i’ll be brutal: she was the worst tour guide i’ve ever encountered. ever. and i’ve been to quite a handful of museums before. the guides were all not perfect, although i did have a few favorites, but she — allow me to say this — simply sucked. big time.
the tour was a freaking marathon with no significant input from the person who’s supposed to be an expert of the place. everything was a blur. she obviously had somewhere to go and we were not worth the inconvenience.
it was a miracle ram and jelvin still managed to take photos of the rooms, considering how we were only given about 5 seconds (okay, 10.) to view each room before she moved on to the next — whether or not we followed her lead.
let me tell you that the focal attractions of the house are the 13 guestrooms and 7(?) bedrooms, each one uniquely designed based on different themes according to imelda’s instructions and specifications for beauty. the house itself, being a heritage museum and all, is the kind of place you would want to take the time to feel. to absorb its history; its beauty. a mental and emotional process that leads to knowledge and appreciation of the past and the present. two things that fail to develop when the hands that guide you are the same ones that rush you out the door as quickly as you came.
but enough about her. here are some of the rooms the guys managed to capture:
each room has its own name. some of the names i remember, some i don’t. to be fair to those rooms whose names i forgot, i chose not to give all these photos its proper identification.
although i cannot and would not, for the life of me, allow this room to go unnamed. because this is the imelda’s room. probably the grandest room in the house. the one whose headboard and overhead decoration i adore.
all in all, the house is something every interior designer would probably love because, deteriorating as it may be, you can still see the keen, creative eye for detail and design that was invested on each and every one of those rooms to satisfy imelda’s standards of beauty.
but then again, of what use is a beautiful house with all its beautiful things if nobody ever even lived there and it becomes nothing but a mere useless symbol of wealth and power?
subsequently, it becomes a sad, rotting, termite-infested symbol of downfall too.