David Whitley takes on the big Asian city that many travellers hate, and finds that Manila has got a character that sets it apart

A swarm of horse-drawn carts and pedicabs fight through Manila’s notoriously savage traffic. Their operators seem to be enjoying the race, weaving in and out of the cars that gridlock the junctions. We dive down some of Intramuros’ quieter streets, headed for the Ateneo.  We arrive, and the former campus of Manila’s most highly regarded university is a bare patch of rubble. Next to it is what used to be the San Ignatius church. It’s just a shell.

Carlos has brought us here for a reason. It’s to tell the tale of what happened to Manila during World War II. The Philippine capital came out of it very badly indeed, and Carlos isn’t about to gloss over it. Carlos Celdran is an odd phenomenon. His walking tours – with a quick pedicab scoot across town thrown in – have become a Manila success story. He’s an engaging entertainer, with a Buddha-like figure and a range of twitches and knowing looks that seem to have been borrowed from Martin Freeman in The Office. He doesn’t do tours, either. He calls them performances. And that’s really what they are – theatrically embellished romps through Manila’s history.

It all centres on Intramuros, which is the city’s historic heart. The wall from the Spanish colonial era still surround it, and the buildings evoke Latin America rather than South East Asia. Many of them aren’t in a particularly good state – no-one would claim Manila is the cleanest city in the world – but they do create a feel that’s unique for Asia. What happened to Intramuros in World War II was horrific, however. After being forced out by the Japanese in 1942, US general Douglas Macarthur vowed that he would return. He did so hubristically in 1945, when the sensible option would have been to move to easier-to-capture locations nearer Japan and come back for the Philippines later.

Of course, the Japanese weren’t prepared to go give up. And while they were committing widespread atrocities against the local population, the Americans were bombing the city to smithereens. The city that US presence had turned into a thriving, beautiful “Pearl of the Orient” since 1898 was destroyed in the name of saving it. Over 100,000 Filipino civilians were killed in the entirely avoidable carnage; only Warsaw suffered more damage.

The Manila of today stems from this. People moved away from Intramuros; the memories and the piled-up bodies were too much to take, and began to sprawl out across the numerous cities that are known as Metro Manila today. Manila isn’t pretty. It has undeniable problems with poverty and homelessness. But it does have an exuberance that is hard to find in any other big Asian city. The garishly-decorated jeepneys, the full-throttle karaoke bars on every corner, the willingness to take up any excuse for a celebration – they’re what make Manila different.

It was Asia’s first genuinely multicultural city. Indian shopkeepers would sell Italian food to Filipinos; a people of Malay skin, Chinese eyes, Spanish surnames, English lingua franca and American leanings. Such mixtures play a major part in the Philippines’ role as Asia’s odd man out.

At the end of the jaunt around Intramuros, Carlos gives everyone a glass full of what he calls the Filipino national dessert. Halo-halo (literally, “mix mix”) throws everything in – condensed milk, shaved ice, nuts, fruits, jellied sweets and luminously-coloured stuff of unknown origin. “It’s far, far too much,” admits Carlos. But it’s nothing if not distinctive.

Manila itself fits into that acquired taste bracket. Most criticisms of the city are valid; but it’s never, never boring.

Do it yourself: Visit Celdrantours.blogspot.com for more information on Carlos Celdran’s “performances”.

Disclosure: David was a guest of the Manila Hotel (Manila-Hotel.com.ph) – the city’s grand old dame. Even if you don’t stay there, it’s worth nipping into the lobby for a people-watch and entertainment. There always seems to be something going on.