The Orchard. Camella Homes. Mediterranea. Brittany. Kalipayan Homes. As you might have guessed, these are names of subdivisions located in the southern Tagalog area about 50 kilometers south of Manila. These names became familiar to us last year, after my husband and I decided to retire in the Philippines and started looking for a house. In the process, we learned about the Philippine meaning of the word "tripping", a totally lawful exercise, when enthusiastic realtors took us on whirlwind tours of subdivisions in the Imus-Bacoor-Dasmarinas area every weekend to help us find a suitable home to buy. We went "tripping" so many times and saw so many Mediterranean-looking homes that these all started to blend into one indistinguishable mix of tile roofs, ubiquitous balconies, petite bedrooms and Olympic-size swimming pools. Our search began in November 2001 and continued almost every week until just a few days before we left for the United States. The features we were looking for in a house included, in addition to the right price range, the availability of telephone and cable lines. We patiently rode out with a realtor once, sometimes twice a week, looking for the house that would meet our specifications. We saw quite a few but none that excited us. Many of them were described as having 3 bedrooms, but they turned out to be too "cut up", divided into several tiny rooms to fit the description in the advertised flyers. We were shown houses built right under ominous-looking power lines or located just a stone's throw away from a group of shanties. We quickly moved away from these as fast as we could. Other houses were of the right size and the right number of bedrooms, but they had sacrificed the quality of the materials to contain the cost. Almost always, the houses we saw were designed with the same Mediterranean look: red tile roofs and a balcony. In the end, we got our fill of the sameness that greeted us at each subdivision, and despaired of ever finding anything. One exception was a unit in the Orchard. It was not free standing and I was apprehensive about the absence of a feeling of community: no children playing, no yayas hovering over their charges, no housewives in evidence. However, I was willing to make an allowance for it in exchange for its positive features: proximity to the school where my husband would teach, the quality of the materials used in the construction, the mature trees in the area, the security provisions, the view of the golf course, the cool breeze flowing from the green and the serenity. It had just a small area of yard where I envisioned growing a couple of tomato and pepper plants and some flowers. We were willing to go a little beyond our budget because we thought all these amenities were worth it. Besides, we barely had two weeks before our departure date so we were quite desperate to make a decision. The only thing that kept us from signing was the definite word that a landline and cable connection would be immediately available. Up until the last minute, however, the realtor could not give us an unequivocal assurance that these facilities would be available by the time we returned in June. Frustrated, we backed out of the negotiations.

We had scarcely a week left and we were starting to get discouraged when my husband had a brainstorm. He suggested that we forego the assistance of realtors. Instead, why not hire a car and driver, and just depend on our own resources to do the exploring? We took out our map and decided to turn our attention towards the west coast. Our objective would be to scan the Cavite coast and find something near the water. Not really knowing where to look, we started from Aguinaldo Highway and started westward on the first decent road we saw, which turned out to be Governor Drive. We drove without any definite goals, but instructed the driver that if, as we were driving, we saw a subdivision along the way that looked promising, we would take a look. Again, we saw our fill of "Villas" "Hills" "Groves", etc. Often, we wouldn't even get out of the car because by this time, we had developed a sixth sense of what the homes would be like from their surroundings. In most cases, a cursory look would be enough and we would know right away to start heading toward the exit. That day, we had the whole afternoon, so we decided that we would just keep driving until we reached the coast. Soon, we had gone through the cities of General Trias and Trece Martires, but we had not seen anything yet. Then, we found ourselves entering Naic and I felt a slight tinge of excitement, remembering Naic's prominent place in Philippine history.  We checked our map and saw that Naic was almost on the water, so we were sure that at any moment, we would be smelling the sea and seeing sand dunes and seacoast vegetation. However, right after we drove under the "Welcome to Naic" arch, instead of seacoast vegetation and the smell of the sea, our eyes were drawn to the left side of the highway where a thick trove of trees, swaying gracefully up in the sky, towered over a meter-high wall. We could not guess what this place might be since we could not see through the wall, but the sight of the stately eucalyptus trees totally fascinated me, and I exclaimed, "What a relaxing place!" Our only clue was a rusting sign, "Echauz Farm" posted over a non-descript iron gate. My reaction piqued my husband's curiosity and we both declared out intention to find out what was behind the wall. We were not even sure whether the guard would let us through the gate to enter the "Farm". Our driver slowly approached the gate and hesitantly asked the guard if we may go in. Much to our surprise, he motioned for us to do so. We were even more surprised after we entered the compound and saw a veritable forest of mango, papaya, eucalyptus and mahogany trees looking completely at home inside the wall, as well as blooming Dona Auroras, gardenias, frangipanis, vincas, and yellow bells decorating the attractive bungalows. Instead of the smell of salt, we were refreshed by a cool, gentle breeze. Instead of the sea, a narrow river followed along the bend on the east side of the property. The total effect on us of the landscape was the feeling that this place takes care of the environment. We looked at the homes for sale and were impressed by the quality of the construction, the high ceilings and the use of marble, stone and narra throughout the house. Right away, we felt that we had stumbled upon what we had been looking for. The next bungalow we looked at was on a 360 square meter lot, with three bedrooms and 2 baths, a large living room, and large windows that allowed the breeze to freely flow through the whole house. The spacious dining room walked out into a lanai with a mango tree on one side. When I saw the lanai, I was immediately sold and knew that my search was over. Without looking at one another, my husband and I had instantly made up our minds; each of us knew that our "tripping" days were over. Two days after we saw the house, we returned to look at it again and were ever more convinced that we did not have to look any farther. We left a down payment and left for Columbus, Ohio on the last Saturday of June 2001. On September 7, we returned to the Philippines, paid the balance on the house, and signed the final papers.

My husband and I are now residents of Filipinas Paradise, and as I take my daily forty-five minute morning walk around the compound, I cannot help but contrast this place to the area in Manila where I used to walk. We lived in an apartment on the corner of Leon Guinto and Estrada Streets in Ermita, and with great care, I would walk along the crowded sidewalks of Vito Cruz, making sure that I did not bump my toe on a broken piece of concrete or step on dog feces, while trying not to breath too much carbon dioxide from all the jeepneys and buses plying the Estrada and Vito Cruz routes. I could not even enjoy listening to music on my portable radio.  I was concerned about carrying it out in the open, lest it be forcibly taken from me. Anyway, it was probably not even possible to hear any sound from the radio with car horns blowing all around. Now, as I walk around Filipinas Paradise, I don't have to look down and worry about what my foot would step on. Instead, I feel free to let my eyes roam to admire the whiteness of the billowing cumulus clouds against the blue morning sky, or follow the flight of sparrows as they soar high among the stately eucalyptus trees or flit among the branches of the mango trees, heavy with fruit. On clear days, the mountain ranges of Maragondon in the North, would reveal themselves, looking like the flexed biceps of muscular athletes. As for my listening pleasure while I walk, I have the choice of either listening to the chirping birds, enjoying whatever is coming over the Walkman loosely hanging from my waistband, or just savoring the stillness of the forest.

© 2005-2006 Violeta P. Hughes-Davis
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