It’s not every day you hear foreigners say they want to go biking on EDSA.

Last month, I received an e-mail from students of Sciences Po, a political science institute in Paris, France. Apparently, Gunjit and Milo considered Metro Manila an emerging cycling city, which is why they planned to visit and learn more about our policy and infrastructure.

The main event of their trip was a workshop in collaboration with Fédération Internationale de l’Automobile and Automobile Association Philippines. But little did they expect that they’d be going on a wild bike ride.

After their workshop, they took the time to meet and interview members of the cycling community. Since they were free on a Friday afternoon, a friend and I invited them to try bike-commuting. After all, while data is important, nothing beats real-world experience.

The route was simple; the ride was not. The objective was to bike to Makati and eat at one of the restaurants in the CBD. There are different ways to get there, but I wanted them to experience the best of Metro Manila traffic. We rode out shortly before 5pm and passed through as many major thoroughfares as possible.

Coming out of Barangay Kapitolyo, we turned left to Shaw Boulevard, where we went gutter-surfing before turning left to southbound EDSA. From there, it was a straight line until we turned right to Ayala Avenue. The way back was more chill since we passed through northbound EDSA and Kalayaan Avenue to get to BGC, where we crossed the bridge back to Barangay Kapitolyo.

These were the recurring answers I heard throughout the workshop and the interviews: Although Metro Manila has good cycling policies on paper, it does not reflect in reality; government agencies and LGUs aren’t coordinated; and some even contradict national mandates to promote active transport.

Just like the rest of Philippine politics, progress depends on the personality seated in power, which is why there is a lack of continuity. Some LGUs, such as Quezon City and Marikina, are more supportive. But in general, active transport is not a high priority—even if traffic is one of our most pressing problems.

Infrastructure has been built. But due to poor design and lack of enforcement, it serves little to no purpose. The result: Gunjit and Milo experienced what it was like fending for themselves on the road, as they got up close and personal with cars and motorcycles, squeezing through whatever space there was, and surfing on the gutter when the bike lane was obstructed.

I was also surprised at the road conditions of EDSA. The ongoing rehabilitation was supposed to make it better, but it ended up worse. The pavement was smoother, but we couldn’t figure out where to position ourselves with the lack of lane markings.

And if you think things can’t get even more chaotic, the gutter was deeper, and the road turned into a gravel trail with all the debris from the construction. Good thing we all had chunky tires.

For Gunjit, the experience wasn’t too foreign as someone who has ridden a motorcycle in Delhi. But for Milo, this was the complete opposite of cycling in Paris. What stood out for him was our need to defend ourselves, constantly using lane positioning, hand signals, and eye contact to keep everyone in the group safe.

They tended to use the term “sharing the road” when talking about cyclist safety. But the reality was that we had to claim our space on the road when everyone else was infringing on our boundaries. Still, they both handled themselves well on the road, and were thankful for the opportunity.

They weren’t the only ones who learned a lot. Sharing my experiences and listening to other cycling advocates reminded me of how far Metro Manila had gone when it came to being a bicycle-friendly city. There’s still a lot of work to be done, and it really is an uphill battle, but there is hope—thanks to the tight-knit community that keeps pushing for the advocacy.