Ermita. For over half my life I've called this place my home. Though in my youth I rarely ventured beyond the walls of our family estate, my entire college life was filled with the thrill of urban exploration. With an exuberance that accompanies the promise of discovery, I set out to discover the microcosm of the world in the neighborhood surrounding me. In the years following my first step in my urban journey, I have come to know this place as only an Ermitańo can.
For as far back as I can remember, most likely even before that, Ermita had the distinction, or should I say notoriety, of being the sex trade capital of Manila. Situated smack-dab in the center of the tourist district and peripheral to the port area, Ermita was ablaze nightly with neon and nicotine, gaudy decorations and sexually suggestive signs. Streetwalkers plied their trade along A. Mabini and M.H. del Pilar, latching onto the arms of any foreigner walking along the sidewalk. Through huge glass windows, one could see, in full panorama, half-naked bar girls grinding to the pounding sounds of beerhouse rock. I witnessed these everyday, as my school bus crept along with heavy traffic toward my house.
Things change, and soon, sometime in the Nineties, Manila mayor Alfredo Lim cleaned up Ermita. Gone were the bars, nightclubs and massage parlors which formerly festooned the brightly-lit streets of the district. The ladies of the night promptly moved further south, to Pasay, in search of more fertile land. Bright lights dimmed, and the sex trade gave way to commerce.
Ermita at night is dead, long live Ermita. I always hated those nightclubs anyway, for the blight they posed in an otherwise ideal town. Ermita should be seen by day, when vestiges of its former pre-War glory can still be seen. The seat of judicial power lies here. The Supreme Court, the Court of Appeals, and the Department of Justice are all located here. High court judges often stroll these streets, dine or sip coffee at the numerous establishments of Ermita. The University of the Philippines also calls Ermita its home. The future of the Philippine nation studies here, and calls this neighborhood its campus. Its students mill around the Padre Faura and Pedro Gil area, books in hand and faces reflecting the various emotions a student normally feels in his scholastic life.
Tapsilog, anyone?
It is Ermita by the light of the afternoon sun that my little tour commences, beginning with an afternoon snack. In the days of Colony, Spaniards introduced Filipinos to the custom of merienda, a light afternoon snack to tide one over until supper. The Spaniards were vanquished eventually, by the seething Filipino masses. Fortunately for food-lovers, this Spanish tradition was never lost to the fire of revolution.
At the corner of J. Bocobo and Padre Faura, just a stone's throw west from the University of the Philippines, is the Ermita Food Plaza. A motley collection of fast food stalls in an open-air area, the Food Plaza is the birth place of the Filipino dish known as Tapsilog.
Just like BLT is short for bacon - lettuce - tomato, Tapsilog is an abbreviation for tapa - sinangag - itlog. Tapa means beef strips, cooked in oil almost to crispiness, while Sinangag is fried rice topped with garlic. The last component, Itlog, is your standard sunny-side-up fried egg. Served together, these three make up the combination of Tapsilog.
In 1983, this combination meal was served in the Sinangag Plaza, a small 18-seater fast food joint in Ermita. Reasonably priced and easy to prepare, the tapa -sinangag - itlog combination became a favorite, for breakfast, lunch, dinner, or even as a midnight snack. However, Plaza waitresses found this a mouthful to say. With a few nips and tucks, the combo meal soon came to be known as Tapsilog. Many establishments were quick to adopt Tapsilog. It soon gained popularity as a satisfying meal. Eventually Tapsilog earned both a place in Pinoy vocabulary as well as Pinoy cuisine.
Sinangag Plaza is now known as Sinangag Pa Rin, or Always Fried Rice. While the establishment name never fails to elicit laughter from me, it stands firmly behind its product. It serves the best tapsilog for the price.
El Soli Afternoons
Across the street and slightly to the left of Ermita Food Plaza lies the Solidaridad Bookstore. Established in 1965, Solidaridad is owned by F. Sionil Jose, one of the best known Filipino novelists and probably the most translated. Although quite small, Soli houses one of the best selections of books for sale in Manila.
What Solidaridad lacks in number, it certainly makes up for in quality. Its bookcases contain treasures from the world's best classical and contemporary writers. Miller, Mailer, and Roth share shelf space with the likes of Neruda, Nabokov, and Dostoevsky. Plays, poetry, and novels occupy the east wall, as do scholarly works on political science, philosophy and business. The Filipiniana collection, a discriminating selection of the finest in coffee table books, monographs, novels, and other writings, is situated on the west wall. This includes the entire repertoire of Mister Jose's works. It also contains a collection of works dealing with national hero Jose Rizal. The rear wall is devoted to Asian philosophy and literature. Sun Tzu, Musashi, Gandhi, and other lesser known eastern writers are enshrined here. The two bookshelves at the center of the room contain more books on Filipiniana, Science and Technology, Language, the Social Sciences, Music, and Travel.
Recommended especially for travelers are books by Paul Theroux and V.S. Naipaul, the most insightful travelers I have had the pleasure of reading. Ermita, by F. Sionil Jose, if you want a taste of Philippine literature. Before you leave Solidaridad, it would also be wise to purchase a map of Manila - not those topological maps, mind you - get the humorously-illustrated maps which show you the best places to go to around town. They're right by the door.
Coffee Most Mysterious
The last stop in our little tour is the Aroma Café, along Adriatico Street and a minute's walk from Solidaridad. This place is a mystery to me as well. I have to admit frankly that I've never had coffee at Aroma. Oh, I see it everyday, passing Adriatico on my way home. But I've never entered it, nor caught a whiff of the coffee and pastries they serve. This tour's final leg is based purely on hearsay and rumor. The Aroma Café is supposed to have the best coffee in Ermita, bar none.
The Aroma Café is a tiny place beside a laundromat. It is a converted two-storey apartment, painted white, with dried (or artificial, I can't really tell) sunflowers visible through the second storey wall of glass overlooking the street. Hanging over its door is a canvas banner on which is printed a simple line drawing of a coffee cup and "Aroma Café." Outside the door is a small chalkboard sign that lists the café's specialties.
Though I've wanted, for a long time, to try the coffee at Aroma, I have never had the chance to do so. Reason? It's closed most of the time. The owner, a certain enigmatic figure who goes by the name "Yolanda" is often out of the country. In the rare times she finds herself on Philippine soil, she opens the café to the denizens of Ermita. Finding the Aroma Café open is like chancing upon the blooming of a rare desert flower. I'm told it's worth the wait. My fellow Ermitańos swear by it.
In case you do find the Aroma Café open, have a cup of cappuccino for me. Take out your V.S. Naipaul book and read it slowly as you enjoy your coffee; savor the written word as you would the blended bean. Strike up a conversation with Yolanda. Get to know when she'll be back in Ermita and tell me about it.
Tales of the Ermitańo
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