Urban Environments and Health in the Philippines: A Retrospective on Women Street Vendors and their Spaces 9780367441654, 9781003008040

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“Based on transdisciplinary, long-term research and grounded in the author’s personal engagement with decolonial scholarship, this book provides a fascinating look into the lives of women street vendors in Baguio City. I recommend it highly for students and professionals interested in urban space, gender, and microentrepreneurship, in Asia and globally, from a decolonizing perspective.” —Daniel, Goldstein, Professor Emeritus, Department of Anthropology, Rutgers University “Through the lens of a local and the language of a postcolonial scholar, Mary Anne Alabanza Aker’s research retrospective takes us on a journey through the city of Baguio to understand the evolution of the city and the stories of its women vendors as place-makers and an embodiment of resilience and perseverance.” —Jeffrey Hou, Professor of Landscape Architecture, University of Washington, Seattle “Dr. Mary Anne Alabanza Akers writes with clarity and prose that makes this book a compelling read for those interested in understanding the intersectionality and complexity of health and place. From the perspective of an authentic researcher of the place where she was born and raised, she takes us deep into the urban spaces of Baguio City in the Philippines where women street vendors work and share their lived experiences.” —Francisco S. Sy, MD, DrPH, Professor and Chair, Department of Environmental and Occupational Health, University of Nevada Las Vegas (UNLV), School of Public Health

Urban Environments and Health in the Philippines

Urban Environments and Health in the Philippines offers a retrospective view of women street vendors and their urban environments through the lens of Baguio City, designed by American architect and planner Daniel Burnham in the early twentieth century, and established by the American imperial government as a place for healing and well-being. Based on a transdisciplinary multi-method study of street vendors, the author offers a unique perspective as a researcher of the place, to ultimately ask how marginalized women authenticate and democratize prime urban spaces for their livelihoods. This book provides a portal to another way of seeing and understanding streets and people, covering spatial units at multiple scales, design imperialism and its impact on health, and resilience strategies for challenging realities. Blending subjects of architecture, planning, and health, this book is an ideal read for those interested in fields of urban planning and design, public health, landscape architecture, geography, and social sciences. Mary Anne Alabanza Akers is the Dean for the School of Architecture and Planning at Morgan State University, Baltimore, Maryland. She continues to write on the interconnections between urban environments, health, communities, and people.

Health and the Built Environment Series Editor: Mohammad Gharipour

Health and the Built Environment provides a transdisciplinary overview of community, design and health for practicing professionals and academics. Produced in a handy, accessible format and written by a range of leading international authors, this series will provide readers with a comprehensive understanding of the relationship between health and the environment. It will discuss key concepts such as restoration; healing and therapeutic environments; community health; integrated healthcare systems; evidencebased design; technology; city and public health; and sustainability, along with many more. Urban Environments and Health in the Philippines A Retrospective on Women Street Vendors and their Spaces Mary Anne Alabanza Akers

For more information about this series, please visit: https://www.routledge. com/planning/series/HBE

Urban Environments and Health in the Philippines A Retrospective on Women Street Vendors and their Spaces Mary Anne Alabanza Akers

First published 2021 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2021 Mary Anne Alabanza Akers The right of Mary Anne Alabanza Akers to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record has been requested for this book ISBN: 978-0-367-44165-4 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-00804-0 (ebk) Typeset in Sabon by codeMantra

The Baguio mountains of my youth beckons, a persistent gentle tapping on my memory’s soul. Spirits of wind, water, earth, and sky, whisper in silence, “Come back to us”. The melodious call of pine trees bristle. I listen with my heart to the city’s rhythms, harmonies that resonate in my conscious dreams. For these chants carry the mythical urban ballads of my youth, echoing their truths, permeating into my being. As my memory breathes these all in, I am transformed once again. The Cordillera spirits are calling. I am reminded that I am a Child of the Mountains. This book is dedicated to those who consider Baguio City their soul’s hometown. To Mama and Papa, who instilled their love for learning in us. To Tim and Aubrey, the Triangle is the Strongest Shape in Nature. Love transcends words. To Lenny, Dennis, and their families (Trixie, Ginelle, Martin and Cat. Pat and Gab.) Thanks for your support and believing in me.

Contents

Preface Acknowledgments Introduction I A transdisciplinary multi-year study of vendors 2 II Urban place-node: a new way to understand health and place 4 1 Decolonizing the read I A decolonizing process 8 II The case for researcher authenticity 12 III Reading Asian streets and globalized places in perspective 14 2 Lodging the context in place I Global realities: connection to a world system 25 II Everyday reading of urban environments 27 III A method in street reading: introducing the place-node concept 30 IV Historical roots of the health and place linkage 32 3 Locating health and place: historical and contemporary case of Baguio City I Early American imperialism in the Philippines 35 II Origins of an American hill station 38 III Daniel Burnham’s plan for Baguio City 41 IV Factors in the growth of Baguio City 45 A Establishment of a convalescent center 45 B Retreat for summer work and residence 46

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Transformation into an education and medical center 46 Early beginnings of an economic center 47 Enjoyment for tourism and recreation 48 Expansion of the mining industry 48 Operations of the export processing zone 49

4 Intersecting spatial-environmental perspectives with urban health I Life-worlds of women vendors: a global scan 51 A Transnational discourse on gender 51 B Women street vendors in the Philippines and the Global South 53 C Women vendors as place-makers 55 D Street vending in Baguio City 58 II Street spatial environments in downtown Baguio City 60 A Upper Session Road 62 B Middle Session Road 70 C Lower Session Road Area 75 D General Luna Road (intersection with Upper Mabini and Assumption Road) 82 E Abanao/Harrison Area 87 III Women vendors in a spatial-environmental and health context 93 A Urban place-nodes in a health context 94 B The personal accounts and health conditions of eight women vendors 103 5 A retrospective: reflections on urban environments, women vendors, and health I Thoughts on carrying capacity of street environments 115 II Thoughts on future of informality 119 III Thoughts on an inclusive local economy for Baguio 121 IV Thoughts on local governance 123 V Thoughts on the “warehousing” vending activities 124 VI Thoughts on street public life 125 VII Thoughts on informal vendors and street knowledge 126 VIII Thoughts on building edges 127 IX Thoughts on the downtown pocket parks 128

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X Thoughts on culture commodification and objectification 128 XI Thoughts on the transdisciplinary process 130 XII Thoughts on human resilience 130 XIII Thoughts on embodiment and women’s agency 132 Conclusion

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Bibliography Index

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Preface

As an academic, your value is typically measured by the number and type of publications you produced. But fortunately, I have allowed my career path to unfold on its own, not following a traditional path. From teaching in a college classroom as a faculty member at age 19, to working at a national housing agency and then a private mining company in my early 20s, to pursuing my doctoral graduate studies at 25, and back to the classroom as a tenure-track professor and community planner at 32, and then to serving as a higher education administrator (Dean), I have learned that measuring one’s value and worth cannot be predicated and defined solely by external expectations. One has to be driven by an inspirational urge to achieve a purposeful life and arrive at a vocation with a proper spirit of aspiration. This book is the product of years of field research work, writing papers, reading, and reflecting on the meanings of urban space, women vendors, and their health. I could not have written the book immediately after the formal data collection was completed in 2006. The result would have been merely a published document devoid of thoughtful insight and cultural meaning. But this book now reflects my own voice, seasoned by time, age, and experience. It reflects an intentional sifting of appropriate intellectual writings and disregard for the unbridled and non-critical use of theories and paradigms that have been cited over and over again. You, the reader, will be introduced to my hometown, Baguio City, Philippines, in ways that hopefully stimulates curiosity about the lives of women vendors who toil long hours in challenging environments in order to support their families. Currently, although many of them have been cleared of the spaces they occupied, they are in the city operating their microbusinesses where regulations are not imposed. Many of them are unemployed or have left Baguio for other cities with more opportunities and friendlier rules. Nevertheless, the informal economy will never disappear. People will always find ways to survive poverty in spite of the hardships and pain that accompany it. In the end, and more importantly, it is my hope that you, the reader, will engage in a transcendent global conversation that will spur valuable and tangible action to change people’s lives.

Acknowledgments

Numerous people have played significant roles throughout the multi-year transdisciplinary work but they are too many to list. Their contributions are sincerely appreciated and valued. To ALL the women vendors who gave us their time, stories, food, and free give-aways. Without them, this book would not have been written. I hope they continue to make their voices heard. To the Cordillera Studies Center (CSC) at the University of the Philippines College at Baguio. Thank you for the opportunity to work with your research assistants. It has indeed come full circle when I participated in developing the CSC concept in 1979–1980. Keep up the exceptional work you all are doing. To our Filipino team of researchers. Thank you for your time and depth of local knowledge. You made the work meaningful and enjoyable. To the transdisciplinary team of seasoned professionals and researchers: Dr. Timothy Akers, Dr. Richard Sowell, Drs. Carol and Noel Holtz, Dr. Luke Naeher. Special thanks to Dr. Francisco Hernandez who conducted the medical examinations for the vendors. To US-based students who traveled with us to the Philippines. Thank you for your enthusiasm in walking the streets of Downtown Baguio. To Dr. Mohammad Gharipour who opened the door for this book opportunity. To Evan Richardson, Dr. Siddhartha Sen, and Terrence Baker who held the SA+P fort during my writing spurts. To Andrew Bui who did a fantastic job in illustrating the maps.

Introduction

A transdisciplinary consciousness begins in childhood. When a child grows up in a home where her parents discussed their work at the dinner table, she learns about the many facets of the world outside. A father who worked as an architect and urban planner might explain the design features of an urban park, while a mother who was a social worker and psychologist may suggest that he should consider the entrance accessibility for people with disabilities. I grew up in this kind of home, where fluid conversations about the urban environment and people formed my context growing up. My brothers and I were raised in a design office. My father was the City Architect for Baguio and our toys were the architectural models displayed around his office, as well as an array of sketching pencils, trace paper, paints, and T-squares. From an early age, I learned, in an informal way, how to identify symmetry, proportion, hierarchy, and many other design elements. Simultaneously, another playground was our mother’s office while she worked in various health and human services jobs, including at the Philippine Mental Health Association, the Benguet Corporation Foundation, and counseling offices at the University of Baguio, Brent School, and University of the Philippines. Yet another playground was a souvenir store at the Historic Baguio Stone Market. My father’s family owned several stores referred to as Las Alabanzas, and my mother owned and managed one of these curio shops in addition to her day job. When we were not in one of our parents’ offices, we were in the market, playing in the aisles, or eating street food and making friends with vendors, sales girls, and other shop owners’ children. Therefore, the intersection of urban design and people—particularly those with limited resources—was my transdisciplinary playing field. Edward Relph, the author of a classic book Place and Placelessness, offers an insight on meaningful places we remember as children which serve as vital reference points in our lives. Often, it is not the actual physical features of a place that are etched into our memories, but the feeling or mood that accompanied our experience of it. Throughout the book, I will set aside narratives that I remember as a Baguio native. Hopefully, these memories demonstrate my position as an authentic researcher of the place.

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Introduction

They will also present deeper insight into the identity and meaning of urban spaces occupied by women vendors. Their experiences of place will no doubt differ from mine, but the view of these spaces from my eyes may afford a better understanding of the health-place nexus. My interest in women vendors stems from a memorable connection with them. They saved me when I was about two or three years old. One day as a young child, I got lost in the market. My parents told the story that I followed one of our salesgirls out of the store but she was unaware that I was behind her. The only memory I have of that day was the sun beaming on me and I was surrounded with an abundance of sounds and colors. Apparently, I lost sight of our salesgirl and my wailing cry caught the attention of several vendors. They immediately came to the rescue. These women recognized me as my mother’s child because she was their suki (regular customer). This is an example of how friendly informal associations between customers and vendors exceed the economic exchange between parties. Such situation depicts the life-worlds of vendors in Baguio City. A transdisciplinary awareness unfolds throughout life, and this book is one of the many outcomes from that growth process. It is intended to share the journey I have encountered in rediscovering Baguio as the city of my birth and bedrock for my professional and academic adventure. The book’s focus is on a multi-year study of women vendors in the streets, sidewalks, open spaces, and alleys of downtown Baguio City, Philippines. I led a team of local Filipino social scientists (anthropologists, sociologists, and economists) and American health practitioners (medical doctors, nurses, and medical students). The blending of these disparate disciplines in the study took years, but in the end, a new integrated understanding of the urban environment and the vendors’ health emerged. This book focuses on such a transdisciplinary perspective. Its purpose is to review, in retrospect, the significance of how the cities impact the health of outdoor vendors. Ultimately, it provides a framework for the practice of place-making with people in mind.

I A transdisciplinary multi-year study of vendors Baguio advanced as a regional center due to industries related to education, medicine and health, tourism and recreation, commerce and trade, and arts and culture. With this growth came an expansion of the informal sector as well. In 1991, as a new faculty member at the University of Georgia, I built my research and outreach agenda around the intersection of place, diverse communities, microentrepreneurship, and planning processes. As my work grew into tangible, funded programs, such as various microenterprise training programs for African American women in Georgia, the opportunity to expand my research to the Philippines evoked a keen sense of interest and commitment to the motherland. The multi-year study began in 1999 with the purpose of recording vendors’ socio-economic conditions in a systematic way (Figure 1). I led a team of local social science researchers from

Introduction 3 the Cordillera Studies Center at the University of the Philippines College Baguio. A researcher from the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention assisted in conducting the survey of 211 vendors. We also observed, documented, and measured their actual physical locations around downtown Baguio (Akers, 1999, 2000).1 We attempted to tag their geo-spatial points but our GPS instrument was not advanced enough to derive accurate positioning because many vendors worked close together in clusters. Building on the results of the first survey, we conducted interviews in 2001 to learn more about the relationships between street vendors and the formal businesses adjacent to their locations.2 Previously, we gathered that alliances existed between these two groups and we endeavored to find out more about such symbiotic relationships (Akers, 2001). In 2003, with an American team of nurses, a medical doctor, and a health researcher, we partnered again with local researchers to conduct a health survey of 187 vendors. Furthermore, we continued to monitor and evaluate the various aspects of their vending places (Akers and Akers, 2005, 2008a). At this point, the air quality in downtown Baguio was rapidly deteriorating and we wanted to test the pollution levels where the hundreds of vendors worked most of their waking hours (ten hours a day, seven days a week).3 With a team of environmental health researchers from the University of Georgia, we monitored the ambient particulate matter (PM2.5 and PM10) in 30 vendor sites three times a day throughout December 2004 and January 2005. In addition, we installed an air monitoring device in a fixed site on the third floor of the De Guia building in Session Road. For several 24-hour cycles, the device measured PM2.5, PM10, carbon monoxide, nitrogen dioxide, and select volatile organic compounds. Unsurprisingly, the air quality in downtown showed elevated pollution levels, which may be attributed to the myriad diesel-fueled vehicles driving the hilly streets of the city. In 2006, another team was organized to work on three divergent aspects of the multi-year study.4 A local physician from Baguio, social science

Figure 1 Transdisciplinary multi-year study of Downtown Baguio City vendors.

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Introduction

researchers from the University of the Philippines at Baguio, and an American team of health researchers, medical students, and a high school student constituted this team. Ten vendors, eight women and two men were recruited and paid to have themselves bio-medically examined and tested. The Filipino medical doctor, Dr. Francisco L. Hernandez, Director of the Notre Dame Hospital, conducted an evaluation of their cardiovascular, pulmonary, abdominal, and neurological systems. Lab tests were done at the hospital as well. Interestingly, the results revealed that all vendors were within a normal range of results for the tests (Akers et al., 2005). The second aspect of this research phase was to document a slice of the women vendors’ life-worlds through in-depth interviews. We visited two vendors in their homes to get a better glimpse of their living situations. A third aspect consisted of examining the material culture of the various downtown streets. Thorough photo documentation was used to take images at five angles (eyelevel front, upward front, downward front, eye-level right front, and eyelevel left front). These images were shot at every five-foot-long stretch of sidewalk/street (or pavement break) on 12 downtown Baguio streets (Upper and Lower Session Road, Governor Pack Road, Assumption Road, Upper and Lower Mabini Street, General Luna Road, Magsaysay Avenue, Abanao Street, Kayang Street, Harrison Street, and Father Calderon Street). The photo documentation component yielded hundreds of street images. The multi-year study gives evidence to the emergence and building of intersections among various academic areas. Typical of transdisciplinary research is the focus on complex practical issues that brings together researchers from diverse backgrounds. Transgressing boundaries takes time and intentional effort but the result is the convergence of new perspectives and thought processes that give us a deeper understanding of people and their urban environments. The myriad of studies on street vendors around the world produced fragmented knowledge through specific methodologies. A few scholars have attempted to stitch these research materials together in various meta-analyses but I would describe the outcomes as uneven patchwork that seem to make sense at a perfunctory level. On the other hand, case studies appear to offer specificities about places and people that contribute to real world frameworks in addressing real world issues. Situational conditions that give deeper meanings can be stitched together to form matching patterns. A transdisciplinary approach is one of the most effective ways to ensure these elements are blended well because time, continuous analyses, and constant reflections produce new paradigms, as in the case of women street vendors and their health in Baguio City.

II Urban place-node: a new way to understand health and place After our multi-year study, other researchers examined various facets of vending and place in a few areas of downtown Baguio City. Researchers

Introduction 5 from Toronto, Canada and Malaysia, Lynn Milgram and Seng Guan Yeoh, respectively, conducted separate studies but their focus was mainly anthropological. Their ethnographical approach entailed case studies of vendors and in-depth analyses of vending behavior and processes within larger contextual frameworks (e.g. socio-cultural, economic, and historical). To examine urban environments more closely, I needed a new analytical perspective. The creation of a methodological tool that undergirds the transdisciplinary model of health and resiliency in the built environment called for an innovative approach. It was at this point that I developed the concept of the urban place-node as a unit and tool of analysis, an outcome of my reflections on the street vendor research conducted 20 years prior. Reviewing subsequent publications and revisiting the large database and numerous statistical analyses that I conducted prompted a reframing of perspective and ways of seeing/reading the Baguio streets. The need to conduct micro-level analysis of everyday life and the physical environments that shape it led to the concept of the place-node. These specific sites and the women vendors who occupy them are treated as unique, but simultaneously serve as a microcosm of larger societal and world systems. Urban place-nodes are intensified focal spaces that mark the intersectionality of place, people, and health. Initially conceived as sites during the multi-year study from 1999 to 2006, the concept of nodes eventually emerged. The treatment of a site as merely a unit of analysis for the various sub-studies within the larger multi-year study lacked depth, and were statistically tested as mere backdrops to other salient variables, such as socio- economic status, health conditions, vending experiences, air quality, and physical attributes of place. This book offers a holistic retrospective view of place to understand the built environment and to elicit the health implications of urban spaces on women vendors. The concept of urban place-nodes is a valuable transdisciplinary tool that teaches us how to take a frame of urban street life in a bounded physical setting. It involves a quick snapshot of dense material, economic, social, and cultural cues that reflect conditions of downtown streets in Baguio City. Urban place-nodes are frozen in time, like specimen in the laboratory. Nonetheless, like cells, we know frames are alive and active. Each urban place-node has special rhythms that distinguish them from others. It is important for the reader to understand that these units, or frames, are complex, dynamic, and interconnected. Doreen Massey, a renowned geographer who writes about space and gender acknowledges that just as people have manifold identities, so too do places. And indeed, these Baguio place-nodes have multi-faceted identities that reflect society and the impact of globalization on Philippine urbanism. The book is organized into five chapters. Chapter 1 sets the stage for understanding my frame of reference as I studied, analyzed, and interpreted the streets in downtown Baguio as a decolonizing authentic researcher of the place. It describes the transdisciplinary multi-year study of women

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Introduction

vendors that I led. Presented here is an analysis of the intersection of urban design, health, and microentrepreneurship. Also discussed briefly are the various methodologies and research tools used to extract segments of data that were assembled for this retrospective. Chapter 2 offers a macroframework to a global context that impacts cities in the Global South. Specifically, it addresses how participating in a world system often paves the way for Asian cities to follow “universal” design and planning models that do not celebrate local aesthetics and urban behavior. Introducing Baguio City as the focal place for this book, Chapter 3 discusses the historical backdrop in which the intersection of health and place became the impetus for the establishment of the city as an initial American settlement. As the city expanded and welcomed diverse economic, educational, medical/ health, and cultural functions, its regional influence increased. With this growth came challenges. Formal jobs did not keep pace with the population swell, giving rise to an informal economy. The core of the book, Chapter 4, presents a detailed narrative of the street environments in which women vendors worked. Using the place-node unit of analysis, local spatial, sociocultural, and economic elements are illustrated. The chapter ends with a discussion of the health aspects of place. Chapter 5 concludes with retrospective thoughts about the transdisciplinary results of multi-year study and the concepts of carrying capacity and resilience. This chapter does not take a prescriptive tone, but encourages the reader to reflect and ponder Baguio City’s downtown streets and the future of work for women vendors. Even if the multi-year study took place two decades ago, a retrospective view offers new ways of reading urban environments. Cities, particularly in the Global South, encounter patterns that are ever-changing, and at the same time recurring.5 This paradoxical view is what makes the substance of the book both new and seemingly “outdated” at the same time. Many of the observations and thoughts about downtown Baguio have not changed. Vending behavior is still alive and well, and may have morphed into altered ways, but their former spaces have not changed much. Although the book is focused on a specific Baguio City case study in the Philippines, its contents likely epitomizes other urban centers in Asia and the Global South. The broad patterns of street rhythms and aesthetics, commingling of formal and informal functions, pedestrian and vehicular behaviors, as well as the interplay of these environmental elements constitutes the book’s application to other contexts. In addition, the colonial historical imprints on urban spaces and how we have localized these places to suit our needs are shared among all of us, the colonized. But the Western scientific push to generalize our realities and formulate theories is not the goal. Rather, the book hopes to establish new ideographic perspectives that stems from giving meaning to specific local elements, and composing unique scenarios that other urban cultures can draw from. Hopefully, researchers, designers, and practitioners will be able to extract insights, analytical devices, and substance for reflection that are applicable to their respective local settings.

Introduction 7

Notes 1 This first phase was funded by the University of Georgia’s School of Environmental Design. 2 This phase was funded by the University of Georgia Research Foundation, Inc. 3 This phase was funded by the University of Georgia Gerontology Center, Department of Environmental Health Science, and Kennesaw State University’s Wellstar College of Health and Human Services. 4 This phase was funded by the University of Georgia Wilson Center for the Humanities and the Research Foundation, Inc. 5 The term “Global South” is a reference used to identify poor and emerging economies that continue to strive in a contemporary global capitalist context. The term is mainly used by academics and policy makers to describe economies in Africa, Asia, Oceania, Latin America, and the Caribbean. Rather than using former terms such as “developing” or “Third World,” the Global South connotes a less hierarchical and binary relationship between highly industrialized countries in the North and those that are newly industrializing and have been colonized by European nations and the United States.

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Decolonizing the read

I A decolonizing process Strong sentiments reverberate about how the West desires, extracts, and claims ownership to colonized people’s ways of knowing and the myriad of things they create. But then, at the same time, the West rejects them and deny opportunities to center these local cultures in their everyday lives (Smith, 1999). The call to decolonize is a strategy that involves confronting unequal power structures. Decolonization is a theoretical, and often contested, term that has been used to connote the cleansing of European influence or American domination. Formerly viewed as a condition and process held within the realm of political economy, government, and history, decolonization has now permeated cultural anthropology, literature, geography, architecture, and many other fields of study. In most of these academic disciplines, decolonization implies an intentional change of attitude and worldview—a cultural practice by the colonized to reclaim the indigenous roots that were stripped from them. The process shifts power imbalances in a way that dismantles dominant production of knowledge, binary thinking, and decontextualization. The striking down of colonial preeminence leads to a state of mind that validates local experiences. It repositions and empowers marginalized voices and accepts the multi-faceted nature of people and their communities. Part of the decolonization process is recognizing a principle that can be expressed as, I have to navigate the world and not live isolated from it. It is essential that I remain engaged with the world but I have to continually reevaluate and reframe my position, and self-negotiate with realities that come with it. After decades of research and practice in the field of urban planning and design, both formal and informal, I have published and presented various aspects of the multi-year street vendor study at academic and professional conferences around the world. I am now at a phase in my intellectual journey where I have achieved an awareness of my thought evolution. A constant

Decolonizing the read

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dialogic conversation in my mind about the Philippines and its colonial past has transformed and deepened my perspective of authenticity. Educated at the University of the Philippines, the most progressive and “maka-masa” (for-the-people) institution of higher learning in the country, especially during the revolutionary years of the 1970s, I am no stranger to the discourse of colonization and its impact on our land, culture, and minds.1 This retrospective narrative is a product of the on-going process of decolonization. As I re-examine the robust quantitative and qualitative data, as well as personal memories and observations, I can offer a richer and deeper perspective of Baguio City’s women vendors and the relationship between urban environments and their health. Through my decolonization journey, I have come to trust in a natural unrushed transformation that requires careful assessment and intentional actions to shape my worldview. I do not blindly follow the rhetoric that permeates academic discourse and social media, but as a pragmatic urban planner, I process various points of view, ponder their applicability and relevancy to situations in the Philippines, and then claim my position in the discourse. As a decolonizing academic practitioner, I situate myself in a malleable space from which I write this book. Much like the police in Fletcher’s study of police officers (1992) who understand that a “street degree” is never fully achieved because of the ever-changing nature of people and urban environments, I cannot and should not claim that I have arrived at being a decolonized person. It takes an entire lifetime to peel so many engrained layers of American colonization. As the iconic humanist geographer of our time Yi-Fu Tuan states, “[t]he life of thought is a continuous story, like life itself” (Tuan, 1977, p.v.). What is entailed in decolonizing the read of urban environments, particularly the streets of downtown Baguio? To reiterate, it is not a linear process. One of the most basic strategies I use is to first identify colonized cues and how the colonizer stereotyped urban places. I file these observations but understand there are other layers to unravel in order to read the street well. Several academics of Filipino heritage have written about the decolonization process. In their very limited studies of Filipino Americans, they start the process by providing a historical background of the Philippines and the influence of colonizers in almost every aspect of Filipino life (Halagao, 2004; Strobel, 2001). David (2009) developed a decolonization cognitive-behavioral therapy. One of the first steps he promotes is for clients to recognize their mental schema and thought patterns. Similar to his approach, decolonizing the read of urban environments involves culling fragments of physical factors of space, people’s cultural and economic behavior in a street setting, and their sense of territoriality, among other socio-spatial constructs, and then embedding this constellation of attributes into a package, wrapped with a ribbon of continuous decolonizing lessons. Decolonizing the read also implies “de-Filipinizing” the read. The Spanish and American colonizers imposed the concept of one nation as they

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proceeded to control and subject the inhabitants of an archipelago of 7,107 islands. They insisted on “unity” for a population that is culturally, ethnically, religiously, and socially diverse. The roots of Filipino nationalism stem from a group of Filipino men, an emergent bourgeoisie educated in Manila, in Madrid, Spain, and in other European capitals (Rafael, 1990). Self-identified as the ilustrados, or “enlightened,” they called for reforms to improve the lives of Filipinos, but a different group, composed of peasant farmers, established a revolutionary campaign to fight for independence from Spain. But the “Filipinization” of the country has centered this national consciousness around the “Tagalog-speaking” region, often regarding the rest of the archipelago as peripheral. Even worse, they have completely marginalized the indigenous groups in the Cordilleras and the Muslims in Mindanao, the southernmost large island. Therefore, a way to decolonize the read of Baguio’s downtown streets is to accept and celebrate the “archipelagic” nature of sites—in other words, to treat every place-node as distinct, and not place them in a hierarchical or binary arrangement. It is especially critical for the reader to be aware that Baguio residents, as well as Cordillera and lowland day workers—who are experts in navigating the terrain—manipulate and interpret space very differently from lowland visitors. Furthermore, the historical and cultural experiences of people from Baguio and the Cordilleras vary from those in other major regions of the country. Semiotics and the need to understand the spatial culture and history of the place are at the forefront of the effort to decolonize the read. A dialogue took place as I observed that the streets and their elements communicated meaningful messages back to me. The street speaks with multicolored signs, asymmetrical overhangs, retail fixtures extending over the sidewalk, vendors and their wares, blasts of car exhaust, loud music, whiffs of roasted corn—a cacophony of visual marks, sounds, and smells. I mentally processed these codes as I returned again and again to re-read the sites. A back-and-forth movement of language and interpretation continues to this day. A disclaimer is warranted here. An oversimplification of concepts and theories and the overgeneralization of observations may seem apparent in some sections of the book. When these appear, the intention is not to gloss over them but to imply that these thoughts are peripheral to the discussion at hand. The purpose of the retrospective is not to build an intellectual argument about informal vending and the politics of space, thus it does not engage in in-depth analysis of contestation, world systems, gendering or feministic theories of work, and other constructs. Rather, it is written to illustrate the intersection of place, health, and micro entrepreneurship in tangible ways for practitioners and applied researchers to create solutions to urban issues. Perera and Tang (2013) put forth their belief that theories erase local realities. They further explain that Western theory building is based on abstraction which excludes the specificities of knowledge.

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Furthermore, with the prevalence of Western-oriented literature, I chose to cite materials that were applicable to the Global South, and deliberately sought authentic writers who were from the place or had otherwise become deeply connected with it. As part of my decolonizing journey, I have been conscious of scholarly sources that propagate an extractive researcher behavior and attitude. I consciously did not include those materials because I believe they reinforce the positionality of Western privilege in the urban design and planning domains of knowledge. My journey of reflection involved explicating some of the ideas that guide this retrospective—not to summarize the history or catalogue intellectual place thinkers, most of whom, as mentioned earlier, are Western male scholars who view the world from a specific perspective. As a decolonizing scholar and practitioner, I read, digest, and reflect on various theoretical and practical perspectives, and then I assess their applicability to my discourse on Baguio City. I do not blindly adhere to certain dominant ideologies simply because other scholars have. Many of these Western theories have been widely discussed and argued all over the world and, often, their cited publications are readily accepted without critical evaluation of their merit to the analysis of local contexts in the Global South. For example, not all Marxist-oriented contributions to the debate on inequality and hierarchical spheres of global economies, nor feminist and postcolonial canonical traditions are germane to the retrospective’s purpose. The spatial framework advanced by Castells and Harvey is very abstract and applies to larger-scale areas like nations, regions, and cities. Smaller places, at site-level scale, are off their theoretical radar. Furthermore, they fail to account for the experience of individual actors and details of spatial structures (Low, 1996). Instead, presented here are the building blocks and selected key reference points that are useful in the retrospective process. A single influential theory does not capture the foundational groundwork in the discussion about women vendor experiences and the intersection of health and setting. Even well-meaning, or rather oblivious urban scholars who profess to be advocates for Global South issues continue to articulate their ideas from a Western perspective. For example, a call was extended for a theoretical paradigm shift in the literature. Recognizing the lack of an appropriate urban theory to explain the “complex lived realities of citizens in the Global South” (Parnell and Robinson, 2013, p. 6), scholars proposed an alternative planning praxis rooted in the South—a universal socio-economic and environmental concept of rights that offer a “profound moral base for planning.” Exemplary of Western scholars who intellectualize non-western conditions, they advocated theory-building and policy development based on empirical and analytic methods that produce data stored in an explicit and formalized system. This type of paradigm shift is unnecessary because it reeks with the usual moralistic imposition on the Other, classifying colonized people’s realities as universal data points rather than delving deep into their realities.

12 Decolonizing the read As I engage in the decolonizing process, I have learned to apply strategies through my own framework of self-discovery and revelation. I have learned how place is stereotyped by the colonizer. However, I have developed a discernment for the appropriate application of Western principles/knowledge. For these approaches to be valid in the local context I ask these questions: How are these thoughts substantiated with reflective experiences of the colonized worlds? Are people’s lives placed front and center in the discourse? As an urban planner I have refrained from using a universal standard for reading cities. Rather, I have replaced anesthetic order with the lens of complexity, increased understanding of nuances, and overlays of temporal elements. Finally, I have learned to classify features of places only when necessary and only as a preliminary step to reading urban environments.

II The case for researcher authenticity In the critical analysis and interpretation of places, one ought to consider the role and positionality that the researcher plays in forming a perspective and constructing knowledge. In the early phase of my academic experience, I carried insecurities about my value as a Filipina researcher. The effects of colonialization on my intellectual worth meant that I complied and deferred to Western scholars who studied various aspects of Philippine life and society. But I found their scholarship to be lacking in depth and context. As I matured professionally and intellectually, I gained the confidence to question and critique their interpretations. I have become a judicious academic. I am determined to stand up and be heard. A researcher of the place holds a special standing in the research setting. This “insider/outsider” position is a gift (Yakushko et al., 2011). Much like the betweener 2 , the authentic researcher has easier access to study participants because of language and cultural connection. I am able to listen intently to the women interviewees with less preconceived judgments than an outsider brings. I am sensitive to the subtleties of body language, diction, tones, and colloquialisms. In addition, as a betweener, I carry with me a bundle of knowledge extracted and processed from the vast realm of literature accessible to a privileged academic. But more importantly, I contribute my personal knowledge and meaningful recollection of these Baguio streets and how they have shifted and evolved. Like learning a language, the more one is immersed in a place from birth, the larger the domain of words for describing it. Accordingly, growing up in Baguio City and spending most of my professional life there affords me a more robust vocabulary of places. A basic tenet that I uphold as I decolonize the read of Baguio is taking a stance of confidence that as a researcher-of-the-place I have the legitimacy to construct culturally appropriate knowledge. The emphatic call for Asians, and other people of color in the Global South, to build our own narratives about our cities is there (Giwa, 2015; Hou, 2010; Hou and Chalana, 2016; Perera and Tang, 2013; Sen, 2017). Our interpretations are

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crucial in building vernacular urban thought. Our points of view must be respected as valid because we are well versed in the nuances of peoples and places. We need to continue to centralize our narratives instead of subordinating and suppressing our voices as scholars of the place. Outside researchers often present flat perspectives that carry limited substance, often confirming their superficial knowledge base. Of course, there are challenges. It is inevitable that differences, whether cultural, socio-economic, or educational, affect the interactions between researcher and participants (Nast, 1994; Zhao, 2017). As a betweener, I may have different values and priorities from the women vendors and I am cautious about imposing my views on the best solutions for their respective situations. The power differential between the women vendors and myself results from a dissimilarity in socio-economic class. I come from an educated middle-class family, one of the core Filipino families in Baguio City during the early rise of the city as a regional center. Old-time Baguio residents typically are familiar with the Alabanza surname because of our family owned souvenir stores, apartment buildings, a famous meat store, and other businesses. My father, Joseph Alabanza, was the first City Architect and Planner for Baguio, and the official responsible for implementing Burnham’s design. He is also known as the founder of the architecture degree program at St. Louis University, the first undergraduate design program north of Manila. Nevertheless, the metaphor of “betweenness” denotes commonalities between the researcher and the researched, depending on the context of time and place (Kobayashi, 1994). It is constructive to acknowledge our differences and then to work and collaborate in imaginative ways. Although I did not give my last name unless asked, many vendors knew of my family. Needless to say, this was more beneficial than detrimental to the conversations we had during the multi-year study. I believed I gained their trust because I was accepted as a “Baguio girl,” an insider. Focusing on my “Baguio-ness” assisted me in gaining access, formally and informally, to the vendor worlds. Note that knowledge gained from these research experiences percolated through a process of intense observation, interpretation, reflection, and, eventually, abstraction. Yet, betweeners have to be cognizant of their fluid identities in the research circumstance, considering that many have migrated from the Global South to study in the Global North and have adopted Western ways of knowing. As we return to conduct research in our homelands, we must come fully equipped to handle the tensions that will likely occur. We must heighten our awareness of our biases and modified beliefs as a result of migration and immersion in Western academic cultures. A strategy I used to mitigate partiality and to strengthen the degree of authenticity was to employ research assistants from a local university at which I served as a faculty member in the 1980s. The University of the Philippines College Baguio provided me with highly competent staff from the Cordillera Studies

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Center. They validated and pre-tested the survey instruments I initially developed. After several days, we met and processed our field notes together. Compared to other researchers who are not of the place, I did not need language/dialect interpretation, nor massive cultural consultation. Despite my identity as a “Baguio girl” the nuances of voice and storytelling that resulted from the diverse ethnicities among the women vendors were shared with me and we co-interpreted them. I cannot pretend to exist in a vacuum. As a researcher of the place, I do not have the right, nor does anyone, to sequester Baguio and its urbanity from other “non-authentic” researchers. A case example to support this point is a seminal study of graphic designers who traveled to Istanbul (Mermoz, 2006). They set out to conduct research by taking the role as readers of city signs. Although they were “not of the place,” they came in with the intention of interpreting semiotics by considering the mental processes and theoretical basis of design choices for local signage. Their slogan “designer as reader/author” reminded them to be aware of their assumptions and to be critical of how urban graphics are interpreted. Such mindset can only be achieved when interdisciplinary communication occurs and when graphic representations take into consideration the relationships between people and place. They did not claim to present the “truth” of Istanbul, but acknowledged their “read” as the opportunity to reflect on things deeper than the visual aesthetic of signs, including history, culture, and identities.

III Reading Asian streets and globalized places in perspective Decolonizing the read entails a discussion of Asian cities and their incredible cultural nuances that set them both similar and apart from each other. The aim of this section is to carve out intellectual space in the literature for understanding Asian cities from the standpoints of Asian urbanists. It is critical that we are recognized globally as competent and proficient in interpreting and creating successful, locally-centered places. We have “lived experiences” and deep insights of our places that should be respected and valued as legitimate, and not marginalized as the Other in world discourse. This section provides a portal to an authentic way of seeing and understanding streets in Asia. It provides a lens of being “of the place,” and yet simultaneously living as a betweener. Urban streets in Asian downtown areas are distinctly different from those in the Global North. For a person who is unaccustomed to such urban rhythms, the streets in Manila, Bangkok, Mumbai, and Hong Kong are noisy, smelly, crowded, and chaotic. Rather than seeing clutter and disorder, however, many locals and keen observers who appreciate informality see vibrancy and dynamism, as people, infrastructure, buildings, and vehicles are spatially woven to form colorful tapestries of local urbanism. One of the building blocks to understanding Asian urbanism is recognizing pluralism and heterogeneity as

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common attributes. Defined here as “multiple dynamic conceptions of what constitutes a city’s distinct nature,” pluralism encompasses a variety of facets, including spatial features, cultural history and behavior, street usage, and vehicular and pedestrian circulation. Pluralism cannot be deliberately created. But it can materialize as a result of intentional design and planning that allows organic processes and behavior to take hold. In addition, pluralism should not be romanticized as an uncomplicated condition because it does take effort and time to ensure its efficacy. Working with various urban actors who do not necessarily have the same interests or values is challenging. Transactive relationship building is necessary to deal with the complexity of pluralism. The concept and practice of pluralism is approached in many ways. A study of Ho Chi Minh City, for example, extracts diverse spatial and social elements from a traditional Vietnamese district using a mathematical diversity index that measured the functions, age, architecture, height, width, facades, yards, fences, parking spaces, color, commercial type, traffic type, cultural type, and social type of different buildings (Nguyen and Ly, 2018). In Shi et al. (2015), the researchers analyzed the diverse aspects of Tokyo’s streets with the purpose of accepting pluralism to celebrate Japanese culture. Similarly, streets in West Malaysia (e.g. historic, market, and upmarket shopping streets) were thoroughly examined using various methods to capture urban pluralism (Limin, 2001). There are more examples, but these three studies represent street pluralism as expressed in the blending of colonized and culturally traditional architecture within the context of spatial diversity. In all these examples, people, their activities, and how they use public spaces play a pivotal role in place-making. Pluralistic thought can also be found in the book Messy Urbanism, a compilation of essays that truly represent the multiple perspectives of Asian scholars in their interpretation of local ordinary places (Hou and Chalana, 2016). Both transdisciplinary scholars describe the “messy” Asian city as the “interplay and overlays of order/disorder, formal/informal, legal/illegal, local/ global” (p. 3). These elements take place in multi-scalar spaces that involve varied “actors and institutions, and their intermediaries” (p. 3). The collection of essays draws out the current trend of cities to globalize by espousing a “universal” sense of place. The controversy lies in the propensity of governments and the market-driven private sector to develop planned urban districts that reflect Western aesthetics and neo-liberalism values (e.g., free market expansion, deregulation of financial markets). As a result, these groups repeatedly stigmatize the “messy” places as “Other.” Within the Western worldview, this implies “informality” or activities and places that do not conform to a prescribed globalized notion of aesthetic order and hierarchy. In the making of global cities and places, governments employ marketing strategies to portray highly regulated universal settings. In Kolkata, Operation Sunshine sought to erase the image of the city as polluted and traffic-clogged and proposed elimination of hawkers and rickshaw

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pullers (Sen, 2017), making Kolkata a bhadrolock city characterized by order, cleanliness, and beauty.3 Another building block to urbanism in an Asian context is resistance to the “bleaching of urban spaces” (Ho and Douglas, 2008). The most compelling features of a rapidly transforming globalized urban district are mega-projects, high-end global retail outlets, face-lifted streetscapes, and especially the rise of the skyscrapers that supposedly symbolize the coveted status of a world-city. It is interesting that in 2005, Pacific Asia had 25 of the world’s 35 tallest skyscrapers (Ho and Douglas, 2008). Like the uniformity of suburbs, these cities are becoming homogenized spaces that are not indicative of their cultural backdrops and historical layers. They rest on global aesthetics that reinforce the universality of Western values, understanding, and experiences of the world. However, civil society mobilization demonstrates resistance to globalization. An example is Taipei’s Qing-tien community and their protest to preserve a threatened neighborhood of historic Japanese homes (Huang, 2008). Without their protest efforts, the district would have been redeveloped to cater to global demands for high-rise housing. In Kolkata’s Operation Sunshine, through hawker and rickshaw-puller unions, non-governmental groups and opposition parties managed to successfully oppose legislation that would have made any form of street occupation a non-bailable offense (Sen, 2017). On the other side of the world, in Port of Spain, Trinidad, a redevelopment project included clearing street vendors and forcibly renting out stalls to them in an indoor venue. Instead, they used the stalls for storage during the day and engaged in street vending at night (Cross and Karides, 2007). In an international gathering of thought leaders on place, the plenary speaker of the World Society for Ekistics warned the audience about globalization, which has been likened to an “irresistible force smashing national boundaries, overturning established patterns of thought and conduct” (Keller, 2006, p. 41). Both rich and poor nations are transformed but the process leaves enormous wealth for some and pose ‘great furrows of wreckage’ for others (p. 41). Designers and planners do not have to choose between seemingly dialectic views of Globalism versus Localism. From a pragmatic point of view, our cities are undoubtedly shaped and constructed by practitioners who are driven by global market demand. However, there are ways to temper predominant transnational trends and to intervene so that “placelessness” is minimized and the “terror of the global,” as critic Michael Sorkin suggests, is mitigated. In the Philippines, several case studies exemplify the globalization of our built environments. Interestingly, the substantial tracts of land occupied by the Americans for their military bases have been redeveloped as iconic examples of global districts or cities. A prime case is the Bonifacio Global City in Metropolitan Manila (BGC), “a true child of the twenty-first century” with a “charm and multicultural allure” that nurtures one’s “passion to live, work and play” (Saguin, 2017). The desire to be world-recognized

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has been ingrained in the colonial Filipino psyche. Through our deep historical roots in Spanish colonialism and American imperialism, our places are generally designed to put claim on a world-class status. However, these business, commercial, and residential districts do not simply sprout up in isolation without an economic context. The rise of Business Process Outsourcing (BPO) as a notable contributor to the Philippine economy has made an impact on the emergence of global mega-places (Bouquet, 2013). These mixed-used places are designed to be open and vibrant to support an around-the-clock labor force.4 The Bonifacio Global City was built on a former military camp site. The Philippine national government through the Bases Conversion Development Authority hired Ayala Land and Evergreen Holdings to design a masterplan and manage the development of the property.5 Typical of globalized projects, the masterplan consisted of a grid-street system patterned after New York’s street-numbered names, a perimeter road for efficient traffic circulation, and pocket parks scattered throughout the landscape. The urban core holds high-rise office and upscale residential buildings, grand hotels for foreign executives, giant malls and chain department stores, and trendy commercial establishments including restaurants, bars, and retail shops. Today, iconic buildings shape the skyline, and prominent signs that read Accenture, Starbucks, JP Morgan Chase, Sony, Christian Dior, Deutsche Bank, Coca Cola, and Globe Telecom are illuminated. Details found in many globalized developments include wide sidewalks for leisurely walking, buildings with glass cladding, an abundance of concrete hardscapes, and underground electric poles and cables. Bonifacio Global City and other mega-developments within the Manila Metropolitan region meet many of the criteria listed as “globally fluent” by the American Brookings Institute (McDearman et al., 2013). The globalized mongrel nature of Bonifacio Global City is revealed in its Master Plan, which is inspired by the density and street grid of New York City, the broad axial boulevards of Paris, the skywalks of Hong Kong, the transit systems of Frankfurt and London, the parking arrangements of Barcelona and Minneapolis, as well as the picturesque landscape of English gardens and American parks (which) all show the breadth of design issues considered and the commitment of those involved to learn from the past. (Liss-Katz, 1998) The implications of globalized projects and “new cities” are they exist on another layer of policy and regulations (Pangilinan, n.d.). The BGC operates with a high degree of local governance autonomy, partly because disputes between two municipalities (Taguig and Makati) have been reoccurring as to which jurisdiction it belongs. Furthermore, the planned district does not qualify as a barangay, the most basic unit of political governance, nor does BGC contract with the Philippine National Police and Bureau of Fire

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Protection; the development relies on private groups to provide basic municipality services. Stark contrasts are found outside globalized places. Unlike in these highly regularized urban districts, many classic Asian streets are used in ways that are spontaneous and not predetermined. Loose space, a term referred to as “space that has been appropriated by citizens to pursue activities not set by a predetermined program” embodies these streets (Franck and Stevens, 2007). These spaces give them a “soul” because they offer chance encounters and the celebration and discovery of diverse experiences. Pluralism and multiplicity prevail in Asian cities, as opposed to a Western urban sensibility of unilarity, efficiency, and standardization. Many practitioners and scholars educated and trained in the West, even if they are of Asian descent, will evaluate Asian cities from a “global” framework, which already presupposes looking at the world from a hegemonic lens. Repeatedly, Asian and international experts use Western principles to ascertain what constitutes a “great street.” The Project for Public Spaces, a prominent American organization, for example, has promoted the concept that streets should not be designed solely for vehicular mobility but also as public spaces of gathering (PPS Project for Public Spaces, 2015). They suggest applying planning principles that draw people to a street, and then design the space to maximize social interaction as a way to build a sense of community. Activities usually include farmers’ markets, street fairs, art and performance venues, and seasonal celebrations, among others. However, in many of these situations, the street is highly programmed and regulated by ordinances that separate uses (e.g. vehicular traffic, parking areas, pedestrian zones, bike lanes, and bus stops). In many cases, “great streets” are those that are pedestrian focused. Often separated from vehicular traffic, many Asian urban planners and local governments close these streets and convert them to micro-parks for people to sit, play, and people-watch. Conforming to a Western sense of aesthetics, such places in Asia are hailed as stunning, efficient, and world-class megaprojects ushering in the twentyfirst century as “Asia’s century” (Boquet, 2013). Although Western in nature, a newer approach to street redesign has been implemented in Europe. Rather than adhering to a strict delineation of uses, Dutch traffic engineer Hans Monderman suggests sharing the street by lowering traffic speeds and accommodating the needs of pedestrians and bikes. It is mentioned here because this street type holds similar features with Asian streets in general. For example, shared streets may seem disorganized and muddled, since vehicles, bikes, and people interweave among each other as they navigate the space. One can easily describe the place as having no rules of behavior. But Hamilton-Baillie, an expert on shared streets, views the situation as ordered and informally controlled where drivers tap into their knowledge of cultural cues and mutual social and behavioral protocols (Hamilton-Baillie, 2008). When drivers slow down, their eyes are more focused on pedestrians. Likewise, in streets with reduced

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speeds, pedestrians establish some type of eye contact and informal understanding with drivers. Both parties are aware that the other is part of the street context. Asian streets contain comparable features, but they are more spontaneous and not as planned as those in the Global North. In 2001, the Great Asian Streets Symposium took place in Singapore as a response to the need for an Asia-based forum to start the discussion on how Asian streets and public spaces could be enhanced “before they disappear under the assault of rapid urban transformation” (Kiang et al., 2010, p. VIII). Using Allan Jacobs’s book Great Streets as a starting point, participants took his design principles and debated, challenged, and refuted them. Others referenced these principles as a universal standard. Evident in the series are insights by local writers that (indirectly and directly) define Asian streets. For example, in many Asian cities, like in Macao, Singapore, Hong Kong, Colombo (Sri Lanka), Fengtian, Taipei (Taiwan), and Sampaloc, Manila (Philippines), streets are characterized by blended colonial and traditional indigenous histories, religious and ceremonial functions, manifestations of socio-economic classes, blending of residential and commercial uses, merchant culture and marketplaces, and street hawking. Participants in this symposium discussed how street functions intermingle and are so unlike many of the great streets in Western cities. Contemporary portraiture of Asian streets is varied. They are marked as resort-like and fashionable promenades, symbols of power, neo-classical shop houses with tile roofs and ornamented Malay timber eaves, controlled and well-disciplined residential parcels with restrained commerce, and colonial-military and political displays of privilege. Other interesting depictions feature the temple streets lined with Buddhist shrines and sacred Bo-trees in Sri Lanka; the church, Chinese temple, Mosque, and Hindu temple on Jalan Kapitan Kling street in Malaysia; railway streets in Manila with homes just a few feet away from the rails (Kiang et al., 2010, p. 101); or an anti-street elevated walkway system on Queen’s Road in Hong Kong. The various scholars used their understanding and experiences of their own local urban environments to frame narratives of Asian streets’ vibrancy and distinctiveness. Regrettably, these twenty-first century streets are swiftly transforming from traditional spaces with multi-functional, multi-class, and multireligious features to highly segregated uses. The once “chaotic” open-air streetscapes dotted with different vendors become “womb streets” where indoor shopping with controlled climate and business regulations dominate the district (Kiang et al., 2010, p. 85). Varied street life that alter from day to night is replaced by single-use spaces and retail establishments governed by mega-commercial developments. The globalization of these streets has resulted in a tendency to give preferential treatment to vehicular traffic and higher social classes, creating a pedestrian-unfriendly environment. Lico (2008) calls these “microcities” that are designed to create “an illusion of urban civility and an open space of social communion, yet they are

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highly purified and controlled domains, where anything different from the norms set forth by the developer is subtly excluded” (p. 558). Many Asian streets share distinguishing features. They are compact and human-scale with cultural substance that give the context for social behavior and encounter. Amicable coexistence of the rich and poor, the powerful and the downtrodden, Muslims, Buddhists, and Christians, is common. In a small block, one can easily find an interesting mesh of uses (houses, apartments, boarding homes, neighborhood stores, day care centers, salons, pop-up food stalls, etc.)—a familiar urban landscape across Asia. A group of architecture students in West Malaysia were instructed to read movement in three diverse streets as “artefacts” (Limin, 2001, p. 69), in place of the larger and highly engineered thoroughfares. Through this exercise, students became aware of the multi-layering of places. Their initial interpretation of the streets as chaotic turned to an enlightened comprehension of urban order from an Asian perspective. In Sri Lanka, streets were laid with the “highest objectives of engaging the inhabitants to dwell in a mentally constructed spiritual world while being on a profane plane…” (Dayaratne, 2010, p. 73). Over the centuries, these streets became composites of colonized spaces with historical Portuguese, Dutch, and British layers, diminishing vernacular meanings to mere transport conduits. In Malaysia, streets are multicultural in nature, with Malay, Chinese, and Indian citizens sharing multi-functional spaces (e.g. for prayer, parade, and celebrations) (Utaka and Fawzi, 2010). The main “streets” in Bangkok were originally based on the irrigation canals called khlongs. Homes were clustered along these waterways and arterial movements followed them. An expansion of trade and commerce within the Southeast Asian region, as well as the arrival of colonial Europeans, led to the transformation of urban life from water to land. Urban public space in the Global South is a contentious topic where various dimensions of politics, culture, social relations, and economics converge and conflict. The question of who has rights to use, control, and regulate urban spaces animates a variety of perspectives. As a result of divergent needs and interests, cities grapple with how to find resolutions to the use of contested urban spaces. Support for street vending runs a spectrum—from endorsement of the much-needed livelihoods to disputing its usefulness. On one side, advocates view street vending as an integral part of local economies, providing goods and services to ordinary folks and enlivening dull streets (Bromley, 2000). They regard street vending as a respectable way for people to transcend poverty. Termed the “Invisible Revolution” by Hernando de Soto, he blames restrictive economies for the predicament of the poor, and hails those who resist formal structures in peaceful and creative ways (de Soto, 1989). Steven Johnson, author of Emergence: The Connected Lives of Ants, Brains, Cities, and Software, writes about a similar phenomenon. He believes that the chaotic activity of seemingly disparate small parts (“swarm logic”) is, in fact, interconnected

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to form a collective intelligence, a higher level of order. This emergence reflects a natural self-organization scheme that challenges mechanistic and stratified structures in society (Johnson, 2001, p. 78). Much like the “Invisible Revolution,” Emergence articulates the persistent informality that is ubiquitous in cities across the Global South. On the opposite side of the spectrum, street vending is viewed as a disturbance. Informal vendors congest the sidewalks because they congregate in specific spots, impede traffic when they spill onto the road, pose health hazards to the general public when they sell uninspected food, and swindle customers (Bromley, 2000). Downtown areas are the most likely places to eradicate street vendors because of the local governments’ desire to reinvigorate capital investment into real estate, or to stimulate commerce and boost tourism. Local governments often bow to the complaints of the private business sector who view street vendors as a group that does not pay taxes or rent, and often compete with them for customers. The political complexity of public space in the West is expressed in various ways. Marx and his fellow social reformers regarded informal street vendors as “reactionary” lumpen proletariat and as the lowest class of urban dwellers. They have also been seen as culturally backward by urban anthropologist C. Geertz, or as antithetical to development (Cross and Karides, 2007; Lewis, 1954). Other liberal intellectuals considered these petty entrepreneurs as less efficient and not as important as large production units necessary for significant economic growth in developing countries (Portes and Castells, 1989). In their minds, the informal economy is doomed to disappear as developing economies advance. It is this frame of thought that diverted me from engaging in a formal structural analysis. As an urban planner, I deemed these “musings” as overly abstract with limited practical application to make a difference in women vendors’ lives. However, it is still important to present the current discourse on Asian cities and the intricacy of public space. In as much as no single theory encompasses the “Asian City,” it reinforces my belief that the world cannot be packaged in a homogeneous frame. A few selected notions about public space in an Asian context are discussed. First, contemporary cities reflect layers of diverse historical influences that have not been totally demolished throughout the centuries. Kim (2016) describes street patterns in Ho Chi Minh City. The remnants of the Chinese Cholon section include narrow, curved roads directed toward the river while the French-colonized Saigon section is marked by grid patterns and roundabouts. And as the typical Western colonizer is apt to do, the need to separate themselves from the indigenous population was apparent in the landscape. In this case, the French sought to separate the Vietnamese and Chinese through racial zoning, resulting in the reference to Twin Cities. Historical patterns show that public spaces were created for the colonizer with layers of meaning to govern the “natives.” Ho Chi Minh City was designed to mimic the grandeur of French architecture, rebuild a cultural identity after their defeat to Germany, and

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test their ideal design for metropoles (Wright, 1991). Streets and sidewalks were important in this urban scheme. Because of its colonized nature, the streets and sidewalks in the Vietnamese Saigon section were “glamorized” as places for the French community to promenade and meet each other (Kim, 2016). Today, the sidewalks manifest a diverse mosaic of form, materiality, and activity. Another example of the blended character of Asian streets is the street system in Sampaloc, Manila which reveal layers of historical and cultural influences (Dela Paz, 2010). Established by Franciscan parish priests in 1613, this place was a typical Spanish village with a stone church and convent. The narrow streets were laid out in a grid pattern to accommodate the needs of a working class barrio of Indian laundry workers and factory workers. The main street called Espana stops and flows into larger streets and boulevards as the city expanded north and eastward. The American influence via architect Daniel Burnham’s plan for Manila called for radial street patterns interspersed with parks. This blend of colonial imprints make Sampaloc distinct. The “taking back” of public spaces in Asia does not necessarily follow the Western (American) understanding of places—meaning these are spaces intended for democratic discourse and expression, openness and civility. Rather, Asian cities that aspire to project a globalized image regard public space as exclusive, highly regulated by the state, and a means for political control. To situate the Philippines, I suggest an adaptable “middle ground”—a pragmatic framework that acknowledges the immanence of a world system but also safeguards the vernacular and local nature of cultural practices, urban forms, and livelihoods. I would like to put forward a few critical thoughts in this section. The first is to understand glocalism and its positive and negative consequences. For this book, I define glocalism as a mindset and movement to accentuate and center local identities, and to place aesthetics and dynamism that accepts global interdependence in the making of urban places. To take on an anti-globalism stance is misleading and an impediment to progress because we are inevitably connected within a world system through modern technology and a strong and far-reaching market economy. Foretold by Karl Polanyi and Immanuel Wallerstein, this immense self-regulating capitalistic world system produces dominant (core) and dependent (periphery) national entities. I believe this is the reality we live in, especially in a country that is beset with pervasive poverty (Polanyi, 2001; Wallerstein, 1984).6 But doomsday has not arrived yet. Globalization efforts can be redirected to emphasize “local-ness” as the key to asserting and enhancing our identity in the world. Glocalism emphasizes the inclusive local experience as the starting, middle, and end points for creating a global space. Second, I put out an urgent call for local practitioners and scholars to study, record, and write about how people in their respective cities create spaces to enhance well-being and social/community ties. Many Asian

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professionals and academic researchers know more about cities in the Global North than they know about their own. How can sustainable solutions to urban issues be conceptualized and implemented if there is a deficiency in knowledge production, both scholarly and practice-based? Authenticity is needed in the production of reflective content that focuses on interpretations of local urban environments by “people of the place.” Indeed, Asian publications that theorize their own spaces is very much needed, not only to participate in global urban-design debates but to ultimately sow the seeds for improving their own local environments (Moser, 2007). There is a need for intellectual and ordinary conversations that can lead to discoveries. We need to build a substantive body of knowledge separate from the Western gaze. This book will hopefully urge local officials, the business community, and citizens to engage in actions that shape their city’s authentic identity. Struggles, uncertainties, and doubt are part of the discovery process but if the interested public pushes to endure, the outcome is the proliferation of urban spaces that reflect and display the city’s true character. Third, we must take heed that globalization is basically an economic process with the purpose of commodifying everything. Such takeover by transnational corporations and national conglomerates is especially noticeable in the use of urban space. As described earlier, corporations monopolize space when they acquire swathes of lands to redevelop these global districts. We must be aware and on the lookout for restructured and recomposed approaches to development, targeted primarily to foreigners and the economic elite while excluding the masses. The term “worldling” is a buzzword to signify ambitious design and planning practices to construct world-class projects that are far removed from the living conditions of ordinary people (Ong, 2011). Professionals in the field and well-grounded academics should serve as thought leaders and advocates for those who find it difficult to articulate the need for local-centeredness. The prohibition of street vendors in Baguio City is a clear example of how globalization threatens the livelihoods of poor people. Sidewalk spaces are indirectly commodified to suit the needs of so-called “efficiency” goals. “Clean” sidewalks, devoid of impediments as people walk through them, are a way to encourage Baguio residents and visitors to patronize formal businesses. Spontaneous interactions and gatherings that once took place in these spaces are regulated. For the past several years, the city government has curtailed vending practices in the downtown and instead, established a night market with controlled hours and specified tents. The products they sell are not your everyday items such as chewing gum, cigarettes, eco-bags, rice cakes, and fruit. Instead, they sell their products mostly to night tourists. Sold here are Ukay-ukay (used clothing), bags, phone accessories, knitted scarves, and so on—discounted products that can be bought in the dry goods market—as well as Baguio souvenirs. Cultural commodification is at its peak. The “sweeping” of informal vendors from the streets from 5:00 a.m. to 10 p.m. demonstrates the imposition of an agenda on public spaces,

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which indirectly feeds the enterprise of globalism. Local residents do not go to the night market at 9:00 p.m. to purchase goods for their daily needs. My position is not intended to isolate Asia as superior to the West, nor is it intended to unleash fury at the Western colonizer. Rather, it hopes to promote the Asian read as valid to the discourse on cities. The common uni-directional flow of knowledge should be challenged with books that elevate local voices. True to many cultures in the Global South, we view the world in a more complex, broad, and holistic way. Our approaches and intellectual tools offer a distinctive take on social realities and patterns to have a lasting impact on our cities and urban dwellers.

Notes 1 I believe that decolonization occurs in many ways. Young unseasoned minds of the children of Filipino immigrants in western countries, like the United States, who have not lived in the Philippines, nor visited and experienced the multiplicity of Filipino-ness, have to ground themselves first. Most of them live in safe comfortable places, far removed from the realities of poverty and hardship there. Their decolonization processes should entail a genuine understanding and connection to the colonized motherland. 2 The term betweener is used to describe researchers from colonized countries who study in the West but continue to use their homelands for field work. 3 A Bhadrolok city is one that infers a specific gentleman class of the Bengali urban intelligentsia during the British colonial period (Sen, 2015, Glossary). 4 Multi-faceted Asian streets are typically lively during any hour of the day. 5 Ayala Land is a prominent real estate development company that has an extensive portfolio of projects in the Philippines. 6 The Asian Development Bank reports that in 2015 21.6 percent of Filipinos lived below the Philippine Poverty Line. https://www.adb.org/countries/ philippines/poverty Accessed on 2/2/2020

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Lodging the context in place

I Global realities: connection to a world system During the 1970s, while a college student at the University of the Philippines, the prevalent view embraced by my peers, and engrained in the culture of the university, was that participation in a world system created extreme poverty and a widening gap of economic inequality between Western countries and developing nations. The Philippines was naturally drawn into this highly differentiated world order because of its colonial and imperial histories. The foremost thinker for this theoretical stance was Immanuel Wallerstein who attributed disparities to the spread of industrialization, imperialism, and capitalism. He conceived of a world-order system composed of units that are “relatively static, a temporal geographical assumptions” and examined through territorial terms (Brenner, 2011, p. 103). This world-systems paradigm eventually germinated into various globalization theories (W.I. Robinson, 2011). For example, scholars conceived of a new world order that had morphed into “de-territorialized” processes involving the flow of capital throughout the world. In the twentyfirst century, Harvey (1985) views the emergent world system as one that is not geographically bound. He continues to build on the perspective that a capitalist socio-spatial order has emerged that is still fraught with disparity and unevenness among locations, places, and scales. But, in paradox, globalization implies cultural universality. Instead of nation-states, social networks serve as the agents for assimilation into the global system, and, the dominance of the internet produces instant transmission of a world culture. For a universal framework to function, a “minimum quotient of shared symbols, adaptive strategies and meaning systems” must be involved (W.I. Robinson, 2011, p. 732). Such phenomena permeate all facets of urban life, including the way public space is perceived. Global capitalist cultural hegemony calls for forms of consumerism and competition, hence the proliferation of mixed-used (re-)developments in the Global South that sweep street vendors off public space design schemes. These prevailing ideologies of what constitutes “quality urban spaces” often promote Western aesthetics of order and control. As such, streets and public spaces are well defined,

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organized, and “clean.” They are delineated by clear physical boundaries such as building facades, gates, walls, and other barriers, which to a large extent regulate people’s behavior in urban settings. Private property is distinctly separate from public space, and spatial infrastructure delineates these two realms. The world-systems order has had the effect of marginalizing certain countries and cultures, while aggrandizing the power of others. To survive, people in these settings carve out micro-livelihoods that often operate outside the scope of governmental legislative or regulatory structures. Informal street vendor research has expanded significantly over the last five decades. In the 1970s, the International Labour Organization (ILO) observed and recognized an emerging economic sector in the developing world, specifically in Africa, that differed from the formal labor structure that typified Western countries. The informal sector, as it was termed, consisted of workers who were poor, low skilled, and largely rural-to-urban migrants (Hart, 1973). This sector had been broadly defined as an umbrella term for all workers who were not fully registered with local regulatory entities. Cross (1999) presents a workable definition of the informal sector as the production and exchange of legal goods and services that involves the lack of appropriate business permits, violation of zoning codes, failure to report tax liability, non-compliance with labor regulations governing contracts and work conditions, and/or the lack of legal guarantees in relations with suppliers and clients. (p. 580) Nonetheless, Cross’s definition does not apply to current street vending practices in the Global South, where products sold are not necessarily legal (e.g., pirated DVDs or bootleg designer bags). The pervading view on such “underground” economies during the late twentieth century was that they were impermanent and transitory, and their trajectory pointed to consequent higher levels of productivity if they were to follow the Western economic models. Economists believed that the presence of these petty-capitalist activities were a precursor to participation in the formal economy. However, the trend proved these urban thinkers wrong. Rather, the opposite trend occurred where the urban informal sector ballooned during the following decades. Informal workers accounted for more than 55 percent of the labor force in Latin America, between 45 and 85 percent in various parts of Asia, and almost 80 percent in Africa (Chen et al., 2001). These figures are consistent with the International Labour Organization’s estimates (Lloyd-Evans, 2008). Today, the informal economy is responsible for a significant share of employment among the urban poor who enter and participate in this sector with ease (Bhowmik, 2010). Local municipalities often treat street vendors as invisible, until their numbers grow large enough for authorities to declare them a menace—invaders of

Lodging the context in place 27 public space. Subsequent to such a policy shift, multiple strategies have been applied to regulate and control their presence, including constructing modern markets with high rent fees, relocation to unviable places, issuing licenses with numerous conditions, and enacting special provisions which limit street usage to certain hours (Bhowmik, 2000). Other cities have completely evicted them from the streets (Roever and Skinner, 2016). On the other hand, some government units support street vending by organizing them into member organizations, as well as providing microloans and social security (Wongtada, 2014). The literature on street vending has changed over the decades. In the 1970s, researchers grappled with determining the size and composition of the informal sector and its future prospects When forecasted employment trends did not reflect a transition to the formal economy, research was directed to better understand this fluid phenomenon. In the 2000s, studies then focused on urban policy issues, which continues until today. With respect to quantity, I have observed a decrease in the literature, which I attributed to the “taming” of urban vendors.

II Everyday reading of urban environments People read daily. They read everything from their emails, social media posts, blogs, magazines, newspapers, briefs, required readings for school, professional articles, and books. Several decades ago, I came across a book entitled How to Read a Book, by Adler and Van Doren, who classified reading into different levels—elemental, inspectional, analytical, and synoptical (Adler and Van Doren, 1972). It was interesting to discover that reading a book is similar to, but also different from, reading cities. At the elemental level, the student (or child) learns the foundation for a language. At the inspectional level, a person skims a book systematically and grasps the general content and structure of the book. The analytical level involves a total engagement of the reader in the book’s theme (or plot), author’s perspective (or argument), and the reader’s views and experiences as applied to the book’s content. Lastly, the synoptical level is more extensive in that the reader takes hold of other readings on the subject and compares and contrasts these materials with the book. City-reading links all these levels, and more. The process is not necessarily linear but requires some amount of cumulative knowledge, received mostly through training, experience, and constant learning. As professionals and academics, we were trained in school on how to examine and analyze the intricacies of cities and their built, social, economic, and cultural environments. At the beginning of the learning process, as students we first had to acquire the “rules” or “facts” of design and planning. As we graduated to engaged in our various professional practices, we used, honed, and created new principles of reading the city. The process became natural and instinctive. Built environment professionals use complex lenses that involve the intertwining of assorted matters of place. We have developed the skills,

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discernment, and talent if I may add, to cultivate the art of reading urban environments. Yet, the art of reading urban environments is not owned entirely by architects, city planners, landscape architects, and geographers. This craft is also shared by police officers who must “approach the street as a text and to decode its myriad messages as a primary survival tactic” (Fletcher, 1992). In Fletcher’s research of more than 150 Chicago police officers, the ability to read the street differentiates the veteran and rookie cops. There is even the notion of a “street degree.” Veteran officers are well versed in the language of the streets. But like any professionally accredited degree, continuing education is essential because of the ever-changing nature of the street environment. But Fletcher (1991) asserts that no one obtains a street degree because the moment they are over-confident about “seeing it all,” that person will either end up dead or in a risky situation. Once officers stop discerning the physical, cultural, and behavioral aspects of place, they will encounter problems on the street. Street reading is certainly an art, but it is also a limited science. Immersion, awareness, and practice are essential. Like many processes, classification of elements is a natural way to file information. Police officers in Fletcher’s study, for example, practice the first step in reading the street— quickly arranging their observations into no threat/no crime to dangerous. But they do not stop there. They continue to scan the environment for more acute cues to the situation. And then they act. Sociologist Karapostolis suggests that too much focus on typification and thematization can be limiting in studying everyday life (Karapostolis, 1985). When people rely solely on the familiar, they miss out on the peculiar and ad hoc aspects of life. Or in the case of the police, they can be put in danger if they do not venture out of the familiar when they are street-reading. There are numerous contributors to the body of knowledge on reading cities but the following are those that I believe are common texts for the urban design field. These materials are also used in many design institutions in the Global South, including the University of the Philippines. One of the first skills taught to urban design students is how to conduct space syntax analysis. Reading urban environments requires learning the rudimentary elements of language—words, sentences, and paragraphs. At this point, an instructor determines whether the student meets literacy expectations. Space syntax is a methodology that translates cities into the basic units of paths and streets, buildings, pedestrian movements, land uses, among other variables, and how these connect and relate to each other to form unique configurations. Graphically represented through mathematical calculations, it informs decision-makers on specific urban issues related to urban space. To read cities, one of the most fundamental frameworks is Kevin Lynch’s five analytical components (i.e. paths, edges, districts, nodes, and landmarks). Like the elements that constitute good books, these are considered the major elements of good, clear, and legiblecity-form. He further

Lodging the context in place 29 identifies details that build toward a coherent and integrated structure, along with a favorable image (i.e. visual cues of color, shape, motion, light and other senses such as smell, sound, touch, kinesthesia, sense of gravity) (Lynch, 1960). Another scholar who is often discussed in introductory urban design courses is Roger Trancik. He identifies a lexicon for lost spaces, or areas that have strayed from good design. In his book, he enumerates the neglected lost spaces such as leftover unstructured landscapes at the base of high-rise towers, unused sunken plazas separated from pedestrian activity, vast ground-floor parking lots that surround large developments, or the urban core, severing the connection between commercial centers, residential areas and other land uses (Trancik, 1986). He then calls for the need to redesign these lost spaces to create human-scaled places with embedded complimentary materiality to stimulate public activity—important concepts to keep in mind when reading cities. Christopher Alexander and his colleagues at the University of California, Berkeley, compiled patterns to describe a range of spaces, from towns and neighborhoods, to houses, gardens, and rooms (Alexander et  al., 1977). Like others, the authors of Pattern Language criticized the negative consequences brought about by the “alienated modern condition” in cities (Bhatt, 2010). Grounded in actual experiences and observations of places, they proposed simple diagrams and descriptions of common circumstances that can be readily used by ordinary people. These spatial patterns represent words in a language that average users can access to illustrate their normal everyday environments. Alexander and his team strongly stated that the best places in the world are those not designed by architects but by lay people, its regular users. In studying urban places and people, one of the more prominent urban writers, William Whyte, wrote The Social Life of Small Urban Spaces and City: Rediscovering the Center. Through his rigorous documentation, he developed a list of prescriptive guidelines to attract people to public spaces. He characterized successful spaces as those that draw people because of these ingredients: informal group behavior, women’s presence, seating to encourage interaction, temperature comfort, water features, food vendors, and a strong connection between the public space to the street and main pedestrian flows (Whyte, 1980, 1988). Furthermore, Allan B. Jacobs through his book Great Streets offers urban elements that constitute “celebrated” streets in various places around the world. Factors like similar building heights, attractive facades, trees, places to stop, space for leisurely walking, and other factors contribute to a great user experience. For me, the most influential city reader is Jane Jacobs. The book Life and Death of Great American Cities was the decisive publication that transitioned me from sociology to urban planning. At the University of the Philippines during the late 1970s, my college professor required the text in an Urban Sociology course. I was captivated by Jacobs’ propositions of what

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makes great places, especially because of the manner in which she read and portrayed New York City (Greenwich Village). As a journalist she drew me in using insightful language to describe and interpret her observations of people in specific city blocks, corners, and streets. Many of her ideas are applicable to places in the Philippines, like the downtown streets in Baguio. For example, her promotion of diversity of uses, smaller blocks, and sidewalk activity, among others, speak to various spaces in Baguio City. The everyday reading of urban environments can be organized and interlaced across spatial scales. The early thought leaders in the urban design field constructed their theories and propositions on small-scaled fragments of observations that were systematically strung together. A scan of these urban design theorists was conducted and presented in a structured table, spanning from 1961 to 2014 (Dousti et  al., 2018). Spatial characteristics that encourage sociability are identified by Jane Jacobs, William Whyte, Donald Appleyard, Jan Gehl, Don Mitchell, and Matthew Carmona, among others. Among the morphological elements considered are seating forms, land uses, traffic, personalization, and social width. However, except for Jane Jacobs, most of these theorists were male and educated in the West, particularly in the United States. Compared to the others, Jane Jacobs’s lens was spontaneous, scalable, and translational (Sorkin, 2010). She paid particular attention to intimate behaviors like leaving one’s house keys with the mom-and-pop business in the block. She observed children’s play, for example, because she walked these streets and sidewalks regularly. Writing about downtown Baguio and the women vendors is based on reading at least 20 streets, in a manner like reading a book. The scales of interest are vendor places, streets, and nodes. With fluency, as someone who was born, raised, schooled, and employed there, I examined and pondered the vocabulary, grammar, cues, and symbols of the local people and their environments. These settings have dialects that are visual, auditory, olfactory, tactile, and intuitive or extra-sensorial. To read this place, one must be sensitive to patterns, shifts in voice, and cultural and social codes, among many other details. To understand the street, one must exert effort to connect these elements in a relational way, much like language syntax. As a “Baguio girl” I was able to grasp and reflect on the nuances of the streets. Downtown Baguio has a unique language—a finely crafted message that composes the heart of this book.

III A method in street reading: introducing the place-node concept A brief review of nodes as a tool for urban analyses points to several seminal works in transportation. The place-node model, conceptualized by Luca Bertolini at the University of Utrecht in the Netherlands during the 1990s, was based on the enduring tension between local land uses and transportation connectivity. As a regional approach, the model depicted the

Lodging the context in place 31 metabolic nature of cities. Through technological innovations, resources were linked with urban functions to establish centralized nodes. These densities of urban structures have been used in varying scales, as described in this section. Bertolini (1996) examined railway stations and surrounding areas as a place for “transport integration and multi-centered urban structure.” Inspired by scholars Manuel Castells and Giuseppe Dematteis, he conceived of contemporary metropolitan railway stations as complex nodes and places, emphasizing that they are more than mere physical spaces where trains arrive and depart: they also signify the integration of transportation, information, and technological flows which manifest fragments of city life such as work, commuting, and shopping. Diverse arrays of users are commonplace, which Bertolini refers to as a “tangle of actors,” offering an intricate materiality of lively environments (Bertolini, 2012). Another early concept of urban nodes was the result of an interesting collaboration between an architect and scientist that led to a dynamic notion of urban systems, which they termed Netzstadt (Baccini and Oswald, 2008). They studied a regional community in the Swiss lowlands from a transdisciplinary lens and created a model containing multi-dimensional networks of social and geo-physical activities and functions. Similar to Bertolini’s results, nodes were discovered within these complex networks as concentrations of people, goods, and information. Particularly as a transdisciplinary analytical method, Netzstadt was used to understand the interconnectedness between people’s patterns, land, and resources in order to apply it to projects aimed at improving urban qualities and efficiencies. The concept of node and place evolved over the decades and expanded to redevelopments, particularly in the practice of transit-oriented developments (Cervero, 2004; Chen and Lin, 2015; Chorus and Bertolini, 2011; Olaru et al., 2019; Vale et al., 2018). At the regional scale, nodes are used to explore a concentration of technical infra-systems (e.g. road and railway networks and broadband facilities for telecommunications), as well as planning to achieve efficient land uses in opposition to urban sprawl (Hynynen, 2005).1 The current literature does not complete the framework for understanding cities in their entirety, mainly because these studies rely heavily on highly quantitative research. They barely scratch the surface of what makes cities so dynamic, diverse, and innovative. The retrospective narrative found in this book fills the gap by introducing a new socio-spatial and humanistic perspective to nodal research. It treats urban place-nodes as concentrated frames that signify the interchange of various aspects of urbanity. At a granular scale, these special nodes in downtown Baguio City emphasize the human experience within the context of qualities and meanings of place. Unlike a Western-oriented research approach that focuses on breaking things down analytically, drawn from a collection of preconceived knowledge and concepts, rules and principles, and value systems that shape the meaning of “successful” places, I present another version. My approach is characteristically Asian by foregrounding context more than the actual

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objects in the environment or people’s specific behavior (Merali, 2005). Relph (1976) states, “The meanings of places may be rooted in the physical setting and objects and activities, but they are not a property of them— rather they are a property of human intentions and experiences.” As a distinct tool, the nodal analysis offers several highlights that are not found in traditional nodal research. Transportation networks are not the focal point of this analysis. Streets, traffic circulation, and transportation modes are important but secondary to the other elements. People (vendors, pedestrians, shop workers, customers, and other place actors) are the essential threads to constitute the fabric of the place. A suite of tools from architecture design, the social sciences (geography, sociology, anthropology), and the humanities (phenomenology, semiotics) is employed, which results in a blended transdisciplinary approach to nodal research. Researcher authenticity plays a significant role in ensuring an appropriate interpretation of an urban place-node frame. Unlike researchers “who are not of the place” and who often present superficial descriptive work, I offer a perspective shaped by my lived experience in Baguio City, and the phenomenon of the “betweener” experience. The most noteworthy contribution of the approach is the nesting of urban place-nodes in a health context.

IV Historical roots of the health and place linkage A pivotal treatise that connects place characteristics with health is Hippocrates’s On Airs, Water, and Places. This document, which continues to be cited today, points to seasons, hot and cold winds, water qualities, and sun patterns, among others, as physical elements that impact health. Taking the perspective of geographer, climatologist, physician, social behaviorist, and ethnographer, Hippocrates gave a straightforward and critical message: Place and people matter significantly to health. However, his ideas are mentioned more often in courses related to the history of medicine and public health, and not as prevalent in courses related to the built environment (e.g. architecture, city planning, landscape architecture). Though these disciplines focus on attributes of place and place-making, they have neglected some of their roots written in these early texts. The holistic approach of Hippocrates shaped public health reforms from the seventeenth century until the mid-twentieth century. In line with this approach, a nineteenth century physician, Dr. John Snow, played a consequential role in laying the foundation for the health and place nexus. In 1854, Snow systematically mapped cholera cases during one of England’s cholera epidemics and noticed their concentration around a pump that served as a source for water distribution (Hempel, 2013; McLeod, 2000). In observing the attributes of the place, he observed that the pump was situated next to the outflow of London’s sewer discharge. After a comparison test between other water sources and the incidence of cholera, he concluded that polluted water was a leading cause of the epidemic. Corrective actions

Lodging the context in place 33 were then taken to address the issue. As a result, Dr. Snow gained an iconic reputation in medical geography and epidemiology. In addition, the European colonialists clearly understood the impact of place on health as they settled in areas in the Global South (Africa, India, and the Caribbean). And so did the Americans in their occupation of the Philippines. Chapter 3 explains how Baguio City was built on the premise that place mattered in rejuvenating and healing the American troops, missionaries, and other foreign occupiers. Typical of the imperialist mindset, they regarded Filipino peoples’ health from the point of view of transforming them from a “weak and feeble race” to a strong and healthy one, fit to build an American colony (Anderson, 2006). When the Americans first occupied the country during the Spanish-American War in 1898, they were faced with a peculiar environment quite different from that of the diverse ecosystems of the United States. Outbreaks of tropical diseases became a chief concern, and an accurate understanding of the country’s territory, climate, and human behaviors (of both imperialists and local inhabitants) was necessary for the medical officers to prevent and treat health conditions. Therefore, the American military government focused reforms on water sanitation, public spaces, food handling, and native personal hygiene practices to ensure the health and safety of their officers. Interestingly, lessons in public health gained from the Philippine experience were brought back to the United States. Many of the American medical officers sought employment in local and state health departments and advocated for preventative medicine (Anderson, 2006). Throughout the twentieth century, Western medicine shifted heavily toward lab-based evidence that focused on inward biochemical and biophysical explanations of medical conditions—and away from a holistic understanding of the human body (Rosenberg, 2012). Nonetheless, a resurgence is occurring currently among a subgroup of physicians and health scientists who recognize the impact of the built environment on health. The body of knowledge on health and place is continually evolving. In an article in the Journal of Health and Place, McLafferty observed that in 25 years of this publication’s content, many articles were based heavily on spatial and statistical data methods, which led to a wide-scale measurement and modeling of health and place relationships (Green et al., 2020; Macintyre et al., 2002; McLafferty, 2020). However, the field is beginning to embrace more diverse methodologies that align with the various scales at which place and health are examined. Rather than using predominantly aggregated data (e.g. census, GIS), more studies are employing methodologies that consider individual experiences as variables. The call to reclaim human/social geography in the context of a post-medical geography sub-discipline has been put forward. Individual or collective sense of place as constructs are gaining research-standing in the literature. The traditional spatial analysis emphasizes location and distributional aspects of a phenomenon rather than the understanding of place as a repository of lived

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experiences, meaning, and familiarity (Kearns, 1993). McLafferty suggests a convergence of the study of experience and socio-ecological health perspectives. The (re)location of place, identity, and health within medical geography embraces diversity and differences in all aspects. The field of health and place has also seen thematic trends. Earlier studies focused on aggregated neighborhood characteristics (median house value, presence of recreational areas, food availability) and their relationship with morbidity and mortality (Catalano, 1979; Diez-Roux et al., 1997). Later, a surge of research became evident on issues of walkability as an environmental factor, especially among older adults, and its association with walking behavior (Black and Makinco, 2008). Studies appeared on obesity and the environment (uneven and hilly terrain, or inadequate lighting, lack of pedestrian infrastructure, low land-use mix, distance of road networks, and city-block grid (Frank et al., 2004; Handy et al., 2002; Jackson and Kochtitzky, 2001; Morland et al., 2002; Saelens et al., 2003). Publications on therapeutic landscapes and holistic health emerged as well (Gesler, 1992; Milligan et al., 2004; Perriam, 2015; Rose, 2012). Although a large portion of the literature is set in the Global North, recent research on the impact of climate change on health, emerging diseases, and global epidemiology are situated in vulnerable regions in the Global South (Liang and Gong, 2017; McMichael et al., 2006; Watts et al., 2015). The intersection of world economies and health has been studied extensively. The World Health Organization reports that the lower an individual’s socio-economic position, their risk of ill health increases. Hence, an outcome of participation in a world economic system that marginalizes the Global South brings about health disparities, especially for women (Sen and Östlin, 2007). The case study of Baguio City, Philippines is a clear example of the impact of world systems on the lives of women vendors.

Note 1 In these transportation studies, the term used is node-place, which implies the confluence of different transportation networks prior to the outset of mixedused development around the node.

3

Locating health and place Historical and contemporary case of Baguio City

I Early American imperialism in the Philippines The establishment of hill stations in tropical Asia are clearly aligned with Hippocrates’s treatise on the role that climate plays in fostering health. During the early days of European colonialism in Asia, particularly in India, the colonialists believed that the hot and humid climate threatened their delicate health and well-being. As a result, they sought cooler places in the high mountains, establishing centers for healing and rejuvenation. These hill stations, as they were referred to, developed into resorts and vacation spots, and eventually into urban centers and cities. A similar pattern occurred during the 1898 American acquisition of the Philippines, an archipelago of more than 7,000 islands. On a May morning that year, when news came that Commodore George Dewey sank the Spanish fleet, a chronicle stated, “you could almost hear the rustle of geographies and encyclopedias throughout the land” (Williams, 1913, p. 3). Without clear knowledge of the country and its people, the American imperialists settled in the Philippines. Presumptively, they gazed at the Filipinos as wards who were ignorant, superstitious, unsanitary, and unhealthy, and, therefore, in need of the Americans to civilize them. During their first years, the Americans were confronted with a “green hell, a hot and humid country seething with diseases, both familiar and unfamiliar” (Gillett, 1990, p. 570). Moved by a sense of moral obligation and enlightenment, the U.S. government believed it was essential to impose the American image onto the Filipinos. A general perception and experience of tropical environments for the Americans, and Europeans for that matter, is that they are extremely unsuitable. The fear of unknown diseases and ways of life in hot humid climates drove them to seek higher elevations for settlement, at least to a height of a few thousand feet. In a report to the Board of Regents of the Smithsonian Institution, Robert De C. Ward rebuked the U.S. government for not learning from the European experience in Asia. He stated that there was “an almost complete, and to my own mind an absolutely inexcusable, ignorance on the part of our high military officials as to the proper selection, equipment and care of white troops who were to engage in

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Locating health and place: case of Baguio City

tropical campaigns” (Ward, 1929, p. 618). The illnesses and deaths among the American troops could have been avoided if responsible officials heeded the lessons learned by the bitter experiences of European colonialists. Prior to the arrival of the Americans, Spain ruled the Philippines for three centuries from a position of tyranny and draconian governance. The Spanish monarchy and Catholic Church demanded total obedience from the Filipinos, resulting in a “state of suspended animation, an isolated sprawl of specks on a map” (Karnow, 1989, p. 49). With the endorsement of the King of Spain, the Catholic religious orders from the Middle Ages (e.g. Augustinians, Franciscans, Dominican friars, Jesuits, and Augustinian Recollects) performed the duties of the colonial master over thousands of hamlet-like barrios. Their main purpose was to Christianize the indios by making them subservient to the Catholic Church establishment. A widespread public health policy was not at the forefront of their monasticcentered minds, even though diseases were rampant throughout most of the archipelago. Abhorred by the modernizing world, the Church neglected to improve the health and sanitation of the people at a large scale, and instead relied heavily on rote prayer, church traditions, and God’s will to heal the sick. Worcester, an American zoologist already living in the Philippines prior to the American regime observed health conditions during the Spanish rule and described them as “shocking in the extreme” (Worcester, 1921, p. 408). Tidal creeks reeked with contaminated filth, excrement and foul smells in Manila. The sanitation conditions in the provinces were even worse. Worcester noticed that many of the ailments were curable. For example, instead of allowing children to play with others infected with smallpox, they could have been quarantined. Clothing of infected family members would be re-used by healthy ones without being washed. Even the opening of windows at night, which the Spaniards practiced, was not followed by the Filipinos for fear that aswang (spirits) would visit them. Fresh cool air would have helped in ensuring good circulation at night. However, some level of advancement was seen in Manila in the early nineteenth century, but only after 300 years of Spanish colonial rule. Several hospitals were established; the Central Board of Vaccination was created in 1806; and the first medical school in the University of Santo Tomas was founded in 1871 (Bantug, 1953). Dr. Jose Rizal, a Filipino national hero, was also sent to Spain to study medicine in 1882. In spite of these accomplishments, typhoid fever, cholera, and leprosy remained rampant. These were the conditions the Americans encountered when they landed in the Philippines to rule the country. Whereas the Catholic orders created and administered sporadic health services throughout the country prior to 1898, the American Army medical service took the matter seriously and applied the Hippocratic notion that “deep study and self-control” and “meteorological data” are essential to identify the etiology of disease (Doherty, 1900, p. 1526). Be that as it may, Dr. Doherty was already influenced by the application of the germ theory

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that prevailed in the medical field at the time. In his early report, he listed endemic diseases like malaria, “larvate paludism,” dysentery, beri-beri (a type of scurvy), intestinal inflammation, and Manila fever, among others, as prevailing illnesses. He continued to explain that the tropical humid climate of the Philippines exacerbates the growth and spread of diseases. Because far more American soldiers were dying from diseases than from battles with the native “insurgents,” it was imperative for the U.S. imperial government to create a public health system that included the development of public policy, as well as an administrative network to implement these regulations. Initially, a military-based corps of surgeons with strict discipline and a clear chain of command was installed in the country, but they quickly learned that a more holistic approach was needed to save the American troops. After careful observation of the ways of the Filipinos, the Americans concluded that addressing sanitation and hygiene were the most urgent health priorities. In 1901, a Board of Health for the Philippines and the City of Manila was formed. Furthermore, an organized and coordinated system of 300 district health officers was installed throughout the country. But the road to national public health development was long and far-reaching. Change was difficult because the new imperialists did not understand the Filipino people and their culture in the context of the environment. The Americans continued to suffer from illnesses due to their inability to cope with the tropical climate. Sunstroke, heat exhaustion, sleeping sickness, tropical abscess of the liver, hookworm, ulcers and other intestinal parasitical infectious fevers of different kinds, as well as skin infections took hold on the American troops, officials, civil employees, and their families (Ward, 1929). A permanent solution had to be found. From 1899 to 1902, after intense armed conflict between Filipino nationalists who fought for independence and the American forces, the country “settled” with conciliatory agreements made.1 Dispirited and dejected, the Filipinos were simply forced to “move on.” The United States was ready to rebuild the country. A solid testament to America’s imperial legacy in the Philippines is the installation of public infrastructure. At the outset of the American occupation, a survey of facilities revealed inadequate water systems (except for some sections in Manila), no reservoirs, and a single pipeline or artesian well for millions of people (Heiser, 1918). Poorly engineered sewer systems in highly populated areas existed. There were no regulations for the burial of dead bodies. Human waste, usually carrying diseases, was dumped in the canals and esteros. Large amounts of garbage piled up on the streets. Slum houses were built on tidal flats. A national American policy had to be enacted to achieve “sanitary regeneration of the Philippines Islands” (Heiser, 1918, p. 63). The United States sent a contingent of competent physicians and surgeons who brought with them hospital equipment and supplies. But these medical provisions were primarily used for the treatment of their troops. Eventually, Filipinos from “good family

38 Locating health and place: case of Baguio City backgrounds” were trained locally as physicians and nurses. Many were also sent to the United States for professional education to carry out this national transformation in public health and sanitation when they returned to the homeland. Additionally, a massive public works plan was initiated to construct modern water and sewer systems, hospitals and health centers with laboratories, and market facilities. In all their ideals, the Americans maintained a position of generosity and reassurance. They adamantly claimed that the purpose of American sovereignty was for the “well-being, the prosperity, and the happiness of the Philippine people and their elevation and advancement to a position among the most civilized peoples of the world” (Report of the Philippine Commission to the President, 1900, p. 4). They disassociated themselves with the European colonialist mindset of conquest and domination, instead striving to imbue the American occupation with principles of justice, liberty, and protection of law, rather than oppression, slavery, and arbitrary power. The desire to shift power from a military government to a civil one was fundamental to the Americans’ nation-building approach. To show its intention of benevolence, the United States promised a massive infrastructure program to build roads, bridges, and railroads (Akers, 2017). The dual purpose of empire-building and protecting the health of U.S. troops necessitated the construction of a modern transportation network. The railroad, particularly, was considered a symbol of growth, prosperity, and technological sophistication. But the Americans’ goal may not have been as altruistic as they presented it. The Report of the Philippine Commission to the Secretary of War, covering the period from December 1, 1900 to October 15, 1902, hints at ulterior motives. The document states that the Philippines has rich and wonderful natural resources—“nature has done everything, but man has done very little” (p. 61). Considering that most of the Filipinos were poor and lived in coastal areas, which limited their commerce to “coastwide trade,” it was imperative to improve the railroad infrastructure in order to penetrate and open up the interior of the great islands. The Americans were interested in harvesting the great mineral, timber, and agricultural resources of the islands. American officials back in the United States strongly supported the program to exploit the country’s natural resources through infrastructure development. One of the first major public work investments was the upgrade of the Manila-Dagupan railroad, a crumbling and deteriorated track running from the capital city to northern Luzon. 2 Neglected by the Spanish regime, this railroad played a critical role in the American exploration of the Benguet mountains and eventually Kafagway.3

II Origins of an American hill station4 As early as the late sixteenth century, the Spanish conquistadores knew about the Cordillera mountains in northern Luzon. Although religious

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conversion was their primary focus, they had a difficult time penetrating the mountains. Their continued interest in the uplands, however, shifted due to reports that mineral resources—and gold specifically—were abundant there (Scott, 1977). Their excursion into the mountains was initially met with zealous opposition from local tribes, but over the course of 325 years of colonial rule, generations of Igorrotes, Spaniards, and Christianized lowland Filipinos learned to cope, adjust, and intermingle with each other, which led to flourishing trade. After centuries of struggle, some groups of Igorrotes succumbed to Spanish colonial authority and agreed to settle in pacified rancherias, i.e. Spanish-controlled villages. Despite the presence of these amicable rancherias, the Americans were fed rumors that the interior mountain tribes were in a state of constant rebellion against the “foreign usurpers” and against any effort to organize them into collective units. Their independent and autonomous nature has “excited local jealousies and has estranged them from each other; and like our Indian Tribes, they have had many internecine wars” (Morgan, 1898, p. 646). The Americans were forewarned about these mountain people. However, they were determined to conquer the native groups, especially after the first few dispatches to President McKinley in January 1900 made reference to an idyllic place in the mountain range north of Manila. They knew they were on to something and acted swiftly to find a modern access route to this idealized land. The chairperson of the First Commission, Judge Howard Taft, wrote that the building of 55 miles of railroad already surveyed would throw open to the inhabitants of the islands as an unsurpassed health resort the high table-land of Benguet in northern Luzon, free from tropical vegetation, with forests of pine, and with the cool and invigorating climate of the northern temperate zone… (Bureau of Insular Affairs, 1900, p. 27) Dean C. Worcester, an American zoology professor, was their primary and most trusted source of information about this mountainous paradise. As a 21-year-old student researcher in 1887, he joined Professor Joseph B. Steere on a yearlong expedition to the Philippine Islands. After graduating, he returned to the Islands and stayed from 1890 to 1893 to collect thousands of zoological specimens. He published several papers on his work, but his most significant contribution was the book, The Philippine Islands and Their People. This was one of the most important resource the Americans used to familiarize themselves with the inhabitants of their new territorial acquisition across the Pacific. The book soon came into the hands of U.S. President McKinley, who then sought Mr. Worcester to participate in the first Philippine Commission, the established insular government. In a later book about the Philippines, Worcester recalled a conversation with Senor Sanchez, a Spanish forestry employee, who told him about a blessed place

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in the highlands of Northern Luzon with an elevation of 5,000 feet. This was a forested mountain range with pines and oaks and “perpetually temperate climate and even with occasional frosts” (Worcester, 1921, p. 450). In the “dead flats” of Manila, news buzzed among the Americans and Filipino elite of “a cool retreat, of breezes that come as wafts from Araby the blest, laden with the breath of aromatic pines, standing in brave phalanx on the slopes of the unseen ranges rising from the levels” (Bailey, 1909, p. 35). In the winter of 1899, during his discussion with Secretary of War Elihu Root, Mr. Worcester mentioned the Spanish description of a heavenly place in the mountains. Secretary Root then charged him to investigate it. Together with another commissioner, Luke Wright, Worcester was sent on an expedition to the mountains of Benguet, along with Horace L. Higgens (President of Manila Railway), Dr. Frank S. Bourns (Chief Health Officer of Manial), Benito Razon (Filipino meteorologist), and Major Louis M. Maus (Chief Medical Inspector for the Eighth Army Corps) (Resurreccion and Gabilo, 2009). And like other explorers, they were awestruck by the beauty of this region. Worcester wrote We were all literally dumbfounded when within the space of a hundred yards we suddenly left the tropics behind us and came out into a wonderful region of pine parks. Trees stood on the rounded knolls at comparatively wide intervals, and there were scores of places where, in order to have a beautiful house lot, one needed only to construct driveways and go to work with a lawn-mower. At the same moment, a delightful cold breeze swept down from the heights above us. (Worcester, 1921, p. 451) Dr. Bourns observed the temperature of the air and water of the region to be “delightful” and called it the most healthful place in the Philippines (Reed, 1976, p. 73). The other medical staff, Major Maus, was initially unconvinced of the salutary benefits of the Benguet mountains but his attitude changed upon breathing an air that was “light, pure, and invigorating” (Reed, 1976, p. 74). He further described a basin-shaped valley with a verdant carpet of rice paddies dotted with thatched-roof huts. Rolling hills framed the valley, and, true enough, magnificent pine trees covered the terrain. With the rays of the setting sun accentuating this peaceful and beautiful place, it was not long before Worcester and his group concluded that this was an ideal spot for a future city. In their report back to the Insular government, they affirmed that white women and children would thrive in this place, and the troops could be sent there upon arrival to the Philippines to acclimatize. Establishing a healthresort city would cost less than sending the soldiers back to America for rest and recuperation. With a sense of urgency, American civilian engineers and surveyors were reassigned from Manila to carry out expeditions to the Benguet mountains.

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The improved Manila-Dagupan railway contributed to their optimism. They originally believed this railway could be extended to the mountains, but reports came back that the terrain was too rugged. Construction and material costs would be too high to carry out the project. The plan was then postponed and instead a cart and wagon path (Benguet Road eventually) was built to respond to the challenging topography. This project served as a preliminary solution to facilitate access to the site of the future city. Unfortunately, the project encountered delays and cost overruns resulting in several leadership changes. It was a difficult and arduous feat fraught with unreliable labor, sickness, typhoons, and monsoon rains, as well as a lack of food, medicines, and other supplies in the construction camps. The mountains were grueling and fearsome. N.M. Holmes, the chief engineer in 1902, complained, “Slopes here stand at angles of such excessive steepness that the slightest disturbance of their natural condition starts a slide….” (Report of the Philippine Commission, 1902, p. 154). Finally, in 1905, the last chief engineer, Major L.W.V. Kennon, declared to the Philippine Commission that the Benguet Road project was completed and ready for rail preparations. But no one was inclined to revive the previous railroad track proposal because the road project had already cost nearly $2 million and had faced numerous adversities, including the loss of lives due to illnesses and accidents. Nonetheless, the Benguet Road, which was renamed Kennon Road, was hailed an exceptional accomplishment and would remain through the centuries of come a magnificent triumph of engineering wrested from the stubborn heart of an unyielding land where the American has not only planted his flag, but dug his brother’s grave in the unresponding solitudes of its wildernesses. (Bailey, 1909, p. 38)

III Daniel Burnham’s plan for Baguio City Kafagway, a respite to the region’s relentlessly rugged terrain, lay at the top of this precarious landscape. A prairie land shaped like a basin, with scattered thatched roof structures on stilts, held the center of Ibaloi life. Predominantly a grazing pasture for cattle, it was understood by the mountain Igorrotes tribes that several indigenous families controlled these lands (Resurreccion and Gabilo, 2009, np). During the late nineteenth century, the elite Carino family, and 26 other families owned large tracts of land in Kafagway in the Province of Benguet. Pacifists at heart, the Carino men demonstrated their pragmatism by eventually negotiating with the Spaniards toward the end of their colonial regime. Realizing their imbalanced position under the Spanish power structure, and to avoid further military strikes, these prominent indigenous Igorrotes led their communities to tolerate Catholicism. They further agreed to adopt the rule of colonial

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governance and collaborated with its appointed leaders. This collective behavior was contrary to a growing Filipino populace who were restless with centuries of colonial domination and oppression. As mentioned, Dean Worcester was the American source for cultural information. He appointed himself as the expert and advocate for the “Non-Christian tribes” of the Cordillera mountain tribes (McKenna, 2017). Interestingly however, it was another white man who welcomed the Americans as they explored the Benguet mountains: Otto Sheerer, a German cigar businessman in Manila who decided to move and settle in the mountains due to his chronic dysentery condition while living in the lowlands (Cabreza, 2011). Sheerer wrote a letter to Dean Worcester offering to serve as a guide and host to the American explorers. Sent by the U.S. Philippine Commission to investigate the “Benguet matter” and further the exploration, Dean Worcester and General Luke E. Wright were impressed with Sheerer’s familiarity with the place and its people. He showed them clean and clear water sources and demonstrated the benefits of the cool weather for raising livestock and growing fruit, vegetables, and grains. Discussion about purchasing some of Sheerer’s land for a sanitarium was also underway. With a climate likened to that of northern New England during the late spring or early summer, Worcester and Wright believed the mountains would provide an ideal setting for newly arrived soldiers and other Americans. It was also deemed the best location to build a political and military summer capital. The expedition proved to be a success (McKenna, 2017). The American occupation of Kafagway was not difficult. They found the Igorrottes “pacific, industrious, and relatively honest and truthful people, who have never taken any part in the insurrection” (Report of the Taft Commission, 1901, 42). They regarded them as “victims in need” (McKenna, 2017, p. 45). The imperial government believed it was their responsibility to protect the mountain natives from the lowland Ilocanos, and to civilize these “non-Christian” tribes who have yet to develop the capacity for self-governance—clearly unaware that the Igorrotes governed themselves via small-scale village systems, unlike the lowland Filipinos who were controlled by the Spaniards in a centralized district structure. The American government seized upon this newfound land. A decree was imposed that pushed the Kafagway families out of their settlements and into the fringes of their ancestral lands. On February 11, 1903, it was declared that the land once called Kafagway would be reserved for Government functions and eventually for sale to private individuals (Philippine Commission, 1904, p. 208). The land canvas for architect Daniel Burnham was laid out for him. His reputation as a visionary architect with keen aesthetics and ideas “to stir men’s blood” paved the way for his assignment by the U.S. government to plan a new city in the Benguet mountains. His “artistic ability of the special kind…” (Hines, 2009, p. 199), as well as his track record with the 1893

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Columbian Exposition and other U.S. city plans marked him as the best designer for the project. A successful interview with then-Secretary of War Taft led to his appointment to design “the most beautiful cities for a summer resort anywhere to be found” (Report of the Philippine Commission, 1904–1905, 26). The expectations put on Burnham’s project were high. On April 24, 1904, Secretary of War William H. Taft formally asked Burnham to travel to the Philippines to design Manila and Baguio. Six months later, he sailed on the Mongolia en route to East Asia. After port calls in Honolulu and Yokohama, he finally arrived in Manila on December 7, 1904. Burnham’s first glimpse of the Philippines as his ship approached land was that of an urban landscape credited to the Spaniards. The major elements he considered for his plan were the walled city of Manila, dense residential neighborhoods with grid street patterns (Binondo, Tondo), outlying settlements, and Ermita, the business district. Burnham was familiar with this city fabric because of comparable spatial patterns he studied in Europe and the United States. Applying his well-known City Beautiful ideals, he immediately drew concepts for the two Philippine cities. However, he soon learned that the mountain place in Benguet was very different from the Manila form. On December 20, 1904, Burnham, accompanied by Commissioners Cameron Forbes, Dean Worcester, and Mr. Higgins, the railroad manager, took the train north. At the end of the line, they took horses to a camp at the foothills of the Benguet mountains. The next day, they walked and rode on carriages on the Benguet Road up to a certain point at which they took horses until they reached Kafagway’s periphery. Burnham visited the Philippines at a time when temperatures in Manila and the lowlands were mild compared to the sweltering summer months in April and May. Burnham was unaware of the genesis of the large government landholdings that he was to design. In March 1904, a few months before Burnham was commissioned to prepare the plan for Baguio, Mateo Carino, the largest indigenous landholder in Kafagway, filed a case with the Insular Government. After five years, Chief Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes ruled in favor of Carino, stating that the “native title” established by testimony or memories on land is recognizable. While on the ship, Burnham reflected on Cameron Forbes’ description of the acquired territory, as well as Secretary Taft’s reference to a place 5,000 feet above sea level that he likened to the Adirondacks. Due to the unbearable lowland heat, the Americans needed a summer place to hold government sessions and to retire for leisure and rest throughout the year. Forbes mentioned the need for military hospitals and other buildings, as well as land for residences of government employees. The design program for these functions had to be laid out in “beautiful lines.” For the long duration of the trip, Burnham had plenty of time to think, imagine, and conceive his plans. Guided by Cameron Forbes’s list of places to be sited, Burnham walked to various spots and explored vistas. As he studied the terrain, he

44 Locating health and place: case of Baguio City found potential sites for government buildings, official residences, hotels, schools, colleges, playgrounds, markets, churches, railroad depots, sanitariums, country clubs, and business and residential districts. At the start of his assessment, Burnham noted the limitations posed by the difficult topography, which had less than a square mile of level land. He laid out several parameters as he visualized the city. These included the following: Business and government activities are to co-exist in a compact manner; significant residences of mainly American civil officials can be sited in the city’s perimeter; municipal official buildings and their approaches should be located in a place of “unmistakable dignity”; and government public buildings (referring to the national government) and their approaches must be located in a place that clearly marks their preeminence over all other buildings in the city (Moore, 1968). Baguio’s city design demonstrates the bold imposition of Western aesthetics on a local indigenous landscape. Burnham’s fantasy of building a place like no other city in the world took form in the few days he spent in Baguio.5 Absorbed by the principles of the City Beautiful movement— which he launched—he sanctioned forms that mimicked American cities. To establish a sense of order, dignity, efficiency, and progress, Burnham proposed for Baguio a dramatic plan that clearly puts the municipal City Hall and the National buildings on eminent spots: a hill and a plateau, respectively. A perfect axis was drawn to connect the loci for these two distinct government functions. The flat meadow-like land resting between these two high grounds was designed for an open esplanade with a green cover. The western portion of the Baguio meadow held the athletics fields and stadium. A distinguishable feature of the City Beautiful movement is the grid arrangement of streets. Burnham used this form in the best possible way, but the slopes hindered the broad execution of orderly streets. In the Baguio plan, the grid street pattern was placed on the gentle slopes leading to the City Hall, as well as a geometric block northeast of the open esplanade. With the first-hand information that he gathered, Burnham claimed that the City of Baguio may reach, but not exceed, a population of 25,000 inhabitants (Moore, 1968). Compared to his full confidence in the Manila plan that he designed, he indicated that the “Baguio scheme is emerging and begins to warrant a hope of something unusual among cities” (Moore, 1968). The hope for the implementation of the plan was placed on the hands of Burnham’s selection of William E. Parsons, an architect trained in the Ecole des Beaux-Arts tradition, and whose aesthetics fully matched his. As a young girl, I intuitively sensed Burnham’s spatial design. My brothers and I freely walk the streets of downtown Baguio as children. During the summer as an eight-year-old, my younger brother and I participated in an art and design workshop sponsored by the City Architect’s Office. We walked every day from Naguilian Road, where we lived at that time, to the

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Baguio Auditorium in the Burnham Park Complex. As we reach the City Hall hill, I sensed Daniel Burnham’s imaginary axial line from this point to Luneta Hill (Government Center) where the national buildings were placed. Although screened by pine trees, the national government site displayed a relationship that exhibited prominence over the local City Hall. At this early age, I have become aware of the designed environment around me.

IV Factors in the growth of Baguio City On February 11, 1903, Act 636, titled “An Act Creating a Government Reservation at Baguio, in the Province of Benguet,” was officially signed by the Philippine Commission, an insular government body created by the United States. The act designated lands that were once owned by indigenous families as public lands with stipulations that gave the imperial government unfettered access to their resources. In addition, the legislation carved out a district for what is today downtown Baguio: That parcel of land in the form of a circle with its center in the house occupied by Mateo Carino at Baguio, and with a radius of one kilometer; and also a strip of land one and one-half kilometers wide on the easterly side, and one-kilometer-wide on the westerly side of the Government Road as now located. (United States Government Act 636, 1903, p. 636) The effort to build the Benguet Road had encountered manifold problems: cost overruns, difficult terrain, labor instability, cholera outbreaks, and treacherous rainy seasons. The deadline for finishing the road had to be pushed back several times until 1903, when it was finally opened,6 effectively giving birth to Baguio, which would evolve into an urban hub not only for the Cordillera region, but also for the entire Northern Luzon. A Establishment of a convalescent center The vision for Baguio City was larger than the land designated in Act 636. Planning and surveying for another access road from the North (Naguilian Road) started immediately after the Benguet Road became accessible. This other road access project began in January 1914 and was completed in April 1915 (Resurreccion and Gabilo, 2009). The completion of the Naguilian Road held immense potential. Otto Sheerer sold his land to the Americans to build a sanitarium. As American patrons and their families increased, this facility expanded with additional buildings and cottages. The site was also leased in 1906 for the purpose of developing a first-class hotel. Wealthy Filipinos purchased land to build summer homes. Baguio’s charm was indeed regarded as heavenly.

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B Retreat for summer work and residence Under the leadership of Governor-General W. Cameron Forbes, a spate of other development projects was built to cater mainly to Americans, including Baguio Country Club, which had dining facilities and a golf course patronized by expatriate teachers, clerks, residents, businessmen, foreign consuls, and U.S. officials. A 535-hectare military resort for rest and recreation (John Hay Air Base) was established (Resurreccion and Gabilo, 2009). Other construction projects included the Mansion House, a summer residence for the Governor-General, the Teachers Camp, City Hall, the University of the Philippines Baguio, and a government administrative complex, which held the courthouses for the Supreme Court and Court of Appeals (Alcantara, 2009). From 1910 to 1913, Governor- General Forbes decided to hold the National Assembly sessions and other governmental functions in Baguio during the hot summer months (March to May). However, this practice was cut short by Forbes’s successor Francis B. Harrison. Due to economic reasons, he, and his administration abandoned Baguio City as the summer capital of the country. However, the seeds were planted for the town to grow and flourish on its own, with tourists and migrants from the lowlands flocking to it. C Transformation into an education and medical center Baguio and all that it offered for the health and healing of the ill-adapted Americans was the perfect location to build a convalescent sanitarium. What began as an 8-bed facility expanded in 1902 to a 15-bed compound with three small cottages (BGHMC, n.d.). Initially managed by American medical staff, the hospital was turned over to the Bureau of Health in 1915, and Filipino doctors, nurses, and other personnel eventually took over. Medical educational institutions with affiliated hospitals were then established to train more nurses and doctors: Baguio General Hospital School of Nursing (1924), Pines City Doctor’s Hospital College of Nursing (1969), and St. Louis University School of Medicine (1976). Whereas the Spaniards used religion to colonize Filipinos, the Americans used the U.S. educational system and democratic form of government as tools for their imperialistic purpose. In 1901, a group of about 600 American teachers arrived in the Philippines to establish schools and train Filipino teachers. Prior to their arrival in Manila the Americans had already constructed school buildings as part of their infrastructure plan. In 1899, they built the first public elementary school in Baguio (Bennette et  al., 2010), which was followed by the Baguio City National High School (1919). The Philippine Military Academy, which was located in Intramuros, Manila, was transferred to Baguio in 1908. The first private school, Easter School, was built by the Episcopalian Church as part of a mission “to establish churches for the spirit, schools for the minds, and

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hospitals for the body” (Bennette et al., 2010, p. 227). The Episcopalians reached far and wide among the indigenous mountain tribes, penetrating as far as Bontoc, Mountain Province, to offer education. Easter School, which later accepted girls, was the first school to promote indigenous handloom weaving as part of its curriculum. For the Americans, Brent School was installed early in 1909 to provide high academic standards for the families of missionaries and military personnel. Decades later the School welcomed Filipino students. Other private schools also emerged: St. Louis primary school (1911), Holy Family College (1913), Baguio Patriotic School (1918), and Maryknoll Convent School (1937).7 Several of these primary schools expanded into high schools and colleges, such as St. Louis College (1952), which is now St. Louis University, and Baguio Colleges Foundation (1946), which is now University of the Cordilleras, and Baguio Tech (1948), which is now the University of Baguio. The prestigious St. Louis University was conferred university status in 1963 and expanded into a highly reputable institution north of Manila—the first in this region. The University of the Philippines Baguio, another distinguished institution, was opened in 1961. D Early beginnings of an economic center Being born and having lived in Baguio City during my formative and young adult years, my memory of its earlier days is still vivid. The city was born out of the public market. Others have regarded the Baguio Public Market as the “womb of Baguio City” (Perez, 2009). Prior to the arrival of the Americans, the flat portion of the land basin in Kafagway was used for trading activities.8 People from the lowlands and mountains gathered here to barter and sell their products during the weekends. In 1908, two wooden buildings were erected and subsequently replaced in 1917 by the Stone Market. The prominent historic landmark (Reed, 1976) was destroyed by a fire in 1970 and in its place a modernized private development, the Maharlika Livelihood Center and Marbay, was built. However, the Baguio City Public Market continued to extend beyond these modern structures. In 1913, 77,770 square meters was designated for its use (Agoot, 2007). This market site, which is organized by product type and function, has evolved throughout the decades. Tourists are drawn to the public market to buy fresh strawberries and Baguio vegetables (e.g., cabbage, carrots, broccoli). The city grew because of migration from the Cordilleras and Northern Luzon, and more businesses were set up to service the needs of this growing population. Session Road, the main thoroughfare, accommodated some of the first formal business establishments, including Japanese and Chinese shops, a silversmith, bakery, refreshment parlor, and tailoring shop (Reed, 1976). Other businesses that soon appeared in the area included the Sunshine Bakery, CID Educational Supply Store, U-Need Grocery, Pang Hoi Enterprises, Tiong San Department Store, and the Pines and Session Theaters.

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As the resident and student population continued to increase, so too did the number of smaller restaurants, shops, and cultural entertainment venues. E Enjoyment for tourism and recreation During its early days as the country’s summer capital, Baguio was a place to rejuvenate. Even after the new Governor-General Harrison abandoned Baguio in 1913, Filipinos, Americans, and other foreign visitors continued to move or vacation there. Its scenic beauty of mountains, pine trees, and lush vegetation, iconic structures, parks, ideal climate, and especially its embodiment of indigenous Cordillera art and culture, Baguio City drew thousands of visitors annually. Today, the peak tourist seasons are February (for the Panagbenga Flower Festival), Holy Week, and December (for the Christmas season). A report from the City of Baguio government marks a 17.5 percent increase in tourists in 2017. Instead of extended summer vacations, which used to be the trend right before World War II, tourists today visit Baguio for short-term stays on the weekends and during holidays. F Expansion of the mining industry Sparse attention has been given to the opening of mining operations in Benguet (Balatoc and Antamok), which have done much to contribute to Baguio’s growth as a regional center. Prior to the American incursion into the area, the Igorrotes were already panning gold in the creeks. Owned and controlled by elite indigenous families, the gold mines provided a source of wealth for them. When American troops scoured the mountainside for revolutionary Filipino soldiers, they chanced upon these elite families ( Guiterrez, 1960; Habana, 2001). Deserting their command, the soldiers forged friendships with the local Igorrote elites, trading guns and other weapons for gold, cattle, land, and protection from the other less peaceful tribes. When the new Insular Government confirmed that an area of the Benguet mountains contained large deposits of gold and other minerals, the government promulgated laws regarding mineral use and ownership, which of course benefitted them. They installed the Bureau of Mines to execute and enforce the mining laws and operations. In 1903, the Benguet Consolidated Mining Company was established. This powerful company became a model for the extractive industry, increasing gold production and developing speculatory systems and methods to expand operations throughout the country.9 The expansion of mining operations contributed to the building of Notre Dame Hospital, which catered largely to the employees of Benguet Consolidated Mining Company. Other mining companies included Philex Mines and Itogon-Suyoc Mines (Guiterrez, 1960), which, together with the Benguet Consolidated Mining Company, spawned many businesses in Baguio to support their operations and employees.

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G Operations of the export processing zone A national presidential decree to install “export processing zones” throughout the country also spurred job growth in the region. In 1970, President Ferdinand Marcos signed Presidential Decree No. 66, creating the Export Processing Zone Authority (EPZA) to position the Philippines as a center for international trade (Remedio, 1996). Baguio was one of four initial sites for these zones. Minimal national funds were allocated for the Baguio site, which was located close to the city airport, but other foreign investments poured in, particularly from Japan and South Korea. It is important to note, however, that Texas Instruments, an American corporation, was one of the largest employers in Baguio’s site. In 1980, 637 people were employed at the Baguio City Export Processing Zone. This number swelled to 2,435 in 1995 (Remedio, 1996). Many of the lessors were electronic and high tech companies. Baguio’s educational hub was an attractive factor in these companies’ site selection. Other developments spun off from the Export Processing Zone, including formal housing construction, transportation activities, and services such as restaurants and shops. In summary, the growth of Baguio City has followed an exponential pattern. In 1903, there were 489 residents, which increased to 5,464 individuals in 1918, a 63.59 percent annual growth rate (Estoque and Murayama, 2013). In 2015, the city’s population reached 345,366. Data from the National Statistics Office and the Office of the City Planning and Development Coordinator shows Baguio’s overwhelming growth trend. Figure 3.1 presents the city’s population gain from 1903 to 2007. The two specific years that showed drastic annual growth rates were in 1918 (63.59 percent) and 1939 (16.26 percent).

Figure 3.1 Baguio City’s population growth from 1903 to 2007. Source: Estoque, R. C., & Murayama, Y. (2013). City Profile: Baguio. Cities, 30, 240–251 (Table 4).

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As population trends continue an upward trajectory, the city has grappled with how to slow its growth. A devastating earthquake in July 16, 1990, compelled the local government to rethink its growth and expansion plans. A tangible outcome of the process was the development of a regional plan referred to as the BLIST (Baguio, La Trinidad, Itogon, Sablan, and Tuba) initiative. The purpose of the plan was to provide a framework among the contiguous municipalities in the region to seek cooperation and coordination in the areas of water supply and distribution, solid waste management, transportation, housing development, and tourism management (Mercado and Chammag, 1998). However, political challenges among the various public officials proved to be difficult to overcome and progress has not been consequential. Baguio City and its environs continue to suffer from uncontrolled growth.

Notes 1 The Filipinos were on the verge of independence from Spain with the strengthening of a national resistance movement. 2 Luzon is the largest island in the Philippines with a majority of the country’s population settled there. 3 Kafagway is the indigenous reference to the place which is now Baguio City. 4 A hill station is a term to describe places in high elevations that were established by European colonizers in Asia, particularly in India. These cooler areas were sought after as a respite from the unbearable heat in lower elevations which negatively affected the colonizers. 5 These few days included travel days, sick days, and days he simply spent indoors. Diary Records in Moore, Charles. Daniel H. Burnham: Architect, Planner of Cities. 6 The Benguet Road was renamed Kennon Road. It has always encountered problems of erosion, landslides, and vehicular accidents. The sharp curves are very difficult to navigate, especially for lowlanders. To this day, Kennon Road has been avoided by the major bus companies, tourists, and residents. 7 I received my schooling at both Maryknoll Convent School (Class of 1972) and Brent School (Class of 1976). 8 Kafagway was the indigenous Ibaloi term used for the grazing open space that is now Baguio’s downtown. 9 I worked with Benguet Corporation as the settlement planner for their mining camps in the early 1980s. My Ph.D. dissertation focused on crowding in the company-owned bunkhouses.

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Intersecting spatialenvironmental perspectives with urban health

I Life-worlds of women vendors: a global scan A Transnational discourse on gender Women in the Global South, particularly poor women, have been rendered invisible in urban theory. Peake (2016), who identifies as a feminist geographer, brings to light how dominant urban scholars marginalize the positionality of women in their analyses of cities and regions. She gives examples of contemporary and classic texts, like Amin and Thrift’s Cities: Reimagining the Urban (2002), which offers a comprehensive and global survey of urban conditions while completely ignoring issues of gender. Peake also points out that in the classic text by Manuel Castell The City and the Grassroots, women are present in the beginning but soon fade out by the end of the book, implying their minimal role in theory development. I mention these two books because they are considered pillars of urban theory, and are cited continually in publications that cover spatial issues in cities. Even Lefebvre’s Production of Space reinforces my belief that many of these classic Western texts regard cities only as theoretical objects of study. I deem these “musings” as overly abstract with limited practical application to making a difference in women vendors’ lives. To situate women vendors in the world, it is first important for Western researchers and practitioners, including feminist scholars, to change their ways of looking at poor women in the Global South as subjects in need of development and enlightenment. Parnell and Robinson’s (2013) article is an example of a post-neoliberal insight into urban planning for cities in the Global South by women in the Global North. Although long overdue, this approach is still lacking and inadequate. A truly beneficial approach would be to engage more fully with the women’s lived experiences, everyday struggles, and priorities for living and working, and “to seek an understanding of the complex macro- and microcosms upon which the vast majority of the world’s urban working poor pin their hopes and dreams” (Peake, 2016, p. 225). Global-conscious urban feminists suggest that a collective theory production, or praxis for that matter, is required

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to understand women across cultures. This entails not only collecting data and writing about poor women, but exerting effort to breakdown the stratified distinction between theory and method (Lock-Swarr and Nagar, 2010). In other words, women must be involved in knowledge production. A critical transnational feminist praxis is put forth as an intellectual activity that involves setting comparative urban agendas and new creative methodologies, engaging in participatory dialogues that lead to openended ways of producing knowledge that is tentative, fluid, and likely to change (Lock-Swarr and Nagar, 2010; Robinson, 2011). By focusing on the everyday lives and struggles of women across cultures, transnational feminists can ensure that urban theory does not discount poor women in the conversation. To reiterate, the need to embrace pluralism in the study of Asian cities and the women vendors who occupy their spaces encompasses the validation of case studies as legitimate research material. Nunez (1993) qualifies the use of such case studies for a small number of seven interviewees in her analysis. In an apologetic tone, she justifies her approach by “trying to keep a balance between a minimum account of women’s experiences and the development of their narratives” (Nunez, 1993, p. 75). In my decolonizing journey, the reading of places requires a constant reminder that I do not have to engage in a positivist view to validate research studies. In other words, knowledge that comes from research does not have to be generalizable in order for it to be valid. Celebrating pluralism and being comfortable in analyzing diverse experiences of women vendors and their distinct places is enough of a compelling research approach. For example, Nunez (1993) describes the lived realities of women who have been domesticated all their lives, migrate to the cities, and work for the first time. She narrates the experiences of their journeys, going from insecurity, shock of coming out into public spaces, and learning to survive on the streets. She then documents the results of their actions --- autonomy and empowerment. I tend to be cautious about supporting ideologies and arguments that deliver without rooting them in authentic experiences. If transnational feminists are able to recognize and acknowledge that they are theorizing and writing from a position of privilege, then I believe they are on track and should be accorded the right to formulate new and ground-breaking thoughts and methodologies to impact urban policies and practices. To me, non-researchers of the place have to undergo an honest and deep reflective process in order to represent the voices of poor women. I would also add that if scholars are sincere about taking on the challenge of theorizing global- conscious feminism, they should be willing to start their own process of peeling the layers of biases engrained in their minds by Westerncentric and hegemonic ideologies. These women should be able to clear their heads of the “savior mentality” and “femplaining” as if women in the Global South are not competent to think and speak for themselves.

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B Women street vendors in the Philippines and the Global South Without a doubt, the inclusion of gender in studying the informal sector is essential because the number of women street vendors have not only increased dramatically over recent decades, but they are also the most vulnerable informal-sector workers (Chant and Pedwell, 2008; Chen et  al., 2006). The demographics for street vending have changed markedly. Keith Hart’s early research narratives on small-scale entrepreneurs refer to them as men (Hart, 1970). Tokman (1989) points out that in 1980, Latin American countries had seen an increase in women vendors. Reports show that 76 percent of participants in the informal economy were women. In Africa, Mitullah (2003) reviewed studies in six different countries and found that women make up a significant proportion of street vendors. A United Nations Report promotes the idea that more cities should give attention to women in the informal sector (United Nations Settlement Programme, 2013). Because formal employment is often inaccessible and exploitative for low-income women, they rely on independent activities to generate income for their families.1 The UN report, in fact, states that entrepreneurship followed by skills development and investment are the three highest factors in increasing the productivity of urban women workers (p. 45). The larger economic landscape that countries in the Global South deal with involves the significant increase of women’s roles in family economic survival. Due to shifts in global markets, men of lower incomes have less employment opportunities in their respective countries. National governments are pressured to identify alternatives to employment restructuring. A strategy that the Philippines has tapped is the encouragement of labor migration, for women to serve abroad as health workers, domestic help, school teachers, and other service occupations. 2 The Philippines is one of the top producers of global workers. Data obtained from the Philippine Overseas Employment Administration (POEA), Philippine embassies, and the Department of Foreign Affairs (DFA) estimates the number of Filipinos working abroad at 10.4 million (United Nations Women, 2017). The country depends on their remittances, which contribute about 8–10 percent of the country’s Gross Domestic Product. To support this national strategy the Government has created a robust network of public agencies, private recruitment companies, and non-governmental organizations to ensure its viability. The out-migration of Filipino women, and the fact that only 40 percent of those who stay in the country hold employment jobs, compels women left behind to find work in the informal sector. This situation exemplifies sociologist Saskia Sassen’s notion of feminization of survival (Sassen, 2000). Many women opt to participate in informal vending activities and face regulatory risks than to fall into debt to pay for the required recruitment fees to work abroad. They find out from those who have experienced foreign work that conditions are not always favorable. Many families of

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women overseas workers are in crisis because the remittances sent home do not always ensure economic stability and mobility for their families. The intersectionality of gender and informality is a complex phenomenon. Geographer Lloyd-Evans (2008) proposes a four-tiered categorization of workers based on their motives for working in the informal economy. In her study of the informal economy in the Caribbean (Trinidad and Tobago), she groups the women into subsistence workers, small-scale entrepreneurs and traders, petty capitalists, and criminal operators. Street vendors fall in the second tier—small-scale entrepreneurs and traders. They are independent, own their accounts, and exhibit greater autonomy. They experience unaccompanied mobility and household flexibility, which boosts their selfesteem (Lloyd-Evans and Potter, 2002; Mitra, 2005; Salway et al., 2005). In Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, women control the marketplace and garner respect for earning a living. Interestingly, they generally view men as incompetent money managers (Brenner, 1998, p. 136). The Ghana experience also centralizes women in the marketplace (King, 2006). Note that although markets are regulated, women continue to engage in informal activities to supplement their incomes. An example are the street vendors in Baguio City who transferred their informal operations inside the market— along the aisles (Milgram, 2013). Other vendors around the world abandon their stalls in favor of free public spaces that require no usage fees. Nonetheless, there are ambivalent notions in the Global South concerning women who work in the public view. They are hopeful and have more opportunity choices, but have to endure vulnerabilities because societies enforce traditional beliefs that a woman’s place is in the home. Women working in public spaces is seen as a threat to men (Brenner, 1998). Several studies suggest that in spite of contributing to the household income, women’s work is not recognized and sufficient to elevate their status and identity. Rather than feeling empowered, more exploitative demands are placed on them (Goldstein, 2016; Greenhalgh, 1991; Salway et al., 2005). Gender norms are embedded in persistent socio-cultural structures that are difficult to break. In South Asia, for example, the trust of family members placed on women workers decreases because they tend to “stray” away from expected female behavior. The “negative” implications of exposure to broad information, expansion of social networks, acquisition of more skills, and tendency to engage in independent decision-making threaten the conventional notion of womanhood (Mumtaz and Salway, 2005). Silvey (2000) reinforces the cultural struggle for women’s mobility with the expectation that “good girls,” “obedient daughters,” and “virtuous women” ought to be seen in respectable public places. In Vietnam, where a Marxist revolution promised to solve gender inequality, informal traders are viewed as “insignificant, undesirable or backward impediments to a market-socialist economy” (Leshkowich, 2011, p. 278). The gender divide in street trading is a common phenomenon in the Global South where disparities between men and women vendors are

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observed (Chen et al., 2001; Mitra, 2005). A study of vendors in Kumasi, Ghana, illustrates this point. Although over 73 percent of Ghanaian women engage in self-employment activities, specifically petty trade, they do not participate fully in street food businesses along the Kejetia railway line and Anloga Junction. This would have been a prime opportunity to provide meals to carpentry and woodworking employees but male vendors dominate this lucrative space (King, 2006). A similar finding is described in Addo-Yobo’s study where formal store owners, who are mostly male, pay the women vendors to sell their goods on the street to decrease their competition (Addo-Yobo, 1985 in King, 2006). In Iloilo, Philippines, four-fifths of informal street food enterprises are owned by women (Tinker, 2003). Of this proportion, 27 percent share “ownership” with their husbands. If a man possesses a vehicle, he would often be responsible for picking up raw food ingredients from the nearby rural villages and delivering them to the vending location for the wife to cook. Since Filipino culture is matriarchal, the women make most, if not all, of the business decisions related to the food enterprise. But there are always cases where the microbusiness is controlled by the man. Nevertheless, women are often “under- or un-paid” for their work. Tinker (1987) terms this the “invisibility of women’s work.” Although categorization simplifies the study of women informal workers, part of decolonizing research is to emphasize the nuances of women in place. Rather than use a stereotypical view of vendors, this book offers the distinctive and multi-faceted nature of each place-node in Baguio and the women who toil in those urban spaces. C Women vendors as place-makers This section attempts to develop a decolonized concept of street environments that embodies collective norms and social relationships, non-hierarchical systems, and disparate visions of city aesthetics within the context of gender and culture. It is important to read public streets in the Global South with a lens steeped in multi-layered gendered realities, much like gazing at an intricate tapestry. Specifically, women food vendors in eThekwini (South Africa) play an important role in reinforcing a cultural practice of commensality (eating together) and the peculiar symbolisms of food preparation, shared social space, and public eating (Wardrop, 2006). In this scenario, male customers are observed to be respectful of gendered, invisible spatial boundaries, such as the immediate area behind the woman vendor’s food display or cooking space. Another nuanced reality involves Mexico’s indigenous women vendors who are all given a common name, Maria, as a move to deny their individuality and identity. Las Marias are stereotypical depictions of ethnicity, gender, class, and occupation (Novo, 2003). They are often discriminated against because they are perceived as outsiders who belong to the rural areas and do not have rightful claim to city spaces.

56 Intersecting spatial-environmental perspectives The Hong Kong case study is an interesting one in describing the heterogeneity of street vending around the world. A government policy to remove street hawkers from the outdoors to low-rise indoor markets, which later turned into several high-rise multi-functional buildings, was successful in “eliminating” vendors from public spaces around subway stations, pedestrian bridges, and other areas where people converge (Kinoshita, 2001). However, communities developed around these multi-functional developments and their presence supported street vending. The workshops and stores on the ground floor organically spilled-over the streets, an opportunity that drew vendors because of additional foot traffic. At night, these spillover spaces were populated with more vendors. Residents of the highrises joined in by setting tables and chairs to have dinner on the streets. This interesting co-mingling of residents and vendors constitutes the plurality of place-making. As demonstrated above, street food vendors are centripetal forces in multicultural place-making. They bring people together from diverse backgrounds, like in the case of South Durban where the women vendors prepare, cook, and serve roasted mealies, curries, pap, gravies, and offal for Zulus, Indians, and English, and for Christians, Muslims, and Hindus (Wardrop, 2006). In many places around the world, street vendors carve out a small kitchen, with as small as a 2×2-foot makeshift table to hold a one-burner gas stove. Food preparations are either done at home or on site, depending on the amount of space available. Many “temporary” vendors do not provide seating for customers. Buyers usually find space nearby to consume their food. It is not surprising to see customers seated and eating on the sidewalk in a line. In Manila, a vendor’s umbrella size determines how successful she can be (Almendral, 2014). Her food business of fish balls, fried chicken skin, and sautéed bean sprouts requires a larger umbrella because she wants her customers to sit under a shade. Unfortunately, regulations in Intramuros, a walled city tourist attraction, prohibit her from using too large of an umbrella. Milgram (2013) describes the move of vendors from the street into the aisles of the Baguio market. In this case, space is not simply a physical aspect with specific boundaries. The exchanges between the informal vendors and the formal lease-holding store owners create “relational spaces,” to use David Harvey’s conceptualization of the division of space. If one theorizes three types of spaces (i.e. absolute, relative, and relational), it is the latter within the context of the other two spatial types that transforms livelihood possibilities (Harvey, 2006 in Milgram, 2013). Culturally, many street vending practices in the Global South involve generations of families. In the tourist section of Antigua, Guatemala, Mayan vendor spaces are often occupied by their babies, grandmothers, mothers, and older sisters (Little, 2013). My study of women vendors also demonstrates how families are part of place-making in downtown Baguio.

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Equally important is the role that public spaces play in the survival experiences of women. The street is a place for socialization; for some it may be the only place. Quitting their vending activities threatens their strong support network, and many are fearful of this. In Mexico City, interviews of vendors in the historic core revealed the streets are the only places that offer an honorable means of livelihood, but also places to “construct and strengthen ties with friends and family members” like “one big happy family” (Crossa, 2009, p. 52). The debate on rights to public spaces continues among scholars, social justice advocacy groups, and urban practitioners. The work of Henri Lefebvre (1991) offers fundamental insights into how space is produced. He advances the concept that space is made through social, cultural, political, and historical processes. Building on this line of thought, Don Mitchell (2003) focuses on public places as physical manifestations of inequity and exclusion of certain groups over time. However, Lefebvre, Mitchell, and numerous other Western urban scholars construct canons of place-making that are somehow limited because they disregard the complexity of women’s experiences by melding them into a generic collective. Ortiz et al. (2011) give an example of how the struggle for urban space is an ongoing reality that disfavors Mixtecs because of their indigenousness. In another context, the use of gossip to build social capital reveals an observed rift between older food vendors and their younger competitors. Interviews with older women uncovered a common judgment about the younger vendors as not really knowing how to cook but simply using flirtation behavior as a marketing strategy (Companion, 2010). Perceptions of public spaces play into women’s lived experiences as street vendors. In Chile, men believe that public spaces are not appropriate for women. In an interview, a husband exclaimed, “Ah, you’ll get all ordinary out on the street, because the people on the street are ordinary.” (Nunez, 1993, p. WS-78). A brief review of non-Western literature supports the concept of private and public spaces as ambiguous and emergent over time. The binary demarcation of public and private marks the Western worldview. It also brings to light a gendered perspective where the public is male-dominated and the private is domestically female-oriented (Massey, 1994). Place construction is a multifaceted process with myriad elements embedded in it. Women traders in the Caribbean shape urban spaces according to their social networks by congregating with their respective ethnic group (Lloyd-Evans and Potter, 2002). They gather in numbers and occupy larger spaces on the sidewalk. Similarly, Bandyopadhyay (2017) describes Indian vendors and how they shape their spaces when they converge in streets with high pedestrian and vehicular traffic. In addition, food hawkers take spaces close to municipal water taps and curbside drains because of the convenience of a water source to cook and wash their used pots and pans. In Vietnam, Drummond

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(2000) observed outdoor spaces being used for family purposes (inside-out) like washing clothes, bathing, cooking, while the opposite (outside-in) are “private spaces” inside the home that the state controls. D Street vending in Baguio City As a child growing up in Baguio, I remember that vendors were always an integral part to the overall street environment. Often, while riding with my mother in our canary yellow Opel, a middle-aged woman vendor, and sometimes her teenage son, would come up to the car to deliver the day’s newspaper. They immediately spotted our car driving down Father Carlu Street to turn right on Session Road, in front of Patria de Baguio (D&S Grocery Store). My mother was her suki (regular customer) and they had a special relationship, nurtured throughout the years. There were times the vendor handed her an “extra” to the daily paper—a special women’s magazine. During Christmas time, my mother presented her with a small bowl of cookies wrapped in red or green cellophane. All these exchanges took place while my mother was seated comfortably in her car. The increase in street vendors in downtown Baguio mirrored an increase in the overall urban population. A 30-year period of accelerated population growth from the 1960s to the 1990s hinged on several factors. The rise of Baguio as an educational center drew many young students who later stayed as residents. The medical industry drew physicians and other health workers. Tourism boosted the city’s growth as well. Hotels and restaurants mushroomed all over the city. This boom attracted people from the Cordillera highlands, and from the lowlands in the nearby provinces to migrate to Baguio. Unfortunately, the formal sector job economy could not keep pace with the increase of new residents. In 2007, the unemployment rate for the city was 17.2 percent (National Statistical Coordination Board, 2010). Urban residents respond to low employment opportunities by establishing their own livelihoods, giving rise to the informal sector. Participants in this sector consider themselves poor and use unregistered enterprises as a safety net for their survival (Indon, 2002). Meanwhile, the optimistic promise of a livelihood continued to lure individuals and families to Baguio. In the 1970s, vendors concentrated in downtown sites other than Session Road because this major arterial road was the prime public space in which to shop, dine, and leisurely promenade. The local city government and oldtime Baguio residents were determined to preserve the nostalgic essence of its early days. Session Road also drew the cosmopolitan Manila crowd when they visited the city.3 In people’s eyes, sidewalk vendors tainted such spaces, although this sentiment did not stop several vendors (like my mother’s newspaper courier) from setting up shop on Session Road. In the late 1980s, a new group of migrants from Mindanao (Southern Philippines) sought refuge from the continuous conflict between the Philippine military and Moro Muslim separatists. Caught in the middle of

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this internal war, many Muslim families uprooted and moved to other parts of the country. Many eventually ended up in Baguio, where they created a niche market for their vending activities. For example, an influx of cell phone accessories, clothing, and pirated audio-visual products like CDs and DVDs found their way to downtown Baguio’s sidewalks (Milgram, 2015; Yeoh, 2011). The peak of street vending in Baguio’s urban core took place in the late 1990s and early 2000s, during the Asian financial crisis. In a public market summit, the city government claimed there were approximately 3,500 street vendors, but a more realistic, unofficial estimate pegged the number somewhere between 5,000 and 7,000 sellers (City of Baguio, 2009, p. 4). This is still a staggering count considering that many of these vendors were probably located in the Baguio market area and other areas around the city that were not included in our multi-year study. Generally, the city government’s stance on street vending has been that vendors “destroy the beauty of the city and create an unpleasant scene for tourists” (City of Baguio, n.d., p. 3.2). We conducted our first socioeconomic survey of sidewalk vendors in 1999 to examine the factors leading to their location choices, family situation, business operations and challenges, and perceptions of business success. Our sample of 211 respondents showed that 85 percent of them were women with an average age of 43 years (Akers & Akers, 2005). Furthermore, these women had about four children each, which is consistent with a similar study of market vendors (Loanzon, 1998). Street vendors do not randomly select vending locations. They consider pedestrian traffic specific to their market stream, specific characteristics of the site, and extenuating circumstances like construction that would drive them away. Through word of mouth they find vending spots that are hidden from police officers. However, vendors select spaces where they can see the officers arriving and walking towards them, giving them enough time to gather their merchandise and run. In 2003, we conducted another survey of 187 vendors to identify health behavior and concerns. Although we did not ask their names due to our Human Subjects protocol we recognize many of the women who were interviewed in 1999. Like the previous study, most of the women were middleaged (43 years old) and still taking care of children, as 37.3 percent of them had children younger than 10 years old (Akers et al., 2005). Only 33.7 percent of the vendors expressed they had health problems. Among some of the common health issues were colds, influenza, fatigue, fever, cardiovascular diseases, and joint, muscle, and bone ailments. Our studies from 1999 to 2006 revealed shifts that have occurred in Baguio’s vendor economy. A thesis presented to the University of the Philippines College at Baguio revealed that street vendors in 1985 were younger (average age of 27 years) and only 60 percent were female, compared to our studies that showed a workforce between 80 to 85 percent female (Akers & Akers, 2005; Ladia et  al., 1985).4 Furthermore, our data  showed  that

60 Intersecting spatial-environmental perspectives vendors had higher educational attainment than those in the 1985 study. The earlier study showed only 6.67 percent of street vendors had some college or vocational credits, while our data showed 15 percent of them held credentials. In other words, we found in our study that those workers engaged in informal trade had education achievements higher than high school level. Another vital shift in street vendors is length of residency in Baguio. In the 1985 thesis, the vendors had not lived in the city longer than 9.5 years, and in our 1999 survey, the average number of years lived in Baguio was 29 years. This implies that within a span of 14 years, more residents resorted to informal selling as a livelihood. Regardless of the year, vendors worked an average of 10 hours a day. Their sales were seasonal and during the off-season they had no other income source.

II Street spatial environments in downtown Baguio City Westerners are known to have an analytical view of the world which focuses on salient objects and their characteristics. On the other hand, Easterners take a holistic view that center on continuities and interrelationships in the environment (Nisbett, 2003). This chapter presents Baguio’s downtown street environments through urban place-nodes. There are distinctive variation among the five selected nodes. In the formal study of vendors from 1999 to 2006, more than 400 vendors were interviewed. In 33 sites scattered throughout the downtown, physical features of the sidewalk, vending area, and building context were measured, observed, and visually documented. Vehicular and pedestrian counts were taken at various years. Air quality monitoring and pollution content were calibrated in 31 sites. Ten vendors were given biometric exams at the Notre Dame Hospital and extensive interviews were conducted. In several cases, we visited their homes. Patterns emerged from these activities which led to the unfolding of the urban place-node analytical tool. Each node articulates a rich tapestry of vendors and their work areas, street/sidewalk behavior, and environmental functions (e.g. building and land use, transportation). The five nodes were drawn based on these special attributes. The urban place-node as a unit of analysis is a frame that consists of an entanglement of spatial elements, sensorial aspects of places, womens descriptions of their health conditions, and my lived experience as a betweener researcher. This section offers a comprehensive narrative of each place-node portrayed with vivid urban language. In preparing these narratives, I revisited the datasets, statistical analyses, field notes, and visual documentation to recreate and synthesize a composite picture of life-worlds in these spaces. The dense constellation of elements demonstrates the interplay of shifting people patterns, site materiality, and meanings and symbols that constitute Baguio’s urbanism with women vendors taking center stage. The urban place-node is a spatial subset of the entire downtown research site. However, most of the streets and vendor sites studied from 1999 to 2006 are included in the five place-nodes.

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Incorporating the time factor in the analysis involved two steps. First, I froze the urban place-node according to the various years the streets were formally studied and documented.5 For this retrospective, I created a composite of these data points. Second, I added various times of the day into the composite because we collected data from 5:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m., and activities varied throughout the day. The informal times I walked and drove through the streets sometimes took place between 7:00 p.m. and 9:00 p.m. This process was the most practical way to integrate temporal changes in the read of the streets. Furthermore, freezing a place through a composite image allowed me to deconstruct and pay attention to details and interrelationships of elements. Movement across years would have been a complicated endeavor without necessarily yielding compelling results for the purpose of this book. Map 4.1 shows the five urban place-nodes: Upper Session Road Node; Middle Session Road Node; Lower Session Road Area; General Luna Node; and Abanao-Harrison Node. These are distinct places with special characteristics; therefore, varied elements are analyzed instead of using a standard set of criteria. This approach exemplifies the value of pluralism in design and planning.

Map 4.1 The five urban place-nodes in Downtown Baguio City.

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A Upper Session Road The main streets in cities are often stereotyped as a place of eminence and distinction. In lowland Philippines where towns were designed according to the colonial Spanish Laws of the Indies, main streets lead to the plaza where the local Catholic Church and the government building are located. Baguio City did not follow the Spanish ordinance for city design. The city’s main street is Session Road. It is a 1.1-mile-long (1.7-kilometers) slightly curved six-lane major street with a steep slope. Members of the American-appointed Philippine Commission walked this route during their summer sessions which led to Baguio’s official designation as the Summer Capital of the country.6 Session Road is the main route for major city events like the Pope’s visit, Panagbenga parades, and protests and rallies. The story of Session Road provides a metaphor for Baguio as a whole—its need to stand apart from other streets as a unique destination place. In the minds of local residents and visitors, Session Road is the major conduit that expresses the heart of Baguio City. It is regarded as the hallmark of the city’s transcendence to a vibrant regional center. A.1 Street read The best way to read cities is to walk around. A stroll begins from the historical marker at the top of Session Road, which indicates that this was the site of the building where the Philippine Commission held its first session in Baguio from April 22 to June 11, 1904. The stroll continues from the historical marker to a vacant lot that welcomes vendors to claim their “territories”. Unfortunately, the lack of building infrastructure in this particular space deprives them of weather protection but, on the other hand, the empty space allows for good air circulation that dissipate fumes from engine exhaust. The dark, early mornings are marked with an almost piercing chill during the months of December through February. A few jeepneys drive uphill.7 A wide empty sidewalk transforms into a bustling avenue as the morning light arrives. Under plastic tarps, vendors set up their wares on wooden display cases. Pirated CDs are propped up for immediate visual display. A few have more sophisticated glass cases with various cell phones for sale. A sign on top of a case beckons the passersby: “We Buy and Sell: Cell Phone Swap.” Vendors set their plastic stools on the side of their displays as they wait for customers. At least once a week black garbage bags are set out on the edge of the sidewalk for collection. In other places in the Upper Session Road node, trash is set out in small grocery bags that accumulate on top of each other. Vendors pile and lean their trash bags on a sign post that reads “On Street Pay Parking”. The curb height is only 6 inches, which poses a problem during the rainy season when runoff flows uncontrollably down from Luneta Hill and floods the sidewalk. When garbage is not picked up, the runoff carries the refuse downhill, often clogging the street drains.

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M ap 4. 2 Upper S ession Road place-node.

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Photo 4.1 Pedestrians strolling down the Upper Session Road place-node.

Meanwhile, the sound of jeepney engines revving up as they ascend the final stretch of Session Road eases as they find parking spaces in front of these vendors. Drivers position their vehicles in a line along the sidewalk and wait for passengers. They get out of their vehicles to stretch and chat with the other drivers or with nearby vendors. Later in the morning, more vendors position themselves on the border of the sidewalk, a few feet from where jeepneys are parked. They sell fresh cut fruit, such as green mangoes and santol, on top of a flat baskets that rest on tin cans or plastic containers. This urban place-node becomes a social scene from dawn to dusk. A.2 Diversity of uses The Upper Session Road place-node contains significant mixed-use buildings with professional offices, chain restaurants, and retail stores, all of which differentiate it from other streets (see Business Diversity on Map 4.2). Tangible markers of globalization’s reach include a 7-Eleven, Pizza Hut, and KFC. The poster on the KFC glass window depicts Superman flying with two special meals for 99 pesos (roughly $1.75). The discounted meals offer fried chicken, fries, and a soft drink. Vendors look for these special meals instead of packing their lunches. A quiet vendor, probably in her 40s, sits on the side of a Pizza Hut. She sells an assortment of products, including newspapers, umbrellas, and cigarettes. On the street in front of her are parked motorcycles with delivery boxes advertising Pizza Hut with the graphic of a red flame and hot pizza. When the motorcycle driver starts his vehicle, plumes of exhaust spew out, briefly shrouding the sidewalk vendors with toxic air. Several financial and banking institutions are located here (e.g. RCBC Rizal Commercial Banking Corporation, Equitable PCI Philippine

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Commercial International Bank, and National Life Insurance). There are smaller businesses in this block, like a driving school, Canadian immigration assistance, a dental clinic, and a tattoo parlor. A patchwork of vendors situated against these institutions’ frontage can be seen. Many of the products displayed here, such as cell phone covers, small electronic devices, and phone cards for loading, are made in China. A small crowd gathers as a woman vendor calls out a marketing pitch for her goods. Pedestrians stroll purposefully. A mother holds a plastic shopping bag on one hand while her pre-teen daughter hangs on to the other arm, distracted by the vendor’s cell phone displays. Another woman carries bright yellow SM bags.8 A young couple strolls, the woman texting on her phone while gripping the man’s arm. Students with backpacks hike up the hill to the University of the Cordilleras. A woman clutches her bag under her arm and heads to the RCBC bank. In the afternoon, a welter of pedestrians carrying new SM shopping bags walks to and from the large SM development at the peak of Luneta Hill, congesting the sidewalks. When the financial institutions are closed in the evening, vendors use their clean frontage to sell fruit. A couple sets out their lanzones and oranges on bilao baskets laid on plastic crate boxes. During the Christmas season, which starts at the end of November, vendors set out their holiday goods on the pavement. A young boy sells gift wrappers on an upright cardboard box. His mother’s vending space is marked by a blue plastic tarp. She displays pink, light blue, red, black, and white baseball caps with logos that read CK (Calvin Klein), No Fear, Air, and Polo. Another vendor close by sells the same items. The street segment is on an incline with vehicles continuously discharging black exhaust on them. On the other side of the street, a large commercial building with a salmonpainted facade takes a dominant position. Referred to as the Porta Vaga Mall, this is a prime illustration of an incompatible “universal design-art deco” materializing in a local context. Fortunately, the Catholic Vicariate via the Baguio Cathedral administration maintained the historic scale of Session Road, limiting the mall and the adjacent historic Patria de Baguio to four stories. Porta Vega, a vibrant epicenter of the chain Robinson’s Department Store, and many homegrown commercial establishments (e.g. 50s diner, PC Express, boutique shops like Serenity Vibe, hallway stalls like Amparo’s Apothecary) is a centripetal development that attracts people to Upper Session Road. It is a known destination for many pedestrians walking from the Baguio Cathedral and the Baguio Post Office. A.3 Walkability Practicing patience as one navigates the Upper Session Road place-node is a virtue. One must naturally go with the flow of people. The pedestrian in front may, in a split second, suddenly halt to buy something from a vendor, and one must learn how to circumvent this situation by manipulating one’s

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torso to avoid collision. Furthermore, because there is no prescribed flow of movement, those walking up the incline and those heading downhill expertly zigzag amongst each other. Those not familiar with crowded Asian streets often find their stroll annoying and laden with anxiety. Filipino pedestrians seem like they drift toward a collision course but rarely collide, or even touch. It takes special skills and consistent practice to walk so nimbly on the streets of downtown Baguio. A Western approach to walking is different from the Baguio way. In the United States, walking is generally regarded as a leisure activity. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s Behavioral Risk Surveillance Survey shows that 41 percent of adults consider walking as their most common leisurely physical activity (Ewing and Handy, 2009). In large American cities, walking is a choice, unless the lack and high cost of public transportation make it a necessity for some people. In Baguio, walking is an everyday reality for most residents. People take public jeepneys from their homes to specific destinations with hardly any direct connections. They have to walk during some parts of the journey. If they ride taxis, they still walk part of the way because of heavy traffic. Often it is faster and cheaper, because of the ticking taxi meter, to walk to their destination than wait in traffic. The entire stretch of Session Road is known as a place to see and be seen. However, how does one assess the quality of the sidewalk environment? Does it encourage walking? Is it easily walkable? Walkability indices are abundant but they are geared toward Western environments or globalized places that mimic the spatial practices of the West. The World Bank sponsored a Global Walkability Index created by the Massachusetts Institute of Technology that resulted in a “universal” framework for many cities (Fabian et al., 2010; Krambeck, 2006). The index factors include the availability of crossings, pedestrian count, walking path modal conflict, perception of security from crime, amenities (e.g. coverage, benches, public toilets), permanent and temporary obstacles on walking paths, and degree of public outreach for pedestrian and driving safety and etiquette. Cities around the world were ranked according to this index. Unsurprising, many of the vernacular sidewalks in the Global South ranked toward the bottom. Session Road, in general, would fall short on the World Bank’s assessment because it is congested; there are no benches or public restrooms; and the City does not have regulations to dictate how people should walk. Nor does the government have an educational campaign to “teach” people proper behavior in sidewalks. Nevertheless, Upper Session Road is a walkable street. Yes, the sidewalks can get congested at certain times of the day and vendors may encroach on public areas, but pedestrians are able to navigate these spaces. The strictly defined median stone wall on the street directs people to cross only at certain places. Police officers manually regulate traffic in major intersections. Ramps to facilitate mobility among disabled individuals are present, but may fall short of “universal” standards. The World Bank index uses air quality as one of its criteria, and

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Upper Session Road’s level is of concern. Vehicles driving up the hill expel toxic fumes constantly. But, transportation strategies can be developed to mitigate this problem. A.4 Sidewalk art Baguio is known as a haven for artists, even before UNESCO designated it in 2017 as a Creative City. Unless one is observant of sidewalk materiality, a pedestrian can miss the tile art displayed on several segments in the Upper Session Road place-node (De Guia Building). Embedded on the pebble stone sidewalk are colorful tile mosaics of abstract shapes that are intermittently embedded on the pavement. One can detect sidewalk improvements that consist of concrete poured on top of the old pavement. Chipped edges on the curb reveal this paving practice but unfortunately, it presents a tripping hazard. Initially criticized as too slippery, especially during the rainy season, the public eventually grew familiar with and navigated around these multi-colored shapes. A.5 Landmarks The Upper Session Road place-node has an identity shaped by the meaningful context placed on a few buildings. The Patria de Baguio, Porta Vaga Mall, and Puso ng Baguio buildings are reference points that frame one side of the road. As mentioned earlier, the Catholic Vicariate of Baguio owns these properties and has developed them according to market needs. Although homegrown businesses continue to occupy these structures, Philippine food chains like Jollibee, Army Navy fast food, and Mang Inasal, and international chains such as Starbucks, have storefronts there. These landmarks may not be marked by traditional iconic objects. Kevin Lynch characterizes landmarks as “easily identifiable, more likely to be chosen as significant, if they have a clear form; if they contrast with their background; and if there is some prominence of spatial location” (Lynch, 1960, p. 79). In the case of the Upper Session Road place-node, I would add that landmarks are significant if they provide cultural context to the meaning of place. Lynch’s examples of landmarks are isolated buildings (e.g. the Los Angeles Civic Center, the John Hancock Building in Boston, and the Richfield Oil Building in Los Angeles) that are spatially prominent and commonly used for navigation around the city. These notable structures increase the city’s legibility. However, I would like to extend the concept of landmarks and position them in a socio-historical frame of place. Take for example the case of Patria de Baguio, which was built in 1956 (Caluza, 2011). Initially used for the Community Service Center Home of Conventions, the building uses shifted decades later to provide space for professional offices and small businesses. Today, the lessees are mostly commercial businesses. An important feature of this landmark is the historical

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Photo 4.2 Patria de Baguio landmark.

nature of the property’s ownership. In the 1900s, as land opened for private ownership in Baguio, a Belgian Catholic mission headed by Father Carlu purchased the hill that abuts Session Road, referred to as Mount Mary (Catholic Mission, 1916). Their religious and educational mission drove them to accumulate land in the Cordillera region, where Catholicism did not flourish during the Spanish colonial era. On this site the historic Baguio Cathedral was constructed in the 1920s, and later the St. Louis Elementary and High Schools (Boys’ and Girls’ High) and the Bishop’s Residence. A high retaining wall was constructed on the side of the hill, which was used decades later as the backdrop for Patria de Baguio, Porta Vaga Mall, and Puso ng Baguio. These three landmarks have to manage their share of women vendors who locate in front of their buildings. A young woman lays out her 3×4foot plastic tarp on the sidewalk across from the Swiss Baker shop. She sells different types of socks packaged in clear cellophane. A few feet from her, another woman carries several bags of a local fruit called star apple to sell. Two more women sell newspapers, candy, and chewing gum. I noticed, however, that they situated their vending spots closer to the street, rather than abutting against the commercial buildings. It is likely that the property management forbade them from selling close to the building. The position that the Catholic Church played in the American context of Baguio’s evolution as a regional center warrants a closer look. In 1898, when the United States took control of the Philippines, the American Catholics supported its acquisition (Evangelista, n.d.). The Treaty of Paris, which articulated the concessions made between the Vatican and the United States, protected the religious and property rights of the Catholic Church. However, contrary to the Vatican’s guidance, the predominant sects during the

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Spanish period (the Dominicans, Franciscans, Augustinians, and Recollects) sold their properties to private interests rather than keeping them with the Church. This move disappointed the conservative American Catholics, who desired to maintain a Catholic stronghold in the Philippines (Evangelista, n.d.). As the Insular Government in the Philippines implemented its educational approach, non-Catholic denominations actively participated in laying the foundation for a public education system. But a protest letter was sent to President Roosevelt in July 1902, signed by the Archbishop William Henry Elder of Cincinnati, Bishop Michael Tierney of Hartford, and the priests of their dioceses. They stated that the “Filipino people, deeply Catholic at heart, will deem it an unjust invasion of their rights to be taxed for the maintenance of a system of education which cannot command the free and full approval of their conscience” (John Wayne, 1902 in Evangelista, n.d., p. 256). They did not want the friars to be expelled or marginalized by the new U.S. government. With the American principle of separation of church and state, the Insular Government weathered the storm and allowed non-Catholic groups to lead various educational initiatives. This is greatly evident in the Cordillera region. The Baguio Cathedral’s symbolic presence is clearly magnified by two distinct memories, both involving my parents’ recollection of significant events. As a young teenager, my father remembers the carpet bombing by the American military forces of our beloved city during World War II. Because the Americans did not have sufficient intelligence reports about the whereabouts of Japanese troops, they simply bombed the entire area. When my father heard the airplanes coming, he and his family ran for shelter in the Cathedral. At that time, they lived in Happy Glen Loop, a neighborhood close to the church. They made it to the basement where they found other Baguio residents cuddled in fear. In their minds, it was a miracle that the Church was spared from the bombing. It took days before they received news that the Americans had landed to liberate the Filipinos from the Japanese. Another memory of the Cathedral’s prominence in Baguio’s history dealt with the 1986 People Power Revolution. My mother affiliated herself with the Yellow Ladies, a pro-Cory Aquino group, as opposed to the Blue Ladies, who supported Imelda Marcos. When on February 25th news reached Baguio that President Marcos and his family had left the country, my mother and the Yellow Ladies ran up the church tower and with the assistance of a young man, rang the bell, signifying freedom from a dictatorship government. In both instances, the Baguio Cathedral embodied a collective consciousness among residents during critical times. The church manifested a shared construction of place as a safe haven. A.6 Cultural expression One of the most controversial spots in Baguio City, and the only place in the downtown where you cannot find informal vendors, is at the top of the

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Session Road place-node. The Baguio Rotunda is a traffic circle that serves as the confluence of vehicular traffic coming from six streets (i.e. Session Road, Upper Session Road, Governor Pack Road, Luneta Hill, Leonard Wood Road, and Post Office Loop Road). Configured many times to ensure traffic safety and efficiency, the rotunda area holds a circular island that manifests various cultural expressions, especially during the Christmas season. To a large extent, this central island was constructed to express Baguio’s identity and its welcoming disposition. Pine trees were initially planted in the center with attractive landscapes of shrubs and flowers. However, the maintenance of these trees proved to be difficult, so the local government opened the circle for displays of art and design. For many decades it served as a visible space for creating memorable representations of what Baguio stood for. One controversial incident occurred in 1994 when a Mayor-commissioned concrete pine tree was constructed on the rotunda circle. A pinewood-framed sign in front of the tree read “Plant Me, Protect Me.” Referred to as the “most abhorred tree in Baguio,” “our bane,” this installation was disdained and people clamored for its removal (Baguio Below, 2010; Opina, 2010). Petitions were filed but it took six years to be effaced. This fake pine tree has inspired writers to create satirical poems. Scott Magkachi Saboy declaims, “I think that I shall never see, A poem as concrete as a tree. A tree whose mangled smile is set, By iron bars and hard cement… Poems are made by fools like me. But politicians make concrete trees” (Subido, 2009, p. 53). Another controversy befell this traffic circle in 2017, when the rotunda was used to declare Baguio City’s designation as a UNESCO Creative City. Baguio-based artist Maela Liwanag Jose was commissioned to install a canvas Christmas tree that depicted indigenous bulul (Ifugao rice granary gods). Utilizing her own innovative process called Tinatik, Jose’s work was to serve as an example for the city’s support and promotion of artists. Unfortunately, social media criticized the installation and a thoughtless individual burned part of the artwork. The city government’s immediate response was to take the installation down. The national news decried the controversial action. The next year, another Christmas tree display was erected on the island. Like the previous year, the public through social media poked fun and likened it to a car air freshener. There were years when the Christmas tree resembled a huge Lazy Susan or a giant tree with hula hoops (Cimatu, 2018). B Middle Session Road When one leaves the Upper Session Road place-node and walks downhill, an increase in sensory stimulation is experienced. The convergence of several side streets (i.e. Father Calderon Street, Assumption Road, and Upper and Lower Mabini Street) results in a sudden influx of pedestrians. One passes a succession of eateries and commercial establishments that

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M ap 4. 3 M iddle S ession Road place-node.

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are considered Baguio’s staples. A deluge of youthful memories confronts one who has spent time in the city or who call Baguio home. The anchors of historical memory in this place-node include the Tea House, Mandarin Restaurant, Baguio Optical-Balajadia, 456 Restaurant, CID Educational Supply (Now CID Trading and Merchandise), Fuji Film Photo Shop, Rumours, Luisa’s Cafe, and, finally, the PNB building (Philippine National Bank). Many old-timers refer to this segment of Session Road as “the soul of Baguio.” These are originally family-owned commercial institutions that invested financially and socially in the life of Session Road. B.1 Indoor outdoor connection The connection between private indoor and public exterior spaces is pronounced in the Middle Session Road place-node. Many of the establishments were designed with welcoming entrances, articulating the flow between indoor and outdoor spaces. The permeability of these frontages allows two-way visual communication between customers inside the businesses and pedestrians on the sidewalk. Many of the restaurants use wide glass windows to allow passersby to take a glimpse at the ambience inside. A woman sitting by the front window of Tea House slurps noodles from a Chinese bowl. An older man and his buddies gather around a front table in Swiss Baker, drinking coffee in small white ceramic cups and forking cinnamon rolls. Other businesses like Copylandia Office Systems Corporation have a glass building facade, revealing customers standing in line inside. Goldilocks Bakery and Maranan Optical Trading have large bay windows that display their products. Several of the businesses have no front doors during the day and are spatially open to the sidewalk environment, including Maxi Photo, CID Educational Supply, and St. Joseph Pharmacy. Customers can walk directly to the counter from the outside without having to open any doors. Blurring the lines between indoor and outdoor spaces is a prevailing design strategy that allows for good air circulation, which businesses along Baguio’s Session Road have found useful for attracting customers. B.2 Gateways In Western urban design aesthetics, the need for visible gateways for a district, street, neighborhood, or city is essential to formulate legible boundaries. Territoriality as a spatio-psychological phenomenon is expressed in the attention that a designer gives to ensure the messages of “welcome” and “you have arrived” are clear and strong. Gateways are symbols of “security” inside the boundaries, from “out of control” behavior outside these gates (Caliskan, 2010). Gateways are usually well-designed visual portals to special places. Middle Session Road contains two informal gateways to recognizable districts. Unlike many gateways, these are not intentionally

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designed, but they lead to important centers. One has to carefully observe and extract the meanings of unintended portals in order to grasp their significance. The first organic entryway is Assumption Road, a one-way street with a steep incline that leads to the educational hub (St. Louis Elementary School, Girls and Boys High, University of Baguio) and the medical campuses for Notre Dame Hospital and St. Louis Hospital. The corners are marked by two buildings that serve as the entry pillars—the Lopez Building (where the former Mandarin Restaurant was located) and the former Bueno Building. During the research period, the building housed Footstep, a retail shop. An interesting feature of this pale pink building is a huge 1-story size billboard wrapping the corner, with Bruce Lee in a strong fighting stance, wearing a white sando (sleeveless undershirt). This, indeed, is an engaging pillar for the Assumption Road gateway. As one walks on the right side of the road, a seven-foot retaining wall with vegetation cascading at its top edges and terraced in the bottom sections creates a solid sense of separation from the street. The wall exhibits a definite boundary marker for the St. Louis property. As with many streets in downtown Baguio, discernible physical features impose behavioral rules for pedestrians. For example, on the right side of Assumption Road, a green-painted permanent metal railing to corral pedestrians from crossing the street clearly displays the government’s regulatory motive. The guardrail was installed to restrict undisciplined pedestrian habits from crossing everywhere and at any time. Considering that Assumption Road is a highly sloped roadway, uncontrolled crossings present high risks for pedestrian/vehicular collisions. Another un-designed and unintentional gateway to Middle Session Road is the upper section of Father Calderon Street. Prime Hotel is a 6-story pillar that looms in this informal gateway. Uncharacteristic in scale, it stands out as a prominent vertical building that manifests its presence in a bold and intrusive way, obstructing the view of the Dominican-Mirador Hill behind it. In the 1970s and 1980s, a 10-story Skyworld condominium development with retail shops in the bottom floors stood as the pillar for this intersection. The 1990 earthquake shook and damaged its foundation, eventually leading to its demolition. B.3 Urban pressure point Urban spaces in dynamic cities do not function in identical ways, unless, of course, they are globalized places that are designed to achieve a “universal aesthetic.” Cities in Asia, and the Global South in general, present places that are distinctively local and differentiated. Every block (or segments of a block), intersection, street, and district are like parts of a machine that operate in a specific manner but contribute to the functioning of the whole. Urban pressure points are unusual spots that hold certain stresses, which can be relieved through intentional planning and design—much like

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Photo 4.3 Pedestrian and vehicular conflict point.

“urban acupuncture,” a term coined by architect and urban planner Jaime Lerner, who was also the former mayor of Curitiba, Brazil (De Flander and Brugmann, 2017; Lerner, 2014). A critical pressure point in this place-node is the intersection of Father Calderon Street and Session Road. The approach to this segment is a steep climb from Harrison Road (if one is in a vehicle) or T. Claudio Street (on foot), which is a steeper incline. The landing from either street is a relatively flat section (maybe about 2–3 percent grade). The 50-foot-long (15 meter) crosswalk found in this intersection is packed with fast-paced pedestrians: a father carrying his toddler, students with book bags, office workers, a mother guiding her two young children, a biker dragging his bike—all heading uphill toward Luneta Hill or downhill toward the public market. This micro-node is a highly problematic intersection because there is no stop light nor traffic police officer to coordinate pedestrian crossings. Vehicles accelerate as they make the very steep incline and turn right from Father Calderon Street to Session Road. To no surprise, our air quality study in 2003 showed this spot as one of the most polluted in downtown Baguio. The vehicles idle while waiting for pedestrians to cross before revving their engines to enter and climb Session Road. B.4 Contrast of uses Diversity of uses is an essential component of successful cities. Jane Jacobs (1961) was a strong promoter of mixing uses to ensure safety and maintain public contact. One side of Father Calderon Street exemplifies a diversity of uses, as do most other streets in downtown Baguio. The variety

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of businesses ranges from a high-rise hotel (Prime Hotel) and Benguet Supermarket, to smaller establishments like the Blink Internet Cafe, Paredes Law Office, Goldfinch Video, Care Dental Clinic, Wonder Grains bakery, Jollibee fast food, and Robinsons Bank. Adding flavor to this block are, of course, the women vendors. In this commercial block, where the pebbled sidewalk flattens, women position themselves against the formal enterprises. A hierarchy of business sizes contributes to the block diversity. The fast food chain Jollibee stands out because of its bright red and yellow bee. A few vendors sit on the raised street curb, their backs facing traffic about 3 feet away. The other vendors bring their own foot-high plastic stools to sit on. Hovering over fresh fruit, which are neatly displayed on their bilao (round and flat baskets originally used to winnow rice), they call out “mangga,” “ubas,” “papaya,” “lansones,” and “orange” (mangoes, grapes, papayas, lansones, oranges). Walkers glance at them, ignore them, or abruptly stop to inspect the fruit. The women vendors describe their lives as Kasta laeng ti biag (“That’s how life is”) or Adda kaasi ni Apo Dios, may awa ang Diyos (“God has mercy”). These vendors have built an invisible fortress around their vending territories and activities. They are seemingly unaffected by the “urban pressure point” in which they work because high pedestrian traffic compels them to remain here. In contrast to this street’s business diversity is a 2-story wooden structure that holds an almost homogenous group of small businesses, that is, the wagwagan or ukay-ukay (second-hand clothing). This type of activity initially emerged from women vendors selling piles of used clothing on street corners, sidewalks, and frontages of formal businesses. During their early days, these microenterprises were known for customers “digging” into piles of clothing to find their purchases. They eventually grew into more organized operations where new merchandise, including shoes, bags, and other women’s accessories, was mixed with the second-hand clothing. Largely shipped from Hong Kong, where many Filipina overseas workers are employed, these commodities are arranged in neat piles or hung strategically according to price and quality, almost mimicking boutique displays. They are highly regulated by the government (Milgram, 2008). The commercial structure on Father Calderon Street, which extends to a vertical floor on Session Road, has been designated as one of a few central places for second-hand clothing trade, outside of the Baguio Public Market. Because of a common and unified industry housed in one building, it has created its own unique identity, altering Baguio’s image as a “tourist capital to cast off clothing hub” (Locsin, 2007, p. 371). C Lower Session Road Area The Lower Session Road Area, which includes the Malcolm Square and part of Magasaysay Avenue, is a large place-node that lies in the downtown basin. There are sub-nodes that were clustered together to form a unit because of their connection to each other. Each of these sub-nodes will be discussed separately.

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M ap 4.4 Lower S ession Road area place-node.

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At 5:00 a.m. in December, it is dark and cold. A few vehicles drive down Lower Session Road. An older man breaks down cardboard boxes and ties them in a bundle with abaca rope. He folds the box marked with graphics of three pudgy toddlers hugging a big red apple and the words Tatlong Bata (Three Children). Chinese characters are inscribed below this image. Apples from China were earlier contained in these now flattened cardboard boxes. The man is the vendors’ fruit supplier. He picks up the cardboard and drives away. By 7:00 a.m. the downtown area bustles with vehicles, the calm from two hours ago is broken by the shrill whistles of the traffic police. An older man sits on a plastic stool and displays his apples on a flat bilao basket. They are nicely set on thick corrugated fiberboard and presented in a box about 2 feet high. A mother admonishes her children as they hurry to school. A group of four boys, most likely high school age, are smiling and giggling about a joke that was just shared. The morning sunlight beams onto the sidewalk as children hop around and play tag. Unaccompanied by an adult or older sibling, they engage in “unspecialized” play and “act on their environment” (Jacobs, 1961, p. 80). Lower Session Road is their playground. C.1 Walking pauses In the late afternoon, a pedestrian’s stride shortens as she walks down Session Road and passes the Mabini Road intersection. It seems more congested because there are more vendors. (Note: The pedestrian count for Middle Session Road was 68 individuals per minute, which decreased to 43 individuals per minute in the Lower Session Road because of walking pauses.) Yi Fu Tuan, a Chinese American geographer qualifies place as a “pause in movement” (Tuan, 1977, p. 138). Pauses are necessary for animals and human beings because these spots signify a center of felt value. There will be pauses in one’s stroll as customers linger in a vendor’s stall. A man sells cell phone covers and watches. Walkers are curious so they take a peek, causing others behind them to pause. Not interested, people walk a few more feet down and encounter another vendor. A young pedestrian’s foot lightly bumps a large 2 feet diameter plastic tub. It contains boiled corn wrapped in plastic bags. He shrugs. The middle-aged woman vendor stares. On the street, white taxi cabs are waiting for passengers. Names like “Jessie & Jordan Taxi,” “Fortune Transportation,” and “Sage Taxi” are written in bold red letters on the front passenger doors. A pedestrian pauses when a child of about 6 years old dashes out from the Pines Studio and Photo Supply shop, followed by his mother. They both get into the first taxi on the curb, a Jessie and Jordan Taxi. Another pedestrian shows frustration with a frown when the woman in front of him abruptly stops and steps toward the Yellow Cab Pizza Company to greet a friend who is standing there. They chat for about three minutes. Pauses are part of the street

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rhythm—some are annoyed by them, others simply regard them as part of Baguio’s urban vibe. C.2 Openness When one reaches about three quarters of the block, a sense of an open spatial approach is felt at the bottom of Session Road. At the corner of the block is Mercury Drug, a major Filipino drugstore chain. At this point, a view of the Maharlika Livelihood Center looms in the vista ahead. This colossal development was built when the Baguio Stone Market building burnt down in 1970. The 5-story complex, which houses small souvenir and dry goods shops, was designed to mimic the roofing form of indigenous Ibaloi architecture. The feeling of an opening at the end of Session Road is brief because this massive structure halts the eyes from seeing beyond it, where lies a hill, referred to as Hilltop, and where the Baguio public market sprawls. On the other hand, the Maharlika building also provides an enclosure that feels like a public den. Some Baguio residents are grateful that it “hides” the “unsightly” landscape of the public market. The Baguio Stone Market building was my playground as a child. But on February 19, 1970, we were woken by a loud frantic knock from my uncle who called out to my parents, “Quick, quick, the Stone Market is on fire.” They rushed out to check on their stores. Meanwhile, I glanced at the sky and all I could see was the dark early morning sky tainted with a fiery red color. A sense of dread overcame me. Many hours later, my parents returned in a somber mood, “Everything is gone.” All our merchandise, cash in the box, and important papers were all burned. When we visited the Stone Building site the next day, we could smell the smoke from several blocks away. This memory still lingers in my mind. Mercury Drugstore offers a respite from an otherwise busy block. The open-air invisible facade entryway reinforces a sense of transparency. Having an open access to the counter is a welcoming gesture to customers. Vendors also add to the reception. The pebbled steps running along the length of the building are tempting spots for vendors to sit on, especially older women. Three women vendors sit next to each other. Taking the spaces farthest from the common entry of customers, they lay their bilao on sturdy cardboard boxes to sell fresh grapes, oranges, apples, and mangoes. Their daily goal is to sell all the fruit so they don’t go to waste. The micro-climate affects the produce they sell. Although Baguio’s weather is relatively cool, the downtown area experiences higher temperatures because of the prevalence of pervious concrete infrastructure. C.3 Signs and global narratives Signs are part of the language that creates the identity of a place. Semiotics, or the “science of signs,” involves the study of a system of signs,

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which can range from texts, images, performances, multi-media, to street graphics. In urban design and planning, the literature points to Kevin Lynch’s book Image of the City as the classic text in understanding the legibility of urban places. However, his perspectives emerged from studying American cities. We must try to turn our attention on how Asian cities are legible through our own respective sign analysis. Asian street signage is usually described as incoherent, cluttered, and visually polluted (Islam, 2005). The competition between traffic, industrial, and commercial signs confuses the viewers, and, as a result, these signs are often ignored. However, an urban designer and planner may gaze at these signs as illustrations of culture and larger realities like global interconnectedness. Signage gives evidence of this transnational relationship, an overreliance of the local economy on the international system of trade, foreign investment, and flow of workers. The lexicon of street signs is a pattern of transnational branded symbols interspersed with local homegrown Baguio businesses. The largest of these global signs takes a large portion of the corner on Session Road and Lower Mabini street: the large yellow arches (Americans describe it as golden) forming a rounded M against a red background. This 2-storied McDonald building holds a commanding presence on the corner. Its second floor is clad with a floor-to-ceiling glass skin and allows for transparent visual accessibility for the customers and people on the street. Other evidence of transnational trade include signs for Kodak, 7-eleven, AGFA Image Center, Timex, Fuji Film, Sbarro, and Coca Cola. Such complex imagery is a form of urban expression that “becomes an enigmatic means of communication—the compositional geometry of street grammar (which) gives way to a more symbolic and fragmentary collage at the wider level, dominating and shrouding the buildings themselves and turning streets into stylized pictographic channels” (Smith, 2006). C.4 Public space as a pause At the bottom of Lower Session Road, after sensing an opening in the landscape, one can turn left to reach Harrison Road or turn right toward the Malcolm Square area. Prior to the American presence in the city, Malcolm Square was a public open space for the indigenous Ibaloys to assemble and engage in trading close to the public market. Named after Supreme Court Justice George Arthur Malcolm, who contributed to writing Baguio’s 1909 Charter, this area has held its distinction as a gathering place for locals. However, it has seen days when business interests took precedence over public use, like when the vacant space was converted to a paid parking lot. But the public has taken it back and political rallies, cultural and social events, and concerts are held there regularly. The crowds, of course, attract vendors, particularly those selling food. Once asphalted over in the 1960s and 1970s, the almost pie-shaped area is now hardscaped with surface

80 Intersecting spatial-environmental perspectives concrete and a few slab pavers to define seating areas around trees and shrubbery. Malcolm Square is often used as a pedestrian passageway from Session Road to the public market or Magsaysay Avenue, which makes it a perfect place to pause. The hard pebbled seats scattered in the periphery offer a vantage point to watch people as well. Two older women chat and glance at the few passersby. A young man is hypnotized by his phone. On sunny days, young students use the concrete steps to hang out, eating food bought from the vendors. Because the Square is adjacent to busy Magsaysay Avenue, a mix of rumbling and shrill traffic noise engulfs the space. Trees give a boost in thinning the otherwise dense polluted air in the downtown basin. At Christmas time, this place lights up with ornamental decorations strung on trees and other installed frames. Malcolm Square is enclosed by 2-to-3-storied buildings that house the U-Need Grocery, a former movie theater, a small pharmacy, and various department stores. Local government power to control downtown streets and especially pedestrian behavior manifests itself in tangible physical marks. On the northern end of the site, the pedestrian bridge that crosses four lanes of traffic on Magsaysay Avenue funnels all pedestrians enroute to and from the public market. The bridges are made of concrete, aged with vehicle soot, and painted with footers of yellow and black diagonal lines A sign reads: “NO JAYWALKING. AVOID PENALTY. OBSERVE TRAFFIC RULES AND REGULATIONS.”

Photo 4.4 Overpass connects Malcolm Square to the public market.

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During the rainy season, runoff flows through the site since it slopes toward Magsaysay Avenue. Vendors and pedestrians seek shelter under the overhangs of the surrounding buildings. Several vendors reported that the crowds in these narrow spaces pose risks for the spread of illnesses, like the flu and seasonal cold. Some vendors who do not have the luxury of an overhang brave the monsoon rains in open spaces by setting their goods under umbrellas or under the trees. Magsaysay Avenue is a major thoroughfare that provides access to the southeastern edge of the Baguio Public Market., Public Utility Jeepneys (PUJs) ply this major street in Baguio’s flat plain. Exacerbating the congestion is the glut of oversized taxis that compete for limited space. No matter the time of day, stagnant air hovers at the pedestrian level (approximately 5–6 feet above the ground). The unhealthy concoction of jeepney and taxi exhaust with the cool mountain air leaves a thin film on the skin. Wiping one’s face with tissue after standing there for ten minutes will give you black streaks similar to soot. C.5 Microclimate The vending spaces on Magsaysay Avenue are mainly situated under building overhangs but from December to February the women vendors experience extreme cold. A canyon-like setting with lack of sunshine makes for a relatively harsh work setting. The thermal properties of concrete materials

Photo 4.5 Vendors move out into the street to bask under the sunshine.

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on the sidewalk and overhang create a micro-climate that amplifies the cold. As a result of the 100-percent building overhang over the sidewalk, there are limited sources of heat. Only anthropogenic activities, like pedestrian volume during peak hours, are a source of heat. To improve their comfort, the vendors wrap themselves in layered clothing, thick caps, and gloves. In several cases, the women seek spaces out on the street where direct sunshine can provide heat for a few hours. D General Luna Road (intersection with Upper Mabini and Assumption Road) D.1 Place identity This special part of downtown Baguio is known as the educational and medical core because of the presence of the University of Baguio (which includes the Science High School and elementary school), St. Louis School Center Elementary Department, Boys and Girls High School campuses. A a connecting street to the St. Louis University campus can be found in this General Luna place-node. Since our research period, the now co- educational SLU Laboratory High School relocated outside the downtown to the Navy Base campus (former St. Theresa’s School). The two largest medical centers, St. Louis Sacred Heart Hospital and Notre Dame Hospital, are linked to General Luna Road through their local access streets. It is this distinguishing area that has contributed to Baguio’s reputation as the educational and medical center for the Cordillera and Northern Luzon regions. The General Luna Road place-node is known for its peculiar conditions during certain times of the day. The area endures tremendous traffic back-up for at least 30 minutes during student drop-off times between 6:45 a.m. and 7:30 a.m. and afternoon dismissal between 3:00 p.m. and 4:30 p.m. As a result of intense congestion, the air quality deteriorates significantly during these peak times, especially since General Luna and Assumption Roads are on steep inclines. As young students navigate their way from the school entrances to their waiting vehicles, they breathe polluted air. They are also at high risk for traffic accidents. Although some students are chaperoned by adults, most walk on their own to either jeepney stops or straight home, if they live nearby. Women vendors select the school entrances as good locations to set up shop. These places are termed transitional spaces where people linger until school dismissal and engage in casual social interaction (Dousti et al., 2018). This is a great space to cater to these customers. The family chaperones often treat their children to an afternoon snack before taking them home. The common items they sell include candy of all types, snack foods, toys, small trinkets, Pokemon cards, posters, and other things marketed to the children. Over the period of our research, the number of women vendors increased in the area, taking up as much space as they could at the

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M ap 4. 5 G eneral Luna place-node.

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Photo 4.6 Women vendors cater to the students and parents/guardians.

entrance of the St. Louis Boys and Girls High Schools because demand was so high for their products. Anchor institutions are valuable organizations that are rooted in physical places. Their geographical presence is vital to any urban district because they attract other establishments that complement their purpose. The economic ripple effect created by these influential organizations adds to the vibrancy of a place. General Luna Road is a linear node that holds one of the most important educational institutions, the University of Baguio (UB). Established in 1948 by long-time residents of Baguio Fernando (Nanding) and Rosa Bautista, the university’s campus has expanded to meet their enrollment growth. Three generations of the Bautista family have been at its helm, each generation contributing new and innovative academic offerings, as well as changing the face of the university’s buildings and its environs. The campus architecture has been altered as a result of disasters (several fires that gutted buildings throughout the years and the 1990 earthquake), as well as the university’s financial need to commercialize some of its spaces. D.2 Building aesthetics and rhythm The General Luna Road place-node presents a broad array of architectural features that supports its eclectic character. The morphology of

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large buildings—starting with Tiong San Bazaar at the bottom of the hill; mixed with repair shops for shoes, watches, and cell phones; dental clinics and Janmark drugstore; the Rural Bank of Itogon; Master Hopia bakery; Footjoy boutique shop; and HBC Home of Beauty Exclusives—encapsulates the character of the place-node. The building textures vary depending on the type of use, property owner, and structural age. For example, Tiong San Bazaar’s second home is a 3-story building made of concrete and painted in a deep red color. Glass windows are recessed to break the large massing of the building. As one climbs the hill, the red material theme continues on the next-door facade of the Hotel Villa Rosal. The horizontal red pattern frames each protruding window. By studying the aesthetics of these two buildings, one can infer that there is probably a sole owner simply by the consistent stone veneer, mounted across these structures to connect them visually. A line of women locate their vending spots against the red backdrop of the Tiong San building. They use a stone ledge to display socks, handkerchiefs, undershirts, and umbrellas packaged in plastic bags. The texture and rhythm of the General Luna streetscape changes to random and fragmented features after the massive red building. The entire sloping street depicts a mosaic of color, signs, material, and fluctuating uses. For example, a gray 1-story shop displays a white sign with red text that reads “Triston shoes: Made to Order and Repair.” A loud bright yellow shop with galvanized iron material as an overhang breaks the dullness of the previous shop. Here is an assortment of services (e.g. cell phone repair, xerox copying, Avon distributor, tailoring) that reveals formal small businesses, and most likely operated by different entrepreneurs. After the yellow shop, the following structures return to a grayish building color tone. D.3 Olfactory experiences Modern architectural environments may cater to our visual sense but they often lack the pungent personality that varied and pleasant odors can give. Odors lend character to objects and places, making them distinctive and easier to identify and remember (Tuan, 1977). At the intersection of General Luna Road and Upper Mabini Street, one will notice a hub of activity, small gatherings of high school and college students, likely from the schools uphill. One’s olfactory senses and past experiences give clues to what type of vendor is around the curve. A vendor and her teenaged son cook Filipino pork barbeque on sticks at the edge of the street. She has three foldable micro-stands about the size of laptop computers. From right to left the stands have different functions: on top of the first metal stand is a small 2×2-foot grill, which the woman fans frequently to keep the charcoals hot; the second stand has a tray covered with banana leaves where she sets the raw pork; and the third stand holds a metal tray with the cooked barbequed meat. Bottles of homemade sauce are set on top of each stand to marinade the barbeque at each cooking phase. As a place-maker for sociability

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this vendor’s food enterprise attracts people who stand and eat around the vending site. They laugh and tease each other, telling stories about the day’s events. Unfortunately, the smell of vehicle exhaust mixes in with the delicious wafts of barbecue. The street’s incline forces vehicles to accelerate as they climb the hill. The fumes smell like rotten eggs, burnt rubber, and chemical elements. Sometimes, one can also smell burnt brakes. A young girl covers her nose with a white handkerchief as she leisurely walks down the sidewalk with two friends. Elena’s eatery across General Luna emits more pleasant and inviting aromas. In this typical carinderia (affordable street food eatery), one can take a whiff of sisig, a popular Filipino delicacy. The smell of grilled chopped pork and onions, tossed with other parts of the pig, entices one to enter the tiny space. Tables are set on the sidewalk for men to drink beer. Opened bottles of local San Miguel beer give out a hoppy and slightly fruity smell. But this smell likely comes from the drunken breathes of boisterous drunken men. Next to the carinderia was once a relatively moderate structure called the Alabanza Apartments, owned by my father’s first cousin, Uncle Antonio. We often visited during special holiday celebrations. The steep stairway leading to their apartment always scared me as a young child, but the promise of good food and company (and cheek pinches) overrode my fear. When we were older, together with my cousins, my brothers and I explored the street while the adults chatted upstairs. Ingrained in my memory are the different scents of food cooking in the sidewalk, like boiled corn, siopao (steamed pork buns), chicharon bulaklak (port rinds), fish balls, and roasted peanuts. We regularly hang out in a spot where an older woman vendor sold small toys and gum. I remember buying a cheap yoyo which occupied my attention for hours. D.4 Spaces for mutual respect and alliances Fernando (2007) used Amos Rapoport’s concept of open-endedness and expanded it as she studied the context of cultural streets in New York City’s Chinatown and in Colombo and Kandy in Sri Lanka. An open-ended street is characterized by its degree of adaptability. Adaptability is defined as the accommodation of different uses without modifying the physical attributes of the space. One can identify several such examples in the General Luna place-node. The photograph below portrays three diverse uses in a storefront and sidewalk. The barber shop is the primary use for the commercial space, but Rolly’s Watch Repair and Battery Shop has erected its operations at the entrance—a protruded wooden stand with a front window. The watch repairman has an agreement with the barbers to use that space for a minimal rental fee. At night when the establishment closes, he simply drags the wooden box a few feet inside the store premises and carries the foot stand with it. The woman vendor also has a friendly verbal non-fee arrangement with the barbers to set her fruit baskets in front of the shop.

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Photo 4.7 The barber shop allows the watch repair business and fruit vendor to share spaces.

She blends into the sidewalk and the street. To sit she uses plastic bins and rests her feet on the inclined sidewalk. Health-wise, many vendors who practice this type of sitting posture have complained about back aches. E Abanao/Harrison Area The lower Abanao and northern section of Harrison Road is one of the busiest intersections in downtown Baguio, with a four-way traffic light that imposes order on an ever-present slew of belching vehicles.9 This node contains a layered urban netting of streets, pedestrian overpasses, pocket parks, a large mall, and Baguio public market edge. One can be overwhelmed by the blaring horns, revving engines, braking, back-up beeps, and the skidding of tires on concrete streets mixing with the melodic sounds of Madonna’s music, pedestrians trying to hail down cabs, and clamorous haggling between vendors and customers. E.1 Dominant marker Adjacent to the Baguio City Public Market, you will see masses of pedestrians fill the overpasses that connect the Marbay/Maharlika mall with the historic Sunshine Grocery and Hotel Veniz. Filipino pedestrians are

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Map 4.6 Abanao/Harrison place-node.

notorious for crossing streets at any point simply to lessen the time it takes to reach their destination. Regarded as a last resort among traffic engineers and designers, the Baguio government’s safety solution was to construct overpasses in this busy intersection–– Harrison Road, Abanao Street, Magsaysay Avenue. The purpose was to formally separate pedestrian and traffic flows. The dominant markings of the overpasses reflect a typical predisposition to prioritize motor vehicles over people. The message they communicate is, “Pedestrian, get out of the way!” Forming a rectangular-shaped structure that spans the large intersection, the overpasses cast linear shadows on the streets and disrupts the view to Harrison Road from the corner of the public market at Kayang Street (Abanao Square Building). Prior to the construction of these concrete overpasses, traffic planners installed median barrier gates on Abanao Street and median planters on Harrison Road. These features were intended to

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Photo 4.8 Massive overpasses dominate the place-node.

eliminate the points for people to cross, and instead directed them to use the overpasses. Of interest is a sign that reads “Handicapped and Senior Citizen Crossing Only” and solid blue lines on the street to indicate where these special groups of people should cross. The overpasses were designed only for younger and able-bodied citizens. Probably as an afterthought, the blue-lined crosswalk appears unsafe for anyone to use because the motorists’ line of sight is limited. This is risky when inattentive drivers do not see the special crosswalk and especially dangerous for vulnerable people in wheelchairs or older folks who have difficulty walking across. Yet, pedestrian mobility is ensured safety when they use the overpass. An assessment of the access points (egress and ingress) reveals safety measures in place. For example, the risers and treads for the stairs are appropriate for Filipinos. There are landings in the middle of the stairway to break continuous flights of steps. Winders in a few overpasses are also found as the stairway changes direction. Handrails are attached to the concrete half walls. The bridge part of the overpass is divided by bright yellow lines to control the directional flow of traffic. Business advertising has encroached on this massive structure. Sixteen streamers featuring a pretty young woman with long black silky hair hang from the mall’s second floor to advertise a shampoo. At Christmas time, the overpasses are lit with bright holiday lights and Filipino parol (lanterns).

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E.2 Geometry of form and movement Intersections create street environments that are dynamic and rhythmic. Sidewalk vendors in the entrances to the overpasses slow down or pause the walking pace of pedestrians. Vendors selling boiled peanuts, rice cakes wrapped in banana leaves, and newspaper and candy arrange their goods in round baskets and prop them on metal cans. The baskets’ protruding diameter defines where pedestrians walk. The widths of pedestrian movement narrow as they pass these vendors. The geometry of pedestrian walking behavior in this intersection is multidimensional. There are vertical, horizontal, and curved or angled motions of people as they traverse the overpasses. Though highly controlled by the middle lines on the bridge and stairways, directional movement flows linearly. People tend to self-organize and stay in their lanes. However, and inevitably, a few individuals walk against the crowd. Oppositional movements occur but people are able to maneuver around the disruptors quite skillfully. I have observed a visually impaired man disrupt the flow, using his white walking stick to part the dense stream of people. They moved out of the way to respectfully allow him to pass. Vehicular movement is a little more orderly and timed, compared to the constant walking motions of people. The traffic lights and police presence in the middle of the Abanao Harrison place-node provide structure to vehicular movements. The directional flow of each street segment is precise. From a plan-view this node depicts strands of traffic noodles. It is not uncommon for congestion in Magsaysay Avenue to cause standstill traffic in this node. A delay produces a domino effect on these feeder streets. Chronic traffic gridlock has an impact on air quality, given the predominance of diesel-fueled vehicles. Studies have shown that air quality is generally poorer in intersections due to idling and engine revving (He et al., 2009; Pandian et al., 2009). E.3 “Green” patches with cultural meanings Miao (2001) points out that Asian cities have small amounts of public spaces due to scarcity of suitable land and the resultant pressure to house dense populations. Colonial and post-colonial governments refrained from touching cramped low-income neighborhoods and did not recognize the value of small parks. The Abanao Harrison node is the only node that contains two pocket parks, divided into two sections by Harrison Road.10 An interview with Architect Joseph Alabanza (my father) revealed that, as the first City Architect and Planner for Baguio in 1956, he was charged to design all the city parks, including the micro-spaces in the downtown. He explained that the two micro-parks, Igorot Garden and Plaza Garden, were intended to form a linear connection from Burnham Park to Malcolm Square. Typical of Daniel Burnham’s aesthetics, the flat area of the Baguio basin was dedicated for parks.

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The Igorot Garden is a heritage-themed mini-park that pays homage to the indigenous communities that lived in the region prior to the American occupation and development of Baguio City. The Garden ironically exhibits hard and clearly defined edges. A 3-foot-tall stone wall serves as a barrier between the sidewalks on Perfecto, Otek, and Shanum Streets. A rectangular open space is hardscaped in the center with concrete walkways and rock-built sitting walls. The concrete waste receptacles were designed to depict indigenous baskets. The only green features are trees scattered throughout the perimeter of the site, vegetative wall hangings and flowering shrubs that soften the otherwise dominant hard landscape. To a certain extent, the garden is a prelude to the famous Burnham Park, Baguio City’s most iconic cultural marker. Cordillera Freedom Monument, a dramatic sculpture of five Igorot men standing majestically with spears and shields, expresses the underlying tone that Baguio City keeps in its heart. Installed in 2002, the monument reads: A Sculptural Tribute to all ethnic groups of the Cordillera Region Who struggled against colonial rule and aggression. We honor their sacrifices—men, women, and children. They protected not only their highlands But a heritage—intact and vibrant… As a social space, Igorot Garden is active for most of the day. Young girls sit on a stone bench, probably waiting for their friends before hop on a jeepney in the nearby paradahan (jeepney stop). It is a convenient place to meet friends here because of its small size. A small group of older men play chess in a corner. A couple sits and embraces under a small arbor built with brown-painted concrete that portray the trunks of pine trees. Pedestrians walk through the park as a shortcut to the jeepney stops. Women vendors occupied these spaces during the research period, but they soon were prohibited from selling here. Across the street is a similar mini-park called the Plaza Garden, smaller in size than the Igorot Garden, but still a haven for vendors who have to spread out wide on the concrete pavement. A woman sells an assortment of goods (e.g. bottled perfume, folded shirts in plastics, and scarves) on a blue tarp on the ground. A young man props up a wooden display case and arranges sunglasses by frame color in neat columns. They do not receive a deluge of pedestrian traffic compared to the sidewalk-appointed vendors, but largely rely on customers waiting in the jeepney stops. The vendors target the peak hours when crowds wait in line for their transportation. Unlike other pocket parks that are framed by trees, the Plaza Garden has only one live pine tree in the middle of the site. Unfortunately, this tree does not seem to be thriving because it shows sparse dying branches. Its lower segment is wrapped with a 3-foot rock wall. Concrete trunk benches are attached to this wall where men and young boys sit and chat around

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the choking lone tree. On the opposite side of the pine tree is an undulating concrete slab representing Baguio’s topographical layout. A one-chain barrier surrounds this map installation with an unseen “Keep Out” message, but vendors use its four poles to hang plastic bags and other merchandise to sell. Both the Igorot Garden and Plaza Garden manifest symbols that validate and center the indigenous culture of the Cordilleras. Geometrically framed archways, anchored by two posts and capped with the form of Ifugao and Kankanai house prototypes, distinguish their entrances. These two pocket parks connect to each other by frontages that face each other. Unless one reads the landscape carefully, the connection seems invisible because the hectic Harrison Road separates the two parks. Such multi-sensorial setting can sometimes detract from reading the city clearly. E.4 Anchor businesses Anchor businesses strengthen urban districts because they provide employment and attract smaller businesses to the area. In the case of the Abanao Harrison place-node, there are several anchor businesses that any old-time Baguio resident recognizes. The Sunshine Group of Companies is a stable enterprise that started in the 1940s as a collection of small establishments owned by the Del Rosario family (Bennette et al., 2010). Sunshine served as a bakery, grocery store, and small hotel (Hotel De Luxe). With a prominent location on the corner of Harrison and Shanum Streets, this establishment has evolved into a major company, housing the 7-story Hotel Veniz with 104 rooms and suites. It has also attracted other businesses through leases for McDonalds, Bank of Philippine Islands, and a pizza restaurant. During its early days, Sunshine Bakery and Grocery’s architecture consisted of a prominent round corner, unlike many other buildings in the downtown which held sharp-edged corners. The Sunshine building on Shanum Street side is designed to protrude towards the width of the sidewalk from the second floor and higher. As such, it has attracted many vendors to locate their selling spots under this building canopy. The Sunshine building on the Harrison side also has a slight overhang but not as wide as the other side. Of note is how both informal vendors and the Sunshine Grocery blur the lines between private and public spaces. For example, the grocery sets their Nestle-branded ice cream freezer on the sidewalk, mimicking the women’s vending activities. The freezer is arranged next to the vendors’ spaces. The sharing of the sidewalk among formal and informal enterprises is referred to as “open-ended spaces” (Fernando, 2007). Tiong San Department is another commercial anchor building in this urban node. Although it is not located in its original location (Malcolm Square/Magsaysay Avenue), the bazaar store is an enduring landmark owned by the Lao family, a Chinese old-timer family in Baguio. A 6-story building in the corner of Harrison Road and Cerantes Street, this building has a typical modernist facade. Its external building surfaces are used

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as advertising wallscapes to promote large ticket items such as furniture, TVs, and appliances. Magnified eye-catching images affixed to the facade seem like an obtrusion to the open space of Burnham Park across Harrison Road. A gradual transition from the dense urban fabric of downtown Baguio to the park should have been maintained in this particular corner and the entire Harrison Road segment. Abanao Square contains a newer massive building that partially forms the making of an urban canyon. The Abanao Square is a 5-story mall that exemplifies a prescribed “universal global” architecture, with no representation of local identity. In contrast to the Maharlika Livelihood Center a few feet away, the Abanao Square is not rooted in place and does not express a “Baguio spirit.”

III Women vendors in a spatial-environmental and health context Street vendors are faced with many forms of insecurity and vulnerability, which influences the extent to which they are productive. Women are at greater risks to occupational hazards, but they are marginalized or nonexistent in intellectual discourse and practical deliberations. The frameworks used for various urban analyses do not include women’s ways of knowing and their life-worlds. The hegemonic lens presupposes homogeneity, dialectics, universality of truths—views that ignore women’s voices and their place in the city.11 It characterizes women in the Global South as overly dependent, backward, and “uneducated vestiges of tradition” (Leshkowich, 2011). They are deemed invisible but come to light when they are the suspects who violate formal rules imposed on urban spaces. These rules are based on many governments’ outdated beliefs that low-income women petty-traders are insignificant and deterrents to modernity. Women vendors around the world are exposed to tough working conditions. A number of them commute every day from other municipalities in the region. Working hours are long and grueling. They leave their homes early in the morning and arrive late at night. They are vulnerable to environmental triggers that impact their health. Air pollution is one of the gravest dangers to their health, as it contributes to some 4.2 million premature deaths around the world annually (World Health Organization (WHO), 2018). Pollution has also been shown to cause asthma, chronic pulmonary complications, impaired lung function, cancer, and stroke. Other outdoor occupational hazards include extreme heat, typhoons and monsoon rains, fumes, noise, awkward work positions, and crime and harassment (Bamu-Chipunza, 2018). In Johannesburg, South Africa, a study of women vendors found that reproductive health (e.g. infertility and other gynecologic diseases) was a major problem, especially among young women (Pick et al., 2002). The women vendors in Baguio’s downtown streets experience challenges related to reproductive health as well. As the need to earn a living is pronounced, they often bring their children to their work spaces,

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sometimes stringing their infant children on their backs with a cloth (Akers and Akers, 2007). Older women in other countries tended to experience work-related illnesses and injury (e.g. burns, cuts, headaches, and poor musculoskeletal conditions) (Alfers et al., 2016; Comaru and Werna, 2013; Tangworamongkon, 2014). Street environments often lack access to toilets and water, which points to a critical gender issue. While women need toilets because they urinate more frequently due to smaller bladders, men in many non-Western cultures are tolerated or even allowed to urinate in public spaces. In cities where basic toilet facilities are available, they are often charged for their use, cutting on women’s monthly earnings. In South Africa, these expenses can range from 8 percent to as high as 20 percent of their monthly income (Carr, 2019). Pay-per-use toilets with toilet paper charges, as well as time away from vending sites because of long waiting lines, pose significant costs to vendors as a result of inadequate urban services. Security and safety is another issue that some women street vendors face. A United Nations document reports that in Rabat, Morocco, 92 percent of women experience sexual harassment in all forms. In Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea, more than half of women vendors are victims of some form of violence (United Nations Women, 2017). Harassment is directly and indirectly a concern that surfaces in many studies (Bhowmik, 2005). Male authorities confiscate their goods and demand bribes. In many cases, regular citizens confront them with hostility, and sometimes violence. Others report them to regulatory officers who warn or threaten the women with sanctions, like revocation of licenses or confiscation of their goods. In some situations, the local government decides to relocate them to other areas in the city. With the use of technology, urban users are able to file their complaints immediately via telephone or electronic means (e.g. mobile applications, social media, web-based forms). Organized groups like Thai Against Street Vending, Bangkok Sabai Walk Group, and Reclaiming Footpath Group challenge street vendors’ activities (Tangworamongkon, 2014). These issues of security and safety are not only a women’s issue but are also pegged as one of the top concerns of all vendors (Goldstein, 2016). However, gender inequalities exist and have been identified as a major barrier to achieving the UN Millennium Development Goals for health and human development. In a study of Latin American countries and the Caribbean, Mitra and Rodriguez-Fernandez (2010) suggests that serious health reform is needed to address the double health burden of neglected tropical and infectious diseases that affect women and children the most. Unless countries and local governments in the Global South address the issues discussed above, gender inequity and poverty will continue to persist. A Urban place-nodes in a health context The places where we live and work have a profound impact on our overall health and well-being. In the Global South, the urban poor are repeatedly

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exposed to substandard living environments. The first part of this section describes the environmental characteristics of downtown Baguio and the general health conditions experienced by the women surveyed in our multiyear study. The second part summarizes the specific health conditions of eight women vendors who volunteered to participate in the medical biometrics component of the study. A.1 Extensive rain Lodged on the base of several hills, the micro-climate of Downtown Baguio City significantly affects the health of vendors, pedestrians, and general users of the place. As Hippocrates stated, “Whoever wishes to investigate medicine properly, should proceed thus: in the first place to consider the seasons of the year”. Situated in a tropical zone on the edge of the Pacific Ocean, the Philippines is regularly beset by typhoons from May/June to September. Baguio City, at about 5,000 feet above sea level, experiences tremendous rainfall. During the wet season, daily afternoon and evening rain showers drench the city. These climatic elements heighten the health vulnerabilities of vendors. They nevertheless cope with the dramatic weather patterns through practical, clever ways, including relocating under building overhangs, installing tarps over their heads, and holding umbrellas. During a radio commentary held in January 2019, the Chief Health Officer of Baguio announced that the incidence of Aedes mosquito dengue had increased in Baguio, especially during the rainy season.12 Several studies from Malaysia, Taiwan, China, and the South and Southeast Asia region have correlated an increased incidence of dengue fever because of the abundance of rainfall and other factors including temperature, humidity, and urban attributes (Lai, 2018; Li et  al., 1985, 2019; Servadio et  al., 2018). Baguio City has been identified as the most vulnerable city in the country because of its increasing rainfall (Bank of Philippine Islands and World Wide Fund for Nature, 2013). As one newspaper put it, “Rain is going to be Baguio’s bane.”13 Vendors, especially those who sell plants or work in construction sites, next to undrained puddles of water are susceptible to mosquitos bites infected with dengue. To mitigate the problem, the city has conducted an aggressive campaign to “search and destroy mosquito breeding sites” as a means of controlling the spread of this disease. The government has also attempted to warn citizens of the dangers of dengue fever through public information and education campaigns.14 In addition to dengue, trangkaso (flu) is another health concern related to weather conditions. It is during the rainy season that trangkaso, or influenza, peaks. In 2009, the Philippines experienced a flu pandemic and Northern Luzon, where Baguio City is located, confirmed multiple deaths (Wikipedia, accessed December 2019). The healthy survey we conducted in 2003 revealed that the Magsaysay Malcolm Square place-node had the largest reported number of flu cases. It is also one of the most crowded nodes (measured by pedestrian count per minute).Magsaysay Avenue sidewalks

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are one of the narrowest in all downtown Baguio. The Abanao/Harrison place-node also saw a cluster of vendors who reported this seasonal malady. Interestingly, these places are situated in the flat part of the downtown basin where vehicles and people converged from various places. The lack of building overhangs can also impact the health of women vendors. Akers et al. (2005) reported that 31.6 percent of the vendors are located in spaces that do not have overhangs to protect them from the rain. Although some vendors relocate seasonally to spaces under overhangs, they are not always welcomed by the current vendors who have settled there throughout the years. Furthermore, such spaces may be inappropriate settings for certain vending activities, like selling barbeque or roasted peanuts and corn so these vendors stay in open spaces and use tarps or umbrellas to shield them from the rain. The General Luna place-node has the greatest amount of vendor locations lacking the protection of building overhangs. Igorot Park in the Abanao-Harrison place-node, obviously, does not offer weather protection except for some tree canopy in its periphery. As mentioned earlier, Baguio City’s rainy season starts in May and lasts until September.15 The average rainfall ranges from 13.1 inches in May to 22.9 inches in September (Weather Atlas, December 2019). July and August are the wettest months, recording an average of 26.4 and 33.4 inches of rainfall, respectively. A.2 Poor solid waste disposal Solid waste is a major public health concern in urban centers. Sadly, Baguio City’s solid waste problem increased 20 percent from 2008 to 2013 (Plaza, 2017). Migration to the City, as well as peak tourism seasons, has

Photo 4.9 Stagnant water in clogged streets poses a health hazard.

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Photo 4.10 Garbage gather in common places adjacent to vending places.

contributed to this increase (Lunag et  al., 2019). During periods of high tourism, the area in the city that generates the most waste is downtown. When street users do not find municipal trash cans nearby they simply look for discreet places and corners to discard their waste. The image above shows how in a matter of hours a waste dump can accumulate. Unfortunately, the garbage trucks may not come every morning to pick up the street dumps. This is naturally a health hazard because these dump sites become breeding grounds for bacteria, vermin, and insects that carry diseases. In vending sites where food is served, the problem becomes more acute. Lunag et  al. (2019) categorized solid waste into biodegradables, recyclables, residuals, and special wastes (e.g. pharmaceuticals and chemicals). Along the downtown vending sites that were studied by our research team, the vendors, pedestrians, and business owners all contributed to the piling of the first two types of solid waste on the streets. These street dumps contained everything from vegetable/fruit residues, cardboard and Styrofoam food and drink containers, foil wrap, and food and candy wrappers, to plastic bottles and silverware, baskets, and signs. A.3 Traffic noise A meta-analysis of street-level noise and cardiovascular disease reveals that risk of the latter increases with constant exposure to the former (Banerjee et  al., 2014; Dzhambov and Dimitrova, 2018; Hänninen et  al., 2014; Kempena and Babisch, 2012). Obesity markers, such as body mass index (BMI), are also found to be co-varianced with road traffic noise (Bjorvatn et al., 2007; Oftedal et al., 2015). Interestingly, the Oftedal study found an

98 Intersecting spatial-environmental perspectives increase in obesity markers for highly sensitive women, and not men. One must wonder how the health of women vendors, who spend an average of ten hours a day working in the streets of downtown Baguio, is impacted by these constant stressors of honking horns, skidding tires, and bouts of road rage. A.4 Safety The concept of spatial edges is a basic Western design element that contributes to “successful” public places. Edges define the functions and character of public spaces, like streets and sidewalks. They are believed to convey a sense of security, belonging, comfort, and pleasure. However, in many cities in the Global South, edges carry a different connotation. Spatial edges are “loose spaces,” “interstitial spaces,” or “permeable spaces.” They are the unplanned, often temporary, spaces that are unofficially sanctioned by authorities. They are the material elements that enliven cities and give them vitality. Often, these spaces are where informality, insurgency, enjoyment of diversity, and occurrence of the unexpected transpire (Chalana and Hou, 2016; Franck and Stevens, 2007). The fluidity of such public spaces as visualized in the context of the urban place-nodes in Baguio City has an aspect of safety. One would expect accidents to occur with the loss of edges. The cases of the Filipino barbecue vendor who sets her micro-stands in parking spaces on Upper Mabini Street, or the vendor who sets her wares on a plastic tarp in Kayang Street, depict the vanished aspect of the Western concept of spatial edges. Especially concerning are vendors who have children with them. Surprisingly, there have been no reports of person–vehicular accidents in these “loose” spaces.

Photo 4.11 Vendors set their goods and food on the street.

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A.5 Nutrition Environmental hybridity and nutritional health prevail in the three placenodes located in Session Road (i.e. Upper, Middle, and Lower). In the move to “glocalize” cities, urban academic writers suggest that local designers and planners should question the application of “international” architectural ideas to local settings. But, like me, they accept the reality of dominant global influences on local economies and places, while deeming a “world culture” as problematic (Bhaba, 1994; Hatuka and Forsyth, 2005; Pieterse, 1995). Urban scholars and professionals in the Global South have learned that glocalism is an ever-changing form of “hybridity,” but not the dialectic type in which a third condition is synthesized from two original, contrasting conditions. Rather, such hybridity materializes in places that show “the specificity of local cultures and their attempt to mediate global domination” (AlSayyad, 2001, p. 13). The place-nodes in Session Road provide a tangible example of glocal hybridity that impacts the nutritional health of women vendors and the general users of Baguio’s downtown. In the Upper Session Road placenode, transnational chain restaurants can be found within steps from each other (Pizza Hut, Kentucky Fried Chicken) and across the street is a Jollibee Filipino chain. In the Lower Session place-node, a McDonald’s and local chains Yellow Cab Pizza and Chowking are within a block of each other. Interspersed between them are smaller Baguio restaurants like Don Henrico’s, 456 Cafe, Tea House, and Sizzling Plate, among others. They are distinguished from the chain restaurants by their storefront architecture and cozy and inviting interiors with incandescent lighting, providing a pleasant contrast to chain restaurants with their harsh fluorescent lighting and typical fast food dining furniture. The food offered by these fast food chains impacts the nutritional health of vendors. When questioned about their eating patterns, many of the women said they buy food from these chains because they taste good and are “reasonably priced.” McDonald’s, for example, is “hailed as another symbol of American cosmopolitanism, convenience and efficiency” (Tan, 2011). Many Filipino parents believe that fast food is healthy. The women vendors treat themselves every week to “McDo” fast food. In a way, they believe such dining behavior elevates their social status. In 2017, 48 percent of Filipinos surveyed indicated that they ate out at fast food outlets one to three times a week (Statista, nd). Fortunately, this percentage fell to 21.7 percent in 2018. However, the consumption of fast food has been a growing problem for public health experts in the Philippines as they observe a trend toward “globesity.” The women street vendors are sensitive to market demand, especially among young students walking along Session Road. The Middle Session place-node, where one of the McDonald’s outlets is located, captures a large consumer group (college students walking from the University of

100 Intersecting spatial-environmental perspectives Cordillera and University of Baguio), which congregates in this busy node. Several fruit vendors set up in front of the fast food chain to catch potential customers coming out of McDonald’s after eating a greasy meal. One of the most popular items is green mango and other sour fruit such as santol. A.6 Food safety Globalization trends impact eating behavior in the sense that they offer convenient and tasty food option to workers, who have started to rely on meals prepared outside their homes. Regardless of the allure of fast food chains as a status symbol, people still continue to purchase food from vendors who contribute to food security and micronutrient fortification for the masses (Akinyele, 1998; Draper, 1996). On the downside, several studies have focused on the safety hazards of street foods, specifically risks related to spoilage/microbial (Alimi, 2016). The health risk is greater in the Abanao Harrison place-node, where food vendors congregate because of the flat topography and in the micro-parks where there are larger spaces. Furthermore, this location is closer to the public market where the vendors purchase their food ingredients. The common ready-to-eat items sold are Adidas barbecue (chicken feet), roasted peanuts, boiled or roasted corn on the cob, balut (boiled duck egg), sago gulaman (tapioca pearls), fish balls, and fresh fruit and vegetables. A risk associated with street foods is the transmission of cholera, Hepatitis A, and typhoid (Abdussalam and Kaferstein, 1993). In many cases, women vendors practice unhealthy habits by putting additives, colorants, and preservatives to enhance the taste and attractiveness of their food items. The built environment also adds to the health and safety risks of food sold on the streets. In places with high air pollution (e.g. Middle Session place-node), street dust and lead particles from vehicle exhaust contaminate exposed food. In addition, access to clean water facilities is a problem in downtown Baguio. Vendors often bring water in containers to use for cleaning and cooking. In order to save their limited water supply, they often wash food items or utensils with reused water. Similarly, vendors rely on their own waste disposal containers such as plastic bags. Because of limited vending space, it is not uncommon for these open and hanging garbage bags to lie just inches away from the raw ingredients. In the case of the green mango vendor, she puts the trash bag on top of the fresh mangoes. Other vendors decide to locate close to garbage receptacles. The image on the next page shows a fruit vendor inches away from a trash can. A.7 Air quality As mentioned earlier, air quality is an environmental health problem for vendors throughout the the Global South. This is notably pronounced in Baguio City. Described throughout the book, the downtown area is

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Photo 4.12 A fruit vendor chooses her vending space next to a garbage can.

characterized by steep, sloping streets and the flat basin area. Our air quality study revealed that the area is highly polluted (Cassidy et  al., 2007). By testing ambient particulate matter (PM2.5, PM10) and carbon dioxide levels, we proved our hypotheses that vehicular exhaust and fumes, mostly coming from diesel-fueled vehicles, and low winds contributed significantly to street-level pollution. As women vendors work an average of ten hours a day in their vending sites, they spend a significant time inhaling this heavily polluted air. Early morning and rush hours are the worst times for air pollution. As we know, studies have indicated that vehicular pollution contributes significantly to ill health. In Thailand, a comparison between a highly congested and polluted area and a quiet residential neighborhood with a university in its vicinity revealed a difference in health patterns (Kongtip et al., 2010). The street vendors in the congested intersection reported more symptoms of poor health than those in the more quiet neighborhood: the former was 3.45 times more likely to develop upper respiratory symptoms such as phlegm, nose congestion, and sore throat. For lower respiratory symptoms, the risk of roadside street vendors was 7.82 times higher than that of the residential street vendors. However, there is still an ongoing debate on the adverse health effects of vehicular pollution, especially among researchers using larger databases.

102 Intersecting spatial-environmental perspectives A meta-analysis of epidemiological studies does not give conclusive evidence that long-term exposure to fine and coarse particles is associated with mortality (Hoek et al., 2013). While the Harrison Abanao place-node has poor air quality because of the heavy intersection traffic, it has two features that mitigate the problem. First, the two pocket parks described earlier (Igorot Park and Plaza Park) contribute to air circulation in an otherwise busy and polluted node. Urban parks and green spaces, in general, have been shown to reduce air pollution (Cohen et al., 2014; Liu and Shen, 2014; O’Donoghue and Broderick, 2007). These parks are referred to as “lungs of the city.” In the case of Igorot Park and Plaza Park, they provide some respite to the air and noise pollution of downtown Baguio. Although sparse, the trees in these two pocket parks also provide shade during the summertime, as well as shelter during the monsoon season. It is doubtful the trees mitigate pollution because their canopies are very thin. Vendors who occupy these spaces are fortunate to be in an airy space, but they enjoy only sporadic customer volume as do other sidewalk vendors on Session Road, Assumption, Mabini, Magsaysay, and General Luna. Vendors, however, are now prohibited from occupying these park spaces. The proximity of the Abanao Harrison place-node to Burnham Park also helps clear the air pollution, as this major

Photo 4.13 A vendor cares for her baby on the street while her sister assists in running the vegetable microbusiness.

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park serves as a natural sponge for pollution and as a basin for stormwater remediation. For centuries, urban planners and designers have understood the connection between health and parks. These natural areas have been shown to have salutary effects on stress and mental health (Godben et al., 1992; Hartig et al., 1991). Vendors in this node who locate at the edges of Burnham Park reap the benefits of being close to nature. B The personal accounts and health conditions of eight women vendors To understand the complexity of place and health, our transdisciplinary team of researchers developed a medical protocol with Dr. Francisco L. Hernandez, a local doctor and the director of the Notre Dame Hospital. Together with researchers from the University of the Philippines College at Baguio Cordillera Studies Center, we identified ten vendors located in various parts of the downtown. Our selection criteria included a range of locations considering the area’s air pollution level (highest and lowest), slope (steep to flat), and vendor’s type of product (food/non-food). The purpose of the study was to inquire more deeply into the health situations of vendors within the larger context of family, vending life, and place characteristics. I selected eight of the ten case studies for this book’s focus on women vendors. The other two case studies involved male vendors. Dr. Hernandez conducted an evaluation of their cardiovascular, pulmonary, abdominal, and neurological systems. Lab tests were done at the hospital, which included blood tests for alkaline phosphatase, total bilirubin, sodium, potassium, chloride, serum glutamic oxaloacetic transaminase (SGOT), and serum glutamic pyruvic transaminase (SGPT). Hematology tests to check the women’s white blood count, red blood count, hemoglobin, hematocrit, platelet count, and blood type were also conducted. Other tests included a screening for Hepatitis B and Anti-HCV virus (Hepatitis C); a skin test for tuberculosis; and a pulse oximeter test for blood oxygen saturation levels. The following section describes the eight women’s brief vending backgrounds, health conditions, and medical test results. B.1 Marcelina in the Upper Session Road node (14 years as a vendor) We interviewed Marcelina in the Upper Session Road. As a 41-year-old mother of eight children, she had to carve out a source of income for her family. Her husband, who is a part-time carpenter and farmer, does not have a steady income. Both of them are from Teptep-an, Sagada, Mt. Province, an upland community in the Cordillera. As a young woman, she learned how to weave, a skill that was handed down generationally. The weaving industry was booming in the 1970s and 1980s, but the influx of ukayukay (second-hand apparel) enterprises killed the local indigenous trade.

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Her grandfather persuaded her and her husband to move to Baguio. However, she left four of her children in her mother’s care when they migrated. As a couple, they served as caretaker for Mrs. Virginia de Guia in Kitma Village, where she allowed them to grow vegetables and raise pigs in her backyard.16 To earn additional income, Marcelina would take a basket of the home-grown vegetables and sell them in downtown. To expand her vegetable microenterprise, she decided to buy additional vegetables in the market which she hauled, along with her own, to the top of Session Road. The trek was arduous but she knew she would sell them faster near the Victory Bus/Partas Bus terminals. Bus passengers travelling to Manila often bring pasalubong (gifts) from Baguio. Since the City is known for its fresh “American” vegetables (cabbage, carrots, broccoli) her produce was popular with these passengers. Her sales increased during the tourist season (December, February, March to May) and in August when Baguio becomes a popular place for conferences. Her vending location is right in front of her cousin’s small storefront where an informal business agreement has been formed: she watches the store when her cousin’s salesgirl is not around and Marcelina’s daughter assists in running the tiny photocopy center inside the store. Her income from her sales can range from $1 during the rainy season to $30 a day during peak tourism season. On average she earns about $15 a day, which pays for two of her children’s college education.17 Her biometrics results were all within normal range. However, she complains of dizziness most of the time and attributes this to rapid back-andforth eye movements as pedestrians pass by her busy vending space (25 people per minute). The 7-foot-wide sidewalk is small compared to that of Session Road, which brings pedestrians too close for visual comfort. More importantly, she is located only about 15 feet away from the large buses that expel exhaust as the engines idle while waiting for passengers. In addition, passengers smoke cigarettes in front of her while waiting to board the buses. Dr. Hernandez believes these various air pollutants are triggers to her dizziness. Compared to other vendors in downtown’s basin, Marcelina’s vending spot is covered entirely by the shop’s overhang but complains of a chronic cough during the rainy season. Her lungs seem clear though. The doctor advised her to fortify her immune system with vitamins during the wet season and to avoid getting wet. B.2 Gloria J. in the Upper Session Road node (22 years as a vendor) Gloria did not grow up in Baguio City but migrated there from the Southern Philippines (Mindoro then Lucena City). A relative convinced her to settle in Baguio, so she came and found work as a canteen worker at the YMCA, married, and then had children. After her canteen shift, she started selling letter envelopes and paste in front of the Baguio post office. The vending

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enterprise expanded to include the sale of candy, snacks, and boxed drinks. Based on her business sense, she added fruit, which she bought at the market. These items sold quickly because it saved her customers from going to the market. At this point, she decided to go full-time with the vending activity. Her older daughter helps by setting up the space at 6:00 a.m. while she goes early to buy fruit. Many vendors go to the market at dawn because they are given the first pick of the freshest produce when trucks unload farm commodities. On Sundays, Gloria buys newspapers from the distributor and sets up shop in front of the Baguio Cathedral church before the end of the 6:00 a.m. mass. Her average earning is $6 a day, which she claims is enough to buy rice and ulam (viand or main dish) for her family. Her envelope and paste business has slowed down tremendously. She complains, “During the Marcos days, there were a lot who dropped off letters. There were waiting lines.” Her explanation for a decline in the usage of the post office is that the Philippine government does not have a budget for this service anymore. When asked how the budget had to do with less customers, she then admitted that texting on the cell phone is a more convenient way to communicate. People don’t write letters anymore. Some of the goods that she sells are seasonal. In November and December she adds children’s toys to her usual candy and fruit, and in June she sells umbrellas. Gloria’s test results for cardiovascular, pulmonary, and neurological functions were all found to be normal, except for the hematology report which shows a white blood count of 11.5 × 10(3)/mm3 (normal range is 3.5–10). Dr. Hernandez also noticed that she had a mature cataract condition. She complained that during the rainy season, she experiences slight fevers but continues to work in her vending space. The only time she stays home is when she has the flu. She tells her husband to take over the business. Her husband is a contract worker and does not have a regular source of income. Furthermore, she encounters occasional dizziness spells. A volunteer medical mission informed her that she was kulang sa dugo (anemic). Several studies have linked anemia to poor air quality (Honda et al., 2017; Morales-Ancajima et al., 2019), and this may be one of the causes of her dizziness. Though her location is not the worst polluted spot, she inhales exhaust from the vehicles ascending Upper Session Road. B.3 Ana M. in the Upper Session Road node (9 years as a vendor) Ana is a widow with eight young adult children who all completed college. She is originally from Sabangan, Mountain Province (in the Cordilleras), but moved to Baguio in 1990 due to the hardships of farming in the mountains. She sells sticks of cigarettes (Marlboro, Philip Morris, Winston/Hope), cigarette lighters, assorted candies, and Nagaraya Crackers. Her average sales on ordinary days net her $15 in revenue, but when pedestrian traffic is light she earns about $10 a day. Business is unpredictable.

106 Intersecting spatial-environmental perspectives She could earn $20 on one Saturday, and just $10 or less a week later. She spends about 8–10 hours a day in her vending space, depending on the season. During the summer months and special celebrations, like the annual Panagbenga Festival in February, she works for 12 hours straight. Ana has moved her vending space at least three times. Finally, she found the sweet spot in front of the Philippine Long Distance Telephone (PLDT) building, the best place that brought her the most sales. As a relatively new vendor, compared to others who have decades of vending experiences, Ana was nervous about being interviewed. “I’m really afraid about the interview. What if this is to frame me?” she said in Ilocano, a local dialect from Northern Luzon. We assured her that we were not part of the government and that she would benefit from a free medical examination at Notre Dame Hospital. Her jeepney stop to Pinsao, where she lives, is located in the Baguio Public Market. It is not an insignificant distance from her vending space at the top of Session Road. We were curious about whether she took the cigarettes and other items with her every night. A trusting agreement between her and the night security guard for the PLDT building allows her to leave her items in a box which is stored in a corner inside the front door. His shift ends at 8:00 a.m., so Ana makes sure she is in her vending spot by then. This informal alliance is typical across many vending sites. Ana’s location has only about 4 feet of lateral building overhang to protect her from the rains. Although her site is slightly sloped, the runoff from the Luneta Hill (SM mall) sometimes spills over the short street curb across from her space. She had a cold when we interviewed her. She took an overthe-counter medicine when she felt feverish the day before, but was feeling much better. Her major health complaints are cough and colds that afflict her throughout the year. She attributes her cough to air pollution and cigarette smoke. When customers buy cigarettes from her, they stay around her and smoke. Usually a group of employees from the PLDT, her suki (loyal patrons) come out during their break to gather, smoke, and chat with her. She constantly inhales their smoke second hand but she can’t complain because they support her livelihood. Her medical test results showed normal biometrics. In spite of her coughing complaints, the SPO2 or oxygen saturation in her blood was 96 percent, a normal level, especially considering her prolonged exposure to air pollutants. Though not a considerable threat, she experienced harassment from several officers from the Public Order and Safety Division (POSD). They come and bark at the vendors to move. Sometimes they ask them to pay a lagay (bribe), which the vendors are obliged to do. Other officers confiscate their goods which have to be retrieved at the POSD office for a penalty fee. One time, Ana tried to retrieve her cigarettes and candy from the office, but when she saw confiscated fish decaying on top of her candies, she simply gave up. According to her, she and the other vendors steadfastly refuse to forfeit their vending spaces. They always return once the officers leave the vicinity.

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B.4 Cristina S. in the General Luna node (29 years as a vendor) Cristina migrated from Bacolod in the Visayas.18 As a newlywed in 1977, she and her husband moved to Baguio to serve as a caretaker for the summer home of Mr. Santos, an owner of the Manila-based Pelican Corporation. They were given an allowance of $20 a month to clean and maintain the house, but they could not survive with just this income, especially since they started a family. For additional income, she set up a table in front of the summer home and sold cooked food to passerbys. To earn more money, she decided to relocate her stand to the intersection of Session and Assumption Roads (middle Session Road node) and continued to sell snacks like banana-que and kamote-que. However, the schoolchildren repeatedly asked her if she sold toys, snacks, and candy. She then promptly decided to shift toward selling these goods and to move closer to the schools. Her vending place is an almost flat area at the entrance of the St. Louis Elementary and High Schools. She has a 3 × 3-foot wooden box propped on top of a wobbly stand. She uses the stone wall behind her to display posters and other toys. Borrowing from a Bombay (Indian) loan shark, she was able to find a distributor at the market who sold her things for the children. According to Cristina, her peak season is December when the schoolchildren buy gifts for each other. During the rest of the year, the teachers patronize her business by purchasing things for their classrooms like educational posters. Meanwhile, the family’s housing situation was disrupted when Mr. Santos passed away. They left the Santos’ property and relocated to an informal settlement where they rented a room for the entire family. This transition was a difficult period in their lives. Though impoverished they are invested in college education for their four children. She shared her dreams with us, saying, “Most likely our children will be the ones to help us cross from hardship.” To her and her husband, and many poor Filipinos, a college education prepares their children for jobs in the future. In return, the cultural norm is that children provide for their parents’ needs when they have their own jobs. Cristina’s blood test results were within the normal ranges for hematology and other functional areas. As with Gloria, however, Dr. Hernandez reported a mature cataract condition, which he has observed among many poor people. The stressful urban conditions in downtown Baguio, deficient lighting in homes, and the lack of eye-care services for the poor lead to health problems as vendors age. Cristina’s vending space has no building overhang to protect her from the rains so she uses an umbrella as cover. In spite of this situation, she does not report any health problems. Another aspect of poor preventive health that appears in Cristina’s case is the lack of oral care. The World Health Organization (WHO) reports that oral diseases and tooth decay (dental caries) affect half of the world’s population (3.58 billion people) (WHO, 2018). With the meager earnings

108 Intersecting spatial-environmental perspectives that Cristina makes through her vending business, she and her husband had to choose between paying for her 24-year-old daughter’s college degree completion, which would have taken seven more months, or to tend to their 20-year-old son’s bungi (missing front teeth). He has begged many times to make his dental problem a priority over his sister’s college education. It is well known that dental disorders create feelings of low self-esteem, especially among the youth (Kaur et al., 2017). Her son’s embarrassment about his missing front teeth prevents him from applying for a job at Jollibee. Cristina sometimes chides him that he probably ate a good portion of the candies she sells, which would explain why his teeth decayed and fell out. Nevertheless, he promises that if his parents help him with his dental problem, he will find a job and earn enough money to support his sister’s college degree. B.5 Tita “Glecy” F. in the Middle Session Road node (5 years as a vendor) Tita is 37 years old, the only Baguio-born-and-raised vendor in our 2006 case study sample. Her parents migrated from Ilocos Sur (Northern Luzon) in 1952 and found employment in the mines. As a college degree holder and single mother of a boy, she thought that a stable job at the multi-national corporation, Texas Instrument, would be an ideal employment opportunity. But she had difficulty in adjusting to the night shift due to anxiety about the sporadic childcare for her son. She befriended her neighbor who delivered newspapers to vendors around the city. She quit her job and tried several locations on Session Road to find the best spot for a newspaper and cigarette stall, settling on a spot in front of the restaurants Gobi and Lions Den. She enjoys this job better than her old one at Texas instrument because she is her own boss. She is also able to care for her sickly mother and young son as she has control over her schedule. The income from her business is higher than a low corporate salary. She is usually at her vending place for 12 hours a day. Tita feels secure in her spot because, unlike the other vendors nearby, she pays for a quarterly business permit. When they are harassed by the POSD officers, she simply shows them her permit. When it rains she moves her tiny wooden stand under the restaurants’ overhangs. A bank, Prudential Guarantee, has a longer overhang under which she also seeks shelter. Rainy season is a great time for sales. When the weather is cold, people smoke more. However, similar to Ana, customers smoke around her, which makes it difficult to breathe sometimes. In addition, she is about 30 feet away from one of the most polluted spots in downtown (the intersection of F. Calderon and Session Road). In terms of access to restrooms, she and her vendor friends are allowed to use the facilities at Lions Den. She claims to be healthy. She does not have problems and her biometric test results show normal readings.

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B.6 Nenita C., Lower Session Road/Malcolm Square/Magsaysay node (43 years as a vendor) Nenita, 56, and her family migrated to Baguio from Nueva Ecija province when she was a young girl. Vending runs in her blood since her parents’ first and only livelihood was selling slippers and socks. “This is how my family made a living. When my parents went around the city to sell, they took me along with them,” she says. In 1969, she married a man from the same province, but he died in 1993. She has five adult children who are vendors like herself, except for the youngest who is in high school. To increase her income, she has become a “distributor.” Every three months she travels to Divisoria, a wholesale market in Manila, and buys merchandise in bulk (e.g. socks, t-shirts, handkerchiefs). When she returns to Baguio she sells the goods to her companion vendors. As a good business woman, she profits by adding the cost of her travel and other expenses to the sale. Nenita’s daily income is about $6. The cold months from December to March are her peak business months. However, lately she and the other vendors were pressured to lower the price of the socks from P50 for three pairs to P10 a pair because of competition from a formal storeowner inside the dry goods section of the Baguio Public Market. However, she is “elated” with the buying behavior of the youth, which helps with her business: “Most of our customers are teenagers or children. Because our merchandise is cheap, they say that when their socks are dirty they would rather throw than wash them. Baby diapers are more expensive than the socks.” She belongs to an association of vendors but was initially disappointed because the president of the association squandered the members’ contributions. However, the new president is better and has regained hope and trust among the members. Nenita was able to borrow capital from the association twice and used the funds to travel to Manila. Nenita’s vending spot is at the corner of Magsaysay Avenue and Lakandula Street where the sidewalks are extremely narrow. This area is a busy jeepney depot and pedestrian traffic is very dense. She and other vendors locate in front of Metrobank. An informal arrangement with bank officials provides them with some measure of protection from the government authorities. They are required by the bank to clean the premises every day and to scrub the front steps once a month. However, the management disallows the use of umbrellas. She complains about the lack of shade during the hot summer months, when they resort to covering their heads with thin towels. During the rainy months, they move closer to the bank, or around the corner where there is a wider building overhang. When the rains are strong, or during a typhoon, they close down, sacrificing their daily sales. Like Cristina and Gloria, Nenita was diagnosed with cataract. Dr.  Hernandez observed that her left eye was worse than the right one. Her oxygen saturation in the blood was 97 percent – within normal range.

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She  is rarely sick but occasionally complains of headache and fever. She noticed that her headaches occur mostly during the hot summer months when she works directly under the sun. Since her location is very close to jeepney stops, she also complains of engine exhaust. Compared to Session Road, the density of vehicles and people is very high. Crowded sidewalks and narrow streets create a highly stressful environment. The Lakandula area is like an urban canyon with 2–3 story buildings flanking the street on both sides. This canyon-like urban space impacts the micro-climate of the street. Air pollution caused by jeepneys is trapped in the canyon especially because wind velocity is almost zero. A great shadow is constantly cast on the area, leaving a damp environment during the cold months. B.7 Evelyn D., Abanao/Harrison node (24 years as a vendor) Evelyn is a lowlander from Candon, Ilocos Sur (Northern Luzon), who settled in Baguio in 1978 to find employment. A Chinese businessman, Mr. Tomas Tan took her in as a housemaid, and then promoted her to a salesgirl in his grocery store. Her dedication and hard work built trust between the Tan family and herself. When she became pregnant with her son, they allowed her to set up a small vending place right in front of the Tan’s grocery store. As a single mother, this arrangement was ideal. She helps watch the store when there is a need and in return she has free housing with the family, and is able to keep her vending space where she sells cigarettes, candy, and balut (a local duck egg delicacy). She caters to a large market of jeepney drivers who, for the most part, are smokers. For capital to start this business, she borrowed from an Indian creditor with the common “5–6 deal,” where for every 5 pesos borrowed, she has to pay 6 pesos back. To Evelyn, education is crucial for her son’s future. She has, therefore, enrolled him in a private elementary school. To afford the tuition, she washes clothes on the side. When her son grew older, he watched the business when he didn’t have school. Eventually she took on additional laundry jobs. Evelyn is lucky to have an employer who has taken her and her son under his wing. At times, when she needs money to pay for her son’s schooling, the Tan family would give her a cash advance, which is taken out of her salary as an all-around helper. Her biometric results came back normal, except for her eyes. Dr. Hernandez pointed out a glass left eye, and she admitted she couldn’t see out of her right eye either. He believes she had an infection when she was younger. Furthermore, she wears a brace for scoliosis. She grumbled about how Mr. Taui-ing, a demolition police, threatened her and the other vendors on the block. Already suffering from scoliosis, she was forced at times to carry her goods and run away, aggravating her pain. As a result, she decided to join the AZKCO (Abanao, Zandueta, Kayang, Chugum, Otek) Association of vendors. They provided her with a collective voice for their concerns and some level of protection.

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Evelyn’s vending place is in a precarious spot because it is located on a sloping street that leads to the Baguio Public Market. Like the Lakandula/ Magsaysay area, this is a highly dense environment. Her only complaint is the pollution from jeepneys and extreme noise levels, but she claims she has grown used to these conditions. B.8 Celeste P., Abanao Harrison node (10 years as a vendor) Celeste migrated from Kabayan, Benguet, to Baguio in 1993. She stopped going to school when she was in grade three so she could help her family by working as a vegetable gardener. She experienced hardship at a very young age. In order to augment her family’s income, she traveled to other provinces to find work at various farms, from the Mountain Trail in Benguet to Bauko, Mt. Province. Like other vendors, Celeste came to Baguio for better opportunities. She first found work as a house helper and then as a waitress. Her boss then wanted her to start a vending business selling cigarettes, candies, boxed juices, and bottled water. She was paid $1 a day but later discovered she could earn more if she independently sold these items. She approached an Indian loan shark to borrow money for her own business, selling the same items. Harrison Road was the best location for her because it was at the edge of Burnham Park, where people, particularly the youth, gathered after school. Her earnings range from $10 to $20 during peak season. At 44 years old, she married another vendor from the Cordillera (Mt. Province). Both of them sold the same items. They wanted to have a family so they consulted with a manghihilot (indigenous healer who uses massage and body manipulation) to help them conceive. Unfortunately, they were not successful so she put all her attention on the vending business instead. Celeste feels safe and secure in her location, although she has caught several people shoplifting from her box. She is afraid to report them because she fears retaliation. Her husband does not work as a vendor anymore. She has a good circle of friends among the other vendors, cleaners, and park caretakers. Although she carries her merchandise home every night, during the peak season, her friend, a caretaker for the Burnham Grandstand, allows her to store her things in a locked closet under the structure. Celeste has no plans to expand her business. She says that it is easy to pack up quickly when the demolition officers come to confiscate their goods. However, after many stressful incidents, she decided to join the Baguio Vendors Association, which serves as the mediator between the POSD officers and vendors. They help the vendors settle disputes and reclaim their confiscated goods. The association also provides loans ranging from $100 to $200, but framed around a lending circle model. Celeste likes her independence and does not want her chances of obtaining a loan to be contingent on whether women in the lending circle paid their loans. As a result, she has taken out “5–6” loans from the Indian creditor.

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Of all the vendor locations, we hypothesized that Celeste’s vending place was ideal for her health because Harrison road is flat and the Park’s open space is favorable for air quality and circulation. Furthermore, there are no jeepney or taxi stops nearby. Traffic flows relatively smoothly on this street. Also, her vending spot is near the Burnham Grandstand, which affords her a large awning for shade and shelter during the rainy and summer seasons. However, Dr. Hernandez detected a heart murmur and an eye condition called Pterygium, a tissue growth on the cornea of her right eye. He mentioned that of all the ten vendors, she had the most critical health problem and required additional medical tests and care. The eight case studies above have provided an in-depth contextual understanding of the women vendors’ history, their vending-place features, and health conditions. There are common situations that we observed. Many of the women are migrants to Baguio who regard the city as a place of opportunity. Family networks, both nuclear and extended, were the factors that encouraged them to migrate. The married women are expected to fulfill their traditional household responsibilities when they return home from vending all day. Many of them have children who help out in the business after school, on weekends, or during summer months. A common dream among the women is that their children complete a college degree. Many of them are proud of such achievement because it ensures the potential economic stability for the entire family.

Photo 4.14 Dr. Hernandez with a woman vendor.

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In spite of long exposure to pollution, most of the vendors have normal biometric test results. Their blood oxygen saturation levels are higher than those of Dr. Hernandez and his office nurse. Unfortunately, many of the women vendors have abnormal eye conditions (e.g. mature cataracts, redness, and swelling). As mentioned, this may be caused by the lack of preventive eye-care services for poor Filipinos. Unfortunately, eye-health neglect may lead to worse conditions later in life. In a study of myopia (nearsightedness or farsightedness) and cataract development, the researchers found that a myopic change in refraction has a high probability to the development of nuclear sclerotic cataract (Brown and Hill, 1987). To end, the vignettes depicted the lives and health conditions of specific women. They continue to strive in spite of the challenging street environments in which they work.

Notes 1 Although the growth of global women participation in the formal labor force is increasing, gender inequalities in wages and opportunities continue to exist. 2 Many of these women migrant workers are educated with college degrees but their credentials are not reported by the Philippine government, thus resulting in a “de-skilling of women”. This is regarded as a type of “silent abuse” (United Nations, 2016, p. 2). 3 We, Baguio residents, often were peeved by their seemingly “Manila arrogance” when they promenaded in Session Road. 4 Ms. Ladia was one of the research assistants who participated in the 1999 survey of street vendors. 5 These research years (1999, 2001, 2003, 2005, 2006) involved formal data collection and visual documentation. In between these years, I would be in Baguio City regularly. Furthermore, since 2009, I frequently visited the place at least once a year. Lately it’s been more frequent, like twice a year. 6 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Session_Road 7 The jeepney is a unique mode of public transportation in the Philippines. Reinventing the military jeeps that were left by the Americans, Filipinos extended the cabby to transform them into passenger vehicles. Used as a fee-for-service type of vehicle, jeepneys are the cheapest way to get around the city. 8 SM is an acronym for ShoeMart, the largest chain store in the Philippines. SM is located on a hill at the top of Upper Session Road. This was the spot for the historic Pines Hotel, which burned down in 1984. 9 Like many other countries, Philippines traffic is known for its lack of driver discipline. Filipino drivers claim that rules are made for guidance only, not for one to abide with. 10 Malcolm Square in the Magsaysay Malcolm Square place-node is an open space that may look like a park, but it was not designed as such. 11 The exclusion of the term “feminist” or “feminism” is intentional. These terms have connotations of Western privilege and representation on behalf of ALL women, especially poor women of color. 12 City Government of Baguio official website. http://www.baguio.gov.ph/ content/health-reports-first-two-weeks-jan-2019 13 Fontanilla, Giovani Joy. Baguio weakest versus climate change. SunStar Philippines. February 8, 2015.

114 Intersecting spatial-environmental perspectives 14 Dar, Carlito. “Baguio Health Office cautions public of dengue, rainy day illnesses” in Philippine Information Agency News. July 6, 2018. https://pia. gov.ph/news/articles/1010062 15 Although typhoon season normally starts in June, monsoon rains occur in May. 16 Coincidentally, Mrs. De Guia is a close family friend of our family. 17 One is in computer science and the other is in a human service field (caregiver). 18 Visayas is one of three large groups of islands in the Philippines. It is located in the central part of the archipelago.

5

A retrospective Reflections on urban environments, women vendors, and health

A retrospective is valuable when studying urban environments. The differences that a betweener and researcher of the place observes through time is critical to the interpretation of places and people, mainly because she intuitively catches specific cues that may not be discernible to those who use the spaces routinely, nor to others who simply visit to extract research. From 1999 to 2006, and subsequent years after, I visited and photographed the downtown streets and vendor sites. It is interesting how the spirit of downtown Baguio changes with the presence or absence of vendors. Twenty years ago, the streets were bustling with urban energy, a combination of people movement, traffic, constant flow of goods, peculiar sounds, and visual details. The women vendors created the place’s essence and distinct character. They distracted pedestrians and caused them to pause, linger, and interact with one another. As I pondered on the changes that have occurred, some subtle and others more conspicuous, I organized this retrospective chapter by offering thoughts on larger constructs that depict ever-changing urban realities. A  reflection on the various research approach, design, and methods employed and their usefulness in establishing these constructs will also be discussed. As mentioned in the Introduction, the intention for conducting the multi-year study was not to establish a theory but to manifest frames of thought to understand the intersection of health and place at a more meaningful level. Throughout the book, I have tried to put forth my position on plurality and the authentic building of local knowledge and urban practices. The Baguio City experience is unique, but has commonalities with other cities in the Global South.

I Thoughts on carrying capacity of street environments Many urban theories emerged from studying the animal world. Conceptual models for carrying capacity were conceived in a similar pattern. In 1960, zoologists Christian, Flyger, and Davis conducted pivotal research by observing the deer population on James Island, Maryland. They concluded that high density and overcrowding caused an unexpected rate of mortality

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and damage to the deer’s physiological make-up. Later in situ animal studies were conducted, followed by research in controlled laboratory settings. Almost all earlier animal research produced similar results. Do these findings carry over to human beings? The issue is complex and multi-faceted. There has been no conclusive evidence that supports a universal notion of high-density living, carrying capacity, and limits to growth. For example, my doctoral dissertation on “The Experience of Crowding in a Philippine Mining Community” found that miners and their families who lived in very cramped multi-storied bunkhouses generally did not feel crowded (Alabanza, 1991). Factors that impacted their satisfaction with high-density living were positive relations with neighbors, access to the outside, and length of time living in those conditions. A mid-twentieth century anthropologist Edward Hall observed that culture plays an important role in the way people are affected by their spatial environments. He claimed that Caucasians were observed to have large interpersonal spaces and classified them as a low-contact cultural group, compared to Hispanics or African Americans. As a result, the former racial group is more prone to discomfort in crowded places. The other studies I reviewed for my dissertation were conducted in Hong Kong, Singapore, and Penang, Malaysia, and the results showed that social density (number of interactions with people in a space) has more effect on Asians than spatial density (size of space per person). In extremely small living quarters, interacting with non-family members caused anxiety more than the actual physical size. The question I pondered was: What is the carrying capacity of the Baguio streets? How do we know if a threshold is reached? Western-oriented literature on sidewalk capacity focuses on prescriptive physical guidelines (e.g. sidewalk width, grade and running slope, landing area, disability standards, level of obstructions). My experience in walking on American sidewalks, as well as reviewing various publications, visiting websites and blogs, and reading social media posts, points to a compelling argument that urban centers in the United States treat these spaces differently than Asian cities do. Generally, debates about American sidewalks focus on issues related to public property and citizens’ rights, diverse uses and contestation, and regulatory practices that control these spaces. The human and social capacity of sidewalks is often discussed in anecdotal forms. For example, public statements about crowded sidewalks in New York City and other major American cities bring forth levels of discomfort. Sidewalk experiences are described as frustrating, dangerous, and risky. Most of these narratives point to modal conflict(e.g. pedestrians versus bikes) as the cause for concern. There is even a term to describe human reaction to disturbing episodic events: sidewalk rage. A mismatch can be found between U.S. regulatory codes and a growing number of Asian cities that mimic these standards. The American approach to transportation is to move cars and people in the fastest and most efficient ways. Time is the most critical factor in assessing the success

Reflections on urban environments 117 of these spaces. In Asia, although many pedestrians complain about the quality of sidewalks, they often lack the range of travel choices so they have to contend with what they have. Socio-cultural factors shape the way sidewalks are used. In the Global South, habits and rules of behavior in public spaces are shifty and unwritten. Customs, traditions, and lifestyles are not explicitly defined. Cultural immersion is necessary to learn these nuances of place. I would like to further point out the differences between Western and Asian societies regarding people’s perceptions of and their use of sidewalks. A team of urban planners including Mateo-Babiano, Iterlina, and Ieda conducted a study of sidewalks in various Asian cities (i.e. Indonesia, Vietnam, Japan, Philippines) and observed that mobility (barrier-free movement from point of origin to destination at a comfortable walking speed with no or limited impedance) was rated low in a user needs hierarchy, compared to identity (acknowledgement of socio-cultural elements) and equality (giving importance to the presence of other users such as sidewalk vendors). In Manila, Philippines, this same team observed that pedestrians rated physical safety from vehicles as the most important factor in their assessment of the sidewalk experience. Enjoyment was not necessarily important. Furthermore, a group of traffic engineers led by Ujjal Chattaraj implemented a comparative study of Indian and German pedestrians and found that walking speed is not dependent on sidewalk crowdedness or density. They concluded that the unordered behavior of the Indian pedestrians was more effective than the ordered behavior of the German pedestrians. Another traffic engineer Tanaboriboon administered a pedestrian-flow research study and found that Singaporeans walked more slowly than Americans. These research studies support my point that pedestrian behavior are attributed to cultural differences. Understanding these differences provides insights into the nature of local streets. The street environments in Baguio and their carrying capacity is contextual in nature. Sidewalk density, efficient mobility, walking time, and all other metrics fall short of calculating the thresholds for all the downtown streets. Since the streets vary in function and character, type of vendors, sidewalk width, activities, and land uses of buildings, using one or a set of the same measures is not appropriate. For example, pedestrian flow in highly sloped streets is different from flat areas. But I believe that “uninterrupted” flow and uninterrupted movement should not be the goal for Baguio City. As a planner and social scientist, a formulaic solution to gauge the carrying capacity of urban streets is not the answer. Rather I consider the health and safety of users as the utmost consideration in assessing the carrying capacity of sidewalks. If pedestrians were to be pushed to the street because of the vendors or by the extension of formal private businesses onto the sidewalks, I would consider this situation problematic. The presence of vendors creates unique local experiences, but certain parameters must be in place to ensure the safety of sidewalk users.

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Vehicular traffic is another factor to consider in discussing the carrying capacity of streets. The typical metrics used to determine the optimal capacity of a road are the traffic volume during peak hours, traffic volume and speed, road type, air quality, and many other measures. Numerous but fragmented research studies demonstrate the breadth of the matter. Ascertaining when urban streets reach capacity is an on-going feat among urban transportation planners, traffic engineers, environmental scientists, and others. An interesting characteristic of these studies is that each have selected factors based on the variability of place settings. The formula used for calculating traffic capacity in New York City differs from that applied in Beijing, Paris, and Mexico because of distinct specificities of local streets. In the case of Baguio City, I have not identified a published research project that examines the carrying capacities of its downtown streets. However, if one were to design such a study, I would suggest treating each street as a case study because of their individual idiosyncratic nature. To delineate the point at which a street reaches its capacity, or threshold, several guiding measures are suggested. When a street embodies the following attributes for a protracted length of time, the local government should develop mitigating strategies to improve its conditions: • •

• • • • • • • •

Air pollution exceeds national acceptable standards; In sloping streets where traffic is uphill (e.g. Session Road, General Luna, Assumption), the duration that vehicles are at a standstill because of the danger it poses when the driver has to shift from braking to accelerating; In sloping streets, constant incidents of vehicles that accelerate and spew diesel exhaust onto sidewalk users and vehicles behind; High occurrence of vehicular accidents; Frequent intersection build-up when traffic lights are green; Pedestrians are pushed beyond the sidewalks onto the street; Sidewalk volume becomes too tight for pedestrians to walk while carrying goods, or comfortably bearing a backpack; Groups of two to three pedestrians are unable to walk together with ease; Solid waste accumulates on the sidewalks; and Disabled citizens are unable to safely navigate the sidewalks, crosswalks, and access to vehicles.

Under the current Mayor Magalong’s administration, Session Road, the main arterial street has been converted to a pedestrian mall every Sunday from 6:00 a.m. to 7 p.m. (Ordinance No. 65, Series of 2019). Anecdotally, users have responded positively to this strategy. Gathering spaces for artists, children, musicians, and social groups are carved out to bring life to an otherwise congested and polluted street. However, to attain impactful long-term results, this one move should be viewed in a more contextual

Reflections on urban environments 119 framework. Like many other urban experiences, pedestrianizing one street leads to congestion in other streets. An integrated effort to develop a plan that mitigates traffic in a downtown core is needed for sustainable outcomes. Closing Session Road once a week addresses a modest part of the problem.

II Thoughts on future of informality Since the late 1990s, the Baguio City government has been ambivalent about the presence of sidewalk and park vendors in the downtown area. The Mayor and the City Council passed resolutions to regulate them but the public officers charged with implementation and enforcement face challenges. The issue of regulation is complex. Regulatory strategies range from tolerance of vendors to seasonal code enforcement, to aggressive legal action and jail time. Several factors contribute to a shifting world of negotiation and arbitration among various urban actors (e.g. public officials, law enforcement, vendors, formal businesses, and the general public). First, many Filipino officers of the Public Order and Safety Division (POSD) understand that vendors struggle to maintain a livelihood. Throughout the years, I have spoken to POSD officers and they admitted that during periods of economic downturns, they intentionally relax their enforcement behavior. However, when the presence of vendors balloons, the city government and general public demand that strict regulations be imposed. Officers then take serious actions, such as commanding the vendors to leave their spaces, fining them, or confiscating, and sometimes destroying, their goods. As mentioned in the last chapter, vendors revealed to me that some officers take the opportunity to earn an extra buck by accepting bribes. Public officials sometimes waver in the formal execution of the role and duties of law enforcement officers. For example, during election years, it is common for politicians to advise the officers to relax code enforcement, particularly in settings where there is an abundance of vendors who are potential voters for them. Campaign platforms often include promises to actively listen to the vendors and their interests. In addition to election periods, officials are not as strict during the December holiday season. In November 2019, I interviewed Mrs. Philian Weygan, an elected city councilor, who characterized the city government as compassionate and eager to understand the vendors’ economic struggles, but she also noted that as a city official she takes her accountability to the general public seriously. Negotiation takes place depending on the political context. The current mayor of Baguio, Benjamin Magalong, a retired police general, has transformed the governance culture to one that is more democratic. Together with his councilors, Mayor Magalong has conducted several listening sessions with vendors. Recognizing that the government has a mandate to regulate vending activity in major downtown streets, the Mayor paid attention to the vendors’ concerns and was able to explain his public position to them.

120 Reflections on urban environments The question still begs to be asked: How should cities in the Global South address informality? Before these questions are answered, I have to note that over the 20 years since the formal multi-year study, the nature of vending in Baguio’s downtown streets has transformed into a phenomenon beyond the marginal micro-business scale. Many women vendors have changed their way of sourcing their goods. Rather than purchasing their products from the Baguio market or from direct sources outside the city, these women participate in a larger system composed of predominantly male entrepreneurs with access to capital who serve as the suppliers for their products. This scenario was describe in Chapter 4 (Middle Session Road place-node) where a man unloaded boxes of imported apples from a truck and handed them over to several woman vendors to sell. Transactions of this sort have become commonplace. The Philippines has experienced massive economic restructuring during the past several decades. What was once a strong agricultural economy has shifted to a service one. Many of food products sold in the Philippines now are imported from Australia and other Asian countries. For example, women vendors who sell grapes become part of a larger supply chain that import the fruit from the United States and China. This systems consists of the growers who are typically upper-middle class to wealthy families on the U.S. West coast and Chinese corporations and transnational distributors who possess the resources to transport the fruit in chilled ship containers to the Philippines. The supply chain continues with local Filipino distributors and marketers like the man in the truck, and eventually reaches the woman vendors who earn a meager portion of the profits. These transnational linkages started showing during the field work from 1999 to 2006. A few vendors in Lower Session Road sold goods that were not sourced from the region but were considered “pirated” and “counterfeit” goods from Zamboanga (Southern Philippines) where they were smuggled from abroad. Fake designer watches and handbags, and imported cigarettes are examples of goods. The ukay-ukay trade for second hand clothing is another example of women vendors’ participation in a transnational economic system. What is the future of informal street vending in the Global South? Lefebvre, a Western influential social thinker, theorizes space as a spatial attribute, ideal representation of the city, and a focus of meanings and symbols reappropriated by users and the government. He espouses the view that informal spaces are examples of the class struggle between the dominate classes and the masses. Of course, this is a Eurocentric thought that revolves around binary or triad points of view. To think about the future of street vending and urban spaces, I suggest a more fluid and complex perspective that is rooted in the multi-faceted nature of Baguio City’s existence, its socio-economic and cultural dynamics taking place. Baguio’s growth as a regional center continues to strain

Reflections on urban environments 121 its land resources and infrastructure. The encroachment of large national business conglomerates, like the SM Corporation, and non-regional landowners who insist on investing in hotels, conflicts with the city’s natural equilibrium. For as long as this perpetual disruption lingers, informal vending practices will continue to exist. Informality and its benefits to the masses should not be regarded as an urban bane. Provided the carrying capacity of space does not exceed a threshold, the blending of formal and informal activities enhances the downtown streets. To completely eradicate street vendors is not a sustainable solution. Cultural diversity and social relations among indigenous Cordillerans, lowlanders, and Muslims in shared urban spaces demonstrate meaningful progress for Baguio City. Furthermore, the symbiotic nature of Baguio’s business ecosystem cannot be explained in simplistic binary terms. Common among local economic systems in the Global South is a compelling relationship between informal vendors and formal businesses that give rise to a form of protectionist arrangement. Interviews with vendors revealed that they enjoy friendly relations with the businesses who permit them to sell in front of their stores. In several instances, the store owners/managers willingly stocked their goods overnight. In other situations, the sales girls in the stores volunteered to watch the vendor’s business during times when she needed to leave her spot, whether to take a restroom break, run an errand, or even stay home because of an illness.

III Thoughts on an inclusive local economy for Baguio The exponential population growth that Baguio City has experienced in the last 40 years has put severe strain on the area’s land resources and service infrastructure. I published a paper on “Urban Streets Struggling to Survive: An Urban Design Solution” with a strong message that Baguio has reached its carrying capacity as an urban center. The unabated migration trend of people from other areas, or the decision of thousands of college students to stay after completing their education, propels the city beyond its environmental threshold. A misperceived notion that Baguio is a thriving regional center with promising jobs is misaligned with reality, especially for women. In a September 30, 2019 report by the Philippine Statistical Authority, the Cordillera Administrative Region, of which Baguio is its center, shows that the labor participation rate for individuals older than 15 years of age was 61.1 percent, or approximately 792,000 people (Philippine Statistical Authority, 2019). In the labor force, men are disproportionately represented (59.9 percent) compared to women (40.2 percent). The distribution of employment among sectors shows 46.7 percent in Services, 38.6 percent in Agriculture, and 14.6 percent in Industry. Although Filipino women often find work in the service sector, Baguio as a regional center seems to employ more men in this sector.

122 Reflections on urban environments How does the city build an inclusive economy that increases women’s meaningful participation in the labor force? Women are crucial in achieving long-term sustainable economies. The traditional planning frameworks that local governments use do not address nor support growing poverty, inequality, and disenfranchisement. There is an urgent need to transform Baguio’s governmental bureaucracy to try innovative ways of balancing the conflicting demands of various sectors in order to lift people up from poverty. Progressive and enlightened political leaders who believe and support shared rationale power will deliver gains that are more inclusive and empowering. Rather than playing the role of insensitive adversary, the Baguio government can develop new approaches that facilitate trust and cooperation. Granting that strides have been made to support the organization of vendors, the government may learn from best practices in the Global South which are effective in acknowledging the urban poor’s rights to the city and truly upholding the ideals of a ‘people’s economy’. An inclusive economy bolsters the prospects and opportunities of people who want to work but encounter many limitations. Although evidence shows that educational attainment is a socio-economic mobility tool, one should note that women with college degrees are overlooked when finding jobs. In the Philippines, the trend has pushed women to seek employment overseas, but these transnational economic situations lead to familial and social disruptions, and short-term sustenance for their families. Education, therefore, is not the only factor that increases women’s visibility in the work force. There are fundamental factors in achieving true empowerment and transformation of their lives and that of their families. A Brookings report of various African entrepreneurial initiatives reveal shortcomings about how programs are shaped. In the nongovernmental agency world, creators of projects that focus on women economic empowerment usually address essential components such as access to capital, business training, and development of social and economic networks. However, evidence has shown that these components positively impact men more significantly than women. The missing piece relates to psychological and cultural constraints that hold women back. Women, especially poor women in the Global South, tend to have a limited mindset of their ability to be independent, feel secure, and act courageously enough to take risks. This psychological barrier impedes business growth and restrict them from achieving future possibilities of who they can be. To play a more significant role in Baguio’s economy, women street vendors can be trained and made aware of internalized deterrents. Although the Department of Labor has instituted skills development programs for the vendors, they have not thought of a holistic approach that embodies a change to women’s mindsets and psychological formation. I believe that if women chip away at cultural and psychological deterrents that keep them subordinate, they will have the confidence and determination to aspire for economic mobility and authentic transformation.

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IV Thoughts on local governance Those familiar with the street vending world remember an incident of hopelessness that rocked our world. This stark story was that of Gopal Krishnan Kashyap, a union leader of vendors in Punjab, India, who set himself on fire after delivering a moving speech about the plight of street vendors—their desperation over how the government regarded them as enemies of the state. Similar incidents among anguished vendors have been reported in other countries. What can the future hold for better local governance? Scholars conduct research and hold conferences on urban poverty and street economies in the Global South from their privileged positions. Intellectual conversations point to larger transnational interrelated systems that continue to oppress the struggling masses. Their outcomes rarely trickle down to the localities and the people living there, which supports my contention that extractive research cannot be entirely useful unless the results are applied. Local urban professionals and public officials, on the other hand, simply maintain an autocratic style of governance perpetuated over the years. A shift to more humane and democratic ways of leading is needed to progress. The strong participation of women in political positions and policymaking is needed to take on challenging urban issues using a different lens and governing style. I have observed that women leaders are able to dismantle large traditional bureaucracies through smaller scale solutions that have long-term consequences. But I am cautious to generalize such assertion because capable women who are bold and courageous enough to dismantle ineffective traditional practices are still hesitant to lead. In Baguio City alone, we have never elected a woman mayor. However, my interviews and informal conversations with women councilors give me confidence that they can lead the city and be able to reach long-term solutions to informal vending in downtown Baguio. They have shown empathy and are more adept with genuine negotiation and sensitive communication skills. They usually put forward an agenda that focus on people who are marginalized and left behind. Yet, I am more cautious about portraying our women leaders as the typical Maria Clara, a delicate and beautiful creature who is allowed to be seen and not heard. Nor do I want to stereotype our women leaders as possessing only people skills in their repertoire of abilities. They have decisive qualities; they know how to manage financially sound budgets; they are highly educated; they understand the importance of listening to voices of the unheard. Filipina leaders are true warriors, leading with cultivated interior lives Their indigenous babaylan flame continues to glow within, in spite of the Spanish colonizers’ resolute to extinguish this character. I envision Baguio with increased participation of women leaders at all levels of governance to implement new and innovative actions that kindles the hope for a new social order.

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V Thoughts on the “warehousing” vending activities Many governments in the Global South have implemented initiatives to move vending activities from the streets to indoor market facilities. The manifestation of the state’s power over public spaces as a result of economic liberalization and restructuring is found in how spaces are demarcated. In many cases, the local political entity clears the street by confiscating vendors’ goods, or even imprisoning them. These vendors are presented with an alternative to transfer their vending businesses to existing indoor markets or newly constructed facilities built for the purpose of regulating informality. The rise of modernized market facilities is a trend to stimulate local economic development. But these markets are rarely free-of-charge. Transferring indoors compromises the informal vendors’ ability to sustain their livelihoods because of associated fees. There are advantages to relocating inside, however, such as avoiding the constant persecution from enforcement officers and shelter protection from climactic elements. But in situations where they are relocated to existing markets, conflicts play out with current fee-paying vendors who regard them as competitors. This practice often lead to street vendors eventually abandoning their stalls to return to the streets, rebounding to a volatile cat and mouse game with the government all over again. Another version of “warehousing” are outdoor public markets that are open to street vendors. Public markets bring great value to communities. These places are community builders where vendors spark habitual and meaningful interactions with regular customers which often lead to lifelong relationships. However, when given the chance to relocate in a highly regulated and fee-paying arrangement, street vendors hesitate to opt in. The idea for the Baguio Night Market was the local government’s structural transformation of street vending activities in the downtown area. Open from 9:00 p.m. to past midnight, the concept arose from the popular night market phenomenon among great Asian cities. The hope was that informal vendors would take the opportunity to set up in makeshift tents and take advantage of a concentrated high volume of customers. More importantly, the City counted on its identity as a tourist destination that embodied the local culture, special foods, discounted clothing and apparel (both secondhand ukay-ukay and fake designer merchandize), everything strawberry, souvenirs and handicrafts, and many more to make the initiative successful. However, the strategy failed to sustain the livelihoods for the former street vendors because of the unaffordable rents, strict regulations, and preference for food or products that required start-up capital beyond their means. I believe that cities will be challenged to eradicate informal street vending. Rather than exerting effort to clear these activities, urban officials and managers should allow their natural occurrence until a threshold capacity is reached. A standard calculation, as mentioned earlier, does not address the nuances of each street character and capacity. A flexible framework

Reflections on urban environments 125 to determine their carrying capacities is suggested because transportation patterns and economic behaviors change, not drastically but incrementally. Unfortunately, planning strategies have not evolved over time. Cities constantly repeat the same mistakes without adjusting their approaches and strategies.

VI Thoughts on street public life The heterogeneous character of public life brings vibrancy into urban places. Looking back at the research years, I have learned to appreciate the various social settings within the five nodes. These subcultures are context specific with each having its own set of social rules and expectations. For example, the cigarette vendors along Upper Session Road attract the predominant gathering of men within feet from the wooden green stands. Instead of purchasing a whole pack, it is a customary practice for the men to buy a tingi, one cigarette stick at a time, and while smoking they catch up with the news of the day. In a local study, smoking behaviors of Filipino men are influenced by peers (Rodriguez, 2016). Smoking is often used as a social tool. I observed that an informal rule is kept—unless one is a smoker, he does not randomly join the group chat. Strangers are welcome provided they buy cigarettes from the vendor. One does not bring his own smokes. There is an unspoken agreement between the men and the woman vendor. Furthermore, to take the nicotine taste in their mouths, the vendor hands a menthol candy to each of them. During pay day, the regular customers pay her an amount that covers the cost of the candy. Another differentiated subculture among the vendors are the arbolaryos (indigenous herbalists) along Harrison Road. Their specialty microbusiness is well articulated through word of mouth around the city. Baguio residents know exactly where to find them when ailments befall them. Lined up at the edge of the sidewalk with an overhang, about four or five of them set their flat baskets displaying an assortment of herbs, roots, oils, candles, copper bracelets, and spiritual talisman. Some of these items are stored in plastic bags labeled by the type of ailment they heal. Public life in their narrow setting reflects the sacredness of indigenous healing spaces. I observed a calming air that silenced pedestrians while they pass these vendors. Unlike other vendors who can shift their business activities without preparation or required skills, the arbolaryos are called to serve by acquiring their training from an older family member or close relative. Their knowledge and healing abilities are spiritual gifts and they don’t take their calling lightly. Because health is not a private matter, the setting is open for the public to view. I observed patrons receiving quick treatments. For example, a young woman stretched her arm for the arbolaryo to pat herbs into a patch of burned skin while they chatted about how to cook with an earthen pot. A scared child of about 5–7 years old stood still while an arbolaryo peered into his eyes. The mother watched with curiosity. Nearby, another

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herbalaryo assisted a heavy-set man to choose an herbal powder for his diabetes. She was adept at explaining the features of every packet, giving health advice about how to lower his blood sugar level. Baguio’s charm as an upland urban center is shaped by these various vendor settings. If the city eliminates all vendors from the downtown area, it will lose these street subcultures that contribute to its richness. The power of place is found in distinctive spaces that hold unique actors and their behavioral performance on the public stage.

VII Thoughts on informal vendors and street knowledge Who knows the urban environment better than a vendor who spends at least 10 hours a day immersed in the unfolding of street life—the blended drama of people, human behavior, temporal activities, and nuances of place. Passersby go about their business but informal vendors unknowingly take on the role of surveillance patrol and casual caretakers of the street. The experiential knowledge they gain by focusing their eyes on the street transforms the public space into a generally safe and secure one. They steadily observe patterns and are able to spot errant behavior. They have an acute understanding of the urban environment and situational contexts. I remember a story that one of the women shared with me. It was 2003 and she sold socks, baseball caps, packaged underwear, and other items on Magsaysay Avenue. There were at least four other vendors in her row. She mentioned that in a span of about two weeks, they noticed their merchandise slowly diminished with no additional sales money coming in. Something was wrong so they became vigilant about taking note of customer patterns. Sure enough, one evening they detected a young man, dressed in fashionable clothing, who stopped a few feet from their location when the narrow sidewalk was crowded with people. He stood by a nearby post to smoke and waited until the vendors were attending to customers. With one brisk swoop, he grabbed the merchandise that he could reach and swiftly drifted off with the rush hour crowd. This group of women vendors then shared the story with other vendors in the next block. Word spread to be on alert for this young man. The day came when he reappeared. The group of women surrounded him and held him hostage with scoldings and threats. He never came back after that incident. Another facet to women vendors’ street knowledge is their business savviness. They may not have been schooled in business but their years of self-organized vending has taught them how to survive. A woman explained the importance of being sensitive to customer trends and having the ability to shift immediately to the new growing market. This woman who positioned her microbusiness near the St. Louis Elementary School gate, for example, sold candy and snacks for many years until she noticed that young boys gathered around to examine each other’s Pokemon cards.

Reflections on urban environments 127 She asked them where they bought those cards, and she promptly sourced out her new product. Fortunately, she was astute enough to build a savings pool for situations like this. A few days later her makeshift vending stall became a hot spot for Pokemon cards. The boys were ecstatic they could find these prized possessions right outside their school. As any adviser would espouse, the most essential element in business success is Location. Our first survey of women vendors in 1999 examined the factors that led to their location choice. The results revealed that the women moved deliberately around various sites depending on the time of the year, the products sold, and changes in pedestrian traffic or jeepney stops. During the monsoon season, they find spaces under building overhangs. At Christmas time, some vendors change their products to seasonal ones like gift wrappers, Hello Kitty paraphernalia, blankets and pillow covers, and other gift items. When pedestrian patterns are altered because of building construction, the vendors follow the potential customer flow. Although not formally schooled in business education, these women rely on their entrepreneurial intuition to guide their survival.

VIII Thoughts on building edges In a Western context, building edges in downtown areas are often devoid of life. They are flat and blank on the exterior while complete attention is given to the interior spaces. In the Global South, many urban municipalities have adopted similar design aesthetics. However, a growing field of progressive professionals miss the presence of characters that enliven the streets and are pushing to encourage the return of free and unstructured social life to these spaces. Informal vendors play a role in softening building edges. Session Road was historically designed as an arterial link between the Baden Powell Building, location of the first meeting for the Philippine Commission’s first summer session, to the flat portion of the downtown basin. The development of a commercial corridor on the western portion of Session Road by Japanese and Chinese, and eventually Indian businesses, has shaped the land uses and designs of buildings. In the early era of Baguio’s growth as a regional center, the building facades in Session Road were simple and framed by the American colonial architecture aesthetics. Initially purposed as a promenade for the Americans and elite Filipinos, leisurely walks took place as the expected behavior of pedestrians. I remember that as a high school student in the early 1970s, my friends and I walked up and down Session Road as the thing to pass the time away. However, in the 1980s, vendors claimed their spaces, lining the building edges. The burgeoning street life gave color to our leisurely walks. We paused in front of their venues, curious to find out what they were selling. The food and fruit vendors added to our menu of snacks. Walking and eating is an authentic Filipino pastime.

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To invigorate building edges, public life is essential. Vendors warm the buildings and humanize the otherwise stark architecture of these structures. The vendors allow pedestrian to pause, often promoting them to enter the commercial spaces. It is important, therefore, to celebrate the value of street vendors as integral to a friendly zone that softens the building edges.

IX Thoughts on the downtown pocket parks Pocket parks function as refuge for respite from the busyness of the surrounding urban areas. There are three pocket parks located in the Abanao/ Harrison and Lower Session Road Nodes that deserve attention as urban assets. The Igorot Park, Plaza Garden, and Malcolm Square rest on urban blocks that were laid out in Daniel Burnham’s grid pattern plan for Baguio. Although the plan did not detail the use of these blocks for miniparks, the series of small-scale open spaces nested in the downtown fabric offers a break from the confluence of heavy congested traffic, noise, and pollution from the major streets (i.e. Session Road, Harrison/Abanao, Magsaysay). These under-used parks can be invigorated to build a sense of community, civic identity and culture. One of the most needed improvements is to soften the parks with low maintenance vegetation. Currently, the predominant hardscape of concrete and stone destabilizes the ecological function of parks as “breathing spaces” in highly dense urban environments. From a socio-economic perspective, these parks present an opportunity to rise as destination places. Malcolm Square, for example, is used for special events throughout the year. The other two smaller spaces may be programmed for cultural and art activities that bring people together and open opportunities for informal vending.

X Thoughts on culture commodification and objectification When the American Insular Government designated Baguio City as a hill station and mountain resort city, they selected sites to stake out their need to amplify the supremacy of the government sector. But they also ensured that places for commerce, healing and restoration, and leisure and recreation were established to complement the primary motive. The topography and environmental conditions were used to designate areas that showcased the American expression of civilization and progress. Throughout the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, Baguio City emerged as one of the top destinations in the Philippines for both domestic and international tourists, and continues to remain so. In 2016, the government website reported that the City experienced a 17.52 percent increase of tourists. As one of Baguio’s economic drivers, tourism is a main source of public revenue and many sectors, including the informal sector, feed into this economic stream. As Baguio lies in the mountainous Cordillera region which holds rich indigenous cultures, tourism has promoted an interest in their traditional art, customs, material artifacts, rituals, and other cultural

Reflections on urban environments 129 aspects. Tourist purchases is one of the consequences of the commodification of the Cordillera cultures. Visitors are often compelled to possess a mark of Baguio by buying cultural objects. Although street vendors often cater to the everyday needs of pedestrians (e.g. food, newspaper and cigarettes, personal accessories) a few participate directly in the cultural economy. For example, we found indigenous women who sold colorful pouches and vests woven from various Cordillera cloth, Benguet coffee grounds, and assorted woodcraft like the barrelman and praying hands displayed alongside each other. Many of these vendors were located in the periphery of Burnham Park, a popular tourist destination. The Muslim vendors, on the other hand, were found in the Malcolm Square and Magsaysay urban node. They sold products from Southern Philippines like batik cloth and gold bangles and necklaces. From a larger urban spatial perspective, downtown Baguio blends Cordilleran, American, and emerging global cultures that embodies the city’s own unique “brand.” Nevertheless, the Cordilleran cultures are predominantly used as the inspiration for modernizing and objectifying indigenous forms. This phenomenon is exemplified most prominently in the design of roof structures. The symbolic importance of such a built form can be found in the Maharlika structure at the bottom of Session Road, as well as the strand of urban parks that string together the Igorot Garden, Plaza Garden, and Malcolm Square. One of the most common design features is the insertion of the Ifugao house shape on the roofs of open stages, gate entry posts, and fence poles. The Malcom Square stage even displays the traditional rat guards, cylindrical discs attached to the upper section of the columns that hold the house frame. Other displays of indigenous cultural objects are the trash bins shaped like native baskets in the Igorot Garden. A shed in the Plaza park also displays the Ifugao house form. Furthermore, cultural objectification is expressed in the median that runs in the center of Session Road to divide the uphill and downhill flow of traffic. Made of stone and concrete, the median is shaped like a repetitive Igorot ornamental form that can be found in their ethnic cloth patterns, warrior shields, and tattoos. Does objectification and commodification degrade the Cordilleran cultures or celebrate them in a way that highlights their heritage? I believe that the appropriation of cultural elements offers value to Baguio’s identity. Symbols in the urban environment is a result of an awareness for the need to focalize indigenous cultures over the Western global aesthetic. As a consequence of colonial mentality, Filipinos generally regard the American sense of style as the reference point that guides the design of spaces, architecture, and objects. For centuries Spain and the United States subjugated indigenous culture as primitive and uncivilized. It is time to dismantle such a mindset. Therefore, each and every attempt of cultural expression in the urban landscape should be commended. Inasmuch as Baguio is located in the Cordillera region, it has the agency to reflect the region’s ethnographic character and essence.

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XI Thoughts on the transdisciplinary process The last point in this retrospective chapter describes how the process unfolded as a transdisciplinary project. Unlike many transdisciplinary endeavors, our process was organic and unplanned when the field work started in 1999. Initially, the purpose of the first survey was to identify factors that determined the vendors’ choice of locations and the nature of their microbusinesses. At that time, we also conducted physical measurements of their spaces, documented the land uses around them, and calculated pedestrian and vehicular traffic counts. The study then took on divergent perspectives (e.g. health, air quality, life worlds) that gave a more realistic context. The transdisciplinary process defied a rigid protocol and linear trajectory for all the research phases. It was fluid, adaptive, and fragmented at best, but the phases were built on cumulative knowledge from the previous findings. For example, after conducting the health survey, the team of nurses and health researchers suggested that an air quality study was necessary. After the air quality monitoring took place, the team on the ground then suggested a medical screening of the vendors. Throughout the experience, the various teams gained novel and important insights about the women vendors. For example, in 2003 when the team of health researchers from the United States collaborated with the local team of social scientists, the American nurses observed that some of the women’s extremities (hands and feet) were abnormally swollen. Their extensive nursing practice gave us possible explanations to this observation, including edema, venous problems, infection, or kidney disease. This then led us to conceptualize the next phase of the project, which was the development of case studies to delve deeper into their health conditions. A new team was organized, composed of a local medical doctor and nurse, an American medical student and a health researcher to conduct biometric exams with 10 vendors (8 females and 2 males). One of the byproducts of transdisciplinarity is the emergence of integrative knowledge, practice, or plan of action. The experience shed light on an important topic that has not been discussed largely in the literature by authentic researchers in the Global South, and that is, women vendors and their bodies. Looking back at our research results, my notes, and photo-documentation, I realized that a multi-year study of the vendors and their health overlooked the notion of the gendered body, not as an object but as an agency for economic empowerment, family sustenance, and urban placemaking. A review of the literature took me to feminist frameworks based on Western perspectives but I could not settle with transposing their milieu onto the women in Baguio City.

XII Thoughts on human resilience Women street vendors are resilient. The women in our study continued to return to the downtown Baguio streets despite police harassments,

Reflections on urban environments 131 confiscation of their goods, or imposition of fines. The struggle to help their families survive economically has kept them on these streets. In spite of growth, jobs were not readily available in the city. Their responsibility to earn a living and care for children and grandchildren while managing the household continues to be the driver of their resilience. The insights provided by the Western roots of resilience has been the springboard for shaping a transdisciplinary model that integrates human health and the built environment. However, it is essential that a decolonizing mind critically interrogates such discourse. For example, in developmental psychology and psychiatry, with its Euro-American framework, resilience research was associated with individual traits. It was only later that research was framed around a collective and communal dimension. I examined the narratives of individuals and communities who have had to navigate colonization. The Native American experience, for example, although constituting a slice of the colonized world, offers an appropriate perspective on resilience. They confronted and bore adversity, but by reclaiming their cultural traditions and uplifting indigenous knowledge, they emerged resilient. It is through narratives like stories and metaphors where one’s purpose in the context of a larger whole guides them to encounter cathartic relief and endurance. Their spirituality and hopeful perspective on life is a force that is captured linguistically by the term resilience. A decolonized perspective acknowledges that Filipino resilience rests in the powerful influence of local culture, social relations, and community and in many ways subsumes the individual. A Filpino psychologist, Dr. Virgilio Enriquez developed a decolonized concept of self that centers around the kapwa concept, or the shared identity and shared Self. Kapwa explains, in simple terms, how the vendors view their survival situation as integral to a community of other vendors. Filipinos are taught at a young age about the value of lakas at tibay ng loob (courage and strength to endure) regardless of their circumstances. This human quality constitutes our Filipino resilience. In the case of the women vendors, belief in a higher power and their reliance on social relations with family and friends were the foremost factors that strengthened their survivalist mindset. Religion, particularly Catholicism, is a culturally prominent feature in the Philippines. The World Values Survey reports that 98 percent of Filipino adults considered religion as “very” or “rather” important, ranking them as one of the most spiritual countries in the world (World Values Survey Association, 2015). Other studies support the notion that praying and believing in a loving God who takes care of them during difficult times is the bedrock that helps them cope with life’s challenges (Clemente et al., 2008; Jocson and Garcia, 2017; Tuason, 2011). The family as a basic institution undergirds the foundation for every action and worldview of a Filipino. Mutual loyalty and reciprocity of support are critical in shaping one’s propensity for resilience. It is indeed interesting that in spite of the spatial-environmental challenges the vendors face they are seemingly healthy and have not reported  major

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underlying chronic illnesses. They managed to survive and adapt to their circumstances. However, retrospectively, I am unsettled with this generalization. The question that I continually ask myself is, “Are they truly adapting? Are their health conditions compromised by the vending spaces in which they work? Or are their bodies truly resilient to environmental hazards?” A possible explanation to the apparent low level of reported health problems is that these women vendors do not consider feeling unwell as problematic. They simply stay home to rest, take self-prescribed medicine or native treatments, or ignore their ailment hoping it would pass. Access to health services is available because Baguio City is a medical hub but they hardly use these resources. They go to the hospital only when their situations are grave and require immediate medical attention. Another thought that arose from my field notes and readings of women in the Global South is the reality that women in low-income households carry a disproportionate burden of survival for the family. Faced with responsibilities for caring for their children, managing the household, and augmenting the family income, if they have spouses who work, they often sacrifice their own health and nutrition for the family. In other words, they cannot afford to get sick so they put their health and wellness on hold. The literature has shown throughout the years that poverty has to be addressed in a cultural context. Many studies reflect our own women vendors’ view that poor Filipino parents do not aspire to come out of poverty, nor do they exhibit hopelessness or despair. They believe it is their lot in life and are resigned to staying poor (Guerrero, 1973). However, they sacrifice for their children to receive a college education, with high hopes these credentials increase their chances for upward socio-economic mobility. This is an important aspect of Filipino resiliency that continues to be a pervasive belief today.

XIII Thoughts on embodiment and women’s agency Embodied agency is a socio-culturally mediated act that pushes women who are at the edge of survival to use their bodies for domestic survival purposes. They work long hours in challenging environments to feed and sustain their families. Such agency is found in the concept of identity. The identities of the women vendors are shaped by their role as economic contributors. In many cases, they are solely responsible for ensuring their families have food and shelter. Our interviews showed that the women chose the vending trade because of its easy access, limited skill requirement, and very modest capital to start. In a way, the agency to engage in vending gives them a sense of power and worth but does not negate their perpetual sacrifice of waking up at 4:00 a.m. to cook the day’s meals for the family and returning home late at night to care for their children’s needs and do a few household chores. Their bodies are worked to the bone. It is critical to emphasize that despite the sacrifices they make, women vendors are often invisible in policy making and urban governance.

Reflections on urban environments 133 As mentioned earlier, Filipino identity is much less an individual construct than a socio-cultural one. The kapwa-tao attribute that is engrained in every Filipino signifies the self as part of the collective. Women vendors do not work alone. They have informal networks that assist them in finding locations and they support each other in their vending practices. They group together according to cultural heritage, familial ties, and long-term friendships. For example, in several of our interviews, the women described themselves and vending activities in reference to their ethnic group. “Doon, sa mga Muslim na nagtitinda ng mga cell phone covers” (There in that place, where the Muslims sell cell phone covers.) The embodied agencies these women employ are marked by their clothing and body markers (e.g. Muslims wear their hijabs and older Bontoc women have full tattoos on their arms.) A reflection on women’s bodies is important in examining their health conditions. Low-income women often disregard self-care because of their need to prioritize their family’s survival,. They ignore symptoms of pain or illness and continue their daily routines until they are forced to rest. The women vendors commented that a day of rest is all it takes for their health to get back on track. Financial insecurity and family responsibilities drive them to delay seeking diagnosis and treatment. They usually seek health advise from family and friends who divert them to employ cultural practices rather than medicines. For example, for colds and influenza they suggest using Vick’s Vaporub on the chest and back; for dizziness, the scent of crumpled guava leaves; for stomach aches, drinking water with vinegar. The vendors’ bodies endure the symptoms for as long as possible. But if the women have to receive treatment in the hospital, the same relatives and friends are the first to offer support and caregiving duties. Women vendors are inconspicuous and often regarded as invisible bodies that occupy spaces along busy sidewalks. People walk by them without giving thought of who they are and what they stand for. But the women’s agency is their lived knowledge of the streets, the characters and behaviors of regular folks. They exemplify Jane Jacob’s “eyes on the street.” Their invisibility affords them the power of unfettered observation of people and their habits. For example, some of our interviewees disclosed that they often know who will come around on a Wednesday to have a long drinking spree with his friends. During pay day, they can identify specific women who will grocery shop and pick up food from the vendors to take home for a dinner treat. Or older sugar daddies and their young college mistresses who go on dates to have merienda (snack) when tuition fees are due. These recognizable behaviors add to vendors’ power of knowing because of their embodied invisibility. To close this Retrospective Chapter I must share how my conceptualization of healthy cities has evolved since the multi-year study of street vendors started in 1999. The World Health Organization’s interest in broadening the definition of global health and urban environments, began my inquiry into the intersection of planning, design, and health. The WHO’s definition

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of a Healthy City at that time was “one that is continually developing those public policies and creating those physical and social environments which enable its people to mutually support each other in carrying out all functions of life and achieving their full potential.” The premise for this definition was that for cities to be healthy they need effective and broad political commitment, inclusive intersectoral planning, and monitoring and evaluation. Although well-intended, the WHO initiative faced criticisms. Akin to the roots of most of these so-called “world” organizations, the mindset that defined and promoted the Healthy Cities project originated from industrialized countries in the Global North. The assumptions, methodologies, and evaluation metrics were biased toward cities in North America and Europe while diminishing their applicability to fast urbanizing areas in Asia, Africa, and the Americas (Awofeso, 2003). The views that prevailed in the movement hovered on abstract rhetoric made to advance the integration of health, environment, and economy. But these ideas and soft actions did not trickle down to the needs and priorities of local communities. Recognizing the limitations of WHO’s Healthy Cities initiative, and many other worldwide movements that ensued, I pivoted my support. Through readings, conversing with stakeholders and intellectuals, lecturing in the City Hall and local colleges, and reflecting on Baguio’s conditions and future potential, I eventually reached a moment of truth. To move the needle forward, context-specific interventions are necessary. These local actions, however, should be redefined with innovative ways of seeing the urban condition. Hopefully, this book is a first step treading toward that direction. Moving beyond the Retrospective, I would like to present an emerging concept in my mind about the framing of Baguio as a healthy city. Without defining it, since the idea needs to incubate, I would rather illustrate the concept through images about the future of Baguio and other cities in the Global South. A paradigm shift is warranted. How do we operationalize and apply the nexus of health, environment, and economy? How do we surpass the noise that labels bring to bear on cities that are attempting to improve? Interestingly, there are so many labels that cities grab for branding. Sustainable cities, liveable cities, resilient cities, equitable and just cities— these are identifiers that eventually become meaningless for their lack of operationability. Urban visions abound in many cities but their translation into tangible impactful actions is where the challenge lies. We can reimagine Baguio’s healthy future by first identifying and keeping a running list of the urban challenges confronting the downtown area: vehicular congestion and pollution, uncontrolled building heights, extremely impervious surfaces, lack of green spaces, unmanaged solid waste, and many more. One should behold these problems as dynamic, complex, and emerging processes, not stagnant conditions. But we should not stop there. The heart of Baguio has many strengths and assets and we should tap into these opportunities for change and transformation. Healthy cities are urban areas that exemplify a state of balance among facets of air, water, nature, people, alternative fueled vehicles, sustainable

Reflections on urban environments 135 urban materiality, and secure livelihoods and housing,—factors that affect the daily functions of people and their life aspirations. Healthy cities involve the inclusive participation of diverse sectors, and ordinary people, as many innovative solutions emanate from unexpected sources. Healthy cities are marked by a local community’s own definition of equilibrium. This final section describes brief re-imagined scenarios that manifest health. It does not, however, intend to prescribe definitive solutions to build healthy cities. Rather, I would like you to visualize the imageries I submit to you. Downtown as a biophilic core: Baguio is known for its restorative qualities—cool air, pine trees, hills, year-long bloom of variety of flowers, and morning mist and fog. Infusing nature into the downtown pocket parks will serve as a refuge for people and wildlife. Instead of the predominant hardscape of stone and concrete, imagine well-maintained pine trees with landscaped protection for its sensitive roots. Birds build their habitat under the tree canopies. Recirculating small water features support their need for drinking and bathing but also produce calming sounds for park users. The Session Road median is cared for with trees and robust sunflowers. This serves as a noise buffer on Session Road, a high traffic volume street. Vertical greening strategies such as green walls and trellis-based facades are conspicuous in the Skyworld Building, CID, Hotel Veniz, Antipolo, Session Theater, Bueno, and other buildings. However, the green design does not conflict with the historical nature of these buildings. Lastly, roof gardens and landscaped gardens in vacant spaces add to the biophilic core. An exemplary example of this is in Singapore where an integrated ecological network was established to truly bring nature back to the city. Broad access to health services: Healthy cities ensure that health services, information, and affordable treatment reach the poorest and most vulnerable. Baguio’s identity as a regional medical center pertains to the presence of medical schools and hospitals. However, poor people usually avail of services when their health conditions are at their worst. Imagine a “street clinic” with a health practitioner who engages in medical outreach to informal vendors and other vulnerable people right where they are located. She makes her regular clinical rounds by using a makeshift pod to hold examinations inside. Her backpack contains the basic medical tools. He is prepared to write out prescriptions for medicines or further request for diagnostic tests to be conducted at any of the local hospitals. Mercury Drug and St. Joseph’s Pharmacy on Session Road are part of the integrated “street health system” and they dispense prepaid medicines donated by private companies and generous donors. In terms of health practitioners, the integrated “street health system” is tied to the various medical and nursing schools where students participate in the outreach as part of their educational experience. Microenterprise development and microfinance: My experience in initiating several microenterprise development programs in the United States among African American women gives me confidence that this is one of the many ways to empower women and give them the opportunity to sustain

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a livelihood. I am not naive to believe that microenterprise development is the solution to eradicating poverty. However, it alleviates economic insecurity to an extent. Business training and credit lending to informal vendors and other vulnerable groups would have an impact. Since 2005, The Year of Microcredit, the government, nonprofit and private sectors have been hesitant to implement a strong microenterprise/microfinance movement in Baguio. However, lessons learned from other communities can guide local leaders to build a culture of micro-economic development. The following are among some of the best practices I imagine for Baguio’s inclusive economy: • • •

• •

Participants in the microeconomy are financially literate; They belong to a network of providers that believe in addressing the total needs of women microentrepreneurs (i.e. family responsibilities, health, education, religion); They tap their social capital (social trust with other women vendors) to engage in joint lending schemes which have been proven to result in higher repayment and higher savings behavior, and thus reduced default probability. However, women choose which approach they would like to engage in: group lending scheme or individual loan borrowing; They are astute about potential new market niches and willing to scale up through dynamic loan plans where microlenders assure repeat and larger loans based on repayment history; They are committed to increasing savings over time and eventually making their own investment decisions.

An inclusive economy that supports microenterprise development/microfinance can be truly transformative. With an emphasis on women microentrepreneurs, these initiatives will directly impact household welfare. Other re-imagined futures: When there is urban transformation as a result of value-based and shared local governance, many creative scenarios can be conceived. To complement the intersections of health, environment, and economy, other re-imagined practices emerge. These may include an integrated network of clean transportation types, routes, transfer points, and trip origin locations that decentralizes movement in the downtown periphery. The building of digital infrastructure to manage efficient urban processes is an investment moment for public-private partnerships. The carrying capacity of streets in downtown Baguio can be monitored using digital technology to detect traffic overloads. Action then can be enforced to mitigate the negative consequences. Lastly, healthy cities can employ a platform that shares live information about air quality, weather threats, health episodes, and even business opportunities that benefit the inclusive economy. Anything is possible, we just have to re-imagine.

Conclusion

In 2019, I walked the downtown Baguio streets once again. It was eerie and pleasurable at the same time. The walk from the top of Session Road to the streets in the urban basin was casual and not hurried. Maneuvering through crowded spaces occurred only near the market area, not along the downtown spine and grid. Compared to two decades ago, there was only a smattering of vendors selling their wares. The entire stretch of Session Road seemed “empty,” even though it was noontime. There were a few women vendors on a sidewalk section of Harrison Road, across from Burnham Park, who illegally laid their vegetables on plastic bags. But the corners that once held bustling vending activities were devoid of life. The sidewalks were simply pedestrian routes to their destinations. I couldn’t help but ask: Where have all the women vendors gone? The case of Downtown Baguio City in the Philippines illustrates the nature of urban street economies in the Global South, and many others in the Global North. These cities are confronted with the complexity of addressing informal livelihoods as a way to reduce poverty for the masses of people, with multiple layers of contested urban spaces, wavering local regulations, precarious health and safety issues, transportation, air quality, and many more. The beauty of a case study is that it can be generalizable to many urban situations. When a phenomenon has been observed repeatedly throughout many contexts then a larger claim can be posed. I can assert that the realities found in Downtown Baguio City traverse borders and can be generalized as common attributes of cities in the Global South. Of course, each and every city has distinct characteristics that differentiate it from others. My hope is that this book, with its reflections and authentic way of perceiving the environment can be applied to other urban contexts. The alternative theoretical and practical lens are brought to bear so other urban professionals and researchers can achieve a newer and better understanding of their respective settings. Its most significant contribution lies in the transdisciplinary approach to reading and discovering the nuances of place. The use of place-nodes as a framework to better understand a specific setting and the intersection of people and health was the product of several years

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of data collection and reflection. As I conceptualized this book, I reviewed the different types of data, including survey results, interviews, visual documentation, and medical reports and the power of a place-node emerged as a compelling unit of analysis. An urban planner/designer’s involvement in cities requires dealing with a broad range of disciplinary viewpoints and forms of knowledge. The skills that I have amassed throughout my life have given me a sort of mastery in leading diverse teams. It was the production of knowledge generated by the various teams in the multi-year study that gave meaning to each of the place-nodes. I hope other built environment professionals, health researchers, and social scientists would use my framework and build on it. To answer the question about where all the women vendors have gone, we need to look at the bigger picture. Downtown Baguio does not exist in a bubble but is part of larger urban systems beyond its boundaries. Local urbanism and the informal economies exist in many spatially defined barangays and their populations. A barangay is the smallest unit of governance in the Philippines. The duties and responsibilities assigned to a barangay’s elected leaders and community of about 2,500 residents include, among others, the development of barangay plans, preparation of budgets, mediation and conciliation for minor disputes, and implementation of municipal government plans and activities. I suggest extending a similar transdisciplinary research initiative that uses the place-node analytical approach among selected barangays in Baguio, as well as those in the city’s periphery. The informal economies in these barangays are thriving. Although many vendors operate their microbusinesses outdoors and in public spaces to remain visible to the customer base, others use their homes as the base. The outdoor vendors would be a logical extension of our research. At the end of writing a book, one always reflects on how the project unfolded and what lessons can be gleaned from the process. The initial purpose of the book was to describe, analyze, and structure the multi-year study of women vendors almost like a research paper: hypothesis, literature review, methodology and design, results analysis, and then conclusion. Fortunately, it was early on that I decided against such a structure. The book’s substance flowed from a deep commitment to give voice to the women vendors who gave of their time and narratives all these years. If I followed the initial purpose, I would have been hypocritical to judge the “foreign” researchers who extract knowledge from their research participants merely for academic gains without leaving significant impact on the conditions of Baguio’s urban users and their environments. Furthermore, the writing process presented an opportunity to decolonize the way of interpreting the multi-study’s results. Rather than engaging in a non-critical reading of the updated literature, I intentionally peeled off and uncovered the layers of Western thinking from the perspective of the colonized. After a thorough study of the traditionally cited literature, including critiques of these materials, I selected only the appropriate ones that

Conclusion 139 expressed views representing The Other. It was refreshing and liberating to immerse oneself in the process—an experience that was long overdue. Building on this book, the next work to accomplish is a practical playbook for implementation ideas. This collection would consist of new and innovative ideas, strategies, and solutions for local communities that arise from formal and informal input processes involving various stakeholders, e.g. vendor groups, small business owners, enforcement officers, association of vehicle operators, City officials, media, and pedestrians, among others. The purpose for these participatory activities is to chip at unresolved issues and generate ideas that inspire tangible and long-term actions. The outcomes would be determined resolutions supported by significant stakeholders. It is important, however, to keep in mind that the traditional way of planning will not deliver effective outcomes anymore. The outdated and long-established way of dealing with the vendors and their urban environments will only deepen conflict because these strategies fail to recognize the potential of the resilient and persistent informal economy.

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Index

Note: Italic page numbers refer to figures and page numbers followed by “n” denote endnotes. Abanao/Harrison Area: anchor businesses 92–93; dominant marker 87–89, 88; geometry of form and movement 90; green patches with cultural meanings 90–92; pedestrian mobility 89 Adler, J. A.: How to Read a Book 27 Akers, M. A. 96 Alabanza, J. 90 Alexander, C. 29 American health practitioners 2 Amin, A.: Cities: Reimagining the Urban 51 Appleyard, D. 30 Asian Development Bank 24n6 Asian streets and globalized places: artefacts, streets as, West Malaysia 20; as betweener 14, 24n2; Bonifacio Global City in Metropolitan Manila (BGC) 16–17; Business Process Outsourcing (BPO), rise of 17; Chinese Cholon 21; civil society mobilization 16; distinguishing features 20; Globalism vs. Localism 16; globalization 23; glocalism 22; Great Asian Streets Symposium 19; “great street” 18; grid-street system patterned 17; “Invisible Revolution” 20, 21; khlongs, Bangkok 20; lived experiences and deep insights 14; local practitioners and scholars 22–23; loose space 18; Messy Urbanism 15–16; microcities 19–20; pluralism and heterogeneity 14–15; policy and regulations 17–18; political complexity of public space

21; prohibition of street vendors, Baguio City 23; resistance to globalization 16; street functions 19; street redesign, Europe 18–19; streets and sidewalks 22; street system in Sampaloc, Manila 22; street vending 20, 21; “taking back” of public spaces 22; “womb streets” 19; worldling 23 Assumption Road 73 Ayala Land 24n5 AZKCO (Abanao, Zandueta, Kayang, Chugum, Otek) Association 110 Baguio City: Daniel Burnham’s plan for 41–45; Export Processing Zone 49; growth factors (see growth factors, Baguio City); informal economy 139; population growth from 1903 to 2007 49; slogan “designer as reader/ author” 14; urban street economies 137; vendors, transdisciplinary multiyear study of 3, 4–6 Baguio City National High School 46 Baguio Colleges Foundation 47 Baguio General Hospital School of Nursing 46 “Baguio-ness” 13–14 Baguio Patriotic School 47 Baguio Public Market 48 Baguio Stone Market building 78 Baguio Tech 47 Bandyopadhyay, R. 57 Benguet Consolidated Mining Company 48 Benguet Corporation Foundation 1

162 Index Benguet Road project see Kennon Road Bertolini, L. 30, 31 betweener 12–14, 24n2, 32, 60, 115 Bhadrolok city 24n3 BLIST (Baguio, La Trinidad, Itogon, Sablan, and Tuba) 50 Brent School 1 Burnham, D. 90; acquired territory 43; Benguet mountains 42–43; Kafagway 41, 50n3; native title 43; non-Christian tribes 42; parameters 44; plan for Baguio City 42–45; principles of City Beautiful movement 44; spatial patterns 43–45 Carmona, M. 30 Castells, M. 11, 31; The City and the Grassroots 51 Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s Behavioral Risk Surveillance Survey 66 Christian, J. J. 115 Cities: Reimagining the Urban (Amin and Thrift) 51 The City and the Grassroots (Castell) 51 Community Service Center Home of Conventions 67 Cordillera Freedom Monument 91 Cross, J. 26 David, E. J. R. 9; cognitive-behavioral therapy 9 Davis, D. C. 115 decolonization: de-Filipinizing 9–10; framework of self-discovery and revelation 12; principle 8; quantitative and qualitative data 9; retrospective narrative 9; street degree 9 Dematteis, G. 31 Department of Foreign Affairs (DFA) 53 Dewey, G. 35 Doherty, D. J. 36–37 Drummond, L. 58 embodied agency: access to health services 135; concept of identity 132–133; downtown as biophilic core 135; healthy city 133–135; kapwatao attribute 133; microenterprise development and microfinance 135–136; re-imagined futures 136

Emergence: The Connected Lives of Ants, Brains, Cities, and Software (Johnson) 20–21 Export Processing Zone Authority (EPZA) 49 Fernando, N. A. 86 Filipinization 10 Filipino-ness 24n1 Fletcher, C. 28 Flyger, V. 115 Forbes, C. 43 Forbes, W. C. 46 Geertz, C. 21 Gehl, J. 30 gender: Asian cities and women vendors 52; global-conscious urban feminists 51–52; lived realities of women 52; savior mentality and femplaining 52; in street trading 54–55; transnational feminists 52 General Luna Road: building aesthetics and rhythm 84–85; intersection with Upper Mabini and Assumption Road 82–87; olfactory experiences 85–86; place identity 82, 84, 84; place-node 83; spaces for mutual respect and alliances 86–87 globalization 23; cultural universality 25; “local-ness” 22; on Philippine urbanism 5; prohibition of street vendors in Baguio City 23; resistance to 16; tangible markers of 64 Global South 7n5; analysis of local contexts 11; cultures in 24; future of informal street vending 120; informality 120; informal vendors and formal businesses, relationship between 121; issues 11; women vendors 120 Global Walkability Index 66 glocalism 22 Great Streets (Jacobs) 19, 29 growth factors, Baguio City: convalescent center, establishment of 45; economic center, beginnings of 47–48; education and medical center, transformation into 46–47; export processing zone, operations of 49–50; mining industry, expansion of 48; retreat for summer work and residence 46; tourism and recreation 48

Index 163 Hall, E. 116 Hamilton-Baillie, B. 18 Harrison, F. B. 46, 48 Harrison Road 137 Hart, K. 53 Harvey, D. 11, 25 health of vendors: American military government 33; neighborhood characteristics 34; place and people 32; public health reforms 32; spatial and statistical data methods 33; Western medicine 33 Healthy City, WHO’s definition 133–134 Hernandez, F. L. 4, 103, 112 hill station, American 50n4; Benguet mountains 40–41; Benguet Road project 41; Cordillera mountains, northern Luzon 38–39; “dead flats” of Manila 40; Indian Tribes 39–40; Manila-Dagupan railway 41; Spanish-controlled villages 39 Hippocrates: On Airs, Water, and Places 32 Historic Baguio Stone Market 1 Holmes, N. M. 41 Holy Family College 47 How to Read a Book (Adler and Van Doren) 27 Image of the City (Lynch) 79 imperialism, American: deep study and self-control 36–37; empirebuilding and protecting health 38; establishment of hill stations 35; European experience 35–36; Filipino nationalists 37–38; level of advancement 36; ManilaDagupan railroad, upgrade of 38; meteorological data 36–37; national public health development 37; public works plan 38; Spanish monarchy and Catholic Church 36 informal sector 26 informal women vendors 119–121; see also women vendors International Labour Organization (ILO) 26 “Invisible Revolution” 20, 21 Jacobs, A. B.: Great Streets 19, 29 Jacobs, J. 30, 74, 133; Life and Death of Great American Cities 29

Johnson, S.: Emergence: The Connected Lives of Ants, Brains, Cities, and Software 20–21 Kafagway 41, 50n3, 50n8 kapwa concept 131 Karapostolis, V. 28 Kennon, L. W. V. 41 Kennon Road 50n6 Lefebvre, H. 57; Production of Space 51 Life and Death of Great American Cities (Jacobs) 29 Lloyd-Evans, S. 54 “local-ness” 22 loose space 18 Lower Session Road Area: microclimate 81–82; openness 78; place-node 76; public space as a pause 79–81, 80; signs and global narratives 78–79; walking pauses 77–78 Lynch, K. 28; Image of the City 79 Mabini Road 77 Malcolm Square 113n10 Marcelino, N. 97 Marcos, Ferdinand (President) 49, 69 Marx, K. 21 Maryknoll Convent School 47 McKinley, William (President) 39 McLafferty, S. 33–34 Miao, Pu. 90 microcities 19–20 micro entrepreneurship 10 Middle Session Road: contrast of uses 74–75; gateways 72–73; indoor outdoor connection 72; place-node 71; urban pressure point 73–74, 74 Milgram, B. L. 56 Mitchell, D. 30, 56 Mitra, A. K. 94 Mitullah, W. V. 53 Notre Dame Hospital 48 Nunez, L. 52 On Airs, Water, and Places (Hippocrates) 32 open-endedness, concept of 86 Operation Sunshine, Kolkata 15–16 Ortiz, L. V. 57

164 Index Parnell, S. 51 Parsons, W. E. 44 Peake, L. 51 People Power Revolution, 1986 69 people’s economy 122 Perera, N. 10 The Philippine Islands and Their People (Worcester) 39 Philippine Mental Health Association 1 Philippine Military Academy 46 Philippine Overseas Employment Administration (POEA) 53 Pines City Doctor’s Hospital College of Nursing 46 Place and Placelessness (Relph) 1 place-makers, women vendors as: context of gender and culture 55; Hong Kong case study 56; Mexico’s indigenous women vendors 55; private and public spaces, concept of 57; relational spaces 56; street food vendors 56, 57; urban space 57; in Vietnam 58 place-node concept: intersection of people and health 137–138; Netzstadt, architect and scientist, collaboration between 31; new sociospatial and humanistic perspective 31; phenomenon of betweener experience 32; railway stations 31; researcher authenticity 32; “tangle of actors” 31; transit-oriented developments 31; transportation networks 30–32, 34n1; Westernoriented research approach 31 Polanyi, K. 22 Production of Space (Lefebvre) 51 Public Order and Safety Division (POSD) 106, 119 public-private partnership 136 Public Utility Jeepneys (PUJs) 81 reading urban environments see urban environments Relph, E. 32; Place and Placelessness 1 researcher authenticity: “Baguioness” 13–14; betweener 12–13; betweenness, metaphor of 12–13; insider/outsider position 12; nonauthentic researchers 14; role and positionality 12 retrospective: building edges 127–128; carrying capacity of

street environments 115–119; culture commodification and objectification 128–129; downtown pocket parks 128; embodiment and women’s agency 132–136; future of informality 119–121; human resilience 130–132; inclusive local economy for Baguio 121–122; informal vendors and street knowledge 126–127; local governance 123; street public life 125–126; transdisciplinary process 130; warehousing vending activities 124–125 Robinson, J. 51 Rodriguez-Fernandez, G. 94 Sassen, S. 53 Session Road: Lower Session Road Area 75–82; Middle Session Road 70–75; “the soul of Baguio” 72; Upper Session Road 62–70; see also individual entries Sheerer, O. 42 Shi, W. 15 ShoeMart (SM) 113n8 sidewalks: Asian streets and globalized places 22; “Clean” sidewalks 23; human and social capacity of 116, 117; socioeconomic survey of 59; Upper Session Road 67 Silvey, R. M. 54 Snow, J. 32–33 The Social Life of Small Urban Spaces and City: Rediscovering the Center (Whyte) 29 Sorkin, M. 16 Soto, H. de 20 Spanish-American War, 1898 33 spatial-environmental perspectives: in downtown Baguio City 60–93; life-worlds of women vendors 51–60; women vendors 93–113 Steere, J. B. 39 St. Louis primary school 47 St. Louis University School of Medicine 46, 47 “street clinic” 135 street environments: in Baguio 117; carrying capacity of 115–119; gathering spaces 118–119; high density and overcrowding 115–116; mitigating strategies 118; sidewalks,

Index 165 human and social capacity of 116, 117; transportation, American approach to 116; urban planners 117; vehicular traffic 118 street health system 135 street spatial environments, Baguio City: Abanao/Harrison Area 87–93; General Luna Road 82–87; Lower Session Road Area 75–82; Middle Session Road 70–75; Upper Session Road 62–70; urban place-nodes 60–61, 61 street vending in Baguio City: Asian financial crisis 59; health behavior and concerns 59; length of residency 60; migrants from Mindanao 58–59; population growth 58; Session Road 58; socioeconomic survey of sidewalk vendors 59; vendor economy 59–60

urban place-nodes 60–61, 61; air quality 100–103, 102; concept of nodes 5; extensive rain 95–96, 96, 97; food safety 100, 101; Global South 6; innovative approach 5; intersection of health and place 6; nutrition 98, 99–100; poor solid waste disposal 96–97; retrospective 6; safety 98; traffic noise 97–98; transdisciplinary multi-year study of women vendors 5–6; way to understand health and place 4–6; see also place-node concept U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention 3

Taft, W. H. 43 Tang, W. S. 10 Texas Instruments 49 Thrift, N.: Cities: Reimagining the Urban 51 Tinker, I. 55 Tokman, V. 53 Trancik, R. 29 Tuan, Yi-Fu 9, 77

Van Doren, C.: How to Read a Book 27 vendor(s): socio-economic conditions 2, 3; street vendors and formal businesses, relationships between 3; transdisciplinary research 3–4; women vendors’ life-worlds 4; see also women vendors vendor health 103; Ana M. 105–106; Celeste P. 111–113; Cristina S. 107–108; Evelyn D. 110–111; Gloria J. 104–105; Marcelina 103–104; Nenita C. 109–110; Tita “Glecy” F. 108 Visayas 107, 114n18

United Nations Report 53, 94 University of Baguio 1, 47 University of the Philippines 1 Upper Session Road: cultural expression 69–70; diversity of uses 64–65; landmarks 67–69; Patria de Baguio landmark 68; place-node 63, 64; sidewalk art 67; street read 62, 64; walkability 65–67 urban acupuncture 74 urban environments: analytical components 28–29; analytical level 27; body of knowledge 28; city-reading 27; downtown Baguio and women vendors 30; elemental level 27; inspectional level 27; lexicon for lost spaces or areas 29; notion of “street degree” 28; space syntax 28; spatial patterns 29–30; synoptical level 27; typification and thematization 28; urban design theorists 30

Wallerstein, I. 22, 25 Ward, R. C. 35 warehousing vending activities: indoor market facilities 124; informal street vending 124–125; outdoor public markets 124 Western-oriented literature 10–11, 116 Whyte, W. 30; The Social Life of Small Urban Spaces and City: Rediscovering the Center 29 “womb of Baguio City” see Baguio Public Market “womb streets” 19 women vendors 2; Baguio’s downtown streets challenges 93–94; feminization of survival, notion of 53; gender and informality, intersectionality of 54; gender inequalities 94; Global South, notions in 54; health conditions 133; in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam 54; human resilience 130–132;

166 Index out-migration of Filipino women 53; personal accounts and health conditions 103–113; in Philippines and Global South 53–55; as placemakers 55–58; security and safety 94; in spatial-environmental and health context 93–113; street environments 94; street vending in Baguio City 58–60; transnational discourse on gender 51–52; urban place-nodes in health context 94–103; Western roots of resilience 131; women vendors as place-makers 55–58; working conditions 93

Worcester, D. C. 43; The Philippine Islands and Their People 39 World Bank Index 66–67 World Health Organization (WHO) 34, 107 worldling 23 world organizations 134 world-systems paradigm: de-territorialized processes 25; informal economy 26–27; informal street vendor research 26; quality urban spaces 25; street vending 27; underground economies 26; Western economic models 26