Finding My Way to Calamba
Locked in a stare-down with the towering statue of Jose Rizal in the city plaza, I’m starting to see how ordinary this city really is, despite history pressing heavily on its streets. I rolled into Calamba, a gateway to Laguna’s rich history, hoping to have a quick visit and dart afterwards. But something, the laid-back weekday morning perhaps, encouraged me to slow down.
Best known as the hometown of Rizal, the de facto Philippine national hero, Calamba is famous for historical landmarks tied to the hero, including Rizal’s ancestral home, the giant Calambanga, and the scenic views of Laguna de Bay. Presently, the city is a working town. Life goes by unpretentiously, with people going about their routines amid Calamba’s tourist spots.
Beneath that everyday bustle, though, the city feels like a shrine. History here is not frozen but coexisting with the noise and movement of the present. For those seeking to remember or reconnect with the past, Calamba’s quiet pull is hard to resist.
The soft rumble of a tricycle engine nearby pulls me back to the present.
Rizal: The Hero I Knew, The Place I Hadn’t
Rizal was born in this unassuming town on June 19, 1861, and his boyhood unfurled along the same streets I now stroll. As he would go on to spark Filipino nationalism and challenge the inequities of Spanish rule, his path eventually took him to Manila, Europe, and finally to his martyrdom in Bagumbayan. But Calamba never truly left him. After all, it was the city that shaped his earliest memories, his sense of home, and his resolve.
Growing up, I discovered Rizal like most Filipino students did: through lectures, reading assignments, and a pair of high school classes centered on his two novels. I remember leafing through Noli Me Tangere and trudging through El Filibusterismo, memorizing key names as if they would save me from a surprise quiz. Like many others, I studied him because I had to. I recognized the characters and their importance, but Rizal himself always felt distant. I had never stood where he once stood.
The idea to visit took root three years ago while visiting Santa Rosa City, a jeepney ride away. I spotted Calamba on Google Maps as I navigated my way home, but I didn’t have time then for a detour. Since then, the trip sat on my list, mentally filed under “one day.”
Today is that day.
I didn’t come to Calamba, though, to uncover new facts about Rizal. I already know the highlights. Rather, I came to experience his hometown as it is: a living city, full of small reminders that even heroes begin somewhere ordinary.
What did I have to gain? Perspective, for starters.
Retracing Rizal’s Footsteps: A Walk Around Calamba’s Historical Core
From the plaza, I ride a tricycle to Calamba’s town center, where tricycles weave through like clockwork and pedestrians navigate the narrow streets. It’s a lively mix of people—residents in their pambahay, high school students who remind me of our own back at school, policemen resting under the shade of trees, and street vendors selling small snacks.
Amidst all these, one of the first things I see is the big Calambanga, a symbolic clay pot that sits proudly in the plaza. More than just a big jar, it’s a tribute to the city’s name and origins, as kalamba is the Tagalog term for a clay water jar. Locals and visitors frequently come here to take photographs, but it also serves as a focal point that discreetly binds the town to its identity. It’s a cute landmark, but it highlights how Rizal’s story began in a place that values even the simplest of objects.
Across the street is the Rizal Shrine in Calamba, the hero’s ancestral home. Also called Museo ni Rizal, the house offers a glimpse into the national hero’s early life. It’s here where he learned to read in the kitchen, prayed in the bedroom, explored books in the family library, and listened to his grandmother’s stories of buried treasures and enchanted trees on the azotea. It’s a recreation of the home that shaped his boyhood.
The original house, built by Rizal’s father, Francisco Mercado, took two years to complete. It changed hands over time—confiscated by Spanish authorities in 1891, briefly reclaimed by Paciano Rizal during the Philippine Revolution, then seized again by the friars. It was eventually sold, destroyed during World War II, and later demolished. The government later bought what remained for PHP 24,000.
In 1949, the house was faithfully reconstructed under the leadership of architect Juan F. Nakpil, with funding largely raised by Filipino schoolchildren. The rebuilt house stands on its original site, using design elements and materials typical of Rizal’s time.
The house itself is a typical Bahay na Bato, with an adobe and brick base, hardwood upper floors, and sliding windows lined with capiz shells. It was originally painted white but was repainted green in 2009 to reflect the meaning of Rizal’s surname, Ricial, which refers to green fields. More recently, it has been restored to its original white color.
Today, the ground floor, once a stable for horses and carriages, displays childhood memorabilia, including copies of Rizal’s early writings and his baptismal certificate. Upstairs, visitors can explore the library, dining areas, and the bedroom where Rizal was born. Just outside, the azotea and the old stone well remain, two of the few original features that survived.
Unlike more strictly preserved heritage buildings, this house feels less like a shrine and more like a home you’ve been welcomed into.
A few steps away stands the Parish of St. John the Baptist, the church where Rizal was baptized. The stone walls are worn but durable, exuding dignified calmness. Inside, the old benches and modest altar offer little grandeur, but they carry a powerful sense of continuity. I imagine Rizal’s family walking these same halls, along with generations who have come here for baptisms, weddings, and funerals. The church, in this sense, has been more than a place of worship—it has become a vessel of collective memory, much like the city in its relationship with its homegrown hero.
The church’s story traces back to 1779, when it became an independent parish under the Franciscan friars. Though the original stone church was built in 1859, it was destroyed during World War II and later rebuilt. Despite its reconstructions, its soul seems untouched. The baptistery, where Rizal was christened on June 22, 1861, still stands, now a National Historical Landmark. The original baptismal font has been carefully restored, and a transcript of Rizal’s baptismal certificate is displayed.
Stained glass windows light the interior. Two at the entrance depict Saint Dominic and San Lorenzo Ruiz, while others illustrate the seven sacraments. There also used to be a Garden of Gethsemane on the church grounds for reflection, but it has since been cleared for renovations. Still, the space remains open to those seeking to reflect or to simply pass through a place that has long stood witness to Calamba’s history.
Calamba Baywalk: A Lakeside Stop to End the Journey
Before leaving the city, I make one last stop at the Calamba Baywalk, just a short tricycle ride from the historical district. On the way, I pass by a perya, its rides and stalls temporarily closed, perhaps waiting for the evening crowd.
By the time I arrive at the Baywalk, the tempo slows even further. Ominous clouds hover overhead, threatening to pour at any moment, but the air is cool and pleasant. Across the horizon, Mount Makiling’s silhouette is barely visible with thick clouds blanketing its top.
There are no grand monuments here, no placards to explain what I’m looking at. Just concrete benches, a few tricycle drivers sitting lazily on their vehicles, and a man with a 4×4 parked nearby, also here to take photos of the lake, like me.
I watch as ripples slide lazily across the surface of Laguna de Bay stretching out in front of me under the heavy sky. There’s a certain gloom hanging over it, but not oppressive. It feels contemplative, an apt vibe to end this walk through Calamba. Even heroes like Rizal, I imagine, must have had afternoons like this—slow, unremarkable days by the lake, pockets of stillness in the middle of much bigger battles.
Sometimes perspective settles in areas like these.
What Studying About Rizal Really Taught Me
I’ve long known the usual things I was meant to take away from this visit. Rizal’s intelligence, his childhood innocence, and his early works were all part of the curriculum I studied in my younger years.
But even before I set foot in his hometown, perhaps Rizal has always been teaching me something more. Maybe he was never just the distant figure I dutifully memorized in school, reduced to dates, monuments, and titles. When you see his life from the ground he once walked, the narrative changes. He becomes less of a statue and more of a curious boy paying attention to the world around him.
And when you pay attention, you realize that his version of revolution didn’t sprout from epic battles or grand gestures right away. Rather, it emerged from small, intimate moments, such as in kitchens where he learned to read and in rooms where his imagination grew. By simply retracing his footsteps around his hometown, I begin to notice that even the biggest revolutions often begin in the most unremarkable places, hidden among the everyday things to do in Calamba.
Rizal didn’t need to stand in front of me or guide me through grand museums or dramatic reenactments to make me feel this. His story is subtly woven in the everyday scenes of the city, in the church where generations have been baptized, and in his house that refuses to be forgotten. He teaches us not just to question society but to also ask ourselves: what are we doing for our own community?
In the end, maybe it’s not my legs I need to stretch from walking (though I really can use a foot massage after this), but my view of what remembering really means.
Calamba Travel Basics
Access
- To get to Calamba from Metro Manila, catch a bus from Buendia in Pasay or One Ayala in Makati bound for Calamba Crossing. Travel time is about 75 minutes to 2.5 hours, depending on traffic. Fares cost around PHP 125 to PHP 140 one-way.
- By car, the drive takes roughly 45–50 minutes (about 55 km via SLEX; take Calamba Exit).
Transportation
- The main historical sights are conveniently clustered together, making them easy to explore on foot in a relaxed, half-day trip.
- To travel between farther landmarks, tricycles are quick and easy to find. Fares typically start at PHP 15 for short rides, but expect to pay around PHP 60 or more for “special trips” that go beyond the city center (such as the city plaza and the Baywalk).
Admission
- The key historical attractions in Calamba—including Museo ni Rizal, the Parish of St. John the Baptist Church, the Calambanga, and the Calamba Baywalk—are all free to visit.
- The Museo ni Rizal is open Tuesday to Sunday, 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. Other sites like the plaza, the church, and the Baywalk are generally accessible throughout the day.
Food
- Calamba doesn’t have much of a food scene, but there are some fine options in the city. Ippon Yari along the National Highway near SLEX, is a solid choice, popular for its ramen, sushi, and other Japanese staples.
- Some cafés serve meals as well. Located in the historic district, 250 Cafe is a modern space where you can hang out and recharge after exploring. Another option is Krav Cafe, which offers both hot and iced drinks, plus rice meals if you’re in for a full meal.
- If you prefer quick, familiar meals, there are the ever-dependable fast food restaurants, especially around SM Calamba and the town center.
Accommodation
- Calamba can easily be explored as a day trip from Metro Manila or nearby Calabarzon provinces. However, for those who wish to stay overnight—perhaps using the city as a springboard for Pansol or nearby Los Baños—convenient options near SM Calamba include Green Glass Hotel (around PHP 2,000 per night) or My Inn Calamba (around PHP 2,400 per night).
The Tourist Gaze 