Marven’s First Novel, chapter #10

“Strolling to Divisoria”

Later, Aldo woke up to reality and realized that Michal somehow duped him, but not maliciously, of course, but instead good-naturedly. She was trying to appease him. That was what he remembers to be the whole point of her last talk with him. The proposition that she set before him was both happy and sad. She had a way with words. Obviously, she is not his girl. She can't be his. That is as far as he can remember it. She just dumped him officially, and he never saw her ever since. He has nothing. On the other hand, she vaguely made it appear that being with her is remotely——Let me emphasize the word remotely——possible although that is nothing to hold on to.
Aldo was pondering over this as he was approaching the waiting shade when he heard the faint and consistent sound of clacking hooves from his back becoming louder and distinguishable as that of a kalesa. He turned around and saw that it indeed was, and sitting alone on its left bench was none other than Sir Eugene. Aldo, still in his musing mode, stared blankly at the entire thing approaching until it stopped in front of him.
Oh, there you are. I didn't recognize you right away. Going home already? Sir Eugene greeted.
Yes, sir. Where have you been? At the pier?
Yes. Sir Eugene paid the cochero and then got off. Then turning to Aldo, he said, presenting with a gesture the cochero who has then removed the left upholstered bench and was then hauling some tools from underneath it, "If you need to get around, get Fortunato." Fortunato did the same thing to the other bench. As he was observing this, Sir Eugene has turned around and was now approaching the building. See you tomorrow, the man shouted. Aldo watched him until he re-entered the building.
Do you need a ride, sir? Fortunato said to Aldo with his back humped and head turned towards the latter as he was now set to go, holding the reins with both hands.
Aldo was a little surprised and thought for a second. Uh... Sure. Why not? Then he climbed the carriage from the back and sat on the left bench.
Fortunato whipped the horse and on the kalesa went. Where to, sir? he asked Aldo.
After groping for answers, Aldo gave the usual and expected one, at least as far as he knows, which is the food trip area somewhere around Calle Sacristia and Estero dela Reina. As someone who happened to be working in old Manila and spending most of his time there, maybe it's time for him to do what the foodies do.
Fortunato kept his course along the esplanade and then entered the tunnel under the Jones Bridge. Thus, in passing, Aldo watched the promenaders along the river and the estero as the horse galloped. Fortunato went this way so that he can pick up passengers from among them, and this is what happened. When they were about to turn left to Bangkero street, two girls coming out of the ferry boat loudly hailed him as they were ascending the quay in the station ferry there. Fortunato immediately halted his horse and waited for them until they got on and sat on the right bench facing Aldo. As they settled and saw him, they smiled between themselves, covering their mouths. Aldo, in turn, looked down and smiled and then turned his eyes towards Fortunato and his forward direction. The girls proceeded to chatting as the horse galloped. Then Aldo wondered. If these two are just going to the restaurant area, they could have just walked along the linear park, or esplanade, along Estero dela Reina and they will be there in a few minutes. Or if they prefer a boat ride, they can just transfer to the corner quay very near the ferry station at the mouth of Estero dela Reina going out into the Pasig River and there avail the services of the boatman or bangkero, waiting at the Santa Cruz side however. But then they said they were going to Divisoria. Oh, wait. They can also ride the boat going to Divisoria. But maybe they intend to go as far as Calle Azcarraga where the malls are. When Fortunato reached Aldo's destination, the latter asked him to stop, paid him, and got off. The two girls remained as the kalesa trotted on towards Divisoria.
Moments later, Aldo could be seen from the outside staring listlessly through the glass wall doing what he knows Lloyd hates: eating alone. On his table were plates full, glasses full, and saucers full; and he was munching on what he dug with spoon and fork like a true champion. He was feeling the moment and even perhaps exaggerating it.
Moments later, he was again out in the street, or out in the linear park or esplanade for that matter. The classic edifices that are lined up along Estero dela Reina, housing different businesses, have their facades facing the estero and are five meters away from it from the very tip of their protruding roofs so that the influx of pedestrians and the boat passengers can easily see them and get to them. If their other sides extends to the road at the back, this will then serve as their backdoor for deliveries, for example. The roads are for vehicles; the esplanades are for people; the esteros are for water transportation. The pedestrians consisted mainly of tourists because the area's function is mainly tourism: heritage-based and food tourism, that is. Nothing else. Old Manila is suited for no other kind of industry than this. One doesn't have to be a patriot or a rocket scientist to see that. So the place has to be always beautiful. There are also locals walking, some of whom, may be business owners, looking neat and clean in their house clothes, going about their business, running errands, or just strolling as well.
The edifices that are lined up along Estero dela Reina are of neoclassical or other similar styles. Some of them are ancient, dating back a hundred years ago, while most are newly constructed ones inspired by or exactly copied from the former. If not these, then the classic Filipino house, some wooden all throughout and some concrete at the base, called bahay na bato. Some are ancient but fully restored, and some are duplicated from the original by enterprising architects and carpenters. It is these edifices that house the business establishments there: general merchandise, specialty stores, clinics, travel agencies, company offices, but mostly restaurant and cafes, some of which, have al fresco dining by the estero. Along the esplanades on both sides are intermittent quays, onto which, boat passengers can disembark to go to the nearest shops they want to visit. The boats do to passengers on water what the kalesas do on land: take them to relatively short distances. Thus, Manila is once again serviced by bangkeros and cocheros, the former wearing kerchief and salakot and the latter wearing camisa and weaved hat.
The esplanades are interconnected to each other. For example, the one on the north side of Pasig River are connected in a series circuit to esteros de Binondo and dela Reina and the two to de Magdalena. Thus, an explorer can set a record for himself of walking around the river and the esteros for as long as his legs can carry him without pause and interruption and without even transferring to the other lane. And this is what Aldo partly did that afternoon.
Not only to each other, but these esplanades are also connected to the sidewalks of the roads which are enclosed by the same stylish steel fences as those in the Jones Bridge. Thus, a pedestrian can transfer from the estero to the street safely away from the movement of freaking cars because of the natural, or man-made, barrier. The sidewalks are wide enough because they are totally cleared of obstructions, and the establishments themselves take care not to take an inch of the space set aside for pedestrians. The businesses stay in their premises; the passersby stay in the sidewalks; the cars stay moving in the streets. On both sides of the streets, beside the sidewalks, are bike lanes partly enclosed which go the way their respective lanes go. They are not put together. Otherwise, the combined bike lanes would be wide enough for other vehicles to intrude. Right?
Despite the general narrowness of the streets in the area, those that are wide enough for two vehicles to fit in excluding the bike lanes are made two-way. And in the middle of those two-way streets are islands made of mounted concrete fence the same as those in the sidewalks to keep the vehicles from counterflowing. Since no human foot steps on the streets except that of the cartboys, the flow of traffic is generally smooth. But the sidewalks in their entire length are not totally enclosed. There are occasional openings opposite each fence and pedestrian lanes between them, meaning white stripes on the concrete. In these designated spots are where kalesas and freaking cars drop their passengers off so that the latter can walk down the awesome sidewalks to go about their business. The said vehicles then resume playing the road without any more fuss.
Aldo crossed one of those streets, which have the said features, through a contrivance of some sort. Maybe under the bridge or over the concrete or simply a pedestrian lane. I don't know yet. The point is that walking must always be accomplished uninterruptedly and crossing must be done seamlessly. Because bridges that cross the estero must be all arched to make room for water transportation, to give headroom for bangkeros standing up and even standard ferries to pass through. Aldo continued walking, passing through restaurants and shops, until he again had to cross another street through some contrivance as mentioned. The same scene was repeated as he continued walking until he reached Juan Luna where he saw tall jeepneys and kalesas following each other like flipping cards. Their movement is a little slow because the area is busy. Again he crossed this street through the contrivance mentioned.
He is now in Divisoria. Here, the atmosphere became market-like but the area still looked nice because the style of the esplanade remained constantly the same: classic and classy. He looked to his right and saw an approaching boat with passengers. It went straight towards the corner of Estero de Binondo and stopped at the quay there. Here it docked. The passengers carefully stepped out of the boat one by one, stepped on the steps of the quay and then ascended it, and proceeded walking down the streets of Divisoria to go about their business. After witnessing these scenes, Aldo turned straight left, still managing not to stray from the esplanade which is now along Estero de Binondo. Here, there is now an additional feature of a two-way street plied by any allowed vehicles except tall jeepneys because it is not a national road but a touristy road. The movement of these vehicles is continuous. Here, the scenes along Estero dela Reina are repeated and even enhanced because the area is wider. Since there is now a two-way street, the pedestrian walkway became slimmer and enclosed by a stylish fence. Or maybe this road and the other one on the other side could just be fully pedestrianized up to Dasmariñas street. Here, Aldo kept walking until he reached the arched Lavezares bridge. He crossed it through the same contrivance as mentioned. The very-narrow Calle Estraude is at his left. Again, the entire alley, including its twin on the other side of the estero, whose end he could not yet see because it is quite long, was filled with restaurants and cafes and other sorts of establishments housed in either neoclassical buildings or bahay na bato. It is classic vibe all around. Boats sailing on the estero wide enough to be called a river are coming his way. Some of them may be off to Estero de Vitas in Tondo and ultimately out into the Manila Bay, but that is too much dreaming for now.
Aldo kept walking until he reached San Fernando bridge. This one is a little bit more stylish than the rest since it a prominent historical bridge and is the center bridge along Estero de Binondo and happens to face the centerpiece of the district: the Binondo Church or Minor Basilica of San Lorenzo Ruiz plus the Plaza San Lorenzo Ruiz or Binondo Plaza. He looked up to his left and saw a sign which says Panciteria Macanista de Buen Gusto, which is an exact replica of what stood aloft there more a hundred years ago, letterings and all. He crossed the bridge through the contrivance afforded by the esplanade and continued walking along it. This time, he became pensive and tried to locate the possible spot in the river where Crisostomo Ibarra said his final goodbyes to Maria Clara and where, 13 years later, Isagani threw Simoun's lamp and himself after it. Because it happened in the same house, Capitan Tiago's house. He wondered where exactly the latter could have stood because it faced Calle Anloague or Juan Luna and its back terrace or azotea overlooked Estero de Binondo. The warehouses of products coming from the ships and are sold in Divisoria are at least a block away into the inside streets to his right because the entire alley is dedicated to tourism and culture. When he neared the arched Dasmariñas bridge, he already felt his feet hurting; so he stopped and sat on a bench amongst flowering plants and rested his legs which he wished was the only part of him that ached. He relaxed, looked over the estero, surveyed the classical surrounding in the entire alley on the side he was facing, and let and felt perspiration soak his shirt until he cooled down and rested his feet enough.
Then he looked back and saw some sort of commotion yonder at an open field in Plaza San Gabriel or Plaza Cervantes. There was a fair there, and the place was brilliantly lit although it was still afternoon. Therefore, when he felt he had enough musing, he stood up and went there.
He stepped inside the field and saw games and rides. He walked around and surveyed each spot. After that, he left. He went out of the plaza, crossed Calle Rosario, and entered Escolta.
The latter was brick-paved and enclosed by bollards and chains on this and yonder ends. Only human feet sets foot on these grounds. Okay? This is where tourism in the area is at its grandest because this is where the concentration of old buildings are, whose designs are peculiar to each. No smart parking rack are put up here because this street is supposed to be exclusively touristy. Right? They belong to the inner blocks. Let's face it: Old but grander buildings didn't have provisions for parking. Because it was kalesa back then. Yet those edifices needed to be replicated to keep up with the character of the district and surrounding districts. Hence the need, along less-important streets, of the abundance of smart-parking racks: ergonomic, minimalist, yet as durable as the bulky and messy overuse of concrete. This way, the narrow streets of old Manila would be cleared of such terrible eyesores as inert cars, motorcycles, etc. The already-narrow streets are, for Pete's sake, for moving vehicles only, and it is never an excuse to say that it was currently vacant. No. Dude brings a car; dude makes sure it is properly parked though it be a little distance away from where he's going to. He can walk. Just a suggestion. If it happens that all racks are full because such accomodation would surely encourage the surge of freaking cars, dude who brings car just has to go home and cancel his appointment, errand, or trip. It turns out, old Manila is best enjoyed by commuters, bikers, and walkathoners. People just like me. Sorry. And Aldo, too. We're different individuals.
Aldo covered the entire length of Escolta until the end of its pedestrianization at Bangkero street where he came from. Here, he already went right and went out into the esplanade on the Muelle del Banco Nacional side. He ascended it and approached the outdoor tables of the MMDA where the ferry station is at. It's because Aldo already set it in his mind, while still strolling around, to go home this way, following the example of the two girls he saw earlier, out there by the serene ancient highway which is the Pasig, finally trying it. Besides, Michal has put fate out in the equation. Despite knowing that the crossing of their paths that night might have been bound to happen, she dismissed it as nothing. So he better stay away from her forever because who knows whether he might show up again at night. Yet somehow, he wants to stubbornly cling and trust in her word and believe that her reasons were valid and good. She is the nicest person he has ever met. Maybe that remote possibility is still attainable. To be with her would be the best thing that can ever happen to him in his life, above anything else. But to cling is to be clingy, if not cringy.
After registering and securing a ticket or stub, Aldo walked away from the tables since no boat was still present. He approached a food stall and bought a large glass of cold drink because he already became thirsty from all that walking. He consumed the drink quickly. He whiled the wait by walking to and fro down the esplanade and resting his arms on the balustrade and looking over the river. Then a boat finally arrived. He descended the quay and joined his fellow passengers in flocking to and boarding the “water bus”, as it is called because it looks exactly like a bus inside, as each of them showed or tore away and submit the other half of their tickets or stubs to the staff.
The sun was already about to set, and it was already dusk when the ferry sailed away from Binondo; and by the time it arrived in Guadalupe, it was already night; and there, it almost got emptied. The boat continued until it reached the end of Pasig River at a historical islet known in the ancient times as Malapad-na-Bato. Hundreds of years ago, that site called up legends. Nowadays it is nothing but bland and serves a more-practical purpose for the metropolis. The appearance of this rock signals the resumption of the waterway as now the Napindan River. The boat stopped at San Joaquin station and unloaded many passengers there. Then the boat resumed and stopped again at Kalawaan station and unloaded a lot more passengers there. With about a quarter of them remaining, the ferry pressed on in its last stretch towards the Pinagbuhatan station.
It was totally the primetime hour when the ferry arrived there, its last station. The neighborhood in the background was already in its nighttime mode, and its household and street lights largely illuminated the area especially the parts that the vast pitch-black wilderness almost ate up. Good thing there are lights too coming from the top of electricity posts in the street along Napindan River, while the ferry station itself was brightly illuminated inside. The passengers who emptied the boat scattered towards where their homes were. Some were just near. Others, including Aldo, took the street by the river to afterwards make a descent into the country road by the melon fields. Aldo followed the men who knew very well the way towards it. When they found it, they descended into this road of clay paved by human feet and, occasionally, by vehicles too, meaning the country road was as wide as a typical road. During that hour, the melon fields were totally pitch black and not visible except a small portion which is adjacent to the road, the latter being also illuminated by the yellow lamps atop electricity posts. The fields were fenced by straw threads held by stakes fastened on the ground. Aldo knew this was going to be a long walk; and it was, as he found out, and he perspired. In the end, he and the men before him reached a short concrete bridge that had a ramp of sloping soil leading to it. This they took and crossed the creek with, and then they got to the other side which is already their neighborhood, with all that household and street lights and noise greeting them. Aldo was pleased to know that some of his neighbors are indeed taking the ferry on their way home. He thought it was freaking awesome. These men went straight ahead towards their sub-area, while he turned right in this sub-area and took the secondary main road. After taking a hundred steps more, he turned left and entered their street. A few dozen steps more, he was finally home. He came in and looked at the wall clock and saw that it was already an hour between seven and eight.

tentatively titled, The Simple Adventures of a Simple Simpleton
by: Marven T. Baldo