Iloilo: Icons of the past

Tom Cockrem, News Asia Network/The Star

I threw my arms up in despair. There were just too many choices - some 700 islands and just as many towns. But in the end I went for Iloilo. It simply had to be special. Quirky names, I have discovered, very rarely let you down. Zamboanga was a great one, as were Galapagos and Zanzibar. So Iloilo it would be.

My guidebook was lukewarm. But there were hints - a few historic churches and some old ancestral homes. You can do them in a morning, before heading for the leisure spots most tourists come here for:The idyllic beachy islands of Guimaras and Boracay. I would hold these in reserve.

Iloilo City is the capital of the Philippine province of the same unlikely name. It lies in the south of the large triangular island of Panay, in the Western Visayas. Mineral-rich and fertile, Panay was settled very early by the Spanish - in 1556. The main port as now was Iloilo. It straddles the curvaceous Iloilo River, at its confluence with the smaller Batiano.

The town's original native name was Irong Irong, which means "nose-like" - a reference to the nodule of land on which it stood. The Chinese pronounced it "Ilong Ilong", which the Spanish then smoothed down to "Iloilo", luckily for us.

The city's center, I have to say, is functional at best. Parts of it affiliate improperly with its name, being a little on the nose. The best of Iloilo lies elsewhere. You find two of its finest old suburbs on the north side of the river. These are Jaro and La Paz. Once independent villages, they are now included in the city. But the village spirit remains. This you see when you arrive.

I went first to Jaro, with the prospect of seeing its cathedral. The church houses the 400-year-old image of Our Lady of the Candles, which is the focus of an annual fiesta. In 1981, it was also the focus of a visit from Pope John Paul II. He set a crown upon the figure, and declared it the Patroness of the Western Visayas.

The cathedral's famous belfry stands off on its own across the road - at the edge of the plaza.

The church itself falls short of being a beauty. Its twin towers look too much like add-ons, which indeed they are. But the old three-storey belfry is a wondrous old survivor, with its crumbled bricks and stucco decorated here and there by weeds and shrubs.

The plaza is a big and leafy one, a place where people come to play music or sports, or just simply to hang out. On its perimeter stand a number of impressive 19th century "ancestral homes", former abodes of sugar barons and the like.

There were still two more historic churches to explore - as far as I knew. La Paz is Jaro's neighbor. The red brick church is more imperious and harmonious than its counterpart, built in a style that has been described as Philippine baroque. This means it is eclectic.

It has neo-classic elements - especially the pediment - as well as pilasters, niches, arched doors and windows and balusters atop its commanding dome-capped towers.

La Paz Plaza is enormous. Aside from the mandatory basketball court and playground, it accommodates an amphitheater and a good- sized football pitch. All of these were very much in use when I arrived, and I immediately got mixed up with a bunch of dancing classes in full swing. This caused temporary mayhem, with even the instructors joining in the clowning for my lens. For my part, it was great to see these centuries-old plazas still fulfilling the role for which they were originally designed: To serve as recreational and social hubs for the community, and at times ceremonial as well.

I had left the best till last - I thought. The old western suburb of Molo possesses what is said to be the second largest Gothic Renaissance church left in the Philippines. This is St Anne's. The term "Gothic Renaissance" might seem a little flattering, but the old church is a beauty just the same.

It was built in 1831, of coral stones affixed with a mortar made from egg whites mixed with sand (the yokes, I was told, got used by local ladies to make biscuits). The church's interior is typically immaculate, with it walls lined with statues of 16 female saints. The bells, a man told me in the plaza, bear the scars of bullets shot at Philippine resistance fighters in the war.

I owe my discovery of handsome San Jose Church to my friendly taxi driver, Juan Pilea. And I learned the city center did have a plaza, after all. It lies down by the port. Plaza Libertad would once have been right in the heart of town. But the center has moved east, and the plaza left behind. But this doesn't mean it's under-used. There is action here aplenty, especially on weekends.

It was standing room only in the grand old church when I arrived. The end of the service saw the congregation file into the plaza for some well-earned R&R. And they were more than amply catered for. Food hawker eagerly awaited the invasion, offering the likes of freshly-toasted waffles, hot coconut cakes, fried squid balls and ice-creams for dessert.

The plaza is fastidiously kept. Gardeners were everywhere at work, planting, watering, and tending potted shrubs. A basketball match was also hotly underway, a dance class had almost got its hip-hop routine snagged (thankfully, without the music) and a meeting of the faithful to Jehovah had begun.

The ongoing greening and preening of the plazas, driver Juan informed, is a project instituted by the Iloilo's popular Mayor: Jerry P. Trenas. The mayor's refurbishing frenzy has touched yet two more suburban plazas - Villa de Arevalo and Oton. Neither retain their original churches, but both are true botanists' delights.

In its 19th century heyday, Iloilo was known in the Philippines as "The Queen City of the South", a status subsequently lost to Cebu.

But the people seem determined to win it back. The beneficiaries of their zeal are the many gracious icons of the past, in particular the churches and their plazas. And these in turn enrich the peoples' lives in many ways.

They enriched mine too. Great quirky names will surely never let you down. Just try nose-like Iloilo and you'll see.