Surplus

Older Filipinos will associate the term “surplus” with used military gear and equipment from the Americans. The jeepney is a prime example, developed from military Jeeps. Surplus, too, were the camouflage uniforms, tents, blankets, even water canteens that found their way from US military bases in the country to Angeles’ shops, and into Manila.

Surplus was different from “PX,” which originally meant “Post Exchange” or the stores inside US bases for the exclusive use of American military personnel and their dependents. What happened, though, was that Filipinos working or living in the bases began to buy stuff and sell them outside the bases, the stateside goods coming to symbolize American prosperity and superiority. To have PX goods, whether chocolates or Spam (the kind you eat, not the computer variation) or cigarettes or even Playboy magazines, was a sign you had arrived.

Then came “Japan surplus,” which first referred to used engines and car parts from, well, where else but Japan. You still see the signs “Japan surplus” all over Banawe Street in Quezon City.

But in recent years, Japan surplus stores have mushroomed all over the country, now referring to a very wide variety of goods, from personal effects to furniture to heavy equipment.

I first learned of Japan surplus from an aunt and her niece who had stalls in the Lung Center Sunday market (now in Centris, on Quezon Boulevard). Ligaya, the aunt, was a much-sought-after accountant during the week, but found relief selling stuff from Japan (mainly tableware, but I went to her as well for sturdy bikes). I found that the ones with the most evidence of wear and tear were the most sturdy. Sadly, Ligaya no longer sells at the Centris market.

Jane still sells at Centris and she never uses the term “Japan surplus.” She did start out importing Japanese hospital beds, and went on to other Japanese stuff. It’s a whole industry, with Japanese companies buying up stuff that Japanese households no longer want and then sending them out, in container vans, to the Philippines.

Collector’s items

Jane had a knack for picking out fine stuff, like an entire set of six dinner and dessert plates, or a cast iron teapot. She would show me the manufacturers’ imprints on the base of the plates. Some were collector’s items, like those that said “Made in Occupied Japan,” meaning defeated Japan right after the war, with an American administration.

One of Jane’s suki, or frequent customers, was Arnold, a professor of UP Manila who knew everything about Japan (and Korea and China), and if he happened to be in the Sunday market when I was there, I was sure to go home not just with Japan surplus but also with all kinds of information about East Asian culture.

Soon I learned enough to be giving Jane a call, to ask if she could be on the lookout for certain items. It could be furoshiki or pieces of cloth used to wrap gifts. Or a whisk for preparing macha or green tea.

Then I discovered a large store on Amoranto in Quezon City. It’s dark and dingy but brimming with stuff. The proprietors have since moved, but it seems this whole area around Banawe isn’t just for engine parts but also for the broadest kind of Japan surplus, more of household stuff. But there’s a whole area in the Pier, near Intramuros in Manila, where Japan surplus refers to television sets, washing machines, air conditioners and all kinds of appliances. You can get a 28-inch flat TV for P6,000. Or find an old Betamax or VHS player.

The problem with the electronics is they all operate on 110 volts, although some of the vendors have found ways to retrofit them to 220.

I now find these Japan surplus stores all over. On weekends when I’m in Nuvali, it has become a treat to drive with the family into Tagaytay to unwind, and that will include dropping by two stores along the highway. When I had to move to my new place in UP Diliman, I went to one of the stores to get good Japanese clocks that chime every hour on the hour.

You never know what you’ll find here, the term “Japan surplus” becoming almost of a misnomer because you can end up with fine china from Britain, or a complete Lego set. Once in a tiny store, my youngest child came running to me, wanting to buy a tricycle. I was floored when I saw the trike: It was from a Danish company known for its Scandinavian design. I got it for P1,000 flat, and although that daughter is now mastering a bicycle, she still likes going back to that tricycle.

Zen bowls

In another store near Ortigas and Santolan, there’s a whole collection of ritual bowls, the kind used for Zen meditation. The store owner knows his stuff, and prices the bowls according to their resonance.

Do be aware that just as you can discover fine objects in these stores, you will also find a lot of kitsch, including stuff from China. One store owner, a Korean married to a Filipino, warned me about the cast iron teapots, saying many of them are no longer made in Japan but in China… and added a warning about possible lead content.

He, too, always has many stories, including very poignant ones. Once I was asking him about little clay figurines with bells. He told me that in Korea, women would buy these bells and ring them—a way to call out to the souls of sons who had gone to war in the early 1950s, and never returned.

I’ve realized that my own adventures in these stores mirror my own family life: a baby stroller, jigsaw puzzles with different levels of difficulty….

Sometimes, too, I pause and wonder why the stuff ended up here. This usually happens as I look through the old picture frames, many of which still have the photographs intact, of children, or beaming couples, once even a wedding photo. I wonder what emotions went with the frames as they were packed off.

But the stories, and chismis or gossip, can go as well with the other stuff. Often you’ll find things still packed in their original boxes—and the Japanese are known for these elaborate packages—totally unused. Others are worn out, meaning families have used them.

Were they disposed off because a household had become an empty nest? Or is it a widow, or widower, not wanting too many memories?

Who knows?  Someday, the Japan surplus in our homes will go on being recycled, through garage sales, and people will wonder, too, about our stories, and our lives.

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