Old-timers in Manila don't bother to go to Zamboanga, Their min. are too full of business.
But the young and the mainland Americans. like to go. It is a city of true South Sea romance caressing a hillside slope behind which rise mile-high mountains. Along the old Spanish streets. mingle a mixture of races second only. perhaps to Gibraltar, Panama, Port Said and Shi hai, Every day is a Rio Carnival with the people in gaudy costumes and light spirits.
A Moro land it is, with Mobammedan men in fez or turban walk-
village on stilts out over the fringe ing to and from Kawarkawa, their waters of the Sulu Sea at the edge of town. As these men, swing along. barefooted, a sharpebladed kris ines at their belts, a reminder of us warfare years ago with the Christian Filipino of the north. The trousered Moro women follow, gayly bedecked and clinking with jewels. These strange families stop and. talk with their neighbours, the Bajaws or sca gypsies, the long-haired Yakans, or the Hill Moros from near-by Basilan Island. Somewhere along: the road walk the shy Sabanuns, effeminate looking Moros from inland on the Zamboanga Peninsula,
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.