Exactly eight steps from the 7 train station on 69th Street in Woodside, Queens lies a row of slapped-together shops and restaurants that cater to the Filipino community.

The hub of this community, called Little Manila by guides, is found somewhere between 69th and 70th Streets, along the rough patch of concrete beneath the Roosevelt Avenue bridge. There, Filipinos have built up a range of businesses that not only cater to the immediate neighborhood but attract people from neighboring states as well.

Twice a month, Joe Florez and his family make an hour-long drive from New Jersey to spend the day in Little Manila. On a recent Saturday, Florez, his wife and their two young sons enjoyed a traditional Filipino breakfast of rice and eggs at Rene’s Restaurant, before heading over to get some groceries at the Fil-Am Food Mart down the street.

“We love coming here,” Florez said. “We come for the restaurants, the shopping and to give my sons a taste of Filipino culture.”

Noemi Caya comes to Little Manila for a different reason. “I send money and goods back to relatives in the Philippines,” she said. “It’s a tradition.”

Caya lives around the corner and said that she’s often in the area with friends. “It feels like I’m with my friends back home,” she said. “We hang out and go to eat.”

In addition to food and groceries, Little Manila also has two beauty salons, two travel agencies, a doctor’s office and vision center, an electronic store and a dingy bar called “Scorpion.”

Bob Yuzon said it’s like a one-stop shop for all his needs. “It’s everything in one shot,” he said. “You can get a haircut, dinner, groceries and then go for a drink.”

Liza Yuzon began walking toward the Philippine National Bank branch at the corner of 70th Street and Roosevelt Avenue. “A lot of us still have accounts back in the Philippines,” she said. “It’s important to keep such a connection with home.”

It is this desire to maintain ties with their home country that drives the most popular business along the Little Manila strip. This one block has four cargo centers that help New Yorkers ship packages back to the Philippines.

“It’s part of our culture to help our relatives back home,” explained Botog Busacay, an employee at FRS Philippine Freight Services. “People ship canned goods, used clothing, candy and personal effects to their cousins and relatives back home.”

Those who live in Queens bring their packages directly to the cargo centers. Busacay said he drives around five times a week to pick up parcels from Staten Island, the Bronx, upstate New York, Long Island and Connecticut.

“In 1994, there were only three shipping services,” he said, “and one of them was in New Jersey. But when the new stores moved in, the shipping service rates had to be lowered.”

The stores moved in as the population increased. Johnny Air Cargo opened across the street and Macro Philippine Cargo Express, four stores down from FRS. The fourth store is Apholo Shippers, located between 65th and 66th Street.

As a result of the competition, Busacay said that the stores have had to diversify their services. “Now we sell airline tickets, money remittances,” he said. “We have to survive.”

Busacay has lived in Woodside since 1994. When he first arrived, the restaurants were abandoned and the block was empty, he said. But as more Filipinos settled in the area, they also opened up businesses.

According to the 2000 Census, there are now nearly 55,000 Filipinos in New York and over half of them live in Woodside and its surrounding area.

The Fil-Am Food Mart was the first Filipino store opened in Woodside, Busacay said, and it is still a main destination today.

A faded map of the Philippines dangled from a window above the entrance to Fil-Am Food Mart, located at the eastern tip of Little Manila. Inside, a line formed in front of the take-out counter, where workers in black aprons packed pancit (Filipino fried noodles) and biko (sweetened rice cake) for eager customers. Others picked through fresh vegetables or grabbed bottles of cooking sauces from a back shelf.

Florez’s sons were near the cashier, fighting over a bag of sweet corn chips, while their mother paid for a container of the brownish-red kutchinta [rice pudding].

“This is a unique place,” Florez explained. “You won’t find stuff like this anywhere else.”