There is no greater physical testament to Manuel Quezon’s legacy than the city named after himself. It is the materialization of his vision, a city identified with the common Filipino, centralizing the political and economic functions that remain scattered throughout our country. But it is a vision only partially fulfilled, for twenty-eight years after being declared as capital, Marcos would move it back to the old seat of colonial power.

But that does not take anything away from this sprawling metropolis that has become every bit as central to the country as the state’s capital. Spanning over sixteen thousand hectares, Quezon City dwarfs all other cities on the mainland as the largest city in Luzon.

Home to twenty four government agencies, it shoulders many of the government’s responsibilities, including legislation and national defense. Quezon City is where the headquarters of both the police and military are located on opposite sides of the road. It is the location of the Batasang Pambansa, where congressmen sleep as bills are passed into law. It is where we decry thwarted impeachment complaints and rally for agrarian reform. Quezon City houses so many political functions that you wonder why they had to move it back.

It is also the seat of technology and commerce. Quezon City is the country’s cellphone and modem, home to the central offices of PLDT and Bayantel, as well as Globe, Sun and Smart. It is the television, with channels such as ABS-CBN, GMA, NBN and RPN. Were Quezon City to be bombed, perhaps people wouldn’t mourn the loss of the city as much as they would mourn the loss of TV and internet connection.

And if we were to arrange the archipelago into parts of the human anatomy, Quezon City would be its brain. It houses two of our most prestigious universities, including our national university. It is the site of groundbreaking medical and technological research, as well as advancements in culture and the arts. Quezon City has become our country’s intellectual capital. Whereas Manila once produced the greatest minds of an older time, Quezon City is now harnessing the greatest minds of a newer generation.

But the real character of this city can only be found in the little details, the small spaces and confined alleyways that define its contours. In its essence, Quezon City is a collection of tiny, contrasting, even conficting elements that have been patched together to form a collage that is at once both disorienting and captivating.

For this reason, it does not seem right to call Quezon City a ‘metropolis’. Unlike metropolitan areas such as Makati or Alabang, it does not appear regal or luxurious. Its streets are not smoothly paved, its skyline not defined by designer condos and high-end skyscrapers. While it does have a very small share of these areas, perhaps Quezon City is still closer to the medieval town: a hodgepodge of people clumping together to form a stinky, cramped community.

Indeed, this is the Quezon City of my experience. The air is grimy and smells of smoke and urine. There are no trees, save for the ones to be found on isolated islands. The rough roads are replete with antique jeeps and dented cars driven by equally rough drivers. There are subdivisions within subdivisions, and yet the space still never seems to be enough—people take residence in every little corner that they can cram into.

Yet all these are found side by side with the places this city is known for. The government departments are coincidentally found on the roughest thoroughfares, such as Commonwealth and the Elliptical Road. The Batasang Pambansa is just a few blocks away from a wet market. Behind malls and universities, you can find subdivisions and squatters’ areas. This city is accessible in quite an unplanned way.

It is this characteristic that gives the city its rich and flavorful identity. Quezon City is a place of unconscious but unceasing connection, where squatters can be neighbors with rich people and you can go to malls in tattered shorts and slippers. It is where plainly-dressed congressmen can shop for pirated DVDs and professors can dine with tricycle drivers in carinderias. In Quezon City, some people are more equal than others, but at least everyone is equal.

Manuel Quezon once dreamed of a city where the common Filipino would find his place with dignity. Having lived here all my life, I can say somehow that this dream came true. Quezon City is home to presidents, senators, lawyers, doctors, businesspeople, teachers, students, street sweepers, jeepney drivers, salespeople, beggars, call-boys, and call-girls alike.

And though Quezon City is not the state’s capital, I can’t help but think that he still realized his vision.