IN the City of Gentle People, a tricycle driver told me to take a hike.
I had just asked him if P15 would be enough to get to the mall that houses the Department of Foreign Affairs (DFA) office in Dumaguete City, when he said he didn’t want to take a roundabout way and, besides, the mall was just a short walk from where I stood. He was right. As a kind of welcome to the city I hadn’t seen in 17 years, it was fitting: helpful, refreshing and honest.
I was eager to visit Dumaguete after finding out about a month ago that there were no immediately available slots for a passport renewal appointment in DFA’s office in Cebu. Previous visits to the city and its neighboring towns had yielded some outstanding memories; a two-week stay in the summer of 2000 meant daily walks in the vicinity of Silliman University, punctuated by stops at the bakery or the second-hand books shop. Another visit in the year after that, while brief, was made memorable by some blissful hours spent snorkeling off Apo Island.
Last week’s visit was too short to offer more than a peek at how the city has changed. There was no time to hop on a boat in Amlan or Bais to see the spinner dolphins or to sit on the sandbar in Manjuyod where, many years ago, some friends and I watched startled as a disturbance in the breeze caused our hair to stand on end. We looked like bedraggled sea urchins. The center near Silliman where senior writers and teachers of literature gently (and sometimes not so gently) examined our stories is now a hotel.
When I visited last, the mall where the DFA now holds office hadn’t yet been built. It’s now being renovated and expanded ahead of its 10th year, this mall that’s the size of eight football fields. For a quick look at what the community values or creates, a visit to the public market offers a more colorful picture. But as a venue for transacting with the government, the mall offered easy access, convenience and air-conditioning.
Dumaguete’s population has grown by some 30,000 individuals since 2000, and in the afternoon rush hour, it seemed as though a quarter of them (at least) were out in full force. From San Jose to Sibulan, the bus sped unimpeded. It was refreshing to see some beachfront restaurants and a spa, but it was even better gazing at the well-kept lawns of an emerging middle class. And then we entered Dumaguete, with its streets full of private cars and the roar and sputter of its overworked tricycles. It was a little disorienting. This did not look at all like a city in the region that, according to the central bank, grew slower than the national economy did in 2017. Construction sites looked busy. So did the restaurants and coffee shops that face the city’s famous boulevard. Today, the district where its business process outsourcing sector operates has a neat row of modest buildings. But given the right support, it may yet get bigger.
The errand that compelled this trip lasted no more than 55 minutes. I could, in hindsight, have spent no more than a couple of hours in Dumaguete; there are enough bus and ferry trips available to avoid having to stay overnight. But I’m thankful for the chance to go for a spin on what used to be familiar streets; thankful to listen to the softer, less-hurried Binisaya that most people in Dumaguete speak. It is a common complaint that cities lose their unique charms the more urban they try to become. Dumaguete still has time to avoid making that mistake.