Tuesday, 19 August 2014
“Liya,
Basta, Hopia!”
I
laughed as I closed the house door, my mother’s words seeing me out. She'd threatened to charge me for the gas I was spending to complete this school activity, unless I brought her back what she wanted. I figured the hopia was much less expensive than gasoline. I was
headed to Binondo- a place I have always wanted to go to, but never found the
perfect time or reason to. I’d been to President’s a couple of times before but
every single time I was there, it was late night, and there was little to see
and explore. I wanted to make sure today would be different. Heck, I was
excited for the experience. I must sound absolutely petty.
I rode silently
as we cruised Commonwealth at an unprecedented speed. I’m too terrified to tell
my driver to slow down, so I reach into my backpack to fish out my iPod and
earphones to replace 98.7’s drawl of songs like “Got to Believe in Magic”. I
decided that my mood matched my outfit, and I hit shuffle on my “Wicked”
playlist. I was dressed in my favorite “Defy Gravity” Tee, denim shorts and
sneakers- a rarity for me because I hate it when they get untied. Somehow, I
knew I was in for a long adventure when I was getting ready for today, and I
wanted to get comfortable.
I
send a text message at 1:05 to the guy that first came into mind when I thought of Binondo. Kelbert was a full-blooded Chinese friend who I knew had grown up in the area. “Kelbert! I’m on my way!”, before I settle to
watch other cars we zoomed past in the empty roads of Quezon City. It was a
holiday after all. We were met surprisingly by very little traffic as we drove
from to Quezon Avenue- only a short halt by the Araneta underpass because they
were painting the structure’s insides white. There were so many of them
working- 3 of them on top of underpass, a few more down below. There were also
three more working on a different section of the underpass in hopes to expedite
the process. We breezed through Quezon Ave until we neared the UST grounds. Our
driver asks where we should stop and wait and I realize I hadn’t set a very
definite meeting place with Kelbert. We parked right underneath the footbridge,
and I sent another text Kelbert’s way to inform him of where we were. It was
1:25. It’s only then that I realize I hadn’t ever set foot on the UST campus,
and the striking beauty of its structures from the outside catch my eye. I see
that there are students, and I wonder first why they are around until I realize
I’m not in Quezon City anymore. They shuffled at a pretty quick pace inside
campus and it makes me wonder if we look the same way in UP when outsiders see
us. I look at my phone to check the time. 1:30.
I
realize it’s the perfect opportunity to make use of my cellular data and check
out some information about the Toho Food Center. I hit the Chrome app on my
phone and search away. I find pretty interesting facts about Toho online, including
the fact that one of their regular patrons was none other than Jose Rizal
himself. The research finds me even more excited to get going, and a whole lot
impatient that Kelbert isn’t there yet. But he had offered to show me around
Binondo, and knowing how absolutely horrible I was with directions, I was
thankful for the proffered company. It would be interesting too, I thought, to
be shown around Binondo by someone who had grown up there.
1:39,
I receive a text message. “Malapit na. Sorry.” My excitement triples, if it was
at all even possible. I’m tapping away on my cellphone without doing anything
absolutely necessary- it was just my way of coping with my own impatience. It’s
my driver who notices when Kelbert arrives and I practically leap up just to
open the door.
1:44.
The pleasantries are over. We’re driving towards Binondo now, and Kelbert is
giving my driver instructions about where to pass to avoid traffic. I realize
what a Godsend he was- My driver had admitted that he wasn’t very familiar with
Manila. There’s some traffic to be dealt with, and like Kelbert had previously
warned, Jeepney Drivers in Manila are the worst. Like a welcome party, they
prove to be so. Right as we turn a corner before that extremely Chinese
archway, a jeepney cuts us, and then stops in the middle of the road to drop
off a passenger. My driver honks the car horn and I clap my hands- a habit I
got from my dad.
The
streets are Narrow, and the old buildings that always make me feel so
adventurous in Manila are so close together they almost feel claustrophobic.
The streets are the parking areas as well- there are cars parked on both sides
of the road, as if it wasn’t already too narrow to begin with.
We
turn the corner of T. Pinpin- a different street name from what Kelbert had
given me when I initially asked about Toho- and Kelbert immediately shows me
the Toho signage. It isn’t anything grand- just one of those light-up signs
that read The New Toho Food Center in Green. I realize soon after that there is
a bigger orange sign above the establishment that wasn’t too visible from our
previous vantage point. Both signs seem both beaten and worse for wear, but it
was simply a sign of how old Toho truly was. For a second, Kelbert thinks
there’s no electricity because it’s so dark. Kelbert warned me to lower my
expectations because the place wasn’t so great when he was last there, though
he admitted it had been quite a while since he had been there. I laughed, only
because I’ve learned through experience that usually, the most worn down places
have the best food.
We
ask to be dropped off right there, and I simply ask the driver to find a
parking spot even if he’s incessantly complaining that it’s going to be
difficult. I wasn’t going to let that damper my mood. Right then, I was focused
on what I needed to do. Kelbert and I headed inside.
There
wasn’t a door to enter. Toho Food Center was just open and I took another look
at the signage and saw that it had been open since 1888. I asked the waiter why
it’s suddenly called “The New Toho Food Center” if it’s been around since 1888.
Apparently, this wasn’t the original establishment- the old Toho Panciteria
Antigua that Rizal had presumably eaten in had burned down in 1984 and had been
rebuilt, when it had been renamed into the “New” Toho Food Center. It was
painted purple, reminiscent of the color I’d requested to paint my bedroom. The
paint, maybe from age and the fact that the food center was an open
establishment, was weathered. It had large chunks of paint missing in certain
sections near the high white ceiling. Kelbert had wanted to go up to the
air-conditioned section of Toho but since we were the only customers, it wasn’t
open.
The
same waiter I had asked about Toho sat us down, grabbed 2 menus and attempted
to simply walk away. I saw his intent to leave, and quickly asked what he had
to recommend. He seemed oddly surprised but quickly answered me with a million
recommendations. I decided to get the first thing he had mentioned- the Pork
Asado, and asked which Rice would go well with it. He recommended the Crab
Fried Rice, and once Kelbert had made sure we both weren’t allergic to crab,
we’d decided to get that too.
While
waiting for the food, Kelbert told me something extremely interesting. He’d
told me that their family once owned a meat business and that before they shut
down, they used to supply Toho. That was the reason he’d been very familiar
with Toho in the first place. I asked him what he knew about Toho. He told me
it was owned by the descendants of one of the founders of the place- the name
had escaped him, but through further research, I hear his name was Tai Tang.
The
food arrived in 15 minutes. The Pork Asado was served first in what looked to
me like a slightly smaller version of the usual Rodic’s Tapsilog fare, and was
followed by a heaping serving of rice on a bowl that was around 5 inches in
diameter. There was no grandiose presentation here, but I recall that it is
quite rare to find Chinese restaurants that actually bother about presentation.
Just a few days ago, our extended family had celebrated some special events in
Spring Deer in Timog, and none of the servings were presented with much effort.
The
aroma, however, was incredibly mouthwatering. The aroma of the crab and the
tangy sauce that came with the Pork Asado was enough to make Kelbert and I feel
hungry, even if we’d admittedly had our fair share of lunch. The Pork Asado was
so tender and thinly cut that it literally melted into your mouth and made you
want to have more. And thank heavens, the Fried Rice was perfect- I’ve always
loved Fried Rice, but hate it when the rice came out starchy and soft or too
hard because it was overcooked. The rice was neither. The saltiness was a
perfect contrast to the Asado’s sweetness, thanks to the tangy sauce that came
with it. Kelbert and I, in the middle of conversations about school and about
his growing up in Binondo, did not fail to pay our compliments towards Toho’s
delicious food. Kelbert said he still loved eating food in Toho, even if his
parents used to buy food from the place when he was younger. The taste, he
said, never did change. It makes me wonder, considering that the restaurant is
owned by descendants of one of the founders, if this is the food that Rizal,
too, enjoyed. Frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised. So this was the good food that
Binondo was famous for.
There
was a point that I was quite thankful that the air-conditioned area of Toho was
closed. It allowed me to hear so many things, even beyond the conversations I
had with Kelbert. I heard bicycles whiz by, and the familiar click-clack of the
kalesas that passed the cement streets of Binondo. I love that sound- it is so
distinctly Manila- I’d spent a good amount of time in Intramuros and it is the
same sound on its cobbled streets that make the place seem like a page out of
my history book. T. Pinpin, unlike much of Binondo that Kelbert and I agreed to
traverse on foot after eating at Toho, was not a very busy street. Cars were
parked in every square inch of that street, but there was barely any traffic.
There
came a point where both Kelbert and I only picked on our food- we were both
extremely full, albeit satisfied with our meal. I’d relayed to him the second
thing I needed to do that day- find my mother some good Hopia. Mom’s family
knew the ins and outs of Binondo for some reason- my grandfather apparently
loved to go there when they were children. Mom had specifically told me, before
that hilarious reminder to buy her hopia before I left the house that she
specifically wanted hopia from Holand,
Polland or Eng Bee Tin. I paid for our meal, and I’m surprised at the Php350
price tag on everything we had ordered. That much to feed two people and a
take-home bag was definitely worth the money. I made a mental note to come back
to Toho should I return to Binondo anytime in the future.
Kelbert
and I walked to the spot where our driver had parked. It was a short distance
only from Toho, but it allowed Kelbert to notice the street sign. He was oddly
surprised that it was now called T. Pinpin. He remembered that it used to be
called Florentino Torres. I realized Toho would not be difficult to find in the
street- it was the only restaurant in the row of furniture stores. The stores
reminded me of what our current house contained when we had seen it before we
moved in. The previous owner of our house had been Chinese, and well, she
hadn’t been very sparing with the extremely ornate and intricate furniture. I
always thought that all that furniture made a room glow orange, but I realized
then that it was probably just because they seemed to have a liking for yellow
light. Most of the Chinese furniture stores that we passed were lit that way.
The
skies had dimmed a huge amount by the time we got to the car again. We decided
to go further into Binondo to find my mother’s hopia- Both Kelbert and I had
decided we wanted to buy her Holand hopia, because the Eng Bee Tin was just too
starchy and flaky. He’d made a comment that it was probably because Eng Bee Tin
hopia was now being mass produced, so it tasted less fresh than the two other
brands. I had to agree. I had always liked Holand hopia more.
Both
Kelbert and I stole a look at the car’s watch- it was 3:22 pm, and while we’d
attempted to move much closer to Ongpin street, Binondo became much more
difficult to navigate by car than it would have been on foot. There were
endless one way street signs and we decided that we’d just find a parking spot
and go around on foot. It sounds simple, but finding parking in Binondo was
like finding a needle in the haystack. I wanted to go home and hug mom for
allowing me to bring the driver with me. I wonder how much time we would have
spent just looking for parking if I’d taken the drive alone. We take a look at
the clock again- 3:28. And then we realize the oddest thing- the street lights
are on at this hour? Our driver had made a comment how it was probably going to
flood in Manila just looking at the storm clouds. The rain hadn’t poured just
yet, but we knew it was imminent. For some odd reason, Kelbert and I didn’t
feel like giving up on the hopia hunt despite the huge storm cloud that hung
over us. It was so dark, if we hadn’t looked at the clock, I would actually
think it was around 6 in the evening.
The
rain was starting to make its presence felt when we finally found a parking
space. Kelbert and I, armed with our umbrellas would brave the storm that came.
The rain pounded on the tin rooftops of the little shops we passed by, and the
walk towards Ongpin which we had thought would be quite uneventful turned into
an adventure in itself. We’d stopped for a while in one of the shops 2 blocks
down from where we had come from when the rain started to become accompanied by
a thunderstorm. I found it quite bizarre. It was clearly a tailoring shop- it
had clothes and textiles on display, but it smelled quite odd- a little like
the Efficascent oil that my gradeschool clinic would give me for a headache
back in the day. Kelbert knew the owner- they used to have his school slacks
made there, apparently. He also said that the tailoring shop, too, was a
Chinese drugstore, hence the smell.
We
continued to walk through Binondo when the lightning and thunder stopped. The
rain still kept pouring in dredges and Kelbert and I were both soaking wet. We
passed a lot of different shops- hardware stores, food establishments, Chinese
apothecaries and supermarkets. Every single shop had a different scent- one
could smell of incense, and the next, of Chinese herbal medicine. I remember wanting to stop at one place just
because it was so warm and smelled of Chinese noodle soup which would be a huge
comfort in the weather we were walking in, but I walked on.
It
became increasingly difficult for Kelbert and I to trek the streets of Binondo
as wet as we were. The rain seemed to only get stronger, so once we hit Ongpin-
the only street I was familiar with in Binondo- we stayed in one of the small
supermarket type establishments to let the rain ease a bit. The place was warm
and cozy, thankfully. Kelbert had told me that certain establishment sealed
everything they had because they had a domesticated cat roaming inside. We met
the adorable cat as we attempted to dry ourselves off. The shop smelled of the
Chinese candies mom used to buy me when I was a child- the champoy, and the
sweet and salty sampaloc, but it held so many odd ends. We saw cinnamon bark
and Korean seaweed, even palm sugar, being sold at the store. I headed off to
their little dark bathroom, spent some cuddle time with their domesticated cat, then soon after, braved the storm again.
The
rain didn’t seem like it was going to let up anytime soon, and figuring we were
dry enough to keep going, we took our umbrellas again and kept walking. We were
near, Kelbert kept repeating, so we weren’t going to turn back now. Thankfully,
the wind had significantly weakened and the heavens looked a lot brighter than
it did earlier. We crossed the Filipino Chinese Friendship bridge which reeked
of the polluted river but had a certain trace of the smell of fruit because of
the assorted fruit stands in the area. Just one block down and we finally
reached Holand. The store was nice and quaint and I hate that we probably
dirtied their floors with our soaking wet shoes. We’d squeaked our way around
the establishment as I purchased the hopia that mom had asked for. Kelbert had
mentioned in the supermarket that many establishments were starting to sell
mooncakes for the mooncake festival in September, so I decided to buy us one
each. We ate it there while we rested for a bit before heading back.
The
store too, held many odd ends. Cans of fox’s candy that I was very fond of as a
child were sold a shelf apart from some dietary coffee. The next shelf had
tikoy, the next, empanada. I smiled. They just had to have it all.
We
trekked the same treacherous path we took earlier to return to the car. It
seemed much calmer now. The rain had subsided a bit (it still wasn’t enough to
warrant totally not using our umbrellas) and the puddles had receded. The
little overhead roofs of the stores would keep us relatively dry from time to
time. The paths smelled the same, except it reeked less of rain and moss. The
rain was reduced to a pitter patter on the windshield when we returned to my
car as we dried ourselves out. I look at the clock. 4:20. Rush hour. And
Kelbert had some place to be.
Recto
was a nightmare to drive. I checked my phone and saw that it was apparently
running at 0Kph. We’d turned at Morayta at 5:15. Almost an hour! Students
crossed the streets with little caution, and I discovered why this street truly
was U-belt. I’d never seen it so alive before. But then, I’d never really been
to Morayta on a school day. Kelbert got off at the end of the street and we drove
off to head home. Except we made a huge mistake. España after so much rain
would always turn into a river. And well, we had nowhere to go. Thankful for a
pretty high car, we made it through. I was exhausted at this point and wanted
to nod off for a bit. It was the sight and sound of a bunch of students
screaming as they crossed the flood waters of España, pulling up their skirts to cross the knee deep waters that was the last I
remember before arriving home. It was 7:30.
It’s
funny how that treasure hunt worked so differently. Before we’d arrived at Toho
and when Kelbert read through what I had to do, it seemed like such a simple
task. But we’re controlled by uncontrollable circumstances. We just make the
best out of them.
