#no-one told me off for having Zark walking with me

[zorua-traimer]

Thank Arceus he's back in stock!!

I remembered this one meme(?) And when I told Zark abt it, he wanted to do it !!

Btw the water from the closest store is mostly sold out... but at least we have eggs now !!

[ongpinned-blog]

One Way in Ongpin

by Jean Andrew T. Bongcayao 

“Binondo”, said my teacher. Binondo Manila will be the subject of our travelogue. At first, I was a bit skeptical, especially since I’ve never really been a person fond of Manila and its many districts. Not to mention, most of my experiencing travelling in Manila was limited to my adventures around Taft and Divisoria Market. Aside from those two, I haven’t really been many other places.

Because of safety concerns most of my classmates decided it would be for the best if we all went and experienced Binondo as a group, since there was only ever really one person who knew how to get there among us. So there, it was planned that on Wednesday March 6 we’d be heading out before lunch.

The day of the Binondo trip came and it was as an ordinary of a day as it could possibly be. So ordinary, that like my typical self, I had overslept again, and I was rushing to get out of the house and onto the bus. I avoided checking my watch so that I wouldn’t overthink the predicament I had put myself in. I pretended like it was any other commute to school, but it was only this time that I’d have a party of angry classmates ready to greet me before the trip could even begin. After a full listen through of an Arctic Monkeys album, it was around 12 noon when I finally stepped foot into Taft Avenue.

At the Henry Sy gate right across Zark’s burgers, there was the travelling party headed for Binondo. Well maybe half the party. it turns out it would mostly be boys joining us for the trip. While there would be around four of our female blockmates who would apparently only tag along for the trip since they just wanted to tag along with the person who actually knew how to get there. After apologizing, like that was going to change my tardiness, we all crossed the street to get on one of the jeepneys passing along. Luckily, we were able to find a jeep that had Divisoria in capital letters written on the signboard that was able to fit all nine of us. For the first few minutes it was a matter of us figuring out how much we were supposed to pay. It was hilarious because we all kept looking at each other with obviously confused faces. When all of a sudden, Adrian, the person we’d appointed as our tour guide, approached the driver with twelve pesos in hand. The next thing I knew we were all rummaging our purses and pockets for the same amount.

The jeep ride to Binondo wasn’t a pleasant one, it was scorching hot even with the jeepney’s roof above our heads, and rush hour was at its peak. If only I had arrived an hour earlier, we wouldn’t be in such a hot mess. I remember looking outside and seeing Manila for what it really was, tight streets, busy sidewalks, and a lot of corners that honestly look like they’ve been under construction for the last decade. I started questioning how Binondo could possibly be different than any other place in Manila. Then I remembered how it was a place often associated with Chinese history. Knowledge exclusive from movies and stories that would often always have some reference to Binondo. Aside from those presumptions, there was also the bad mouth my family would always se when referring to places like Binondo, or really any place in Manila for that matter. “Wag ka magcellphone pati wag ka poporma.” They would always say. It made me think that the moment I stepped out of the jeep everything, including my dignity, would be snatched away.

As we moved past the National Post Office, we were crossing a bridge that went over the waters of the Pasig River. I was half expecting to arrive in a completely different environment, like when reaching a new level in a game. I was hoping that something would be different on the other side of the riverbank we had just left, but to nobody’s surprise it was the same old dirty overpopulated streets there too.

A couple stoplights afterwards, the jeepney came to a halt and the driver yelled “Binondo!”. We all went down and cowered to the nearest bit of shade, because it was an extremely sunny day. With the street full and busy with cars we were trying to determine where we were while using our hands like brims for caps to protect our watering eyes. Then I saw it, beside a towering church that swathed in earthy colors was a street glowing in red and gold. Ongpin St looked like it had never belonged there in the first place. While the way going to the square was full of smoke and traffic, Ongpin St itself had far less cars and a more vibrant feel with all the different stores and banners that flocked your attention.

The view was like looking through a movie screen. Like an entire culture had just been left behind in the most random ‘eskenita’ of Metro Manila. While the street leading to Ongpin was searing hot with the blazing wrath of the sun, Ongpin itself was cool and welcoming. It was probably because of the blessed shade from the tall buildings that surrounded the street. You could feel an unfamiliar breeze that made you forget that you were in the heart of Metro Manila.

We had no itinerary for the trip, but before anything could be planned out, the girls in our travelling party apparently had other plans, so they decided to ditch us. Since we were a party of men, as the saying goes the rest of the trip would follow a “bahala na” mindset.

Once we passed the church, we were greeted by the flock of Chinese bystanders that typically linger in the area. I remember paying mindless attention to the tall buildings when all of a sudden, I accidentally bumped into two Chinese women walking in the opposite direction. I immediately apologized, but one of them just said “watch where you’re going” and they walked off. I was scratching my head at the incident because I was nowhere near the middle of the sidewalk and it seemed impossible for them to have hit me with all the space between us.

As a group we eventually decided to just walk the entire street of Ongpin, and see what it had to offer. We had no plans, no objectives, we just wanted to see what it was all about. But hilariously enough our first stop was at a 7-eleven because one person in our group needed to buy a drink.

Right after that we headed straight across another bridge that want over some dirty canal. Something I realized while walking deeper into Ongpin was how the road was getting denser and denser. There were more vendors surrounding each side and the foot traffic along the sidewalk was getting worse. But what seemed to never disappear was the array of various shops that lined the street. An abundance of those shops were jewelry and charm boutiques that glittered with red and gold signboards and displays. I vividly remember one shop making me stop in my tracks because of how busy the store clerks were as they attended to people buying gold. I thought that maybe one day I would have the pockets to enter such establishments. Meanwhile, there were other stores that gave off a bad vibe, one of these was an old looking building that had “Special drugs and items” written across the front. It looked empty but it was open for business, but my curiosity wasn’t enough to entice me to imagine what was inside.

After a few more meters of walking we remembered that a certain blockmate of ours always bragged about a restaurant they had here in Ongpin, and after a quick chat and search on google maps we continued down the winding road. It didn’t seem to have an end.

After a good ten minutes of walking we arrived at our destination. To be blunt, none of us were actually hungry, but after seeing the bold “KIM HIONG” at the front of an old grim looking building, withering away next to ruins of other buildings, we completely lost our will to even enter.

Again, with the “bahala na” mentality, we decided to walk back since we were a good 2 kilometers away from the church we came from. On the way back I finally decided to approach one of the street vendors, who was selling rings and charms. I really wanted another ring for my collection, but unfortunately nothing the vendor had fit my fat fingers. Now that it was peak afternoon the sun had found a way to shine, even more obnoxiously, down on the streets of Chinatown and we were all starting to sweat and feel our clothes stick to our skins. We decided it was for the best to find somewhere cool to relax. Our tour guide friend decided it’d be best to go to Chinatown Mall. Since all I really cared about was getting out of the heat, I agreed. Fast forward to another fifteen minutes of walking we were back to where we started. After crossing the road to the other side of the busy square we found ourselves in the front of Chinatown Mall. Like little kids we ran up the steps to the entrance and gave satisfied sighs of relief once the cold breeze hit our faces, like a welcoming breeze that told us we were in society.

It was safe to say that we brought ourselves back to the culture we were used to. Ongpin St was great at first, but eventually it did start to feel like Metro Manila. In the end, we all decided to eat at Mang Inasal, the best place we knew for barbeque chicken and unli rice.