A Pinoy Biker’s Philippine Rural Adventures

A dilemma: two rides close to my heart and I have to choose one.

Making a forced decision is never easy. But since you have to, you just make it, close your eyes, then hope that when the smoke clears, you are still standing and able to go on to the next fight, err ride, that is, for me.

Okay, the scheduled rides were not on the same day, but because of a previous arrangement made with the wife, I had to choose which ride to take. She was giving me a ticket to ride for only one and I had to choose. It should have been a no brainer for me, but I guess one has to give in to a weakness one time or another, and this was it for me.

Most of those who are with me in the Firefly brigade would of course bat for the Padyak para sa Kalikasan, scheduled on Sunday, June 3. Even bluepanjeet in his comment on my post for the event, said he was envious of me for joining this ride that he himself won’t be able to join.

On the other hand, the Noodletown Ride was scheduled for Saturday, June 2. And I cashed in my ride ticket for this one!!! I must confess now that gobbling up or is it wolfing down, noodles is one weakness I have. And so as soon as I was informed of this ride through the PMTB forum, I signed up. Never regretted it.

As of now, I have no news about the Padyak Para sa Kalikasan (Pedal for the Environment) ride. I will have to look into some other resources for news related to this. Found one here.

The Noodletown ride took it’s name from the nature of the ride itself. It was a fun ride through Manila’s Chinatown that ended with a bowl of hot, freshly made noodles from one of the noodle houses there.

Before proceeding there however, the group met at the Baywalk flagpole, along Roxas boulevard. There were riders from all the four points of Metro Manila. And we all had one thing in common besides the love of biking: we all craved piping hot mami (local name for a bowl of noodles). It was agreed beforehand that we will first go for a spin around the CCP complex, going further to the Mall of Asia (MOA) and beyond.

The ride leader was planning to head to an empty landfill where we could do some short trail ride but the security guard in the area did not let us proceed. One of the riders then suggested we visit the planned bike park for the City of Pasay. We went there following his lead. The bike park is situated in the middle of a wide city street called Buendia. It is part of a city bus and jeepney route so the place may be subject to high levels of pollution specially during high traffic volume hours both early in the morning and afternoon. It was however, a welcome development, as it signal’s the city government’s commitment to the well being of it’s citizenry.

Before we left the proposed bike park, some bikers were talking about biking on top of the walls of Intramuros. It would have been a good way to go around Intramuros, as I’m sure one could see the entire Walled City from a different perspective. Someone however, said that it would be impossible since the guard would certainly not allow it. It was decided then not to try and see if the guard will let us or not. After plotting the route, we went on our way to Noodletown (Manila’s Chinatown).

I lived in Binondo (where Chinatown is) during the late eighties and was confident that I wouldn’t get lost today. However, the ride leader had us approach it from another point that I wasn’t familiar with: from the east, passing through Del Pan bridge. I used to go to Binondo, either from the Sta. Cruz area, entering Ongpin street opposite the Our Lady of the Pillar Church, or from Quintin Paredes Street, going through the Philippine Chinese Friendship Arch. I didn’t realize where we were until we crossed the San Fernando Bridge and I saw the old Binondo Church just in front of me. Now I knew were we where.

The sights, sounds and that unmistakable aroma of burning incense mixed with the peculiar but pleasant smell of Chinese food all came flooding my senses. I knew all of these from way back when I lived here and studied in the venerable University of Santo Tomas. I used to walk through these streets going to and back from the University. You couldn’t get me lost then, but right now, as I was still trying to get my bearings, you would have to lead me by the hand, or by the handle bar of my bike, or I will get lost.

The noodle house where we were supposed to eat was located in Benavidez Street. We arrived at the place and each biker parked his bike on the sidewalk propped against the light post or leaning on the walls. Those who had chains chained their bikes together witht others. The PMTB forum post mentioned that the place can seat no more than 6 but we were at least 20 then. We had to squeeze ourselves in, though upon being seated, we were quite comfortable, although the aircon suffered a bit. The waitress took our orders. I was afraid that I wouldn’t find the flavor that I wanted but it was there: seafood flavor. All the rest asked for either beef or chicken and I think I didn’t see pork on the menu for noodles. However, for dumplings, pork was number one.

One of the things that amaze me is how the Chinese make those noodles. And without any expectation at all, I witnessed it firsthand here in this noodle house. I didn’t get the name of the Chinese cook who was making it, though I really doubt if I could have understood him even if I asked or even write his name at all. He started pounding the pre made dough against the surface of his small kitchen table and then picking it up and then extending it to double its size. (It was actually the pounding that got my attention and made me approach and watch him through the glass window.) He did this several times, even throwing it and deftly catching it in midair, until the 5 cms thick dough was only about a millimeter or two. It was like magic!

He then laid the thinned dough on the table and cut the ends to the desired length. He then threw the bunch into the pot of boiling water and take them out when ready to serve.

I went back to my seat, having seen something that I used to see on TV only. No, it did not rival the thrill of downhill mountain biking but certainly, it was still a joy and a thrill to witness live.

Our orders were served and amidst friendly talk and some picture taking, a bond was formed among bikers who loved noodles. Biker Rocky even testified on his PMTB forum post that indeed:

“We enjoyed each others company so much. Bonding generated was unmatchable. When the time came for us to split from each other, nobody would like to say the first ‘bye-bye.’ As a result, lots were late for their next appointment.”

 

Photo credits: jamisjoplin/weekendrider biker buddies from PMTB