Melva Rodriguez Java
Marking our spaces
The note had said:
"When you arrive at Penn Station, go to the main level. You are on the Eight Avenue side of Penn Station. Take the stairs or the escalators on the right side of the ticket windows and go to the street. You are at the corner of Eight Avenue and 33rd Street. On the other side of Eight Avenue is the Post Office. There is a uniformed taxi dispatcher on duty at the corner of Eight Avenue and 33rd Street. Ask him to get you a taxi, and ignore anyone who offers to assist you. Your taxi ride is from that location to Grand Central Station, which is located on 42nd Street and Lexington Avenue. I suggest you take the 9:07 a.m. train departing from Grand Central and arriving in New Haven at 10:53 a.m. Then take the 5:53 p.m. train from New Haven, arriving in Boston at 8:22 p.m. Do not hesitate to contact me if I can be of further assistance."
The note was signed Charles Horner. Mr. Horner was Program Officer assigned to assist me during my visit to the United States under the IVP program a few years back. It was my first visit to the States and my itinerary called for short stops at several cities in different states. Not surprisingly, I encountered no major setbacks in getting to my destinations. I did not get lost. With instructions as precise as the one contained in the note, how could anyone stray from his destination?
The streets of New York follow such regularity of pattern, it is impossible for any one to ever lose track of his bearings. And the way the American people observe time is fantastic. Clockwork precision. I stood on the platform in New Haven at 5:53 p.m. and sure enough, I was forthwith disembarking from the train and was standing on the platform, Boston side, at exactly 8:22 p.m. Incredible!
The anthropologist Edward Hall wrote that Americans who get used to this clear-cut orientation of time and space must feel frustrated by the difference in the time and space perception of people in other places.
In the European street system, which may assume a radial or concentric pattern, stress is given not to the junctions but to the lines which they name. The Japanese, according to Hall, give importance to the intersections which they name and forget the lines. Houses in Japan are numbered in the order in which they are built. In a neighborhood, house #34 could be situated right beside house #1 with the latter being a "constant reminder that it was there first."
But nothing beats Cebu!
We mark our junctions, we mark our lines, and we mark our individual spots as well. Lorna's, Bambi's, Juaning's, Berto's, Dolly's, Julie's … We see these names bannered in front of shops and sari-sari stores. By custom, we locate places by associating them with the persons who own or use the place.
We send a child on an errand and direct him, not to the corner store but to 'Nang Gloria's. If by happenstance there are two 'Nang Glorias in the neighborhood, we simply add specifics such as Gloria daku (big or large) or Gloria gamay (tiny or small). If this doesn't suffice, we throw in more qualifiers: si Gloria ba, anak ni 'No Polding. 'No Polding gud, uyo-an ni Imyat. Si Imyat ba, ang napangasawa gani ni anhing Onyot. (You know, Gloria, the daughter of Mr. Polding. Mr. Polding, remember, the uncle of Imyat. Imyat, you know, the wife of the late Onyot.) By this time, the hapless stranger who only sought directions would be hopelessly bewildered and would be well-advised to take a seat and partake of the painit (refreshment) that is invariably served by his obliging host.
Mark the contrast between the choices of names among foreign-based establishments and our local versions: Holiday, Shangri-la, Plaza, Waterfront, Midtown. Now listen to our own: Villa Inez, Casa Maria, Anacletus Pension House, Angelica's, Mercedes Hotel, Pensione la Florentina.
The Cebuano's experience of space is personal. To the Cebuanos, space is marked not so much by geometrics or chronology but by the network of memories and meanings associated with it.
The customary ways by which we mark space are always expressive of the social and emotional ties that bind us to the place. Lean-tos, potted palnts, bamboo fences, twigs and stones, and the ultimate -- our names splashed across soft drink billboards, on the roof yet!
But these tiny enclaves are microcosms of the way we view the world. These urban nooks, in turn support and reinforce the meanings that shared experiences hold for us. They are our inner anchors to stability. The act of hanging our name out in public bespeaks of the personal pride we take in who we are, or the product that we offer. And the challenge, it seems for developers, planners and builders is to find ways to mesh this invisible web of ties, with the present-day efforts to respond to the growing complexity of society.
I must confess that, coming as I do from a generation that finds itself betwixt and between a layer of elders, conservative and traditional, and a cluster of youngsters, hip-hopping and handsome, I am often at my wit's end trying to make sense of the non-sequiturs that often come with the traditional form of giving directions.
There are lessons to be learned, though. One is to allow some lead time in between appointments to be able to accommodate a generous spiel about someone's genealogy. The other is that with all that hospitality going around, I sense an improving savvy for sniffing out good food at affordable prices.
For instance, no one can beat the hot pochero (cow's bone marrow soup) at Jackie's down the road where Gerard takes his supper. Gerard ba, barkada (friend) ni Myke ug Januar. Si Myke ug Januar ba, mga writers sa Independent Post. Ay! Ang Independent Post gud, duol sa (near) Flaming Nights (nightclub).
Jan. 12, 1998
* Other articles by the author