“Why not live there?” It must be 20 years since a colleague uttered those four life-changing syllables. He probably forgot them just as quickly – but from that illuminating moment, I was always drifting eastwards in my mind. Back then, I was locked in a free-and-single cycle of work followed by bouts of backpacking, concerned with nothing but my next Asian destination.
Later on, when responsibility caught up with me, nobody was surprised when I married a Filipina – and that’s how I found myself living in my wife’s home town of Tagum City on the southern island of Mindanao. I’d never heard of it, and you probably haven’t either – but you will do soon. This rapidly expanding regional hub is putting itself on the map in a meaningful way.
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Living in Southeast Asia is, of course, a wholly different experience from travelling through a place and checking off the sights, seeing much but learning little about actual, day-to-day life. Perfectly proportioned Tagum is the ideal place for a crash course in what really makes the country tick: all of Philippine life is here.
The first thing you notice is the curiosity of the locals: few foreigners pass through Tagum, and those that do attract ready smiles and genuine interest. Expect to bask in minor celebrity status.
The heart of town exudes a restless, raucous energy: everyone is heading somewhere, selling something, cooking for passers-by, smiling through the oppressive, ever-present humidity. Just remember to watch your step: pavements (where they exist at all) are precarious and traffic is an unregulated free-for-all, rights of way through unmarked junctions decided by some invisible body language I’ve yet to decipher. Crossing the road is a real-time round of Frogger, accomplished only by walking confidently out between the swerving mopeds and chugging tricycles.
Ah yes, tricycles: those Philippine-style auto rickshaws comprising a fibreglass green shell somehow welded around a 150cc motorcycle. Tagum has around 3,000 of them, so finding one to transport you anywhere in town – and nowhere is more than 10 minutes away – takes a matter of seconds. Some are fitted with glowing neon tubes and full-on sound systems, others are held together by bits of string. Either way, fares are fluid, hovering around 50p. Tricycles carry as many passengers as can feasibly squeeze into the front seat and tiny rear benches – at least until it rains, when they grind to a sorry halt, having no windscreen wipers. Then you need to take your chances and climb onto the back of a random motorbike instead.
Any driver will know the sprawling Central Market (‘palengke’), where stall after loaded stall displays teetering towers of the freshest produce from 4 am onwards. The adjacent ‘wet market’ is a slippery, silvery expanse of sea creatures far too numerous to list; suffice to say previously unaffordable luxuries like tiger prawns, salmon and tuna are back on the menu when you live here.
Indeed, Tagum has enough choice to turn anyone into a foodie, with unexpected delights awaiting discovery every few steps: sesame-seeded binangkal bread balls, stodgy puto cakes, banana-cue, champorado and empanada pies are all worth seeking out, as is (my personal guilty pleasure) deep-fried chicken skin.
Like many places in the Philippines, this is a town of stark contrasts where gleaming malls – perennially popular for their aircon interiors – never quite eclipse the grinding realities of what is often a hand-to-mouth existence. Even this far into the 21st century, too many people subsist in tiny wooden dwellings with no electricity, ramshackle roofs of corrugated iron optimistically battened down against the threat of typhoons by old tyres. Backstreets are flanked with hazardous open drains, dense tangles of electric cables swaying ominously overhead; women wash their hair from buckets as children play and wild dogs chase chickens down the dusty lanes.
Thankfully, Tagum has some wonderfully tranquil sanctuaries. Cavernous Christ the King cathedral, which took 12 years to build, is a cool, still, light-filled refuge from the relentless traffic, at least during the week; on Sundays more than a few of Tagum’s 350,000 population pack the pews. Behind the cathedral is reputedly the world’s longest rosary, 85 metres of giant linked beads coiled into a tiny, tailor-made park.
Out on the edge of town, Energy Park is 25 leafy hectares of well-maintained woodland complete with football pitch and bicycle rental (look carefully for the good ones among the boneshakers). For students and families in particular, E-Park, as it is colloquially known, delivers an essential gulp of green air.
The coolest breezes, of course, blow straight off the sea – and numerous beach resorts are open to those willing to make the short, straightforward drive to the Pacific coast. From the striking New City Hall, which resembles a scaled-down Wembley Stadium, a three-lane highway skirts the gold-mining hills that encircle the city, traversing the vast sweetcorn fields of Maco and banana plantations of Mabini. The next right turn brings you onto a narrow sealed road that fans out to a string of resorts.
One of the best value choices is the Arangcon, where ₤15 gets you a beachfront nipa hut for the day with steps leading straight down to the briny and clear views of Samal Island. A small shop rents kayaks by the hour, there are grasping monkeys to feed and fish to catch in a large pond.
Back in town, the night market opens the minute darkness descends. It occupies two adjoining streets, one focusing on sundry household items at negotiable prices, the other devoted to barbecues. Expect to find anything from twists of chicken innards on sticks to whole roast pigs; those in the know bring their own rice, grab a seat at a trestle table and enjoy expertly barbecued bites in the smoky night air. “How come you only sell them at night?” I ask a seller of the infamous balut. “So people can’t see what they’re eating,” comes the reply.
How long Tagum can cling to its earthy charm is anyone’s guess now that a process of gentrification has begun. There are already half a dozen malls and the same number of private hospitals serving the much wider region. University campuses have moved in, and a train link to Davao Airport (an hour away by road) is mooted. Just recently, the Celesta Group unveiled the city’s first condominium development of some 600 residential units. All of this has driven population growth of 50,000 over the past decade, and Tagum shows no signs of slowing down. Suddenly, the sleepy town of the recent past is like Manila in miniature. The best time to catch it is now.
