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cnfhumss12a-blog · 5 years

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Down the Rabbit Hole

By Tamara Cloa

Down the rabbit hole, Alice fell into Wonderland - a surreal land full of the peculiar and the unexplored.

I was feeling a bit tired from all the requirements I had to do and the preparations I had to make for my organization’s concert. I almost dozed off in an air-conditioned SUV over the chatter of my friends as my white noise. We were on our way to Binondo - a part of Manila that upto that day still foreign to me. All I heard is that everyone who lives there is Chinese. The good thing though was that I went with my friends - Dana, Keegan, Trisha, Lianne, and Emiliane. And the best part? Trisha’s mom - whom I call “Tita” - offered to be the White Rabbit to our Alice. Otherwise, we would have taken the LRT - which could’ve brought us there earlier by a few minutes. The downside was that taking the LRT did not give the luxury of privacy and convenience as compared to a private car.

I snapped from my daze as I felt the SUV come to a halt. I checked my surroundings to find a BDO Teller Machine, a street sign that said “Paredes”, and an alleyway. Tita said that she wanted us to try a local favourite: Quik Snack. It was at the middle point of the alleyway called Carvajal. This alleyway became the rabbit hole we fell into. Its sides are lined with carts that had towers of fruits like oranges, apples, dragon fruit, watermelons - you name it. Sometimes, there would be a Chinese drug store or two popping up between the fruit carriages. I held on to my belongings. My parents told me that Binondo is a sketchy place full of sketchy characters. Especially at this point, I didn’t want to lose my phone - considering that my mom accidentally paid for my bill ‘til October.

The White Rabbit led us to a cavern of delicious, affordable, and authentic Chinese delicacies - Quik-Snack. We were not met by a birthday tea party where the Mad Hatter and Hare were in attendance. Instead, we were welcomed by a local eatery filled with local diners: women wearing pearls sipping on iced coffee with coffee jelly and ice cream on top; police in uniform awaiting their ordered lunch; elderly men enjoying their solitude with a newspaper at hand, and families sharing a delicious meal together. The aroma of freshly steamed buns and the distinct peanut smell of sate sauce lend a comforting feel to an otherwise hectic ambiance. After a few minutes, I was served a hot plate of mami noodles with beef and sate sauce along with a glass of iced coffee. Soon after, more dishes such as oyster cake, soup noodles, and meat buns followed. I’d say the food was reasonably priced; most of the menu items were priced below 200 pesos.

The amazing food did not distract me from the bits of history that ordained Quik-Snack’s interior. Old Chinese comics and rough sketches filled the posts, while a mural of the establishment’s past decked the walls. The charm that this restaurant has and the warmth it exudes makes one big on Chinese food. I felt like I was back in time - maybe around the 1940s. Filipinos and Chinese people in their Americanos and the like would share the home-like space Quik-Snack had. Probably.

We stepped outside their door and ended up on Ongpin Street.

We felt small compared to the buildings that surrounded us. The hustling and bustling of vehicles and the people did not help at all. The small tend to look up. There was a noticeable contrast between the the style of the then-new metropolitan to the latest high-rise condominiums. Black and white like the opposing sides of a game of chess. Yet unlike chess, there was the presence of a gray area that helps tie both sides together. The traditional-yet-modern feel that the lanterns give to its surrounding area was stunning. It helped remind one that this is Chinatown, and in Chinatown, there are a lot of Chinese drug stores. I’m not entirely sure what to feel about these traditional types of medication, but I guess that’s because I’ve never seen one up close.

One particular store caught my eye. It had a grand facade without even comparing it to the other Chinese pharmas. The outside was reminiscent of either a temple or a traditional royal building. Being someone who never been at a Chinese drug store before, we decided to take a little sneak peek at some of their wares. It was as if we were in the presence of a caterpillar riddler that smokes. There were trays of ingredients that we could not recognize. That was how exotic - or possibly illegal - the herbs/goods were. My parents weren’t joking when they said that Binondo has some sketchy characters. We stayed there long enough to figure out their system. Once a customer tells them of their illness, they crush and mix ingredients into an powder for consumption. Maybe they could put “DRINK ME” or “EAT ME” labels on them.

While talking to the lady-pharmacist, we found out that this was actually a family-run business. She said that they’ve been putting up the shop since the year 1938. During those 81 years of being in business, you’d think that people might have forgotten all about them - considering the presence of modern medicine- yet they haven’t. They still have a steady stream of customers coming to them. Talking to the people there helped to bring the feel of the store back down to earth, but there was still this uneasiness I was feeling just being in there. Was it the smell? Maybe. Did some powder get into the air and messed with my brain? No, hopefully.

We went off to continue our venture, leaving the putrid scent of the store behind.

A block away, we reached a street that was lined with traditional shops. Most had lovely red lanterns hanging outside their storefronts. One shop had endless rows and columns of shelves filled with jars of Chinese treats - none of which I’m familiar with. Tita bought each of us a jar with a label that was in Chinese. It looked like sweet tamarind, but I can’t be too sure. I think my mom bought something similar from Taiwan during one of her trips. I didn’t like the candied-somethings she brought, but I guess I’m willing to give whatever-this-is a try.

Across the street, there was a store that was too cramped for its own good. The goods being sold seemed random too: thick blankets, tea sets, incense, and more. Tita saw the confusion on my face and said, “This is a traditional Chinese wedding shop. I bought my wedding materials here”. I had too many questions in the my head: why do traditional Chinese weddings need these? What do they symbolize? How long has this shop been here? Tita was looking for something, so I had to asked Google instead. Even Google couldn’t fully grasp what they meant.

Around the corner, I noticed a white-walled store that didn’t seem to belong. On its shelves weren’t exotic ingredients, but bottles of medicine from some of the biggest pharmaceutical companies. It was just like any other pharmacy I could find outside of Binondo, but this shows that while tradition is important for the Chinese, they are willing to see things in a modern context. I felt more at ease after seeing this. Maybe not all of the things I hear about Binondo are true. Maybe I could grow to love it.

Beside the pharmacy, there was a shop that sold symbols of luck, fortune, and the like. They had different types of precious stones, statues, and even gourds. When asked, the saleslady explained that the vegetable was used as a charm to keep diseases away. This is one of the things I’ve always wondered about Chinese culture. Why do they rely on stones and charms to help them? I wonder where they got their beliefs from. I could ask Trisha or the saleslady, but that would seem extremely rude. I rather keep those kinds of questions to myself.

We walked a bit more to a bakery along Salazar Street. The place was filled with stacks of siopao, cuapao, hopia, tikoy, bread and other Chinese delicacies. The best part? They made them in-house, which made them special. The smell of freshly-baked goods wafted the air. If they’re trying to get me to buy something using smell, it was working. Being the Filipino, I bought my dad some ube-filled hopia which is his favourite. I got it for around 80 pesos. And as with most Filipino adventures, buying pasalubong signified the end of our journey.

I sat in the rather empty LRT carriage in a daze - as if waking from a dream. Being in Binondo, I kind of forgot that I was still in Manila. I found things I’ve never seen, heard, or known of. Ironically, I was a tourist in my own country. At first, I felt scared and out of touch with Binondo’s ambiance. Maybe one day, I could gather up the courage to gothere alone and explore more what Binondo had to offer, waking from my dream of rumours and growing up to delve deeper - just like Alice. Gallery: https://cnfhumss12a.tumblr.com/tagged/Tamara

#english #Tamara

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