VII. Old-Style Minimalist Living for Sale at the 1912 Buencamino House in San Miguel, Bulacan.

As we were doing the look-see of the Santos House (previous article), I guess the agent must have sensed my impending thumbs-down verdict, because about midway through the tour, he said that he had another old house to show me. 

So after leaving the Santos House, and after doing a courtesy visit to the Tecson House (see article of 11^th August) diagonally across it on Rizal Street, we drive a block away, to Tecson Street, past the Sevilla House (it really keeps calling to me), and stop just about fifty meters or so away, at one of the many houses of the extended “Buencamino” family, a name that seems to always trace back to San Miguel.

After a bit of confusion about who had the keys and where the caretaker might have run off to, we finally gain access to the yard. It’s a large property, easily more than a couple of thousand square meters, probably even much more. The house itself reportedly dates to 1912, at the front end of the American colonial period, but stylistically (without nitpicking too much) could have been built a couple of decades earlier at the tail end of the Spanish regime. 

Old-house enthusiasts will also feel its design connection to the Sevilla House down the road, in the ornamentation of the exterior, and especially above and below the windows. 

It clearly has not been properly occupied in a while, and from the outside, looks about ready to give, though hopefully not as badly as the Sevilla House (see article of 16^th August), our de facto benchmark.
 

So let’s attempt to enter and see what the interior looks like. The ground floor is an unpretentious silong this time, rather than a zaguan. Originally it must have been a series of storerooms, but sometime in the past, it was reconfigured to be a separate household, with its own entry facing the street (see top photo). Apart from this, the ground floor is unremarkable, so I didn’t even bother to take any photos in there.

Our goal is the principal living space on the second storey. Entry to this is from the main yard on the four-bayed left side of the house, in the third bay of which is the house’s main entrance. This connects directly from the exterior to the second floor, via one straight flight of steps.

After adjusting to the dark interior, one manages to appreciate the balustraded staircase:

And emerges from that into the sala:

The sala itself is decent, if rather small:

It runs a bit more than half the left-side length of the house, along the right side of which are two bedrooms, separated from the sala by beautiful solid narra panels:

These bedrooms are entered via matching solid narra swinging double doors, topped by art-nouveau jigsaw-cut panels:

The bedrooms have a simple but effective ceiling design, which it shares with the sala:

Shutting out the outside world is very easily effected via sliding persiana panels in the sala:

And in the bedrooms:

But air manages to circulate within the house via these beautiful pierced panels and transoms:

The house’s third bedroom is actually at the head of the staircase, behind this closed door and these hardwood wall panels:

The staircase itself points directly to a modest dining room – clearly this home was designed for a small family, relatively speaking. It is from this dining room that the above photo of the head of the staircase and the outside of the third bedroom was taken. 

The only space we have not visited is the kitchen, which is entered from the dining room via these double doors:

And also gives us access to the house’s only sanitary facilities, visible at the far end:

And, perhaps too briefly, thus ends this akyat-bahay session.  The brevity of the tour may be attributed to the absence of distractions – no processional santos, original furniture, or silver carrozas in the zaguan. But really, as far as ancestral houses go, this house is simply at the tiny end of the spectrum. On the plus side, it’s actually in good shape from the inside, and the floors, ceilings, walls, doors, and design details are all well-preserved. 

Another plus factor is that it would actually be appropriate for a relocate-rebuild-restore project, as the owners are open to selling just the house. Its relatively small size, however, will appeal only to urbanite minimalists, of which kind of home dwellers my family and I simply are not.

And then comes a suggestion from the agent. What if we relocate both this house and the Santos House we’ve also just visited, and combine them to form one impressive three-storey house in Malolos? The idea is attractive in its simplicity and its ability to directly address the issues at hand. 

I give it a lot of thought over the next few days, but slowly and sadly dismiss it, on two grounds: First, the two houses are stylistically chalk and cheese: the Buencamino House is simplified Art-Nouveau Victorian and is really of the same type as the much larger Sevilla House, built ten years afterwards, while the Santos House is ultra-modern for its time and looks more like it belongs in the groovy 1960’s. I fear that a combination of the two would result in something comparable to a racing-red Ferrari with a Rolls-Royce radiator grille. Don’t even try to imagine it – it’s disgusting.

Second, with this smallish single-living-storey Buencamino House overpriced at PHP 600,000, combined with the even more exorbitantly-priced Santos House, I’m afraid that this proposed relocate-combine project just does not make economic sense. Looking at all the admittedly beautiful wood parts and architectural details in both the houses, I am certain that a fair market price for all of them will not be anywhere near the implied PHP 2.1 million total. In addition, one would have to spend not only to demolish, transport, and reassemble everything, but also to build a new steel-and-concrete skeleton for the new structure (currently the acknowledged best method to go about this sort of construction). And we haven’t even talked about the architectural design fees and other costs that will have to be incurred along the way just to make sure that the two houses blend well together to result in a substantial coherent-looking three-storey residence.

And I know what you will say, so let’s all say it together: all that effort and cost, and it’s still just a poor imitation of the three-storey Sevilla House.

Originally published on 1 September 2006.  All text and photos copyright ©2006 by Leo D. Cloma. The moral right of Leo D. Cloma to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted.

Original comments:

11 Comments

mike10017 wrote on Sep 6, '06 Hopefully somebody will buy the house and lot and restore it in situ so as to preserve the architectural landscape of the town.

rally65 wrote on Sep 6, '06 Indeed it's a pity that San Miguel, Bulacan is saturated with these once-beautiful ancestral houses that, like this Buencamino House and also the Sevilla House, are now abandoned. Those that continue to be occupied and cared for, like the Tecson House, are very much the exception and perhaps no more than a handful. Compare this situation with Vigan and Taal -- even more old houses, but nearly all preserved and inhabited. (Why not make an offer for this Buencamino House and its lot?)

overtureph wrote on Nov 30, '06 I don't think the case of the old houses in Taal are any different from the old houses in San Miguel, Bulacan. Both towns needs help in heritage conservation and awareness. There are still several towns in Batangas that have old houses, San Jose, San Juan, Balayan and Calaca and there is one (at least for me) exceptional old house in Batangas City. It's the Acosta-Pastor house. You could also find the ancestral house of Gaudencio Cardinal Rosales in this city. There are also a few old houses in Sta. Rosa, Laguna and if I remember it correctly, a few old houses near the old church of Canlubang. By the way, just in case you haven't come across this article: http://newsinfo.inquirer.net/inquirerheadlines/regions/view_article.php?article_id=32635. Looking forward to your next posting.

maginoongtagalog wrote on Dec 24, '06 I am unsure if you know that of the many photos that you have taken of ancesral houses, only the Buencamino house appears to be possibly inhabited by ghosts. At least three can be identified from your photos. Take a close look at the orbs (circular transparent objects seemingly afloat) in your Buencamino House photos. There are three of them in different positions in several photos of the Buencamino House. You may look up "orbs" in google and learn more about it. Some experts say that these are physical manifestations of the "energy" of spirits and not necessarily the spirit itself but certainly proves that they are around. I have looked at some examples of true ghost orbs on the internet and your photos have captured real ones as they are transparent and they appear to have ring-like shapes radiating from the center. In one of the photos there is a cluster of 3 of them against a dark wall. One is bigger than the rest but more transparent than the other two. There seems to be three orbs captured together on different photos of the Buencamino House and they do not have the same positions on the individual photos which proves that it is not dust on your camera lens. Additionally, not all of the photos of the house seem to show the orbs.

rally65 wrote on Dec 24, '06 Thanks for that interesting note. Yes, I have heard of this phenomenon, and have observed it in several of the photos that I have taken over the years. (There are even more in photos of future akyat-bahay reports that I have yet to write and post.) I have to admit though that I have no firm opinion on what those orbs represent, but who knows? Additionally, in all my akyat-bahay endeavours, I have never felt or observed any super-natural manifestations of any sort, except as any companions may have indicated or reported. (For example, see the separate article on the 1904 Hermogenes and Teodora Reyes House in Malolos.) Thanks again, and keep reading and corresponding.

mvnabong wrote on Jan 15, '07 If the P600k selling price of the small Buencamino house is rather steep, what sensible price range should one consider ;if one is indeed seriously contemplating on a relocate-rebuild-restore undertaking? What important parameters are to be considered? Please do enlighten me.Thanks.

rally65 wrote on Jan 15, '07, edited on Jan 15, '07 I admit that I have not made any hard calculations to determine a "correct" price for the Buencamino House. I was merely basing it on the notion that the price should correspond to the amount of physical material (i.e., wood) in the house, and given that this was a relatively small house, I did not expect it to amount to so much. The proper technical way to proceed is to measure all the wood in the house in terms of board feet, then evaluate all that wood based on prevailing prices of reclaimed wood per board foot (easily obtainable from dealers in Manila and nearby provinces). I have not done that for this one. The other major consideration is the amount of restoration and / or relocation and rebuilding that needs to be done. Simply put, if the old house was in good shape and did not need to be relocated, rebuilt, and / or restored, then it should fetch a higher price. Otherwise, the seller should settle for a somewhat lower price. In the end, since the market for these things is so thin anyway, it's all highly subjective, and depends just as much on how much money the potential buyer has in the bank as well as on the seller's "mood" (propensity to sell). I know of some old structures that have changed hands for what I feel are enormous sums of money, which baffles me to no end. But those are actual consummated transactions, so one can't argue against them! I'm sorry if the foregoing has not been as helpful as you were hoping, but I guess we're all still learning here together! A final point: If you come across an old house you really like, I guess just about any price will be reasonable. In that case, don't do too many calculations, and just see your banker straight away to arrange an easy mortgage!

rizalunderground wrote on Sep 8, '07 Is the 600k price tag includes the lot Leo?

rally65 wrote on Sep 9, '07 The PHP 600T price tag is just for the house, which will then need to be dismantled and relocated.

VI. House for sale: 5BR, 2TB, lot optional. (The 1931 Cirilo Santos House in San Miguel, Bulacan)

All that thinking about actually buying the Sevilla House (previous article) to rescue it from the elements and make it a proper home again got me thinking. What if I really bought an old house and fixed it up? And get this: it wouldn’t really matter where the house was. Not that I would pull up and relocate to Bicol or Isabela or Iloilo – I would simply disassemble the house, move it over piece-by-piece to some big enough vacant lot in Malolos, then rebuild it just like, or even “better” than, the original. (Trust me, it’s not fantasy – quite a few people have done this in recent years.)

The light bulb that popped up in my brain was still warm when a text message came in. It was from an agent who normally deals in antique furniture and paintings. Would I want to buy an old house in San Miguel? The seller was willing to sell just the house. Fortunately it’s easy to hide one’s excitement in a text message in reply. I make an appointment to see it the following Saturday morning.

On the way there, the agent gives me a few more details. He hadn’t been told much more either, but it’s supposedly a house built by former Bulacan Governor Cirilo Santos and his family in 1931. It’s on a 2,085 square meter lot, and of course the lot is for sale as well, at an asking price of PHP 3,000 per square meter. I try not to focus too much on these trivial details, as I care only about the house. After a relatively quick one and a half hours from Makati, we finally get to San Miguel – Saturday mornings are really quite traffic-free. I’m back in familiar territory: Rizal Street, where most of the beautiful old houses are, with the Tecson House on the left side. And just diagonally across the Tecson, our destination: the 1931 Santos House. 

My fears are confirmed, and my initial impressions are not good. No, it’s not dilapidated, at least not from the outside. But – horrors – it’s “modern.” Actually, it’s what is now referred to as “Art Deco” – though people in those days didn’t actually call it that, instead they used the term “Modern” or even “Modernistic.” (“Art Deco” was a label invented by art historians in the 1960’s.) Here’s what was considered “modern” in 1931:

I'm familiar with Art Deco, via our family’s antique Filipino furniture from the 1930’s that we’ve inherited from my grandparents, just like in many other Filipino families. The style is characterized by geometric patterns, plenty of right and forty-five-degree angles, flat surfaces, and highly streamlined depictions of flowers and Ancient Egyptian-like humans, in contrast to the fanciful birds and fruits and tendrils of the immediately previous Art Nouveau style. Here’s an antique armchair that I espied (while visiting someone’s home) that shows some of these typical Art Deco characteristics:

While I think that Art Deco is a great style for Filipino wooden furniture, for some reason I don’t think it works as well for ancestral houses. I think it was a bit “premature” and perhaps too radical for use in traditional Filipino family dwellings. Besides, the transition from the previous Art Nouveau style, I feel, was too abrupt. Contrast the façade of the Santos House in the earlier photo above with that of the Sevilla House that we’ve just visited. You will need to be reminded that these two structures were built just ten years apart. And yet the Sevilla House looks and feels like it might still date from the latter years of Spanish colonial rule (just like the Tecson House, which actually does), whereas the Santos House might be mistaken for being from the funky 1950’s or 1960’s. Tell me if I’m wrong.

So we enter the Santos House through this granite- and machuca tile-lined porch and main door – since we’re trying to be modern, it’s not actually in the dead center of the façade, but it’s still in the middle of the left bay of the front of the house:

One potentially good thing though about Art Deco houses, and more generally houses from the 1930’s, is that they slowly got around to the idea of having a liveable ground floor. No more zaguans or bodegas or carroza parking spaces, but a proper living room, dining room, kitchen, even perhaps a bedroom or two. Definitely modern. 

As one enters, the living room (furnished with a somewhat egregious Baliwag-style bone-inlaid “ambassador” sala set) is in the foreground, with the dining room farther beyond. There is also a bedroom / guest room / study connected to the living room, the first of the house’s five bedrooms. 

The whole ground floor is in a somewhat busy but really quite typical machuca tile design:

Unlike older houses, double doors that delineate the sala from the hallway from the dining room are dispensed with, and instead, small pillars and arches are used to simply “suggest” such divisions:

Having quickly gotten our fill of this “modern” ground floor, we go upstairs in the hope of seeing something more promising. 

We’re not disappointed, as the second floor looks like it belongs to some other house. This more “private” floor, essentially for bedrooms, starts with a large traditional living room with beautiful wide-plank flooring:

And, the best thing yet, an enviable painted ceiling, in unmistakable Art Deco style:

The older Art Nouveau style still tries to creep in via these painted glass panels in the arches that split the large family room into two sections:

There are four bedrooms on this floor, most of them with unusual sliding doors:

Or very narrow swinging doors that I could hardly pass through (and yes, even the other skinnier people in the house had the same complaint):

Two of the bedrooms share this ensuite toilet / bathroom:

And most of the bedrooms have some form of walk-in storage:

And this house even retains some of its original bone-inlaid bedroom furniture:

Despite the “modernity” of the façade and the ground floor interior space, the overall feel of this second storey, with its massive narra-paneled walls, heavy doors, wide-plank floors, and jigsaw-cut transoms is definitely late Spanish to early American colonial, not really much different from that of the Sevilla House:

One may either leave this floor the way we came up:

or descend from the rear via this quasi-azotea and stone staircase, yet another throwback to an earlier era:

And take a walk around the expansive yard from the back around the side, and notice such things as a windowless stretch on the outside wall, where, I remembered, the second floor's ensuite toilet / bath would be:

And confirm that the house was really all-stone all around on the ground floor, and all-wood on the second floor:

So what’s the verdict? 

The positives: the ground floor is a living area and therefore makes the house quite practical for continued use as a 21^st century residence; there are original pieces of furniture that could be acquired with the house; it’s in relatively good shape, with valuable architectural details and old hardwood parts especially on the second floor, making it quite suitable for a relocate-rebuild-restore (“3R”) project; and the house is actually for sale separate from the lot.

The downsides: Its modern style just doesn’t have the cachet of older ancestral houses – while the second floor is not bad, the ground floor and the façade just aren’t that appealing; the original furniture isn’t that desirable either; and the owners’ asking price of PHP 2.5 million for just the house, without the land or the furniture, seems extremely steep. Even at the reported PHP 1.5 million “last” price, my analysis is that it is (1) at least two to three times overpriced, and (2) therefore not yet the hoped-for old house “3R” project.

Or maybe it’s because, in my mind, it just isn’t the same as having the three-storey Sevilla House. 

Originally published on 28 August 2006.  All text and photos copyright ©2006 by Leo D. Cloma.  The moral right of Leo D. Cloma to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted.

V. Doing the Foxtrot at the Sevilla-De Leon-Joson House in San Miguel, Bulacan.

While the Tecson House is a well-preserved masterpiece of late 19^th century Filipino architecture and interior design, and the Sempio House simply “surreally inhabited,” the Sevilla-De Leon-Joson House (let’s just call it Sevilla House henceforth to economize on bytes) is just stupendous. I did say that the Tecson House was probably the best one in all of San Miguel; let me go right out and say it: the Sevilla House is really my favorite house in San Miguel, and quite possibly in any place.

And that’s despite its current pathetic and deplorable state. I started to outline the reasons why I like this house so much, but I realized that there’s really only one: It has three storeys and is therefore enormous, with hectares of floor space. That alone gives it a huge edge in my score card.

Its enormity hit me immediately the first time I saw it some years ago. I was just passing in front of it, but it was so gigantic that I felt momentarily dizzy just trying to take it all in. It’s like that feeling you get when you suddenly see King Kong looming in front of you (if that’s ever happened to you). It’s so tall and wide that I found it very difficult to photographically capture the entire façade in just one frame, so here are two of them: First, the third storey and the top half of the second storey:

And here, the full second storey, and the ground floor:

Fortunately, you need not be limited by my mediocre photography skills (for the record, merely the limitations of my consumer-grade digital camera). A good photograph of the Sevilla House’s imposing façade is in San Miguel de Mayumo. Curiously, only a cropped vertical shot is in Filipino Style (I guess the book’s internationally renowned professional photographer couldn’t fit it all in either). What’s strange is that it isn’t even mentioned, much less photographed, in the venerable Philippine Ancestral Houses, published over twenty-five years ago, when it might have been in a much better state for portrayal and critical review.

The house was built in or around 1921, by a wealthy landowner named Catalino Sevilla and his wife Valeriana de Leon. The frequently-told backgrounder is that Mr. Sevilla was originally a mere agricultural tenant of the De Leon family. Having become prosperous enough to not only marry the landlord’s daughter but also to be able to acquire more property than his father-in-law, he then builds this huge structure, so that his father-in-law would have to look up to him, at least literally, when he’d come by to visit his daughter and grandchildren. 

I honestly think that that’s just a tall tale, pun intended. I don’t think a prosperous gentleman needs that sort of a reason to build this sort of a house. I don’t think he really cared to upstage his father-in-law. I don’t think his father-in-law really cared either – I’m sure that he had a pretty nice house himself anyway (although I don’t know which of the several De Leon houses in San Miguel it really was). And I don’t think Mr. Sevilla had any such sinister intentions – I think he simply wanted a big house. Trust me, I do too.

Whatever the real story was, here we are, so let’s go inside. We make our way through the front doors of the perfectly balanced façade, and enter the zaguan. Unlike the zaguans of the older (by a generation) Sempio and Tecson Houses though, this one does not seem to be for the parking of vehicles, or even a carroza (at least, there no longer was one when I visited). Instead, it seemed to originally be a series of storerooms. I guess that this was one very prosperous landlord indeed.

We then go through wrought iron grill doors, similar to those in the Tecson House but slightly smaller,

And make our way up a grand (apparently-) all-balayong staircase.

The second floor opens into a moderately expansive hall and sala,

from which three small (relative to the size of the house) bedrooms connect, one right head on from the staircase, and two others at the very front of the house, forming the middle left and middle right parts of the façade. Each of the bedrooms has a handsome pair of double doors, topped by a now curtain-less intricately-carved valance.

The bedrooms each have an en-suite sink and running water for washing, although like all Philippine ancestral houses, there seems to be only one toilet / bath for the entire household, by the kitchen towards the rear of the second floor. The two bedrooms on the same side of the sala interconnect via tiny maidservant-sized doors:

From the spacious sala, one moves into the even larger dining room, which, like the rest of the house, is now totally stripped of its original furniture, but miraculously still retains its overhead punkah fan. 

Notice another lavabo for pre- and post-dining hand-washing in the corner.

There is another bedroom, this time with sliding, rather than swinging, double doors, that opens from the dining room. Because of the Sevilla House’s condition (it’s really quite ready to collapse), you’ll notice the large gap between the edge of the closed door panel on the left and the jamb. But at the same time you’ll appreciate the meticulous late Art Nouveau carvings on both the top panel and the valance.

And take a look at how these ceiling beams in the hallway come together:

We then return to the staircase area in the sala, and use the opportunity to check ourselves in the full-length mirror, before ascending the stairs to the third floor.

For what, you might ask, did the owner need a third floor? Why, for dancing, of course. The Sevilla House was the home of the so-called Celia Club (Samahang Selya), which was made up of posh people from the big city who converged on this house on weekends and holidays, and seemed to exist solely to engage in endless hours of ballroom dancing. Here’s just one portion of this full-floor ballroom:

And here’s part of the rest:

The door to the left of the photo below leads to one of two third-floor balconies which I presume is where the live orchestra (band?) would have stationed themselves, their music wafting through the louvers of the doors onto the dance floor.

The Sevilla House’s fifth bedroom is also on this floor, accessible from the top of the stairs, which is where overly-fatigued club members would have rested in between the Foxtrot and the Charleston.

Unfortunately, as you can surmise from most of these photos, no dancing can currently take place in the Sevilla House, as the entire structure is really ready to give. The ballroom floor is very significantly tilted towards the rear of the house; that part is actually extremely unsafe, as one’s body weight could make the floor give way and cause one to crash into the decrepit kitchen below.

and / or roll down this crumbling rear entrance.

The absence of any appreciable maintenance for perhaps close to the past fifty years since the Celia Club disbanded when World War II broke out (and probably never got together again), and sheer neglect, e.g., unrepaired capiz window panels letting strong rain from typhoons into the house, weakening the otherwise impressive two- to three-foot-wide balayong and red narra floor boards and posts, make this structure certifiably unsafe and therefore suitable to be condemned. I only managed to sneak into the Sevilla House over the protestations of the caretakers, who I thought simply feared for my safety, but who I later realized actually feared the wrath of their bosses more if the latter found out that they let visitors like me in.

And yet, despite all this, this is still perhaps my all-time favorite Philippine ancestral house. Beyond its abundant floor area, its very well-balanced proportions in the face of its obvious great size are exceptional. The three storeys are matched by a three-bay façade, such that the whole thing is really a three-by-three square profile, even from the side:

I really like the Sevilla House so much that I’m willing to put my money where my mouth is. I’d like to offer to buy this house, and make it a restoration project. I'm already salivating at the thought. Unfortunately, many other people, and even the San Miguel municipal government, have already had the same idea. What's really tragic is that its owners have not, after all these years, ever come to an agreement as to what they want to do with their heirloom. (I was told that most of the heirs are quite agreeable, if not downright eager, to sell. Except that there is supposedly one holdout, who still fantasizes that he or she can buy the other owners out and undertake this restoration project him- or herself.)

I say, owners, do it now, or you lose your chance – the thing is a goner. Otherwise, stand back and give way to fanatics like me. Since I’m not much into dancing, I’d turn the third floor into a family library and reading room – don’t worry, visitors are welcome, and you can make noise (up to normal levels). So if anyone out there knows who these heirs are (I was told that they’re present-day members of the De Leon family of LVN Studios fame), please give me their contact details so that I can talk some sense into them!

In the meantime, I pray to be given the chance to make this our family home, and I ask the kind reader to also say this prayer on my behalf. For inspiration, I even had a portrait of the Sevilla House painted a few years ago, with the artist imagining how it might have looked like when it was newly-built and right before it was painted its original light-yellowish off-white color. The painting now hangs in my office, directly in front of my desk, from where I stare at it whenever I have to remind myself why I work so hard. 

Or maybe I should just cut all this crap, and learn the foxtrot instead.

Originally published on 16 August 2006.  All text and photos copyright ©2006 by Leo D Cloma. The moral right of Leo D Cloma to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted.

Original comments:

6 Comments

jenroy091203 wrote on May 25, '07 I pray that your dreams of restoring this old house would be realized. Just promise me one thing, that is to grant me an annual free pass to this gem of a mansion. LOL!---Jen

rally65 wrote on May 25, '07 Ha ha ha -- Granted! Unfortunately, that's the easy part.

incantamoda wrote on Sep 1, '09 so historical. i wish they would restore and make it a museum or some sort. thanks for sharing.

rally65 wrote on Sep 1, '09 incantamoda said "so historical. i wish they would restore and make it a museum or some sort. thanks for sharing." That was the plan of the municipal government, but the owners apparently refused to sell the property to the town.

d1iluv wrote on Dec 28, '10 I chanced upon this beautiful house on our way back to manila from a friend house somewhere in San Miguel. It was colossally majestic! I would like to go back there and shoot pictures of this beautiful house. Would you know, sir, who I can talk to and acquire permission to shoot the house? Any news/updates about this house? Thanks. =)

rally65 wrote on Jan 3, '11 Unfortunately my previous contact person has since died. Also, I was told that the house was actually declared unsafe to enter, as the structure, especially the third floor, was already listing even when I visited several years ago. You may want to ask your San Miguel friend to ask around for you -- there might still be a caretaker somewhere on the premises.