Ancestral House

This house has history. It is almost a hundred years old. Parts of it, even more. The Philippines having been colonized by Spain, Japan, ( the Dutch for 2 years) and America is littered with the most unique houses. However, I have yet to see another house of this kind in Manila. That window to the right, see that? That was my bedroom. Yes, I grew up here.

Built in 1914 after a major fire destroyed the original structure, it has been said that this is the first in our neighborhood to be built of stone. Inside, everything, ceilings and walls and stairs are of intricately carved Narra wood. Flooring is made of imported European tiles, while sinks and bathroom fixtures are of genuine porcelain.

Oh, have I mentioned that walls are embedded with silver coins? Or that there exists a secret passageway to the cellar? Or that, had it no been for the brave blatant refusal of my grandfather, this house was almost converted into a provincial headquarter of the Japanese invading army during the Japanese occupation? It was said that when the original home was first built, along with it was an elegant white horse driven carriage, the only kind in town. Romantic!

Inside this house are treasures to stir a child's wild imagination. Closets full of early 19th century clothes, diaries relating wars, old old magazines and newspapers from an era long gone, lavender soaps from Paris bought ages ago and never unwrapped, old lace embroidered abanicos still in their cases, dainty silk slippers, old Christmas cards an avid collector would die to see, photographs of ancestors in their own generation's fashion, canes, hats, jade vases, golden tambourines...and...a resident ghost, of course.

In our town this is known as an "Illustrado" house or Spanish home. People regard this "Bahay Na Bato" ( Stone House) with a sense of awe and mystery. Out -of- towners would stop awhile, stare, and most often discreetly inquire about its residents. When I would look out from my window ( which I seldom did), every passing person was sure to look.

This house has a spirit culled from its creator, broiled by generations of inhabitants and simmered by time. A spirit of a home with an elegance of its own that has enmeshed itself on me. Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can still feel me there. I can still see the prism of the afternoon sun as it casts its glow on the window at the last step of the grand winding stair. I can still smell the scent of old books and see visions of Christmases past, generations come and gone.

When I close my eyes, this house comes alive, and I hear voices, familiar, once again.

Photo Credit: Richard Tuason Bautista ( Ancestral Houses of Malabon - Manila, Philippines)