I have a strange fascination for old houses- the kind that the early ilustrados lived in back in the days. In our community, there's just a lot of them we call 'haunted houses' - just because. Old kids' tales, if you ask me.
Foodhuntress circa 2005. That house behind me is a house of a landed family. Walking into the door, into the marbled halls, I was reminded of old parties of the Spanish family who used to own it. It was brought down in 2007.
Spanish house in Irosin, a town in Sorsogon. The occupants lived in the second floor while the ground floor is used as a granary or bodega (warehouse).
An old lighthouse.
This one is better- maintained than the ones I saw earlier. When you go inside these houses, you'll only be fascinated by the polished hardwood floors (which I like sooo much), the long dinner tables, the four- post beds with curtains...hmmm. I like. As a teenager, I would go with my best friend Frances, who has much of a Spaniard in her veins than Filipino, to one of her grandmother's old houses. Endless feasts took place on the grand tables, while all the preparation were done in the huge kitchens at the back. This is where I learned my basic Spanish cookery...cocido, embutido, callos, paella...
Church bells, too, I like. Where art thou, Quasimodo?
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