Vigan!!!

	Philippine Travel Articles (courtesy of )


	The setting looks like one straight out of a vintage movie: antique houses, their facades bedecked with the graceful curves of colonial architecture, silently keep vigil over a narrow, cobbled street. A horse-drawn calesa clip-clops by, inviting one to travel in the laid-back manner of turn-of-the-century Philippines. From behind one of the large windows of one such abode, an old man peeks out. He gently slides open the capiz panels and rests his hands on the window sill. Like me, he is looking out at a scene that must have been played and replayed countless times over the centuries. The lolo disappears for a moment inside the house, and returns with a strange object in his hand—a cellular phone! Such is the assault Vigan makes on the senses. It calls out to your imagination, beckons to you, lulls you into believing that you are, indeed, in another time and place, and then unceremoniously pulls you back. The past meets the present in Vigan, Ilocos Sur, and they co-exist, harmoniously. History rules this locale. Way back when this town was just a mere trading center on the coast of Luzon, its residents were already seasoned dealers, bartering logs, gold, and beeswax with traders from all over Asia. This exposure to foreigners had a big influence on the town's legacy. Outsiders, mostly Chinese merchants, settled down and made Bigan (its earlier name) their new home. They soon grew rich and intermarried with the natives, and thus started the multi-cultural bloodline of the Bigueiios. The past mingles with the present in Vigan, and nowhere is it manifested more interestingly than in this scene of an old man in an antique house talking animatedly on a cellular phone.




	Wealth and prominence were manifested in the *old Biguenos'* homes, where continental decor were mixed with the opium beds, exquisite vases, and furniture acquired from the orient.**	hat was well before 1572, when conquistador Juan de Salcedo first set foot on the town. He then decided to make it the center of his encomiendain the Ilocos region. Salcedo must have had a vision when he chose Vigan for his capital. He called it "unpedazo deEspana en el oriente"—a piece of Spain in the orient, for he wanted it to be like his hometown of Castille. True to his word, he laid down the plans that would make his dream a reality. He did not live long enough to see its completion, though, and the place was left to the Augustinian friars. They took to the task of transforming the capital—by laying out infrastructure, constructing a grand cathedral, and Christianizing the natives—into the image of Spain its architect had earlier envisioned. They succeeded in more ways than one, and CiudadFernandina (the name Salcedo gave Vigan) soon became the throbbing center of political and religious activities in the north. From outside its gates came the Augustinian missionaries, who sought to bring all of the Ilocos region under the mantilla of xhe Catholic church. The entire Diocese of northern Luzon was, in fact, transferred to this town by a royal decree. The shores of Vigan also became a stopover point for the galleon trade. This mode of commerce connected the colony to Europe via Mexico, and opened it up to the profits of world trade. The town
			supplied Europe with its best products— tobacco, indigo dye and abel cloth—and the continent returned the favor fully. Business boomed and consequently the Biguenos grew in wealth and number. This, indeed, became evident in the Biguenos' properties. Their houses were furnished with the finest products from all over the world. Magnificent chandeliers lighted their living rooms. Silverware, glassware and porcelain were imported from such distant countries as Italy, Spain and France. Also mixed with the decor were the opium beds, exquisite vases and furniture that these Filipino-Chinese merchants acquired from their former homeland. Today, the streets of Vigan have retained features of its glorious past. Though the cobblestones now cover only




		an occasional stretch of road, its colonial structures continue to stand side by side, still displaying the opulence that once made them the envy of other Ilocano towns. The old houses now look, well, aged. Most of these homes have been adapted to support a modest lifestyle, with their owners resorting to more conventional, even frugal means of livelihood. One particular abode in the casanglayan section (the area with the most number of antique houses) still has its capiz windows and fancy grillwork, but on its ground floor hangs a sign: "Northern Ilocandia Technical School. Courses offered: Practical driving . . . Engine tune up/troubleshooting ..." Blue-collar work is, indeed, a far cry from the import/export business of long ago. One industry, however, has survived the changes in fortune: the production of	(ABOVE) The Church of St. Paul the Apostle, Vigan's stately looking cathedral built in 1641, is an absolute testament to the llocanos' Christianization. With a curious mixture of "earthquake Baroque" architecture and Chinese craftsmanship, the cathedral, at night, seems to keep watch over the people of its community.



		industry, then the massive Vigan cathedral must be their emblem of religious piety. The Church of St. Paul the Apostle, built in 1641, is an absolute testament to the Ilocanos' Christianization. Its construction displays a curious mixture of "earthquake Baroque" architecture and Chinese craftsmanship. On both sides of the building are enormous buttresses that reinforce its structure, rendering the walls quake-proof. Its entrances, on the other hand, are guarded by the traditional fu chow dogs of China. One



	burnayjars. Hundreds of them, made using a centuries-old method, are still produced in local potteries in the suburbs of Vigan. The dark brown jars come in an endless variety of shapes and sizes, from small pots resembling cups to the oversized containers that remind you of artillery shells. A Inirnay dealer tells me how she determines the durability of her product; "You step on it. If it cracks, it isn't good enough." If the burnay jar is a symbol of Bigueno	cannot quite explain the atmosphere of this place at night, when the lighted cathedral silently stands, keeping watch over the people of its community. As is the manner in most Philippine towns, all roads lead to the plaza. Vigan, being the prominent locale that it is, has two. The first, Plaza Salcedo, is located right in front of the church. Its round reflecting pool surrounded by a walkway makes it a favorite hangout for many Biguenos. The



	second square, Plaza Burgos, is undoubtedly the merienda center of Vigan. During the hours between siesta and sunset, many a tired, hungry Ilocano would treat himself to a plate of culinary delights from the food stalls that surround the area. I still remember my first taste of okoy, which is something like a deep-fried crispy concoction of shrimp and bean sprouts, or the sweet, salty, unknown stuff inside an empanada (meat pie), much of which is actually quite delectable.	However casual the atmosphere is in Plaza Burgos, the residents of Vigan cannot deny the fact that it used to be an execution place for lawbreakers. The revolutionary heroine Gabriela Silang was, in fact, hanged there, and so were a few other Filipino martyrs who were similarly brought to the gallows. It is not very hard to imagine what the early residents must have been so accustomed to seeing: the spectacle of writhing bodies, serving as a warning to would-be enemies of Spain. In modern times, Vigan, of course, no longer follows such extreme measures. And though police protection here is at a reasonable minimum, its residents swear that their streets are safe enough to walk in, even at night. A young Bigueno once joked: "The most recent death here was two years ago. And the man died of old age." I decided to prove to myself that this was all true, so I took a walk around the area in the evening. The main streets were surprisingly quiet at night, with only the occasional sound of a passing vehicle reaching my ears. My eyes rested on the old houses around me. As I admired their elegance, I could not help remembering the families who own them. I thought of the Crisologos (a political clan whose members counted both the illustrious and the infamous) and the Villanuevas (who loved their ancestral home so much that they had it transported, brick by brick, to a better location). Countless other families have their roots in this town, each one with its own stories to tell, each one having a rich legacy to impart to its children. That night I slept in a room that was older than myself. I dreamed of cobbled streets, capiz windows, and old men with cellphones. I dreamed of calesas, tricycles and scooters, and of Baroque churches with Chinese statues. The next morning I woke up, knowing that everything was as it should be, for the past and present are but one and the same in this town. Vigan will always be what the Biguerios wish it to be, for its heritage lies not in these fleeting reminders of age. Its heritage lies in its people.	(OPPOSITE PAGE, TOP) During the hours between siesta and sunset, many a hungry Ilocano would treat himself to a plate of culinary delights peddled in food stalls in Plaza Burgos, the merienda (snack) center of Vigan. (OPPOSITE PAGE, BOTTOM) One industry that has survived the times in Vigan is the production of burnay jars. The dark brown jars, churned out in local potteries, are made using a centuries-old method, and come in a variety of shapes and sizes—from small pots to oversized containers.