I have not gone back to the house in this picture in years. Only because all that's left of it is the roof and windows. The rest of it is buried below the ground under tons of lahar. The last time I checked, the tall gates and the familiar wrought iron fence that signaled the start of the property were missing and it was too depressing a sight so I just turned the car around and didn't even bother entering the grounds. I think this is the last picture of my family taken in front of the house. My mother is one of the little girls in the picture. She's the one in the front row, center, looking down at her hands.
Most reunions after that, people didn't bother with pictures. I guess all of us thought that the house would be there forever.
It's been there since the 1800s. It survived wars and floods and the first onslaught of lahar. After the mud hardened, we continued having the yearly Holy Week reunions. We had the pabasa, the procession on Holy Wednesday and Good Friday. And there were even mahjong sessions on Black Saturday, I think. Everyone was welcome in that house. One does not need to give advance notice when bringing visitors. We were welcome to bring touristas and it was a common stopover on the way to Subic or Baguio. There were little “tours” conducted around the house.
Members of the family used the back entrance. One would have gone up the back stairs and then through the laundry area then the big kitchen where the Holy Week feasts are prepared (Yes, feasts, we needed a lot of food. All the relatives, friends, and the musiko had to be fed.) And then there's the small kitchen where the lolas and lolos congregate on the tile mosaic kitchen table. This was where the ensaimada and tocino del cielo were made. I remember that the kitchen always smelled of warm butter and melted sugar.
Guests were ushered in through the front door. There were these double doors that opened wide when we had gatherings. One steps in and enters a cool, dim area that had black and white tiles. One goes up a wide wooden staircase and at the top of it is another pair of tall doors that lead to the receiving room, I think it was called the caida, where there were wood and sulihiya chairs, a coffee table, end tables and a marble topped table that was set against a wall. It also had these huge brass ammunition shells that, I was told, date back to the Japanese war. The room looked out onto the garden and it had two sets of doors on either side. I guess, in the old days, if you passed muster, you were allowed into the inner sanctum protected by those doors. One door led to the living room that had my favorite marble topped table and, certainly, more wood and sulihiya chairs. Windows wrap around the room giving one a view of the street and the trees in the garden. This room was one of the children’s favorites because they can run around in it and make all sorts of noise that won’t bother the adults. Unless, of course it was Holy Week, then we had to keep the noise level way down because we had the pabasa in the prayer room that was connected to the living room. The other set of doors led to the dining room, which I probably ate in only three times. The rest of the time, I’d eat in the bedroom or the kitchen. I don’t remember much about the dining room. Only that it was dark and it had wrought iron grills on the windows and one of the awnings had the numbers 1935 on it.
From the dining room, there was another room that extends to the back. I don’t know what’s in there as I hardly enter it unless there was buco sherbet being dispensed there.
The house was actually a simple rectangle that was partitioned off into rooms. If one bisects it lengthwise, half would be comprised of the public rooms and the other half, the living area of the house’s occupants.
The private area had two big rooms, one small room, the small kitchen, and the bathroom. One of the big rooms was used as a prayer room. It had a huge sulihiya bed that nobody really used, a quaint little washstand that had running water, a dresser, and all the santos. We had a Sta.Ines and a Santa Misericordia (sounds like the name of a female saint but it’s actually an image of Jesus on the cross) that I tried to stay away from when I was a child.It looked so sad and a bit creepy.
My cousins and I used to play hide in seek in that house we call Bale Sim. There were so many hiding places that a game can take an hour before the “it” finds everyone. I seldom played in the garden. I only went there to ask people to get me some mangoes from the trees.
When I grew older, I’d be content to just sit on my favorite chair by the window. It was a recliner and I’d sometimes fall asleep there while waiting for my mother or grandmother to tell me that it’s time to leave.
My sisters used to stay there for weeks during the summer but I never stayed overnight in that house. I don’t know how it feels to sleep there and wake up in the middle of the night. It wasn’t for lack of opportunity. I think I was just scared. I didn’t want to wake up with the feeling that the people in the old paintings were looking at me.
My favorite room in that house was the bathroom. It was done in sage green. It’s big enough for ten kids to play in. It had a water closet and a separate bidet. It had a square bathtub with a built-in safe. (I’ve no idea why it was put there. Go figure.) It was the most calming room in the house; the light was just right, not too bright and not too dark. The temperature was just right, too. It was cool; I don’t remember it ever being warm, even in the middle of the day. What I would give to have that bathroom in my house! It can double as my bedroom. All I need is a bed.
Then came the second wave of lahar and even the caretaker had to leave. He escaped through the roof by way of the banguera where the plates were left out to dry.
It’s a pity my nieces and nephews and some cousins, even, didn’t have a chance to get to know Bale Sim. They will not be able to explore the grounds, swim in a shallow well/pool in the garden, climb the mango trees and find out where the choicest hiding places are. They will not have the chance to slide and skate on the wide wooden floor planks in the living room. I think they would have loved it.
I had to write this down before I forgot all about the house.