Intramuros

Intramuros (literally 'inside the walls') was a walled settlement initially established by Miguel Lopez de Legazpi in 1571 as part of the Spanish conquest of the Philippines, and now part of modern-day Manila. From its foundation till the defeat of the Spaniards in 1898 Intramuros was inhabited exclusively by the Spanish ruling classes, and contained fortifications, government buildings, churches, monasteries and grand homes.

Manila was the second-most destroyed city (after Warsaw) in the second world war. During the war it had been conquered and occupied by Japanese forces, and in 1945 was 'liberated' by US and allied forces through comprehensive bombing and destruction. It is estimated that around 100,000 Filipino civilians died in this intense period of confrontation.

Intramuros, like most of the older areas of Manila, was devastated during this period, with little evidence remaining of its grand (though deeply inequitable) past. Miraculously (a word that's always used in this context) the church of San Agustin was the only building left intact after the bombing, and there are some remnants of the metres thick walls that gave their name to the area.

I always try to visit Intramuros when I go to Manila. Though getting there through the mad chaos of Filipino traffic is always an ordeal, once you arrive there is always a sense of sanctuary.


Restored houses, General Luna Street, Intramuros

Courtyard, Intramuros

More than anywhere else in Manila, Intramuros has historical sites that I think would be of interest to tourists, but tourists to the Philippines are sadly few. On my most recent visit, the main occupants of the area were members of wedding parties, literally queuing for their turns at the altar of San Agustin. December is THE month for weddings in the Philippines - the rainy season has usually finished, it's not yet too hot, and many relatives are already visiting for the Christmas season.

San Agustin was built in the late sixteenth century and is said to be the oldest church in the Philippines. As well as surviving the bombing of the second world war it has withstood many major earthquakes, so its survival is indeed amazing, if not quite miraculous.


San Agustin Church

Main door, San Agustin

While the main church of San Agustin is buzzing with activity, it has a secluded crypt where the remains (bones? ashes?) of my erstwile husband's grandparents and great-aunt are kept - among many others. It also has a quiet, rather moldering colonnaded museum set within the neighbouring Augustinian monastery and a beautiful garden much in demand for grand receptions associated with the weddings.

But my main purpose in visiting Intramuros has little to do with San Agustin or the other sites of interest, such as Fort Santiago (where generations over centuries of rulers and prisoners resided - 'native' Filipinos, Spaniards, Americans, Japanese), or the museum commemorating Jose Rizal, poet, novelist, and executed hero of the doomed Philippine revolution. My main purpose is to visit Silahis, one of my favorite shops ever.

I've been visiting Silahis for many years - 20? 25? I think it's the last reasonably extensive source of traditional, good quality Philippine crafts. Its owner is aging, and I'm sure he can't make much money from the enterprise, as it's almost always deserted when I visit. Silahis has four floors of beautiful baskets and other woven objects, wood carvings, furniture, paintings, books, and (my passion) textiles.



Each visit is, however, increasingly tinged with sadness as the quality and variety of the crafts diminishes each time. Actually, I'm not sure that what I've written is quite true - what is really changing is that the crafts no longer represent in a traditional sense the diversity of the cultural groups within the Philippines, each with their distinctive cultural productions.

This is particularly true of the textiles where there are now few weaving traditions represented. Both the textiles below come from the southern Muslim areas of the Philippines, which is one of the few areas still regularly producing hand-weaving. As for so many other regions of the world, the prices of raw materials are so high, and the return for the labour of hand-crafting so minimal, that only the most disadvantaged groups continue to engage in such time-consuming activities as weaving.



Every time I visit I feel compelled to buy something, as I absurdly think that my meagre purchases might encourage continued production.

Manila is a sprawling, bustling, busy, dirty, polluted city with a population of around 14 million people. When you visit you experience it primarily as a modern Southeast Asian city. Beyond that, you are much more immediately conscious of the inheritance of its 45 years of US colonisation, rather than the centuries of Spanish rule, or the diversity of its pre-colonial inhabitants. More than most other places, for me Intramuros has a sense of the many, diverse and often tragic past experiences of its people.

...and where did you spend Christmas?

This is where I spent my Christmas



In a bahay kubo in Laguna in the Philippines.

My erstwhile husband* usually lives in Manila, but he recently built a bahay kubo (a house - usually modest - of local materials) outside the town of Magdalena, about 100k south of Manila in the province of Laguna. He was very keen to have us spend Christmas in his bahay kubo and because he asks very little of the rest of the family we were willing to oblige (though the half of the family who are city addicts were quietly a bit reluctant).

He has built his house on land that belongs to an old friend, on a hill that used to be a coconut plantation, overlooking richly vegetated rice farms, with a view in the distance of Mount Banahaw, a volcano renowned for its religious and spiritual significance.



The coconut plantation was abandoned some time ago, and the owner of the land has planted local mahogany. It's also the kind of tropical environment where everything grows rapidly and even a few years without cultivation results in a jungle-like landscape.




Magdalena is breathtakingly beautiful and heart-breakingly poor. There is a squatter settlement at the foot of the hill where R has built his bahay kubo. In a way that is typical of the Philippines, the owner of the land allows the squatters to live on his land in return for their acting as caretakers of the property - they safeguard it against other squatters and ensure the holiday houses are maintained.

My erstwhile husband employs A, one of the young men from the squatter settlement as caretaker and housekeeper and is teaching him to cook. A's father was killed in a fight when he was 7, and he only finished school to grade 4, so such employment is seen as immense good fortune and enables him to help keep younger family members in school. While we were there, we also employed another young man, RR, to help entertain the dotee, my grand-daughter. Small children are welcomed and seen as a source of endless entertainment in the Philippines so needless to say, she had a wonderful time. Unlike A, at 17 RR is still in school in his final year. Like so many Filipinos, his father works on contract as a domestic worker in Saudi Arabia and remits money to his family. Remittances from overseas workers are the life-blood of the Filipino economy and the only way in which many people see a chance of freeing their family from deep poverty. But it is simultaneously damaging the social fabric of the community, as so many young people are growing up without the presence of parents, and so many skilled people are absent from the everyday decision-making and shaping of communities.

For three days we had six adults, one small child, two helpers, three languages, two active dogs and a bossy cat in a small two-roomed bahay kubo. It rained continuously, and my son was ill. Amazingly, in my view, we survived Christmas with relatively good cheer and undamaged relationships. Admittedly, three of us slept in another house on the property, which somewhat relieved the space pressures.

By the way, the Jane Austen Christmas dress fitted perfectly, as the rather sweaty photo of the dotee shows:



* I am still searching for an un-self-conscious, easy label for the person to whom I'm still legally married, but from whom I've been separated for many years. Any ideas?

Even sweeter

I finished the Jane Austen shrug, to accompany the Jane Austen dress.



Shrugs, by their nature, need a person inside them to give then shape and line. I'm hoping it will fit the dotee, whom I haven't seen for the last 5 months.



The tiny cable, edged by moss stitch, is the perfect detail for this otherwise simple design.



Both the shrug and the dress are from Kay Gardiner and Ann Shayne's Mason-Dixon Knitting Outside the Lines.

I'm taking it with me tomorrow on my trip to the Philippines where I'll meet up with the dotee and her parents for Christmas. Maybe the dress and shrug can begin a tradition of a grandmotherly gift of a special Christmas dress.

Knitting, decoupage and Anzac biscuits

Anne, my backtack4 swap partner in Denmark, has received her parcel of backtack goodies, and so I can finally reveal some of the crafting that's been occupying me over the last month or so. As I've blogged before, the theme of backtack4 was gold (something that glitters), frankincense (something to delight the senses of taste or smell) and myrrh (a gift to give pleasure).

My myrrh gift to give pleasure was knitted. It's the inelegantly named Swiss Cheese Scarf by the inspirational Winnie Shih.



For those with access to Ravelry, the free pattern can be downloaded. It's a simple, symmetrical, fun design. I think it's also very elegant. Lots of garter stitch (why not?), and lots of casting on and casting off. Like most people who've knitted this design, I gradually refined the process of knitting up the small loops caused by the casting on into subsequent rows. I knitted it with wool to which I've developed a passionate attachment - Rowan scottish tweed 4 ply in the perfect shade of grey. It doesn't result in the softest scarf in the world, but it has a slightly felted texture and holds its sculptural shape beautifully. My partner Anne says she likes it and commented cryptically that we have very similar taste in scarves, so I'm delightedly anticipating my parcel from her.

For my 'something that glitters', I decoupaged two bangles.



I began with wooden bangles, painted them black and applied cut-paper designs, mainly in gold. I then varnished them (about 35 thin coats), sanded several times, and finished them with a dull beeswax polish. I enjoyed making them - even with the tyranny of fitting in the three coats of varnish I needed to apply each day to finish the project in time. It was interesting to return after several years absence to a craft I practised consistently and passionately for a significant period of time. I think I'll do some more.

I found it most difficult to decide what to do for frankincense - something that appeals to the sense of taste or smell. Eventually, I applied the very reliable rule that says when in doubt, do something simple, and made Anzac biscuits, using my grand-mother's tattered recipe. I thought that if they were robust enough to survive the lengthy trip by sea to reach Anzac soldiers in the first world war (which is the tale of their origin), then they could survive the modern-day trip by air to Denmark.



I have a still unsorted and disorganised box of my mother's and grandmother's recipes that I acquired after my mother's death. Most of my grand-mother's recipes are for baking - cakes, biscuits, slices, scones. My grandparents had a farm where 8 to 10 family members lived, and this number was augmented by another dozen or so people at shearing or harvesting times. 'The men' ate 5 meals a day - breakfast, morning tea, dinner, afternoon tea, and tea. My grandmother's life, and my mother's when she lived on the farm, was a constant routine of cooking and cleaning up. As a result, the recipes are simple and straight-forward. They use easily available and few ingredients and are virtually fail-safe, but every time I make something using one of the recipes, they are welcomed. The Anzac biscuits belong to this tradition.

How sweet it is...

I don't do sweet, and I don't do cute. For decades I've been cultivating a personal style that aspires to be straight-forward, simple, clear, unfrilled. At least, this is what I'd like to think. But reluctantly, I've had to recognise that there are significant exceptions to this personal style rule. Something overcomes me when confronted with little girls - particularly those who are too young to assert their own choices.

When my now adult daughter was very small, I made clothes for her - frequently they were yoked pinafores or dresses made from combinations of Liberty or Laura Ashley prints that were worn over t-shirts or jumpers as the weather dictated. I was so captivated by these Victorian-influenced images of little girls that I did this despite my intense dislike for sewing.

Thirty years later, I seem to be caught up again by the same fantasy. This is what I've made for the dotee (my grand-daughter) for Christmas.



A yoke, frills and tiny floral print fabric. A realisation of all the elements of the Victorian fantasy.



It's the Jane Austen dress from Kay Gardiner and Ann Shayne's latest book, Mason-Dixon Knitting Outside the Lines. It's knitted from Heirloom 4ply cotton, and the fabric is a Liberty Tana lawn.

I'm also making the little shrug that the Mason-Dixon women have designed to accompany this dress. It's in a deeper hyacinth blue. More on that soon.

Maybe grand-mothers can be excused their obsession with Victorian images, yokes and frills? Even though I don't usually do sweet, I've decided I'm just going to indulge myself until the dotee is old enough to object - I know from experience that this will happen only too soon.

Yellow and pink

I bought some lilies for my house. They were cheap at my local shop, and even cheaper if you bought two bunches. So I bought a bunch of yellow lilies and another of pink. When I got home I put them in my tallest vase which I placed on my new, second-hand cupboard (which I love so much it's worth blogging about in its own right - another time). And look what happened...



The lilies and the painting have such different origins, but the colours are so perfect together. The painting is an untitled work by Josephine Nangala, and came from an exhibition of work by Kiwirrkura women, who are part of the Western Desert Papunya Tula Cooperative.

I think it was while visiting India that I was was really smitten with the charm of pink (in its many Indian manifestations) and yellow together - to add another cultural dimension to this colour story.


Temple, Tamil Nadu, March 2008

Last summer I bought some wonderful yellow sandals, so now I'll have to hunt for some bright pink to accompany them. Makes a change from grey...

On its way

Anne, my backtack 4 parcel is now on its way to Denmark.



Gold - something that glitters
Frankincense - something to please the senses
Myrrh - a gift to last through the year