Balinese Bird House

Abodes 

A bird is safe in its nest - but that is not what its wings are made for.

- Amit Ray

Second Daughter said once of my pet lovebird Azul, Who knew a bird could have personal effects? 

He had a pink gem from Second Granddaughter, a cross stitched sign that bore his name, a lock and weight on the door to keep the jailbird in, and his looking glass. 

Looking at his stash, I sometimes find myself shutting my eyes and trying to concentrate, then give it up. But in the moment of giving up, find the memory of that captured moment swirling around me.

Perhaps, that is why I picked up this Balinese bird house and feeder with chimes even when Azul had long been gone.

So I could remember.

It would have been perfect for holding his favorite sunflower seeds. 

Built almost entirely of organic materials, its natural materials consist of small branches for roofing. The main piece is built from a hollowed bamboo that is painted blue and ornamented with twigs and various woods. 

If the wind should pick up, thin glassy shards strung on beaded nylon cords and hanging at the bottom would give fair warning of the coming long rain. 

The bird house would have been ideal for sheltering from the storm.

On any common summer day, I can imagine Azul, no longer a domestic captive, just randomly making a stop.

He will first fly lazy circles in the air before swiftly making a swoop and hopping on the warped wood of the perch. Undaunted, he would sit trilling his melody bravely and cock a bright eye, tilting his head mischievously before pecking on a seed or two.

He might do one of his trademark somersaults but shortly, he'd turn his chest to the sun. He'd hurry to fly off with a flapping of wings, his gaze to the sky.

Just like that.

Perhaps leaving behind but a tiny, ruffled feather teetering on the perch of his Balinese house.

Blue Bird and Feathers. Framed foto

Spirit House

Abodes

So this happened. 

In a market, for sure. Maybe in Chiang Mai or Bangkok.

I just remember walking on a crowded street alongside beautiful buildings and interesting architecture, unique souvenirs, handmade products, clothing, and a variety of stick food and desserts. 

It was all SO enchanting.

But just between us?

The only thing that was better than all these was seeing IT.

You know... IT.

The thing that you find... that you never knew that you wanted... that you had absolutely, positively no idea that you ever even needed...

... until you find it and wonder how you have existed until this moment without having it in your life.

It was a Spirit House.

Mounted on a pillar or a dais, it is a small, roofed shrine commonly seen outside most houses and businesses in Thailand. It is a dedicated structure to honor the guardians of the land and to protect the living from wayward spirits.

I thought it was glorious.

Depending on size and intricacy of its carving and ornamentation, it costs between 1563.51- 6220.8 (THB) Thai Baht or approximately $50-$200.

I looked away.

Then I looked again.

The one I wanted was as big as a dog house.

Do I really need one? Do I need a place where friendly spirits could congregate and enjoy my peace offerings of food and drink and rice, bananas, coconuts, and desserts?

Do I need it to keep bad spirits at bay?

At that price and the inconvenience of lugging it along approximately 8,623miles (on a straight line)?

Nah. Not this time.

Maybe Goodwill will have it someday, and nobody would know what it is. And both shall meet...

... My Spirit House and I.

Emilia Compound

Abodes 

Some years after I'd left for the states, Mum and Dadee started developing contiguous apartments for the siblings and their respective families.

From the colorized sketch on the left, you'd see that it consisted of a narrow build comprised, from top by: (1) new apartment for Second Brother (in yellow); (2) new apartment for Fifth Brother (in blue); (3) our original home, renovated for Fourth Brother (in gray); and (4) a new house in front for the parents and Third Brother (in blue). 

First and Sixth Brothers live in their respective homes a few miles away.

It has been a sanctuary that is a living heartbeat.

Mum and Dadee's dream. 

An extension of the souls that live in them.

Above: Dadee's sketch of completed plan. Manila, 1989. Below: frontage of new parental home

We have fondly called it the Emilia Compound.

Visiting for the first time after nine years of being away, I felt a breath-song, like a warming pulse, at the center of the adjacent homes.

Looking at the original structure where I grew up in, a montage of memories billowed around me - the open porch with the hanging orchids and yellow bell vine trailing the stairs and the rattan swing underneath, the capiz windows, the batong buhay blocks that led up to the home, and its creaky wood floor. 

But now, all gone. Modernized.

The strange thing was that after all those years of longing to get out, once I was allowed to do what I liked, I always wanted to go back.

Top: Parents with Fifth and Fourth Brother's firstborn.

Note red gate at end of property incsribed with "DORIS," 1982

Bottom: Second Brother and parents, main house entry, 1980

 

To the same old neighborhood.

The same old trees at the same time of year. 

The same comfort of things staying the way they were.

And when I did, I always regressed. Maybe I needed to be that child, at least sometimes.

I needed to remember the important things, the things that made me who I am today.

It is suddenly a place I very much want to be.

Where I can feel safe and family was there. 

My home.

The compound front gate repainted by Second Brother, February 2021

Their Story

From The Archives

The wedding may long be over, but each passing year in marriage is still a milestone worthy of celebration. First Daughter recalls in her minimalistic style of writing the many memorable moments of the journey - first meeting, first date, proposal, wedding, the children.

Our Story - By First Daughter

July 16, 2020. Printed With Permission

Waikiki, 2021

Sixteen years after, it's time to celebrate all over again. 

Wishing you an anniversary 

as especial as the love you two share!

 

Letter from Mum

From The Archived Files 

There's nothing like your mother's voice to make you want to burst into tears. - Anonymous

My Mum has daily made deposits in my memory bank. Here is one of them, from a handwritten letter written 32 years ago today. Printed edits are from Dad.

Time has passed like it never happened. This was how we all looked way back in 1989.

Top left: Parents at home. Manila

Top right and below: Christmas Day. First Daughter, almost 17 years; Second Daughter, just turned 15 years. Phoenix, Arizona, 1989

Time passes. Memories fade. Feelings change. People leave.

But the heart never forgets.

Home Among The Pines

Abodes

A house is made with walls and beams. 

A home is made with love and dreams. – Unknown

In my early twenties, I had a dream house. 

I wasn't conversant in architectural styles, but I felt certain that I'd like an old-fashioned house with clean lines and an A-style roof nestled among the agoho and various coniferous trees in the wooded pine forest of Baguio City.

The design I had in mind was probably close to a modest and cozy cottage. Or perhaps similar to a log home with wood siding, shingles, or even logs. 

Surely, it would have a large, open concept.

And a rustic interior. Maybe a loft for a study and a library.

The walls would be lined with traditional habi woven Benguet tapestry and on the floor, a buri palm intertwined mat.

I'd have plenty of outsized windows open to every view, unblinking. I would fling them open to the cool breeze perfumed with jasmine, taking in the nice view of the red flowering bottle brush tree and the violet jacaranda trees outside. I'd peek at dwarf cloud mice scurrying on mossy areas and on the ponderosa pine. And gawk at hanging parrots with their bright green body feathers and the brilliant scarlet-orange plumage on their head and tail.

At night, I would have my moon and my stars and a nice silhouette of the trees against the sky.

I said then, One day I’ll live in a place just like this.

It won't look perfect.

It won't look like a showroom.

It won't look like it belonged in a magazine.

Truth?

It will look better.

Because it will be made of love and dreams.

Bahay Kubo

Abodes

If you had asked a Filipino elementary school pupil in the mid-50's to draw a house, I could bet that he or she would come up with a structure that resembled a nipa hut or bahay kubo.

Growing up, I was familiar with this traditional icon of Philippine culture, as it was a common sight in my grandparents' rice plantation in Malinta.

Too lazy to walk back to the main house to cool down after play, I remember sprinting up the stair slats of any one such abode that belonged to the tenant farmers so I could hurriedly drink directly from an earthenware jug's faucet. It was a random dwelling, but as all the structures were similar, it seemed as if there was only one lodging place in the entire farm and that I kept going to the same exact one every time. 

I knew by heart how it looked and felt. 

The entire house was elevated from the ground with stilts. Its roof was an inverted "V" thatched with nipa leaves and the flooring and walls were made of split bamboo.  

Windows with shutters are on the front and on one side was a door that was accessed through rickety stairs.

In the scrutiny of the bright sun, it showed its age. Creaky, like its joints needed exercise.

 

Too small a house for secrets, it was furnished with bare essentials. The inside had a small bed, a cupboard, and a chest of drawers on which the farmer's wife had placed enough effigies and prints of saints and the Virgin Mary to start a holy order.

It was a bit crazy lopsided, but I loved it. 

I used to think that I could easily build one for myself under a towering coconut tree. 

Outside, I'd hang a hammock between the mango trees. 

And I'd live there among the water buffaloes for the rest of my life.