Concrete Jungle

When my mom moved into a condo in Cebu, I really didn’t think much about how different it would be from living in a detached family home. I was just glad that she was finally living on her own terms in a two-bedroom unit that was spacious enough for her and her household help. A bonus was the terrace she always said she wanted although there is little chance of sitting outside and sipping coffee unless you want to do it in full view of the cars, pedestrians, habal-habal and tricycle drivers below.

And then we move into one in the central business district of Makati City, considered the country’s financial and business center.


The quarters are temporary; the relocation from Batangas City came earlier than expected, earlier than the scheduled completion date of our house construction in Metro Manila. It is spacious enough – 78 sq.m. for a three-member family. The condo is just beside my husband’s office and a few minutes’ drive to and from my daughter’s new school, discounting traffic.

Parking is immediately a challenge. The first time I ride down the narrow alley which doesn’t leave much room for twists and turns, I wonder if I would ever be able to get a car in and out myself. Of course, it had to be the van the first time I had to do it.  It is amazing what we can do when we set our minds to it. I now drive my daughter to and from school every day, leaving and entering this warren of a parking lot deep in the condo building’s belly, sometimes emerging into a gridlock of cars on the street outside. Though it has become familiar, I remain wary.

The view from the balcony includes at least two buildingsunder construction, the sounds of which invade from 8 a.m. to 8 p.m. and add to the construction beside, the road work belowand the renovation on the unit on the same floor.

We are blessed with a balcony, but there is no cross-ventilation. I am in a constant state of sweat as I clean, cook, iron and do whatever little laundry I can in the narrow confines of this temporary space.  I open the sliding doors at their widest and welcome everything in, the dust and the blare of car horns from the street below, and the constant, constant noise of construction from the building beside, across, and a block away, plus the jackhammer on the government-funded covered walk below coupled with that from the renovation on the unit on the same floor. There is no quiet to be had. I turn on the radio and get a faint headache as noise fights noise.

If there is one thing that condo living has, it is convenience. The condo is situated along a busy street where shops and food outlets abound. There is a Laundromat on the second floor, and a bank and a fastfood outlet on the ground floor. Across is a drugstore, post office, a 24-hour convenience store, a bakery and food outlets that range from the so-called jolly jeeps that offer the cheapest food in Makati that you can find, to classy bars and establishments. Within walking distance is a supermarket in the basement of an office building whose entire first and second floors are mostly food outlets. If one is not careful, this convenience can easily drain the pocket.

I discover, however, a chapel in the bowels of a bank building some two blocks away and it is here that I find refuge. I find it calming to come here in the mornings after driving my daughter to her school and before I start the day’s chores. Yes, I have become my mother, who goes to mass every day.

I think that if I were young and single, this would work for me. But as a mother and wife, I find it stifling. I cannot keep buying cooked food for my daughter’s lunch or for our dinner. I yearn to cook without thinking of the smell that would flood the unit, cling to the curtains and waft into the units on the whole floor. I need an open space where we can hang bed linen and curtains. I want to look out a window which I can open, but won’t because it looks into another condo unit. I want breeze on my face, not smog. I want greenery. I want to buy fish fresh, not frozen and stored in a supermarket box.

Our circumstances might be different, but Mommy makes condo living look easy. As far as I am concerned, I am glad that this is temporary.