Old Houses

I have a penchant for old houses, as in houses that date back to the times that the Spaniards colonized our country.  My sisters find it weird but my mom understands.  After all, my mom grew up and lived in a Spanish house which was built generations ahead of her.  That house now belongs to my cousin, the son of my mom's elder brother, as part of his inheritance.

Back when I was in Grade School, I, my sisters, and cousins would go on vacation to our lola's house, which is just beside the "old house".  We would go to the "old house", call our cousins who live there, and play with them.  I remember us going up and down the flight of stairs, running around the tall Sampaloc tree, catching dragon flies and beetles, and feeding the pigs in the pig pen with whatever leaves we see around.

My recollection of the "old house" is still fresh.  The comfort rooms are built in a separate area from the house.  That means going down the stairs and walking a few meters before you could use the comfort room. The wooden table with two long benches.  The wooden planks of wood where one time, my leg fell on the broken plank of wood, and the wooden posts of the house where no nail could penetrate because of its hardness.

If only I could have it and if only I have the means, I wouldn't hesitate buying it.  But then, it does not belong to us.  I just like the idea of living in a house where your great great great grandparents lived and I suppose, it brings you a sense of pride knowing your roots.

Last Monday, on my way to Malolos City proper, I passed by several old houses along the way.  Here are two pictures I was able to take while the traffic was slowing --

I love this house.  The owner is lucky to have it.

I saw a sign that says this is Casa Real

Both houses have flags in front of them.  I suppose the City is preserving them as part of National Heritage.  I do not find them eery but charming and full of life.  After all, illustrados have once lived in these houses and I could imagine the scenes from the novels we were forced to read when we were in High School.  These old houses are the living witnesses of what had happened in the past.

I can see myself living in the old times.

I will be posting pictures of our family's, now my cousin's "old house" when I get the chance.