The Mestizo House in Salaza

Unfortunately, the house pictured above is not the Reyes family’s ancestral home. It belongs to an old Salaza family by the name of Landa. Probably built before the Philippine Revolution, the structure sits directly across from the old barrio plaza where the Aglipay Church still stands today.The house is no longer occupied because of structural deficiencies, but is lovingly preserved by the heirs as a reminder of a bygone era.

As houses go in Salaza of yesteryears, the house stood out as a stately mansion, what with its distinct European-influenced architectural lines; yet, its thatch roof stresses unequivocally that this is a house of the Orient. The sliding windows may have had at a time utilized capiz shells that were de rigueur in those days. With the passing of time, they were replaced with plain etched wood. I have come to associate this house with the Salaza fiestas of my youth, as it was situated within spitting distance of the plaza where many of the activities and entertainment were held: the palasebo contest, the kalo-kalo, the beauty contest dances, stage shows that featured passion plays in the European tradition and zarzuela, comedia, and the moro-moro.

Possessed of a strong affinity to Spanish Philippines nostalgic past, I find my imagination running loose, wandering farther back in time when I think of this house. I am transported back to my fantasized vision of a dinner party given by Kapitan Tiago, as described in the opening chapter of Jose Rizal’s Noli Me Tangere. In my fantasy, the Salaza mestizo house becomes the house described in the Noli. Made of wood and adobe stone, it wears the splendor of the well-connected illustrado’s house of mid-nineteenth century Philippines. The house has an overhanging balcony with intricate metal grill-work and patterned eaves overlooking a courtyard surrounded by moss-covered wall. A lovers’ concrete bench faces a central fountain. Seen from the plaza, the stained-glass windows offer an interesting panorama of ruby, topaz, and emerald colors when oil lamps are lit inside the rooms at dusk. The front entrance is framed by a distinctive caida that shelters arriving guests alighting from their carruaje. Ascending the wide balustrade and thickly carpeted stairs, the guest is awed by the cavernous sala that is elegantly decorated with paintings of masters Juan Luna and Felix Resurreccion Hidalgo. The Spoliarium takes center stage among fine pieces of European furniture and accessories, some covered with lace mantilla. A grand piano occupies a prominent spot in the sala.

I am Cold by Juan Luna, 1885, oil on canvas

Details of En El Jardin by Felix Resurreccion Hidalgo,
1885, oil on wood

Spoliarium by Juan Luna, 1884, oil on canvas

Dashing caballeros and chaperoned señoritas arrive in separate groups to occupy seats on opposite sides of the sala. Off to one side of the room, brown-skinned illustrados dressed in barong Tagalog huddle with fair-skinned peninsulares, stiff-necked in their starched, high-collared shirts, debating the wisdom of Philippine representation in the Spanish Cortes. The soft murmur of conversation and the clinking sound of wine glasses held by white-gloved hands compete with the exuberant strains of Austria’s unofficial national anthem, On the Beautiful Blue Danube, played by a full complement of Salaza’s native orchestra.

While the ambience is totally European, the distinctive tropical scent of freshly-cut palm fronds that adorn the corners of the sala reminds the visitor that he is in Salaza, the Philippines, not in far-off Madrid.

Overwhelmed thus, my reverie is shattered by the shrill voice of Doña Victorina. Speaking in bastardized Spanish, she admonishes her charges – the daughters of Salaza’s landed gentry, the fair señoritas, each one holding demurely in her dainty hand the ubiquitous abanico that she uses for shielding a shy smile or to telegraph a brief message to her novio across the room – to keep their knees clamped together to deter the leering eyes of Father Damaso.

As the scene gradually fades away, a platoon of His Royal Majesty the King’s plumed-helmeted royal dragoons, invited guests, resplendent in their Victorian Cavalry uniform announce their arrival with a staccato of horse hooves pounding the cobble-stone street below.


John Reyes