From restos to beauty parlors: Pinoy businesses flourish in Spain

BARCELONA - Tourists surge and ebb in this cosmopolitan city, but Filipinos are here to stay — all 16,000 of them, by one authority's count.

Nicoreta "Nico" Cueto Medina, a 24-year resident who holds both Spanish and Philippine citizenships, is president of the Filipino Emprederores de Barcelona and an advocate for Filipino empowerment in her adopted country.

Who would doubt her estimate, when Filipinos visibly flourish in the capital of Catalunya, one of the 17 autonomous regions of Spain whose many natives to this day reject union with the rest of the Iberian nation.  

"Ningun Espana, ningun Francia," a T-shirt screams out of a sea of Gaudi copies: "Neither Spain nor France," diehard Catalans declare sovereignty.  Settlers from the Philippines, meanwhile, hold on to two passports and vote in Spain and Philippine elections as their descendants chatter in Catalan, Castillan, "un poquito Ingles" and even less Tagalog.

"Pero entiendes, si?" Medina encourages her son. He nods half-sure, before dribbling back to his basketball game.

Medina was among the mothers sitting outside their kids' school, letting the straplings work out their sugar high in a small park auspiciously named Vuit de Marc. Catalan for March 8, International Women's Day, said Medina, happy to educate a Spanglish-speaking tourist.

It takes a Filipino to spot another, no matter the language spoken. Takes more than similar physical traits to connect, however.  Mutual curiosity locks the eyes, raises brows as if asking the same question, upcurving mouths and finally bobbing heads for the ultimate acknowledgment: Kumusta po!

They're in skinny jeans and ballerina flats, giggling on their cellphones while striding apace with weekend wanderers in Diagonal del Mar, advertised as the largest shopping mall in the city.

"Deseis algo?" they entice onlookers to buy their flawless Marcona almonds and other orchard treasures at Mercat St. Josep, officially known as La Boqueria, the world's biggest fresh market.  
They're every age and gender, coming home from school, some with lolo or lola supervising, some zipping by in skateboards, some eyeing passing senoritas.

Or they're pushing strollers on their day off, oblivious to the busloads of gawkers awed by most famous modernismo Antoni Gaudi's opus Sagrada Familia, over a century in the making and due to be finished in 2023, if the government has its way.

They may wait at tapas bars and fine-dining establishments. Some of them, that is.
 
Entrepreneurs

They also are merchants, like the fellow holding fort at the hip shop vending studs for Goths, or the owners of Fil-Manila restaurant, who were elsewhere on another business, leaving operations to employees.  

Many are cocooned in their offices making deals, managing staff, building a sector that has yet to acquire recognition from their home country.

"This is why we have organized," said Medina. "We want the Philippine government to know about our progress and help facilitate documentation to reflect our business achievements.  We can do much more than work in the service industry."

Spain is open to immigrants, Medina told Philippine News what she thinks is the best thing about living there.  No one is hiding. Because Filipinos come with a burning purpose to work and earn to send funds to families back home in the Philippines, few feel the much-publicized national unemployment nearing 30 percent.

There is a job for anyone willing to work, plus a support system of those who came before them and are just as eager to assist.

Medina counts "12 to15 different organizations" of Filipinos formed by hometowns, faith communities and other commonalities.  "Nagtutulungan din," confirmed the Batangas City-born mother of two, who clearly enjoyed the respect of the other moms at the Barri Gotic (old town) park, who deferred to her to respond to the inquisitive traveler.
 
Welcoming
 
Ricky Macayan concurs with Medina's assessment but with the caution that success also sparks jealousy.

"Hindi mawawala," she said, speaking from experience.

Also known as Mitch, the eponymous name of one of many Filipino-owned beauty parlors in the area, Macayan said she arrived in 2000 to fill the very job she holds but now as proprietor.

Barcelona has been nothing but generous, the Baguio City native told Philippine News.

"I felt welcome from the beginning," she said, sensing no disapproval of her sexual orientation. She is about to petition for her longtime love, she said. Spain, where Catholics make up over 70 percent of the population, has recognized same-sex marriage since 2005.

Outside the window of the salon is a Philippine flag, an invitation to those seeking a connection, with Mitch's mother Rosita instantly warming the room to chat up the visitor, wondering if he could speak in her native Ilocano.

For 8 euros, patrons get a haircut.  Afterward they may stop at the Bank of the Philippine Islands to make a deposit or a transfer to a relative in the Philippines.

They could drop by any mercat a few steps away to take advantage of the day's "oferta" or sale: half-price pechay or kangkong.  While there they may pick up a can of Skyflakes or Chippy, iconic Philippine munchies.   But there's no rush on Carrer de Joaquin Costa, a long street in the Raval District that's become the Filipino pulse of Barcelona.

'Center'
 
Even Wikipedia has noted the street's dominant "Filipino and Pakistani" presence.

Do residents know their neighborhood housed the 19th century great intellectual and liberal politician whom it honors?  Or would they flee if they realized this was the lair of early 20th century serial killer Enriqueta Martí, known as "the vampire of Barcelona" who lived on #29 Calle Poniente as the street was named until 1923?

Why Filipinos chose to build their community there is anyone's guess, but its proximity to the tourist magnet La Rambla clearly appeals.

Named for the rambling brook it once was, La Rambla flows with humanity from its tip at Placa Catalunya on the main street Passeig de Gracia stretching down to the rim of the Mediterranean across the monument of Cristobal Colon (Christopher Columbus to Anglos) in Port Vell.  The 1.2-kilometer-long artery throbbing 24-7 with restaurants and shops and therefore crowds is a gold mine for workers, who can then walk just a couple of blocks home. Like Bebot Armedilla.

"Yan ang Filipino center dito," offered the grillmaster at Bar Boqueria in the famous landmark.  "Everything is there," he said, referring to anything reminiscent of his homeland.

Armedilla seemed thrilled to see a couple who had ventured into the restaurant five years ago and returned, calling him by name and recalling details of their first conversation.

Then newly arrived, he was now about to gain Spanish citizenship, he said, though he planned to keep his Philippine passport and is flying to the Philippines for the first time at the end of October.  

He explored Spain after his wife died to support his two daughters' education back in the Philippines, he had shared with the visitors five years ago.

"They've graduated and one is a nurse married to a doctor," he gave an update.  "They're not interested in joining me here.  In fact they want me to go home and retire there."

Why, indeed, would he have to crouch over flames for 12 hours, when he could open his dream gym in his birthplace Batangas City or his family's other home in Bulacan?

Self-sufficiency.  Pride.  Independence. Armedilla said he likes his job and has no intention to quitting. Like thousands of his peers, this Filipino Catalan has gained much more than he set out for. — Philippine News