{"id":16163,"date":"2016-07-20T12:00:46","date_gmt":"2016-07-20T16:00:46","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.thenatureofcities.com\/?p=16163"},"modified":"2016-07-20T11:31:09","modified_gmt":"2016-07-20T15:31:09","slug":"the-life-outside-gated-communities","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.thenatureofcities.com\/TNOC\/2016\/07\/20\/the-life-outside-gated-communities\/","title":{"rendered":"The Life Outside Gated Communities"},"content":{"rendered":"

It\u2019s a sunny morning and I leave the house, walking towards the gate of our subdivision. It\u2019s just a few meters, downhill, around that pechay plantation, then uphill, typical of the sloping contour of Marikina Valley.<\/p>\n

The street\u00a0may be\u00a0the most important public space because of the way it should be shared.<\/blockquote><\/figure>\n

In the two minutes and few meters, I see almost no one. Perhaps just Mr. Pechay, or so I call him, who\u2019s busy tilling the soil or slaving over his watering cans and new seeds to keep the largest greenspace we have, green. He rarely talks, but will drop by the house during Christmas to sell his overly large\u00a0upo<\/em>\u00a0and ask for a fifty-peso bill. Past his tree, I see closed, locked gates and wide walls.<\/p>\n

Treading up the path, I see cars, parked on either side of the street or taking up my space on the sidewalk, so I have to tiptoe around whatever shadow I can to avoid the glaring heat of the sun. A child screams, then laughs somewhere inside the cream-colored house, and a dog barks from the white gate across. Even with all these voices, it\u2019s sad because there\u2019s no one to say hello to.<\/p>\n

\"Screen
The gated community, where mostly cars enter and exit. Photo: Ragene Palma<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"Screen
The vegetable stall on Panorama. Photo: Ragene Palma<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

A few seconds more and I exit our subdivision gate. But before I do, I anticipate a different sight compared to the bland, boring, unfriendly walls and quiet, lonely road. I enter what is called a thriving street. It is aptly called Panorama.<\/p>\n

I first wave to Mr. Bananas, whose meter-long stall is just outside the gate. He smiles and waves back, and as always, says, \u201cAng sipag magtrabaho a! (You work so hard!)\u201d<\/em>\u00a0I nod and take note that I have to buy some\u00a0saba<\/em>\u00a0on the way home tonight. Almost simultaneously, Mr. Foochow grins from across the street, perhaps wondering if I\u2019d be too lazy to cook dinner later and order his Chinese fried chicken and classic bihon. Starting downhill again, I look to my right. Mrs. Rice nods at me, but as always, is busy asking how many kilos of Malagkit or Sinandomeng Mrs. Three-Blocks-Away would need. I pass the first FX terminal, and ask old Mr. Yosi if the driver would make the long route or take the short route. As always, he replies with the long route. I know that all too well; I just ask the question to stir conversation into the old man\u2019s life. I avoid the gaping, hazardous hole on the pavement, making yet another mental note to call City Engineering, then walk some more to avoid Mr.\/Ms. Fantastically Fabulous, who keeps telling me he\u2019s\/she\u2019s just more beautiful than I am. I continue a little bit faster (because the slope gets steeper) and ask Mr. Fruitstand how sales have been this morning. \u201cLaging maganda, (always beautiful)\u201d\u00a0<\/em>he replies with a wink. \u00a0<\/em>I turn right and make eye contact with Mr. Barker. He raises his pointing finger, and I make the same gesture to reserve a passenger seat. I leave Panorama and embark on a silent journey with a heading towards Cubao. Or, as silent as the FX FM radio allows it, anyway.<\/p>\n

\"Screen
The many trikes of Panorama. The tricycle is a two- to three-seater mode of transport that operates in neighborhoods. Photo: Ragene Palma<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Panorama Street is an example of what urbanists like to call a thriving street or a vibrant part of the community. It isn\u2019t perfect because it still has zooming jeepneys and too many trikes, like any other Philippine street, but it has familiar faces, each with a role to play. As opposed to mere space, it becomes a\u00a0place\u00a0<\/em>which has\u00a0meaning\u00a0<\/em>to the people who use it, who take part in it, who take center stage in its story. It is vibrant not just because of this chitchat, but because of the many small businesses it has and the way people have relationships. I take comfort in knowing that I can trust these not-really-strangers, who anticipate the people who pass by and look out for everyone\u2019s well-being. I love that even if the smallest conversations with some of the vendors repetitively adhere to a template, they establish a connection between real people. Most importantly for me, and I guess everyone else who lives in the southeastern outskirts of this highly urbanized city, Panorama is known to be a final stop on the commute from other places in the metro area. It\u2019s what Filipinos call\u00a0dulo\u00a0<\/em>when we use public transport. For me, Panorama is home.<\/p>\n

A thriving place or a busy street is something urban planners stand for. It\u2019s something that we champion in design and in planning for better communities. The street is meant to be used by everyone. That\u2019s why it is called a public space. The street is, perhaps, the most important public space, because of the way it should be shared. It embodies equity among the people. It\u2019s simply saying that while I take one point of view in this story, it\u2019s not just mine that matters. We could take Mr. Pechay\u2019s or Mrs. Rice\u2019s story, or perhaps that of an unnamed supporting character who was passing in the background of what I saw. It wasn\u2019t just my route or my character that meant something here; it\u2019s everybody else\u2019s. It\u2019s all of ours.<\/p>\n

\"Screen
Four young girls looking at a toddler being carried along Panorama. Photo: Ragene Palma<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

I would never have known what Panorama was like before. I would never have been able to tell this story, because I wouldn\u2019t have known anyone from it, or whatever it is that they did. Even if I had already lived for a decade in our current home, the majority of those years were spent inside the bubble of a car. And all the while, I believed that vehicle-bound experience to be normal. Mostly because of convenience and partly because of ignorance, I traveled through mere spaces, not places, and I saw more traffic lights than people\u2019s faces.<\/p>\n

Then I came to realize that cars fit perfectly in gated communities. The solitude is built exactly for someone who prefers to ride alone in the car, where there are no people, just roads; no connections, no relationships, just yourself and the wheel, shut out from the cool breeze and in sight of tinted greeneries.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve stopped using a private car (or limited it the most I can) because I prefer to be at one with my community. While I consider the tremendous smoke-belching in this country as a curse to my lungs, there is still the privilege of knowing that I\u2019ve played a part in lessening traffic congestion, reducing car emissions, and contributing to the income\u2014no matter how small\u2014of the local drivers. Most importantly, I\u2019ve learned to replicate Panorama wherever I go. I now see familiar faces in the security guards or streetsweepers in other places, and it\u2019s not a sea of blank stares anymore. Places mean more to me now than they did before. Memories are made with every step taken, and memories come flooding back with a few steps more.<\/p>\n

\"Screen
At the corner of Panorama: an old lady asking for spare change (see the recycled cup?) so she can eat lunch, and a young boy who was amused because I wanted to take his picture. Photo: Ragene Palma<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\"Screen
Inside the gated community – no one in plain sight. Just high walls and locked gates. Photo: Ragene Palma<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

You know when I miss riding in a private car? It\u2019s when I leave Panorama, in the few meters that lead back to my house, because there\u2019s no other way to go home. I miss the car because it makes me feel safe from the dark, and all the high walls that surround me. The juxtaposition of a lively street and a gated community suddenly becomes so striking.<\/p>\n

Come to think of it, I only walk those meters when daylight can provide me safety. There have been a few times I\u2019ve been forced to sprint home, strongly wishing the house with a chihuahua would open a night barbecue or that Inday from the bougainvillea canopy house would suddenly take a nighttime stroll. It would brighten the way home. But they don\u2019t, and I don\u2019t think they ever will. This leaves me with the option of riding the trike. The drivers at our terminal are very friendly, thank God for them, and sometimes they even say, \u201cGood night.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ragene Palma<\/strong>
\nMarikina City<\/p>\n

On The Nature of Cities<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

It\u2019s a sunny morning and I leave the house, walking towards the gate of our subdivision. It\u2019s just a few meters, downhill, around that pechay plantation, then uphill, typical of the sloping contour of Marikina Valley. In the two minutes and few meters, I see almost no one. Perhaps just Mr. Pechay, or so I […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":525,"featured_media":16164,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[273,298,299],"tags":[47,49,601,28,392,84,42,88],"coauthors":[746],"class_list":["post-16163","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-essay","category-essay-people-and-communitites","category-essay-place-and-design","tag-asia","tag-communities","tag-culture","tag-design","tag-justice","tag-livability","tag-networks","tag-planning"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thenatureofcities.com\/TNOC\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16163","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thenatureofcities.com\/TNOC\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thenatureofcities.com\/TNOC\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thenatureofcities.com\/TNOC\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/525"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thenatureofcities.com\/TNOC\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=16163"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.thenatureofcities.com\/TNOC\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16163\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thenatureofcities.com\/TNOC\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/16164"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thenatureofcities.com\/TNOC\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=16163"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thenatureofcities.com\/TNOC\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=16163"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thenatureofcities.com\/TNOC\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=16163"},{"taxonomy":"author","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thenatureofcities.com\/TNOC\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/coauthors?post=16163"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}