NO one, especially supposedly free-spirited travelers, likes to think of themselves as predictable. I never noticed I had a pattern when it comes to choice of destination, until now.
By default, islands or anywhere that had the ocean visible to the line of sight always took precedence. Landlocked areas almost seem like prisons. They clump together, identities bleeding unto each other, until an acronym is needed to brand their oneness. Calabarzon. Mimaropa. Central Luzon.
Clark, a freeport zone found smack in the middle of Pampanga, had never fallen within my radar. But I took the opportunity to visit, curious if the Clark of my childhood, the very little I saw from the back of a family van that cruised through lahar-stricken roadways, was still there.
Even with a child’s sensibilities, the former military base seemed quite Westernized. It was a place where relatives would bulk buy whitening floss, Cheetos, and jumbo-sized tissue paper; then overload on sugar with Chupa Chups lollipops at the Duty Free. I didn’t know what tax-free was back then, but it was certainly worth traveling for, so my relatives thought.
A land of plenty, especially if you had dollars to spend in a peso country.
The Freeport Zone
Today, much of its Western influence - airbase, golf course, aviation schools -have been rebranded into something more “lifestyle” and apolitical. Traffic, garbage, or shanties, are non-existent.
There’s no visible pollution - smog, sewage, or solid waste - either, even with economic zone locators coming from all countries and industries, from manufacturing, banking, telecommunications, you name it.
Everything is practically new, no rusty fences or non-working traffic lights. The row of heritage colonial houses along E. Aguinaldo - the White House where the President stays, the Tourism Office, and Technical Building - have all been whitewashed. Across what seems to be the only set of old buildings, a new rubberized jogging oval looks unused. Perhaps the well-intentioned joggers are all too busy utilizing the Open WiFi on the benches instead.
Clark can afford all these. Five percent of the gross income earned from almost a thousand locators are used for public infrastructure, security, community centers, tourism, and even heritage preservation, all well-maintained and meant to please investors.
In hindsight, it seems to be the Philippines done right, a success story of how efficient public services can run on a model they call corporate governance.
In a nutshell, the whole population is controlled not directly by government, but by a corporation, not by officials but by Board of Directors and Committees, focused on “transparency, accountability, and professionalism.”
Reports are published annually, disclosing net income and percentage remitted to national government; as well as next year’s plans and exactly what percentage each project will receive. A whistle-blowing policy where complaints against anyone in the company are coursed through and investigated is in place.
The Clark Development Corporation, while still owned by the Philippine government, has its own charter, exercising full police power. It takes care of infrastructure, tourism, and any other future development integrated into their master plan for the 4,400-hectare main zone. Even with changes in administration, this small plot of land seems to know exactly where it’s going.
Economic Zone as tourism spot
The only thing visibly missing are people.
“Lahat yata ng tao dito may kotse,” comments my companion, a travel agent from Bohol, as we peer out of Friendship Road, a wide highway with interspersed cars and very few citizens walking on its sidewalks.
The relationship between economy and tourism is often lopsided. Normally, capital is used to develop an area in order to serve the demands of tourism. In Clark’s case, however, the development came before optimum demand, which they expect will come sooner rather than later thanks to a 2,500 hectare airport complex development.
We go to Dinosaurs Island, an animatronic fun house with life-sized dinosaurs that make roaring sounds and are even fenced in as if they could escape anytime. The entrance is meant to replicate that of Jurassic Park’s and all over are signs that warn you to “Beware of Dinosaurs.” Save for a sprinkling of Japanese and Koreans, we were the only ones there. The manipulation is apparent when we visit Clark Museum too.
This begs the question of whether an economic zone as a tourist spot will actually work. If it does, will the rest of the economic public and private zones follow suit?
Imagine Cebu’s own MEPZ inviting its own set of tourists, cameras clicking to capture its industrial starkness, locator employees giving factory tours, companies setting up store outlets as souvenir shops. Koreans and Europeans can now buy a Nike jersey, Lululemon yogapants, and Hyatt hotel-standard lamps at factory rates. While unlikely, this is exactly what Clark has done with its partner locators in the last three years.
Time will tell whether it’s sustainable but with more flights and a new terminal on the way, the odds seem to be in their favor. Airlines are adding more destinations every month as an effort to decongest Manila’s NAIA.
At the very least, Clark should become an efficient gateway to the rest of Central Luzon. It should give claustrophobics like me, used to only beaches and open space, a reason to shatter their pattern, explore the inland.