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FIRST PERSON: Running into Rizal in Barcelona


AFTER A GRUELING 18-hour journey from Manila to Barcelona, about the last thing I expected to read outside my hotel at the heart of the Catalonian city was a message in Tagalog. But there it was, serendipitously just as I arrived on the eve of Jose Rizal's birthday, a plaque bearing both Catalan and Tagalog honoring our national hero and his role in the operation of La Solidaridad, the propaganda paper that pushed for reforms for the relationship between mother Spain and her Asian jewel.

"Luklukan ng pahayagang repormistang Pilipino (1889-1895) kung saan ang pambansang bayani ng Pilipinas na si Jose Rizal at iba pang mga nakibahagi ay nag-ambag ng malaki tungo sa kasarinlan ng kanilang bansa," read the plaque at Plaça Bonsuccés, right smack between two cervecerias where natives and tourists enjoyed beers outside on a pleasant Spanish summer afternoon, just after siesta.

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Some 120 years after La Solidaridad's founding, I was in the city's old quarter to attend a global forum on journalism, where industry luminaries have come together to discuss the present and the future of news. Much has changed in the news publishing industry since Rizal, Marcelo H. del Pilar, Graciano Lopez Jaena, and company walked these very same streets, but their struggles remain the same in some organizations around the world -- independent media, human rights, and advocacy organizations, for example, who now use online platforms to push their governments for reforms. How would the La Solidaridad crew deal with becoming the target of Distributed Denial of Service (DDoS) attacks that would try to bring down their servers and prevent them from putting out important information? Would Rizal and del Pilar be pushing their friend Juan Luna to shoot more short-form digital video that could go viral on social media and thus get more people behind their cause?

At least they would have their Twitter handles down pat: Rizal would be @laonglaan before changing to @dimasalang, del Pilar would be @plaridel, Lopez Jaena would be @DiegoLaura, and Antonio Luna would be @tagailog.

Leaving the #rp612fic tangent aside, the online space today provides for certain organizations the freedoms that Rizal and his fellow Illustrados found in Barcelona back in 1889. Describing this freedom, historian Glòria Cano of the Universitat Pompeu Fabra wrote that the Illustrados "came to realize that they were treated as full-ranking citizens, that is, as Spanish citizens and not as inferior beings."

She continued: "They enjoyed freedom of the Press, opinion and association, while in the Philippines they had access to none of these rights."

Rizal certainly made the most of these during his stay in Barcelona, leaving his mark on the city so much so that @dimasalang may as well have started the hashtag #ProudToBePinoy. Another plaque honoring the Calamba native exists at Hotel España, where he had boarded upon arriving in Barcelona in 1882 when the hotel was still known as Fonda España. It's about a 30-minute walk away from Carrer del Dr. Rizal, a street named after the physician. And just outside the city, at the fortress atop the hill where he was detained in 1896 for sedition, Castell de Montjuïc features "Sala Jose Rizal," essentially turning what was once a place that represented darkness and oppression into a beacon celebrating freedom.

#ProudToBePinoy indeed.

Rizal was far from the only Pinoy I ran into in Barcelona. Just a few steps away from the La Solidaridad building stood Fil-Manila Restaurant, which boasts of "the best Filipino cuisine" in sizzling plates. "Tuloy Po Kayo," the sign reads inviting everyone to partake of their offerings of tapsilog, tosilog, and a bunch of other silog meals.

A couple of blocks farther, a group of Filipino living in the area had converged at, unsurprisingly, a basketball court, as they do every afternoon. They were waiting until they had 10 people on the court so they could begin a full-court game. The men place coins on the ground as their ante before commencing their shooting game. The familiar scene could have happened at any plaza in any town in the Philippines, except they were some 12,000 kilometers away from home, in a city founded by Romans on the Mediterranean Sea.

 

Pinoys in Barcelona get together every afternoon to play basketball
 
 
 

A video posted by @jaemark on








"Nakikita tayo sa GMA," they say, as they notice me taking video. "Ang mga Pilipino kahit saan nagsusugal," as they burst into laughter.

(To go on another #rp612fic tangent: It's not hard to imagine that Rizal, the sportsman who was into pistol shooting and fencing competitively, would in 2015 be just as enamored with basketball as the rest of his countrymen. I see him as a heady point guard who may not be athletic, but still controls games with his court vision, solid outside shooting, and a healthy dose of gulang. He almost had a duel with Antonio Luna; I don't think he would be shy about throwing elbows while boxing out for rebounds.)

JB Abeleda, a middle-aged man in eyeglasses, a baseball cap, and matching Kobe 7 t-shirt and sneakers, wins the first round of shooting with with an awkward, two-handed jumper that nonetheless rattles in.

A chef at a Japanese restaurant, he has been in Spain since 1980. He's from Dagupan City in Pangasinan, but says that the people on the court come from all over the Philippines. "Halo-halo 'yan. May Bisaya, may Mindanao. Sa buong Pilipinas, nandito na," he says.

He hasn't been back home in 12 years. "Puro trabaho," he says. But at least there's Internet now, and he can see loved ones from back home through Facebook.

Life in Spain isn't too bad, adds Arnold Rivera, who moved to Barcelona courtesy of his aunt who had married a Spanish man. A year later, it was Arnold's turn to petition his wife to join him.

"Noong una, malungkot, medyo nababagot, pero noong may mga kaibigan na, masaya na rin," he says. But he really came to appreciate the difference between Spain and the Philippines when his wife was diagnosed with breast cancer four years ago.

"Ang maganda dito, libre lahat ng gastos. Wala akong binabayaran. Kasi 'pag nagtrabaho ka dito, automatic kinakaltas iyong parang tax mo. Kaya walang gastos lahat, ospital mo iyong may sagot," he says.

"Eh iyong sa atin, iyong 17 sessions na chemo, 25 sessions na radiation, milyon na. Eh iyong treatment pa, gamot pa. Sana maging ganoon sa atin, iyong kinukuha sa ating SS, sana maibalik sa atin."

Still, for all the wonders of Spain's social services, he pines for the day when he has saved enough to go back home to the Philippines.

"Siguro kung OK na, kung may pang-negosyo na sa atin. Iba iyong nasa atin eh," betraying the homesickness he feels.

It's not unlike Rizal in his letters to his brother Paciano. Why else would Paciano and their sisters write about the most mundane details about the Calamba town fiesta in letter after every letter to Rizal, if not to offer a piece of home to a lonely heart? It's a much different world, certainly, but 120 years later, some struggles remain the same.

As I said my goodbyes, the men invite me to come on Sunday, June 21, when they would be holding a celebration of the Philippine Independence Day. There would be a basketball game in the morning, they say, and there will be a bunch of booths selling Filipino food. I can hear the excitement in everyone's voices as they talk about the event. When you're this far away, every little piece of home counts.

I smile at the thought of a group of Filipinos holding the Independence Day celebration, right in the heart of Rizal's Barcelona. Wouldn't our national hero be proud?

Arnold takes a bit of a different view. "Kasabihan na nga noong araw, alipin tayo ng Kastila. Ngayon, alipin pa rin... pero may sweldo na," he says with a laugh.



Jaemark Tordecilla is the executive editor of GMA News Online.
 
 
 
 

 

Enjoying my first day in Barcelona, where every side street is like Intramuros.
 
 
 

A photo posted by @jaemark on








 

 
 
 
 

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