It was my first adventure into the wilds of Divisoria. Wide, tree lined boulevards along Manila Bay suddenly narrowed into streets choc-a-block with pedestrians and push carts. The car was forced to a slow crawl, and eventually to a standstill, as our driver dodged peddlers and a proliferation of motorbikes. As we took to our feet, the streets narrowed even further, the buildings closed in and wreaths of electric cabling were draped just above our heads. I suddenly had an image of what London must have looked like before the Great Fire, upper storeys tilting in to greet each other and block out the sky.
This part of Manila is thrumming with life in a way Megamall doesn’t. That somewhat sterilized atmosphere of malls all over in the world disappears beneath a total assault on the senses. Sounds and smells and sights were all magnified as I stood on steps at a street corner trying to capture it on camera. I failed dismally. All the photos record is the impression of bodies crowded together and a total lack of breathing space – and yet I felt like I was breathing properly for the first time since arriving in Manila.
The streets wound on, hemmed with stallholders selling high quality fruit and vegetables, palm-sized baby rabbits (“dinner ma’am?”) sunglasses and t-shirts. Wandering peddlers were offering all sorts of things you could never have imagined needing – and suddenly could not imagine how you have lived without! We all peered, fascinated, at a tiny handheld sewing machine that looked like a staple-unpicker as it stitched a regular seam across a tiny piece of fabric. A ball gown might prove a little ambitious – but it should be OK for hemming hankies…which of course I do a lot!
Deeper into the maze of crowded alleyways, billowing bundles of brightly coloured chiffon had been piled onto the pavement, while a young man enthusiastically snapped a plastic table cloth loudly above our heads, and two men carried a basked of dried fish in a banana leaf basket. Tiny corridors led off these streets and as the crowds thickened and the heat rose, we edged sideways into these cooler spaces past party decorations, fancy dress stalls and reams of string.
Back on the street, men unselfconsciously rolled t-shirts up under their armpits and bared their bellies (what is that about?); an ancient but upright woman stood stock-still in a clearing for several minutes as if in prayer, clutching an armful of fans to her chest; and out of a sidecar, packed to the gunnels with cushions and baskets and boxes peered a small smiling face wedged in beneath all her paraphernalia.
Prices of course, were so far below anything I had seen in Power Plant Mall as to be laughable: a pairs of shorts for PHP 160 (AUS$4.00), a full length bridal gown for PHP 1200 (AUS$30). Perhaps the fabrics weren’t top quality, but the hours of work that had gone into trimming them with bows and frills and sequins were phenomenal. I just wanted to scoop up a handful for my niece’s dressing up box, so she could be a different Disney princess every day of the week. Instead I ended up very sensibly with two umbrellas, a bag of vegetables and some amazing memories.