Our own Tudor mansion: love at first sight

Over the past five years, we’ve changed residence thrice. We had to move out from our former home since it became too far for my mother’s aging legs and my brother’s occasional whining of hiring transportation.

Waiting for a ride after class is almost next to impossible since the last trip for Besao jeepneys pass through Sagada by 4PM. The bus from Baguio, the bus that arrives prior to the last trip passes through the town by 5PM. The last trip passes at 7PM. My mom is an elementary school teacher and gets off work at 5PM and my brother was a grade 4 student in the same school. It’s unlikely that they would catch the bus. Also, it tires and pains my brother and mom to be waiting for the 7PM trip. Walking was the only option and walking home would take almost 45 minutes to an hour, with all their school bags on one hand, and on the other, bags of vegetables and fruits and food for dinner, and for breakfast and lunch the next day. The last resort we had to do was pack up and move to the town’s center, or at least a place nearer to the school my mom works and my brother attends.

We first stayed at my Auntie Jean’s house of which was vacant for years now until we occupied it. The place was great and accessible enough but then we had a water problem. Water was scarce. Not a drop of water from the faucet even in the early morning and late evening. With my mom being a teacher and having lots of work to do for the next day’s lessons, fetching water was like a luxury she couldn’t afford. It was too tedious and waiting for a drop of water to none was keeping my mom and brother up till the wee hours of the morning, which detrimentally affects my mom’s effectivity to work and my brother’s performance in school. And so, once again, we packed up and moved out to a place even nearer to school (5 minutes walk). Here we stayed for more than two years, a lot longer than when we were at our aunt’s house. We had no problems there whatsoever. Water was abundant, thanks to Uncle Edmund and Uncle Chad. Then came a time when we had to move once more. So for the third time, we packed up and moved to another house, which was near the previous house we leased but 2 minutes farther to school than the distance from the previous house.

Upon stepping on the portals of our new rented house, the very first word that came to my mind was ‘Tudor’. I’ve always wanted to think that we lived in a Tudor mansion since then. I’ve always loved the vertical and diagonal blackened timbers, thatched roofs, overhanging first floors called galleries, pillared porches, dormer windows and leaded windows with small window panes, high and spiraled chimneys. A typical Tudor house displays that some of the lower stories are built in stone, and arches are smaller and flattened as opposed to the pointed Gothic arches.

But no. It’s not what it’s supposed to be. It isn’t really what you imagine as one of those ancient Tudor mansions. Living in an actual Tudor mansion is a luxury we could not afford. I actually just coined the name itself due to the two adjacent main doors opening to the house’s warm and welcoming interior. When I first set foot in our new home, I was curious of what would be behind those doors. For a full minute, I stood outside both doors, contemplating, before I inserted the key into the lock. A gush of warmth washed through my trembling and excited self as I stepped inside, right into the dining room. The other door opens to the receiving area (sala). A plank of wood only separates the two doors and a curtain separates the dining and receiving area. It was something I never expected. I know not what to think. But, I loved the house just as I loved Tudor houses I see in the movies and pictures. It was cute. The stairs seemed rickety upon setting my plump and hefty foot on the first step. It was also more of a one-way staircase when I’m the one walking up or down the stairs. The bedrooms were cute as well – enough for only a bed and a night table. The kitchen was wide enough for a dance hall, so with the receiving area. The bathroom was big enough to accommodate my corpulent excuse for a body. And the toilet was more of a pour-flush raised latrine.

A lot of speculations and issues are raised regarding us moving house but no matter how many times we move out or no matter where we go, it is still HOME in the comfort and love of my mom and siblings. That’s what matters most, be it a Tudor mansion or a two-door country house, or a doorless four-walled containment.