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A GARDEN OF EARHTLY
DELIGHTS
A HOUSE USUALLY REFLECTS THE
PERSONALITY OF ITS OCCUPANT
and a good example of this would
be the lush, bucolic home of painter
Popo San Pascual, which resonates
with his artistic wit and charm
A few hundred meters from
a highway dotted with pretentious vacation houses is a winding dirt
road leading to one of the most interesting homes in Tagaytay. A
modest gate opens to yet another winding path shaded with trees so
huge their branches meet from opposite sides to touch each other. This
overgrowth of exotic plants reveal a terracotta-colored house in its
midst, and so begins our adventure in Popo San Pascual’s paradise.
Unlike the barricaded enclaves so popular in this area, Popo’s house
is simply made, with all the windows and doors thrown open so one can
walk from the garden into the living room and out without a second
thought. The main living area serves as his studio, and the bright
colors of the walls reflect the hues of his paintings. Around this
room are low ledges where his artwork-in-progress are perched. His
style has changed somewhat, with the child-like yet witty naiveté of
his early paintings giving way to more abstract, near-impressionist
renderings, all of them alive with energetic lines, bold strokes and
vivid color. “I wanted them to have the feel of those paintings in the
‘60s-that impressionist style, those colors,” he explains.
The house’s hallway is painted chalkboard-green, and has vestiges of
quaint family heirlooms, such as an aparador from his grandfather and
an ancient piano from his aunt, replete with candle sconces. Beyond
this, there are two bedrooms, both of them small and idyllic in
nature, their arrangement done in such a way to make one feel as if
they have just stumbled upon them accidentally. One of them is his
brother grew up in at his family home in San Juan. They are now
painted green and laid with Indian batik fabric, its colors a perfect
foil the bedroom walls embellished with Popo’s whimsical doodles.
Before Popo built the house, he frequented Laong Laan, the street
famous for selling old wood and architectural components from
demolished houses. The weathered windows and doors are actually
pieced-together parts from old homes. “I wanted the house to look like
it was a Chinese junk, like the ones you see in Hong Kong,” he admits.
“I wanted the appearance and feeling of a house floating on water. I
have a friend who lives in a junk listing about Repulse Bay in Hong
Kong…I couldn’t forget its colors, the lights issuing from its windows
while it drifted about the sea at night.” Hence, the omnipresent
Chinese lanterns, the bright colors, the haphazard yet brilliant
arrangement of furnishings and objects, the lived-in look of the
entire place. He says that sometimes the wind is so strong at night it
wraps around the house and howls, like it would be if one were at sea.
The lanai makes a natural transition towards the garden, made all the
more charming by chickens scuttling about and a family of
tortoiseshell cats that come and go at will. The walls here are
decorated with his objets retrouves, found objects composed of
oddly-shaped rocks, garden tools, mudshoes and his “noisemakers,” a
collection of saws and metal covers that go clanging about when hit by
a gust of wind.
In Popo’s garden, there are no clipped hedges or structured vignettes.
Here, vines, shrubs and humongous trees take on an uninhibited stance
and grow with wild abandon. He claims he built the house and nurtured
the garden amongst the old trees, giant mutant plants that seem to
have been around for years. There are several pathways around the
garden, winding and maze-like, the positioning of the path-stones not
giving any hint of where it would lead you. There are pathways leading
to the main house, to the adjoining kitchen, to numerous ponds full of
Quiapo (water lettuce) plants, and to several curious pavilions. One
pavilion is a hut complete with mattress and pillows; a siesta hut, it
seems. The other is even more unexpected, an outdoor exercise hut
complete with benchpress and set of weights!
Popo paints at night, and spends most of the daytime tinkering in his
garden, puttering about and humming as he walks around it. Sometimes
he stops talking mid-sentence, politely excuses himself, and bends
over to fill one of the many watering cans lying about and attends to
whatever plant there is that needs immediate attention. The plants are
gifts from friends, some of them purchased, and others traded and
bartered from his numerous plant-loving acquaintances. Most of the
plants were acquired from Quezon, including the giant gabi (taro
plant), their leaves plate-like and massive enough to cradle a small
child. He also has royal palms that grow like anything, most of them
over nine feet tall and yet only four years old. There are also
immense ferns and cycads, their leaves so ancient and prehistoric in
appearance Popo calls them “Jurassic”. Other parts of the garden are
divided into plant collections. A large are is dedicated to his
bromeliad collection, most of them coming from his friends. In the
backyard, there is an open space, which Popo calls his “Oracle”. The
foliage here is less dense; with a clearing in the middle surrounded
by a circular, Stonehenge-like arrangement of dapis, leaf-crushing
stones from a hat-making town in Quezon. Their monolithic shapes are
more than a hundred years old. Popo reveals that the holes in the
middle of these stones are a perfect perching place for votive
candles, which he lights up whenever he has parties. In the middle of
the clearing is a table made out of metal discs by Trek Valdizno,
while a fiberglass sculpture by Johnny Alcazaren lurks in the
background. “It’s called ‘The Capeman’,” says Popo. “It used to have a
head but I took it off temporarily. It looked so frightening with its
head on at night!”
This garden also carries a few plants with unusual habits, “freaks of
nature,” one might think. A hardy-looking hibiscus plant has both pink
and white flowers growing from one stem. Another hibiscus, Popo
claims, has white-colored blooms that when plucked in the morning,
slowly turn pink as the day wears on. One other funky-looking plant is
the medicinal herb katakataka (kalanchoe pinnata); the leaves of which
form roots when pressed between the pages of a book. “The wonders of
nature talaga!” he exclaims.
Popo says he has other plants for his garden, which he claims is
constantly evolving. He even intends to put a gazebo in the area. As
for the maintenance of this amazing garden, he is, surprisingly,
rather nonchalant about its upkeep. “If it survives, it survives,” he
says he bends over to water yet another plant.
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