Don’t forget Escolta
RIDING A jeep to Escolta for the second time in the week, I am once again bombarded by two things: one, the unforgiving heat of the sun which seems to bounce off the asphalt and into my face, and two, the fetid smell of the Pasig River which causes my nose to scrunch involuntarily in an act of self-defense. Looking closer at the water, I can see dead fish, big garbage bags, and even feces floating almost in stasis: the river at home in its natural state of decay.
But no matter. Escolta, from the Spanish word “escortar” which means “to escort,” was once the cultural and economic center of the Philippines. Its strategic position between other business districts like Binondo and Intramuros, as well as its location along the Pasig River, made its trade industry flourish. It became a place where the “in” crowd used to go, like BGC or Cubao X today, and was once the country’s “Queen of Streets.” But ever since it was bombed by US troops at the end of World War II, it never seemed to have recovered.
Getting off the jeep in front of the First United Building, which was once home to famous media personalities like Dolphy, Nora Aunor, and even Imelda Marcos, I am suddenly made aware of Manila’s pollution. Escolta is still one of the major streets in the city, and serves as a junction for countless jeeps and buses passing through, either headed to Manila City Hall or to Binondo-slash-Chinatown. In fact, I feel that “pollution” is too mild a word to accurately describe the phenomenon. “Smog” seems more appropriate, like the infamous Northeastern China Smog of 2013, as the exhaust from rusting jeeps often becomes so intense that it almost feels like a solid mass.
Try picturing “The Mist,” only in black and gray, and without the killer monsters.
I’m a resident of Quezon City and afflicted with severe asthma, so you would probably ask, “What THE HELL are you even doing over there?”
The reason is this: For the past couple of months, I’ve been doing volunteer work for the Escolta Revival Movement (ERM), an umbrella initiative of all the individuals and organizations who support Escolta. Its roster includes 98B COLLABoratory, an artist-run initiative space in Manila, as well as the Escolta Commercial Association Inc., which is made up of businessmen and entrepreneurs who call Escolta home.
The ERM aims to revitalize Escolta through public-awareness campaigns and community-centered programs, and it’s currently headed by my friend Lem Santiago, a former vice president of the Heritage Conservation Society-Youth, and a man with the resilience and the build of a grizzly bear, or its rough Filipino equivalent, the carabao.
The volunteer experience has been very rewarding so far, as almost every asthmatic cough is accompanied by a pleasant memory or an anecdote. Like the time when my mother told me that in her high school days she used to drop by Escolta to buy bread before heading to Binondo for hot noodles. According to her, there were also times when she’d use entire rolls of film taking pictures of the prewar buildings on her old Minolta. Today, though, I prefer the air-conditioned interior of Polland’s bakery and its delicious hopia; and instead of an old Minolta, I have a Canon 1200D with virtually infinite photo space.
The tourist, after getting used to the sh-t and smog on the street, gradually appreciates Escolta’s unique appeal. The buildings usually only seen in pictures shared on Facebook or Tumblr materialize before one’s very eyes. It’s like time travel, minus all that time-paradox blah-blah.
During my first few trips to Escolta, I was awed by the stunning beaux-arts style of the prewar period that is embodied in the El Hogar Filipino building. With its ornately-sculpted facade and the infamous love story of its owners, a Spanish conde and his wife, El Hogar is not lacking in romantic appeal or aesthetic value. Being one of the most popular Escolta landmarks, El Hogar is definitely a crowd favorite. However, recent events involving the owner and New Golden City Builders (NGCB) may play out negatively for the building, as Santiago says that it may even be demolished soon.
A few minutes away from El Hogar sits the Capitol Theater. Designed by Juan Nakpil, a National Artist for Architecture, the theater showcases the art deco style with its famed symmetry and geometrical approach. Sadly, the interior was destroyed by the bombings during the war, and it can no longer function as a movie theater. Vastly different styles, time periods apart, coexisting in harmony. Simply breathtaking.
But sadly, Escolta now exists only as a passing sentiment. People seem to have forgotten its relevance in our history, and by extension, our culture. The effort that the regular Filipino exerts toward preserving Escolta is mostly limited to liking photos of it and sharing these on Facebook. It’s a good thing that the ERM and a number of local establishments like 98B and Ecai continue to hold events to encourage walk-in traffic. For example, 98B holds a monthly bazaar called “Saturday Market x Future Market,” which features many independent artists, and gives them the ability to showcase their work and make a little money on the side. I’ve attended their shows more times than I can remember, and I’ve bought more stickers and pins than I can ever use.
Escolta is not only an architecture student’s wet dream, but a testament to Filipino brilliance. What we can do to preserve this tiny, yet by no means insignificant, part of our history includes joining tours organized by the community or raising awareness against figures like the NGCB, which aims to demolish heritage structures instead of promoting adaptive reuse.
A once-proud avenue in decay, comparable to historic streets of New York or Paris at its peak, Escolta beckons to visitors: Get past the sh-t and smog, and this becomes a day you will never regret.
Allan Yves Briones, 19, is a third year journalism student at the University of the Philippines Diliman.
