Furniture.
The furnishing of a tropical house is much simplified, because no carpets or curtains are needed. The floors are of polished hardwood, and they take a good deal of work to keep them in good order. A few rugs can be put down here and there, if a little colour is required. Where the floor is bad, Chinese matting can be laid down at small expense. Some of the Mestizos import costly furniture, but few of the European residents attempted to follow their example. Vienna bent-wood furniture, with cane seats, was commonly used, and was very suitable, also bamboo or rattan furniture, brought from China or made in the country. Such things as wardrobes or bookcases should have ring-bolts on each side for lashing to the walls. A child or grown person might be killed by a heavy piece of furniture falling on it during an earthquake.
Furniture of all sorts is made in Manila of Red Narra, or other wood, by Chinese cabinet-makers, who will work to purchasers’ requirements. Very excellent teak-wood furniture is made in Hong Kong and Shanghai.
The problem of furnishing a large house for a moderate sum, and making it comfortable, and at the same time artistic and refined, is not a difficult one, and has often been very satisfactorily solved in Manila.
Large stoneware flower-pots and pedestals can be purchased in Manila, and no more suitable ornament can be found than handsome palms, ferns, or flowering plants, for halls, corridors, or reception rooms.
The beds should be large, and have thin, hard mattresses and horse-hair pillows stuffed rather hard. The coolest thing to lie upon is a fine grass mat, or petate. Covering is seldom required. On the bed will be seen a large bolster lying at right angles to the pillows, so as to be parallel to the sleeper. The use of this is not apparent to the newly-arrived Briton or American. This is the Abrazador, used throughout the boundless East.
The candidate for repose, whether on the hard bed, or harder floor or deck, lies on his side, and rests his upper arm and leg on the Abrazador, thus relieving his hip and shoulder from much of his weight. He takes care to keep it a little way off his body to allow the air to circulate.
A mosquito-net must be fitted to every bed, but may not always be required. In the sleeping-room there should be no curtains, and the least possible amount of furniture, and, during the hot season, the bed should stand in the middle of the room. It is advisable to have no light in the bedroom, but good lights are a necessity in the dressing-rooms.
By being careful about this you will keep your bedroom free from mosquitoes. Petroleum is commonly used in the Philippines for lighting, and unless the lamps are of the best quality, and carefully trimmed, there is considerable danger of accident. I used to keep some plants in pots in each room so as to throw the earth over any oil that might get alight. Whenever there was a shock of earthquake, I extinguished the petroleum lamps, and lighted candles instead. And whenever we went out to a dinner or dance, every petroleum lamp was extinguished, and cocoanut-oil lights or candles substituted in case of an earthquake whilst we were out.
Frequent baths are indispensable to good health in Manila. Enormous earthenware tubs, made in China, can be procured. These are placed in the bath-room, and filled in the evening, so that the water gets refreshingly cool during the night. It is not at all advisable to get into the water, as the effect is not so good as dashing the water over the head with a small bucket called a tabo. By using the water thus, and rubbing the skin briskly with a towel, a reaction soon sets in, and the bather feels quite invigorated.
A bath of this kind when rising, and another before dressing for dinner, will do much to mitigate the rigour of the climate.
From several stories told me by friends recently returned from Manila, it would seem that the Americans there, or some of them, at least, are not sufficiently alive to the necessity of daily baths, but I refrain from giving particulars.
This seems strange when one remembers the profusion with which baths are provided in all the modern hotels in the great cities of America.
Now I must tell you about gogo. This is the dried bark of a creeper that grows wild in the woods, and it is the finest thing possible to keep your hair in order.
There are several kinds of this plant, the three most commonly used are gogo bayugo (Entada scandens Benth.); gogong casay (Peltophorum ferrugineum Benth.); gogong paltaning (Albizzia saponaria Blum.).
As washing the hair with gogo is one of the luxuries of the Philippines, I shall describe how it is done.
A servant pounds a piece of the stem and bark, and steeps it in a basin, twisting and wringing it occasionally until the soluble part has been extracted. He then adds to the liquor two or three limes, squeezing the juice out, and soaking the peel. He also throws in a handful of crushed citron-leaves, and strains the liquor through muslin.
The servant then ladles this over your head with a calabash, or cocoa-nut shell, whilst you rub your hair with your hands.
As the liquor is strongly alkaline, you must be careful to keep your eyes closed until the head has been rinsed with water. Your hair-wash is made fresh whenever you want it, and may cost from two to three pence.
The fragrance of the citron-leaves is delicious, and when you have rinsed and dried your hair, you will find it as soft, as bright, and as sweet-smelling as the costliest perfumes of Bond Street could make it.