Streets of the Philippines: A Sunkissed Photo Essay
A visual love letter to the Philippines from the camera lens of a second-generation Filipino-Canadian.
I was around 10 months old when my parents first brought me to their “home away from home” — the Philippines. I don’t remember anything about it.
If anything about that first visit was encoded into my then-developing brain, it’s how hot, sunny, and humid that country is.
I’ve gone to the Philippines several times since then.
Before a certain pandemic shook up the world, I would join my parents on a trip to the Philippines almost every other year. Each visit has been unique. Each experience has been largely influenced by my ever-accumulating life experiences, as well as my own ever-shifting relationship with my Filipino-Canadian identity.
There are things about the Philippines that are difficult to put into words — and yet, these inarticulable qualities are as distinctly Filipino as Chicken Adobo or Halo-Halo.
I tried to capture these hindi ko alam qualities in the following series of images, taken over the timespan of 2014 to 2018.
Of course, the Philippines is different for everyone. But to me, it’s distinctly special — always has me feeling some type of way — and I try to capture that feeling every time I go there.
This is how I see the Philippines, in images and words. A visual love letter to the country my parents came from, moved to Canada from, and periodically come back to – time and time again.
This photo essay is dedicated to the Filipinos and Filipinos-at-heart, the balikbayans, the Pinoys and Pinays in the diaspora, and to anyone who loves to travel and witness the rich cultures the world has to offer.
You haven’t truly seen the world if you haven’t seen the Philippines.
Filipinos tend to spend a lot of time outside, soaking up the daylight, making them ideal photographic subjects against sunkissed streets.
At times, I wanted to go up to the subjects of my photographs and interview them (speaking in Tagalog — probably poorly, with a heavy “Canadian” accent), ask them questions about their lives, their dreams, their regrets.
Okay, maybe not their regrets. But everything else is fair game.
On the other hand, I liked the idea of not knowing.
Every photo I took suddenly became a window through which an endless amount of stories could be imagined. And if I did my job well enough, the photographs would tell their own stories.
(Of course, this isn’t a substitute for hearing peoples’ real stories, but that’s beside the point of this article.)
One of the most common questions my relatives from the Philippines ask me (other than “do you have a girlfriend?”) is whether or not I’d ever want to live in the Philippines. My answer would always change over the years as I’ve gotten older, ranging from “never”, to “maybe”, to “maybe, but part-time” — in other words, I’d live in Canada during the summer and flee to Cebu or Manila during the cold, grueling Canadian winters.
Motorcyclists in the Philippines wore masks before Covid-19 made them fashionable. Masks in this situation shield otherwise exposed orifices from insects, dust, and debris. It just so happens a lot of motorcyclists choose to wear masks with bad-ass designs like the one in the photo above.
You’d be surprised how popular skull masks are among motorcyclists in the Philippines. You may even be surprised at how many motorcyclists you’d see on the streets on a daily basis.
A lot.
Like, a lot.
Okay, dude on the left is riding a bicycle but the point still stands.
I rest my case.
Filipinos love to vroom vroom, clearly.
This is one of my favourite photos I’ve taken. I added a quote by Sam Kinison to complement the mood of the photo. Sometimes certain quotes just pair really well with certain images. That was definitely the case here, in my opinion.
Notice the subject’s long shadow. I didn’t notice that detail until after I had included the subtitle. I initially thought it was a stream of water, to be honest.
Fun fact: I took this photo from a moving vehicle, with my Canon Rebel T3i pointed out of an open window. Thank heavens for fast shutter speeds.
To this day, I have no idea what was in his hands, nor do I have the faintest clue what he was doing. I just felt at the time that he, like an insomniac Harry Potter, looked like he was up to no good.
For all I know, he could have simply been polishing a pair of glasses or shades with the fabric of his shirt.
Security guards are a constant presence in business establishments in the Philippines, especially at entrances. They open doors for customers and check bags for suspicious objects. This might sound odd to Westerners, but, to Filipinos, it’s the norm.
It’s not unusual for them to be carrying weapons, especially at high-risk establishments like banks. Foreigners might feel intimidated by this, but Filipinos tend to not bat an eye.
These security guards tend to be cordial and helpful, well respected among citizens, and yet not paid very highly. In fact, cordiality is quite common among Filipino locals, especially among those working in the service and hospitality industry.
When I was younger, I used to find the abundance of security guards a little off-putting, but more recently, I have learned to appreciate the role they play. I feel safer with them around.
From an economic standpoint, there are two sides to the Philippines.
The economic disparity between upper and lower classes is gargantuan. And this wealth inequality seems to have only worsened as a result of the global pandemic.
According to the Gini Index, the Philippines has the 9th largest income gap between the rich and the poor.
The contrast between the rich areas and the poor areas is remarkably stark.
Thinking about the Philippines conjures memories of the warm, humid air. The humidity would cause my clothing to stick to my sweat-moistened skin.
That humidity often persists at night. So even when the sun is gone, and it’s not nearly as hot out, you still tend to have a thin layer of perspiration on your skin. And you learn to enjoy it, too. It’s weird. Or maybe it’s just me who feels that way.
Regardless, the warm humidity is always a welcome change from Canada’s cold and dry climate.
I don’t know about y’all, but I think this photo is fire.
If there’s one thing that the Philippines has an edge on over Canada, at least, it’s their shopping malls. Their shopping malls are huge and usually densely crowded (at least, that’s how it was before the pandemic) — which is no surprise given that the population of the Philippines is currently around 112 million.
Shopping malls have historically been the premier place for locals and tourists alike to hang out, shop, and, most importantly, eat.
In my opinion, the best things to do in the Philippines are eat out and take pictures. That’s how it’s always been for me.
Bonus points if you can tell me which mall this is and/or what model iPhone I’m holding.
It’s worth noting that I decided not to talk about things like decolonization, privilege, the recent rise in anti-Asian hate crimes and sentiment, internalized racism, and so on.
Those are definitely subjects that are very pressing and personal to me, and I want to write about them in the future, but I don’t feel I have the words yet.
Instead, I wanted to keep things positive and lighthearted with this article. It’s intended to be a celebration of my travel experiences. I by no means wish to overglamorize or overidealize the Philippines.
There are a lot of negative and critical things to say.
Today’s just not that day for me, and this isn’t that article.
Salamat for reading!
🙏🏼🇵🇭
