By AHM.

 To most Filipinos, Balintawak was where Andres Bonifacio made his famous cry which started the revolution against Spain, and that is where his famous monument stands. But to my family it truly was the site of the House of Hizon. The house which Andres Hizon built (or bought) and called “Fair Haven”.

To me “Fair Haven” was a magical place. 

The sign greeted you as you entered the gate. Then as you walked into the drive, the castle loomed before you. To your right was the huge stairs made of stone which led upwards seemingly to the stars. On either side, stone balustrades beckoned for you to hold onto them during your breathtaking climb. To the right of the stairs was a cistern of water which seemed like a moat. At the top of the never ending stairs was a balcony. Standing from there you could see – forever.

Huge, heavy, wooden double doors opened to reveal a foyer that led into a grand hall where guests were received and on special occasions doubled as a ballroom. Separated from the grand hall by side panels was the banquet hall where guests (mostly relatives) would sit and dine. Farther, separated from the banquet hall by a wall and swing door, was the kitchen where all the delicious aroma of a feast being prepared arose.

To the right of the banquet hall was an alcove or anteroom with an altar where evening prayers were held. Opening through doors to this alcove were three bedrooms; a smaller one for Aunt Remy and two larger ones for guests (mainly relatives and their families).

The master’s quarters were to the right of the great hall as you entered from the balcony. In it were Uncle Andres’ personal effects and clothing (mostly Khaki uniforms). In it too was his library filled with books and 78 rpm records. This was strictly off limits to us kids and you entered it at your own peril. The kids followed this mandate strictly, except for Cousin Boysie who would enter it, when the master was out, and come out with a handful of records to play on the gramophone in the great hall. We enjoyed songs like “K–K– Katy”, “How I Hate to Get Up in the Morning”, “Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree” and other such ditties. My cousin would return them before the master came home.

Once home, the master rarely came out of his den. Once inside, there would emanate soulful and mournful sighs of longing and love and as we listened carefully through the walls and door, it soon became apparent that it was “Ning — Ning — Ningning” repeated over and over in a falsetto voice. During occasions when he did come out, it was still “Ning — Ning — Ningning” (apparently the most wonderful sound he ever heard!).

Grandma Oleng would lead the evening prayers in the altar room. All the children were required to attend together with the interested adults. It would start out very solemnly with everyone’s eyes closed in silent reflection. Then would start – a snicker here, a snicker there, one eye opening and then the other, then a growing cacophony of snickers and outright laughter (for no apparent reason) which would only stop when Grandma Oleng turned and stared menacingly at everyone. But it would soon start again during the litany so Grandma had to hurry it up just to get everyone to stop.

One of the guest rooms had an amazing feature. It was a door on the floor which could be lifted up revealing a ladder that you could use to get to the room below (ala Sweeney Todd). It was apparently an escape hatch against any invader to provide a hidden sanctuary for occupants. At least that was our fantasy. Uncle Andres probably built it as a fire escape!

 This downstairs room opened into the garage where, wonder of wonders, was parked a black limousine! A Packard! Another item to explore for the fearless and intrepid young adventurers! It was dusty on the outside and inside it had the musty smell of a car that had not been opened for a long time. But that did not deter us ten year old musketeers from turning it into a playground. We had a lot of fun turning the steering wheel, bouncing on the cushions, sliding on the trunk and hood, leaping onto the running board (cars still had running boards at that time just like in the old gangster movies) and generally having the time of our young lives.

 Then, from the inside of the garage, it was out to the driveway and back to the majestic stairs. I don’t remember where bathrooms were located. Maybe during those wondrous years we never used them!

Years later, when I was in college, Uncle Andres brought my mom and I back to see an apartment complex which he had put up at an adjoining lot. I was eager to revisit the scenes of my childhood but alas! Something happened during the intervening years. My castle had shrunk down to an almost ordinary structure. The stairway to heaven was only a little over a dozen steps. The balcony was just a little more than a landing. Forever had been replaced by rooftops and the grandiose halls were no more than ordinary living rooms and dining rooms. The Packard was long gone.

 And so what I saw with my child’s eyes was much different from what I saw as a grown up. But in my heart of hearts, I much preferred what I remembered as “Angelo in Wonderland”.