Viajes por Filipinas: De Manila á Albay (Chapter 2)

NOTE: I asked ChatGPT to translate from Spanish a chapter from the book “Viajes por Filipinas: De Manila à Albay” (Travels Through the Philippines: From Manila to Albay), the work of a certain Juan Alvarrez Guerra. His work is in the public domain, so we can enjoy it now for free! This traveler, a Spaniard, expressed his views on the places in Bicol candidly, but by today’s standards, some might consider them racist. I couldn’t find an English translation of this work and Google Translate and other translator websites offer awkward translations. So far, this translation is the best. I just asked ChatGPT to translate the work from the original Spanish, so there’s no danger of artificial intelligence’s “hallucinations.” Texts in blue are Rey Anthony Ostria’s notes.

To clear the confusion regarding this chapter, I understand I must make things clear. The Albay mentioned here is not the modern-day Old Albay District in Legazpi City. It was then a separate town from the next-door town Legaspi (old spelling of Legazpi). This book is about Albay the province, but the second chapter is about Albay the town.

Read Chapter 1.

The province of Albay—Location—Etymology—Town of Albay—Its appearance—Royal House—Fiscal Administration—The Court—The Jail—Its poor condition—Works commenced—Humanitarian principles turned inhumane—Monument to Peñaranda—The church—The Gogong and the Ligñion—The Bicol race—Statistics.

The province of Albay is situated at the southern end of the island of Luzon; a word whose root is Lúsong, the name by which the mortar is known where the Filipino hulls rice; in ancient times, the lúsong was not only a household utensil but also a weapon. When there were alarms, they would strike the cavity of the mortar with the pestle, creating harsh sounds as alarm calls.

According to some chroniclers, Luzon was called the island of Manila, taking its name from the capital; others, including the erudite Father Colín, try to shed light on the distant past by suggesting that the Maniolas islands marked by Ptolemy at 142° longitude, on his geographic tables compiled in the second century AD, are the origin of the word Manila: be that as it may, it is certain that in what is now called the Island of Luzon, at its southern end, lies the province of Albay.

This blew my mind. Claudius Ptolemy lived from 100 to 170 AD. Some historians do not agree that Ptolemy knew about a group of islands south of China when a sailor called Hippalus, but if true, this is awesome. Chinese traders, of course, called the Philippines “Ma-yi,” while the Indians called it “Panyupayana.”

The name Albay is a corruption, according to some, of Ibat, the ruler who reigned upon the arrival of the Spaniards in that part of the land, and according to others, it is derived from Ibalón, a word that comes from the local term ivald, which means anything on the other side of a river or arm of the sea.

By “ivald,” Guerra probably meant “balyo.”

The province of Albay was anciently known by the name Ibalón, undoubtedly taken from its original headland, also called Gaditaan—now a visitation of Magallanes;—this district is separated by an arm of the sea from its neighboring islands of San Diego, Tinacos, and Bagatao, as well as by the San Bernardino Strait from the islands of Ticao and Samar; finally, the mouth of the Larsogon Bay separates it from Tumalaytay and Macalaya, where the provincial capital was located for some time, now being the town of Albay which bears its name.

The original text in Spanish says, “hoy visita de Magallanes,” so the “now a visitation of Magallanes” translation by ChatGPT is inaccurate. A “visita” is kinda like a barrio or a village. This is probably referring to Caditaan, a village (barangay) in Magallanes. I know Bagatao still exists, and it’s a lovely place, but I haven’t heard of Tinacos and San Diego. Anyone from Magallanes who can confirm whether or not these places are still named Tinacos and San Diego? Tumalaytay and Macalaya are villages in Castilla Sorsogon, while the Larsogon Bay mentioned here is most probably Sorsogon Bay.

The word albay is a corruption of albay-bay; the Spanish preposition, and bay-bay, a Bicol word meaning beach; thus, when the Spanish word is combined with the Bicol word, it becomes albay-bay, meaning to the beach. It is known that in ancient times people generally lived inland to avoid surprises from Moro landings or even from enemy barangayanes, and perhaps among those inhabitants there was a European who, when sending them to the beach, would have coined the word albay-bay. The Filipino’s use of apocope justifies the reduction of the word albay-bay to Albay. The original town was known today as Legaspi, and which many locals still call Vanuangdaan, or Old Albay.

Yes, he wrote “albay” with a small letter, the bastard. Apocope, in linguistics, is when you remove the last syllable or last sound of a word.

The place currently occupied by the headland was called tay-tay, which means row or line.

Accurate translation by Guerra. When things are “taraytayan,” it means they are all in one row.

Albay, the capital of the province from which it takes its name, is situated between the towns of Daraga and Legaspi, approximately 3 kilometers away from the latter, and consequently from the sea. The appearance of the town does not reflect that of the headquarter of one of the richest provinces in the Filipino archipelago. The Royal House, the Governor’s residence, is a dilapidated dwelling of mixed construction, predominantly made of wood and nipa. The Fiscal Administration has an iron roof, and the Court, a very poor building, also serves as the municipal house and district jail. This jail, divided into two cramped cells, occupies the lower floors of the Court and houses not only pretrial detainees but also those sentenced to less than two years of imprisonment from cases heard in that court. The province in question has a large population, and although its crime rate is not high, one must always count, among those detained by the government, tried and administered, and those serving sentences, approximately 150 to 200 individuals on average, crowded in the dirty basements of that jail. It should be noted that Albay is one of the provinces that contributes the most to local coffers, being the last to stop paying the so-called “tanorias” tax, amounting to around 25,000 pesos. These revenues, considering the neglect and absolute lack of public buildings, clearly do not serve their true purpose; it is true that beyond the town square rise the walls of a magnificent jail, but it is also certain that countless budgets have already been exhausted, and the walls remain scarcely more than foundations, the collected woods rot, and the irons and stones disappear. And speaking of the jail, we cannot overlook a fact that occurs not only in Albay but also in most jails in the Philippines. A practical Governor General who understood the needs of the Filipino people managed to obtain from the supreme government a Royal Decree authorizing him to grant permits to provincial leaders so that pretrial detainees not only were allowed to leave the jails, under proper guard, to bathe, wash clothes, and collect water, but also to engage them in moderate tasks with purely hygienic characteristics. This concession, as can be seen, considering the narrowness, poor conditions of the jails, and the strong temperatures of those climates, was beneficial and humanitarian; but in reality, time and circumstances have turned the humanitarian principle into something inhumane and cruel, and the regenerative, hygienic, and voluntary work of pretrial detainees into the infamous, harsh, and forced labor of convicts. It will be said, “why doesn’t the Filipino people complain?” Well, it’s very simple; the incarcerated Filipino belongs to the dispossessed class that neither defends rights nor often knows them, and in the absence of that knowledge, we raise our weak voice to the public authorities asking them to eliminate this monstrous abuse that custom has introduced in many Filipino provinces.

Albay the capital that is mentioned here is Old Albay District today. Back then, it was a town separate from Legazpi, and the capital of Albay province. So it was called Albay, Albay then. If I understand tanorias tax correctly, these are the taxes paid so that the government can pay guards on duty.

Remember that this was published in the late 19th Century, and yet the way Guerra criticizes the state of the jails in Albay is reminiscent of the criticisms of modern-day human rights advocates. This is why this text really interested me. He was a multi-layered traveller. At one point, what he was writing was racist and sexist. And then this.

In front of the Royal House, there is a beautiful and spacious garden with a simple monument dedicated to the memory of Governor Don José María Peñaranda at its center. The church has a single nave, and both its construction and what it contains are very poor. Its administration is handled by an indigenous cleric.

That racism again. Indirect—but racist.

This town has nothing particularly remarkable about it, except perhaps the memory of the beautiful valley in which it is located and the thermal waters of Gogon, whose spring is found at the foot of Sigñion, the herald of the magnificent Mayon, which rises behind it.

He is obviously referring to Ligñon Hill here.

In Albay, as in the entire province, the Bicol language is spoken, with this race considered inferior to the Tagalog, and thus wherever a Tagalog appears, they quickly assert dominance.

The spirit of provincialism is not as deeply rooted as in other provinces, so it is not uncommon to see individuals of short tenure voting for local leaders, a phenomenon that is never recorded in Tagalog towns, where naturalization letters take a very long time to be granted.

So, even in the past, Albayanos would rather vote for someone whose values they prefer rather than someone from their province.

Albay has 56 barangays, 1,052 tributes, and 4,365 souls. According to parish records, there were 40 marriages, 410 baptisms, and 282 burials. There are 11 Europeans and 12 Chinese in its population; around 230 boys and 85 girls attend schools, with few speaking Spanish. 15 individuals were prosecuted.

Guerra will always note the population in Albay towns in his travels including those who were in jails as in the case of the previous paragraph.

It would be a true tourism desecration to discuss Albay without dedicating the first pages to the great Mayon or Buquid, as some indigenous people call it.

Let us fulfill this duty in the following chapter.

If you want to read the original text, you may download the file here. Just request for an access to the file and wait for me to grant you access.

In the third chapter, Juan Alvarrez Guerra writes about Mayon. Let me know if you want me to post the third chapter by sending me a message via ra@ravstheworld.com or via the comment section below.

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