Old
as they are, architectural ruins—buildings, houses, fortresses, churches,
monuments and the like—have intrigued me ever since. I guess it must be my
fascination with anything classic or vintage that makes me appreciate them. Seeing these
ruins not only gives me full access, albeit vicariously, into the life and
lifestyles of people in the olden days but also deepens my grasp of Philippine
history and culture. So, if my schedule
permits me, I make it a point to see some of the country’s heritage sites
whenever I’m within their vicinity. 
Why
bother scouring architectural rubble? For one, I’m an incorrigible dabbler of
history and the arts who finds an intellectual expedition of that sort an
eye-opening experience. Also, ruins remind and make us proud of our national
heritage. Poet Abram Joseph Ryan underscored this when he wrote the lines “a
land without ruins is a land without memories—a land without memories is a land
without history.”
For
me, one of most interesting sites worth visiting again and again is Manila’s
once-forbidding enclave—the invincible walled city of Intramuros. I regard the
place with great affection because it was there where I wrote some important
chapters of my graduate school thesis years ago. At that time, it was the ideal
hideaway to gather my thoughts and convert them into the written word. I also
found it accessible whenever I wanted to seek sanctuary from the hubbub of
urban life. 
History
has it that right after Manila fell into his hands in 1571, Spanish
conquistador Miguel Lopez de Legazpi had a fortress built over the ashes of a
Muslim settlement along the banks of the Pasig River. Surrounded by impregnable
walls and deep moats, the heavily fortified enclave came to be known as
Intramuros, which means "within the walls" in Latin.
Geez,
there’s something about this once formidable Spanish bastion that seems to
beckon me (and probably other people, too) to wander through its crumbling
beauty and search into its dark corners for ghosts of the past. So far, I’ve
only stumbled upon the historic kind but not the horrific…yet! LOL!
In
its heyday, the walled city—considered then as Manila itself—served as the
epicenter of Spanish colonial rule in the Philippines. Thousands of Spain’s
politico-military elite and their families, including the mestizos or those of
Hispano-Filipino descent, took up residence within its 64-hectare sprawl.
Filipino natives and the Chinese, however, weren’t allowed to live there. 
For
centuries, many of the structures inside Intramuros remained unscathed until
they were severely damaged by the Allied bombings—with the exception of San
Agustin Church which survived the bombardment—during the bloody Battle of
Manila in 1945. The siege, which claimed the lives of over 100,000 men, women
and children, proved to be one of the darkest moments in Philippine history. At
Plazuela de Santa Isabel, there’s a shrine that honors the innocent lives who
perished during that event.
To
cap a quick trip to Manila recently, I decided to spend my remaining time in
the capital by revisiting Intramuros. I was joined by one of my college chums,
Juju, a fellow photography buff and adventure junkie. Armed with a digital
camera this time, I was flushed with excitement knowing that I’d finally be
able to capture the striking images in the walled city that I’ve seen before in
my previous visits.
Our
first stop was the awe-inspiring Manila Metropolitan Cathedral. Also known as Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception Church, the cathedral was elevated to
the rank of minor basilica by virtue of a Papal decree in the early 1980s.
Throughout its 400-year history, the church underwent many reconstructions after
it was destroyed by natural disasters, bombings and fires. Completed in 1958,
the existing structure is the cathedral’s sixth and most recent makeover.
Revisited
after so many years, the cathedral dazzled me anew with its classic grandeur
owing from a combination of Gothic, Byzantine and Romanesque architectural
influences. Bedecked with statues of famous saints sculpted in Roman stone, the
main façade remains grandiose and riveting as ever, beckoning people to enter
and take a peek at what’s inside it. Since it was a weekend, there were quite a
number of camera-toting tourists gravitating towards the church.
As
soon as Juju and I got inside, we wasted no time putting our shutters to work.
For the next few hours, I had a field day snapping at the plethora of subjects
found all around me: exquisite rose windows, cavernous naves, magnificent
statues, dazzling chandeliers, striking bas reliefs and a treasure-trove of
other interesting riches. 
In one section of the church’s right nave, I noticed a small exhibit depicting recent efforts done to restore the old pipe organ, which provides liturgical music for the cathedral’s services. 
Located at the choir loft, the magnificent organ by Pels Organ Makers of Holland is considered one of the largest in the Far East. Last year, the Catholic Church broke its protocol by allowing the remains of former President Corazon Aquino to lie in state inside the historic cathedral, bestowing upon her the honor of being the first laywoman permitted to do so, a privilege reserved only for the Archbishop of Manila. Former President Carlos Garcia was the first layman to be accorded such honor.
A
few steps away from the minor basilica is another religious edifice that has
held its ground against the ravages of time, wars and natural calamities: San
Agustin Church, one of the four Baroque churches in the Philippines that were
designated as UNESCO World Heritage Sites in 1993. With the first structure
completed in 1606, it’s hailed as the “only surviving 16th century edifice in
the country” and the oldest church, too.
Having
an overdose of “spiritual shots” at the Manila Cathedral, we skipped the church
and headed for Plaza San Luis Complex. Located just a stone’s throw away from
San Agustin Church, the complex is a cultural-cum-commercial edifice where you
can find art galleries, craft shops, restaurants and cafes, a boutique hotel
and the Casa Manila Museum. 
I haven’t explored Casa Manila during my previous visits so Juju and I thought it was time to rummage the place. Managed by the government, the “colonial lifestyle” museum gives visitors a diorama of how the ilustrado—the middle class Filipinos—lived during the 17th to 19th centuries under Spanish rule. Modeled after a house built in 1850, the building’s ground floors are rented out to shopkeepers selling antiques, objets d’ art and souvenir items.
Before
going upstairs, I asked the receptionist if it was okay for us to bring our
cameras and take pictures inside the museum. “No, sir, you can’t,” came the
curt reply. Dismayed, we still proceeded since we have already bought tickets.
Our
chagrin, however, flew out of the window when we saw what’s inside the
three-storey museum. At the first floor, we stepped into what was known at the
time as entresuelo (which means
“between floors”), a part of the house where clients, tenants and other
visitors wait before being admitted to the homeowner’s despacho or oficina (office).
Moving into the second floor, one of the ushers led us into a very spacious,
tastefully decorated sala (living
room) where VIPs are entertained. 
We then
proceeded to other important areas/rooms of the house such as the oratorio (prayer room) where the family gathers
every evening for the angelus, novenas and other similar activities and the cuarto principal (master’s bedroom) which is
embellished with wall-to-wall cabinets, marble washstands, dressers with
swinging, full-length mirrors and large bed, among others. 
The comedor (dining room) and the cucina (dirty kitchen) are also sights to
behold with all the vintage porcelain, silver and glassware, equipment and
tools displayed there. All told, the treats we saw inside Casa Manila make
up what I consider a grand visual spectacle worth reviewing again and again had
our shutters been allowed to capture them in pixels. Hmmm…maybe next
time. 
While finding a place to eat, we stumbled upon Hotel Intramuros, which is located just beside Casa Manila. There, we had buffet lunch and a quick stroll around the hotel. Afterwards, we proceeded to Fort Santiago, the historical landmark north of the walled city. 
In
front of the fort’s main gate is a moat, which once served as the city’s first
line of defense against invaders, separated from the promenades and parks by
two large pools with water lilies. Inside the fort, I continued snapping at
anything I fancied, including the brass footprints on the paved road—footprints
showing the path that Rizal had taken from his cell in Fort Santiago to the
venue of his execution in Bagumbayan or Luneta (which has been renamed into
Rizal Park).
Following
his arrest aboard a ship bound for Barcelona, Spain, Rizal was sent back to
Manila and incarcerated there. Inside his cell, he composed one of his final
notes before his execution, “Mi Ultimo Adios”. Inside the fort, there’s a
monument dedicated to the national hero, which we also paid a visit. 
Today,
the old barracks where Rizal was once confined has been converted into a shrine
in his honor. There, his pictures, paintings, sculptures, memoirs, and literary works, including a copy
of "El Filibusterismo", his second novel, are put on display. 
Inside
this shrine is the cell where he was incarcerated. Upon entering it, visitors
are greeted by some excerpts from Rizal’s writings that are etched on brass
plates. I had goose bumps as I roamed around and took pictures of that small
cubicle, which seemed to reek of lingering sadness for someone that the country
once had and lost. 
Right after World War II, Intramuros lost much of its grandeur, with many of its structures and shrines falling into various stages of decay. While a number of laws were passed to save Intramuros from further destruction, it took the combined efforts of government bodies and private institutions to restore many portions of its walls, gates and fortifications. 
With
much of Manila’s development taking place outside the walled city, the thick
walls, cobblestone streets, monuments and centuries-old churches of the
fortress have been largely unmarred by the inroads of metropolitan growth.
Those that were beyond restoration, however, had to give way to banks, schools,
private firms and government buildings that were erected within Intramuros.
Some commercial establishments, notably fast food chains, have also sprouted
alongside the edifices within the walled city’s university belt. Meanwhile, the old moats have been filled and
converted into a sprawling golf club considered to be the most accessible of
all the golf courses in Metro Manila. 
When
the Marcoses were ruling the country, the national government, under the aegis
of the former first lady, created a special body that spearheaded the massive
renovation of Intramuros and other heritage structures in the country. 
With the
successive regimes continuing the task of preserving Intramuros, this “city
within the city” was successfully transformed into a tourist must-see and is
now under the aegis of the Intramuros Administration (which holds office at the
Palacio del Gobernador, former residence of the Spanish governor-generals),
affording visitors with a glimpse of what Manila was like during the Spanish
era. 
All
told, I give the invincible walled city five stars for turning me into a
historian and a culture vulture overnight and for making one of my occasional
trips to Manila another nostalgic journey into the country’s glorious past. :D
