the Orient, is now but a shadow of its old self.

As time passed by, I developed a unique liking to our capital city's environs. Amidst the hazy blur of today's chaotic sights, I saw faint glimmers of Manila's past grandeur.

I recall one particular late afternoon while riding in my friend's car. We were lost in the maze of streets in the Quiapo-Chinatown area. From the road lining the banks of the murky Pasig, I peered at the faded structures of the Escolta across the river. Despite the shady characters looming nearby and the dirt-strewn streets I saw beauty. There and then I realized how beautiful this city of ours is.

I began conjure images of Old Manila basking in its old extravagance. I pictured a city untouched by the ravages of war and hasty urban planning, where one could ride trams, river boats and calesas to enjoy the city's numerous sights.

Hope is not lost, however. Through the years, plans that have sought to breathe new life into Manila has materialized, with the Baywalk as a good example. There's also talk about rehabilitating the Pasig River and plans to repair the art deco-styled Metropolitan Theater.

One often wonders how different Manila would be, had Burnham's plans been followed to the letter. In this day and age, that thought is best left to imagination.

Reposted from my old Multiply blog.