I RECENTLY discovered that condo-living was a far cry from the picture-perfect lifestyle featured in glossy magazines.
A few months ago, I moved with my two sons into this high-rise building in the heart of Information Technology Land in Metro Manila. The experience was new to me, having lived all my life in the family compound in an old residential neighborhood in the city.
A week before the move, my son took me on an ocular visit as he ironed out the details of our contract with the unit owner. We were moving in as tenants on a relatively short-term contract while my son waited for a build-to-own condominium nearby to get ready for occupancy.
The panoramic view of the city sprawled before me from the bedroom window of this condo unit at the 18th floor. My eyes could span the view of Manila, Santa Mesa, and San Juan to the left, on to Mandaluyong and parts of Quezon City to the right at the far horizon. At the easement garden shared by the complex of buildings under the same management, one could see the cityscape of Makati and Taguig. These fantastic views topped my list of this particular condo’s selling points, more than the swimming pool or the small gym on the second floor.
The easement garden was where I would spend 30 minutes or so whenever I could, to soak in the early morning sun and do a short daily contemplation. Most days, when the weather was good, I simply marvelled at the vast sky above me and gazed at the high-rise buildings. For this lovely garden alone, I could stay here forever.
Or so I thought. After a few months, somehow the air had changed. Toxic fumes that I suspect came from the construction site beside the garden made it intolerable to stay even for 10 minutes.
Lego toys
The panoramic views also came with the sight of men working at the construction sites. At exactly 7 a.m., a gong ushers in a strange scene. The construction workers in color-coded T-shirts file in a neat line when the gong sounds. Then a man gestures with a megaphone. From the 18th floor kitchen window, they look like the little Lego toys my sons used to play with. Were the men receiving their marching orders for the day? It sometimes looked as if they were in prayer led by the man with the megaphone. Whatever it was, I am fascinated with the unusual display of discipline.
If there is constant noise from the hustle and bustle out in the streets, it is, however, total silence inside the condo unit. Our landlady claims that in her two years in this condo, she had never even met her neighbors, much less bumped into them at the elevator or the hallways. That is not exactly my experience, although I must conclude that condo users do tend to keep to themselves. At the service elevator leading to the penthouse, it is always the kasambahay I bump into.
Then again, it isn’t strange that the corridors are almost always empty, considering the habits and lifestyles of people who decide to live in a condo. Where I am staying, the demographics are made up mostly of IT professionals and call-center agents who work the graveyard shift. These people are dead to the world at sunrise, until their shifts begin at late afternoon or sundown.
At the elevator I have also come across some foreigners, mostly Koreans. Then there is a smattering of families with young children, as evidenced from a notice from management after New Year’s Day about the racket from the youngsters. We weren’t bothered at all; thank God for those sound-proof walls.
These families are the ones who have the kasambahay rushing to the penthouse to secure a drying cage for the day and providing competition for me at 6 a.m. on weekends. In the penthouse in this condominium building, there are only 16 drying cages to service the 18 units on each of the 28 floors. You do the math.
Among the condominium brochures that have piled up at my desk, there is one that lists a drying area among its amenities. I thought the drying area was a given for condominium builders and architects. Since when has the drying area become more of a luxury than a necessary provision?
A plus here at this condominium where I am staying is that management and security are commendably efficient, except maybe for the billing system, which the staff can never seem to get right. Our power and water charges are always mixed up along with the association dues that the unit owner has agreed to pay under our contract.
No suspicious characters
The association dues are charged monthly on top of power and water consumption to pay for the daily maintenance, security and other administrative services. Here, it is well worth it because the hallways are always clean, the staff is courteous and alert, and security will escort away suspicious characters at a call from the unit intercom.
It is also a plus that the unit we are renting has enough outlets to accommodate all my sons’ electronic gadgets. For this reason, the best designs for condominiums would be a minimalist, fully functional style. Enough of the kitsch, please. There’s just no room for that in tiny spaces.
When I first moved in, there was just one word to describe the difference between living here and living in a regular home like the one I had been used to: restrictive. One can’t really do much in here, especially the cooking. Gas stoves are seldom allowed in condominium buildings for obvious safety reasons.
The restrictions bring about a change in lifestyle. The usual Filipino meals are reinvented, using more practical ways of cooking, unless one doesn’t mind the curtains and throw pillows smelling like tinapa. In the condo kitchen, even if one turns the exhaust fan on, the neighbors can guess what you’re having for dinner, because the odors from your cooking fill up the corridors.
In the trash, ironically, lies an important life lesson. In this building, there are strict rules for waste segregation which I follow religiously, lest I get fined by management. It was a wearisome task at first to have to make a mental note whether what one was disposing of was wet, dry, recyclable or toxic. But the task soon becomes an easy habit with daily practice.
Proper waste disposal also helped purge the kitchen of the tiny cockroaches that we concluded were coming from the other units nearby waiting for owners to return from abroad or a new tenant to move in. Living in a condo means keeping the house in order, not for oneself alone, but also in kind consideration of all the other dwellers in the building.
The sense of community plays out here, not in the usual gregarious socialization that happens in the typical local barangay, but in silent acts of respect that may be as simple as waste segregation. It is a sensitivity that moves one to act for the good of the whole.
So how does my condo-living honeymoon end? Our contract will expire all too soon, so I am busy prepping up the old house. I have had it repainted in light, happy colors for my own homecoming. I shall bid goodbye to this condo unit I have begun to call home, because an old love beckons and I must go.
