“There’s no place like home,” says Dorothy of Oz. How right she is.
When Gay, Zenie and I first came to Makati, we stayed in the Dursleys’ boarding house. No, they weren’t really the Dursleys, that was just what we called them because living in their abode was very much like how Harry Potter must’ve felt while housed with his wicked aunt and uncle.
There was only one room for girls in an entire building of boys, and our room was dingy and poorly lit with flimsy double deck beds and tiny lockers. We kept our clothes inside our travelling bags because we had no cabinets. We had a table inside the room where we could eat, and there was a tv near the stairs and a water dispenser near the gate so we could cook up instant noodles.
We put up with the place because it was affordable, near the office and our guy friends were in the room below ours and we could easily bond.
Two months later, however, when we decided we wanted to get out and find our own apartment and told Mr. Dursley about it. He nearly blew his top and instead of making us stay two months like we asked, cut our stay one month short and asked us to pack our bags the next week.
Miraculously, we were able to find another place to stay in such short notice. The two-story house was converted into a bedspacer for ladies, and it was just three streets away from our beloved boys and the Dursleys.
It seemed so cozy and clean, so unlike the Dursleys’ ratty old bedroom. There was a neat little living room and kitchen with complete amenities on the first floor, and a bedroom upstairs.
We didn’t see any problems until we moved in.
There were ten of us sharing the room and amenities and bathroom. As the newbies, we had no choice but to conform to their rules, including the bathroom schedule which had us awake at 5am everyday. Perfect time to wake up… if you live in my hometown and get home at, say, 7pm? But we are auditors. Midnight is our normal dismissal time.
And as if that wasn’t enough, some of our housemates turned out to be total rhymes-with-witches.
Suddenly, staying in the office became a priority. I wanted to get home when everyone was asleep to see as little of them as possible and avoid a living nightmare.
In the meantime, we started scouting around for a place we could move into. Our specifics: a 2-bedroom apartment/condo that would cost as much as or less than the rent we’re currently paying. We surfed the net and bought buy-and-sell papers and called the advertisers.
But we found our ideal place by walking down our street and inquiring about the posted “apartment for rent” sign outside the gate.
It was perfect – a two-story apartment with a living room, dining room, and bathroom at the first floor and two bedrooms upstairs and a laundry area at the back. The price was a steal, too. We had the place reserved before the day was done.
Since the house was newly renovated and bare, we had to bring in our own stuff. We ended up furniture-hunting in Paco, Taft, Manila.
Before long, the place looked like a real home with our own beds, dining set, sofa, kitchenware and other amenities.
We moved in on November and felt, at last, that we had a home away from home.