Picture this: my husband and I, standing on our empty lot, dreaming of our Mediterranean-style home, buzzing with excitement. We thought finding a contractor would be the easy part. Oh, how wrong we were! It was a rollercoaster of frustrations, surprises, and hard-won lessons that tested our patience but led us to triumph. Here’s our story of finding the right builder in the Philippines—and what we learned to help you build your dream home.
The Search: Why Finding the Right Contractor Was Tougher Than Expected
We dove into the search with enthusiasm, scouring the internet for reputable builders, scheduling meetings, and requesting quotations. But the process quickly became frustrating. Here’s why we kept hitting roadblocks with contractors:
1. The “White Guy” Premium
As soon as contractors saw my husband (my beloved “Billygoat”), their eyes lit up with dollar signs. One handed us a quotation nearly double our budget, grinning as he pitched ‘premium services’ we hadn’t asked for. When we questioned him, he stammered, clearly assuming my husband’s foreign appearance meant we’d pay without question. It was disheartening.
2. Inflated Labor Costs for Premium Materials
We were baffled when contractors quoted higher labor costs for installing expensive materials, like Italian granite, compared to local alternatives. The installation process is the same—same tools, same effort—so why the price hike? It felt like a tactic to inflate costs, and we weren’t buying it.
3. Subpar Materials and Workmanship
Some contractors used brittle concrete hollow blocks (CHBs) that cracked like stale crackers or undersized rebars that risked structural integrity. We’d seen the consequences in our previous developer-built home, where drilling to hang a family photo revealed hollow walls—crumbling dust everywhere. That memory haunted us, and we vowed to avoid it.
4. Absent Engineers and Architects
We wanted a contractor whose engineer or architect was on-site daily to oversee construction. After all, we were paying for expertise. Yet, many professionals we met were rarely present, leaving workers unsupervised and increasing the risk of errors.
5. Poor Track Records
Visiting past projects was eye-opening. Some homeowners shared horror stories of leaky roofs or cracked walls just a few years after construction. If a contractor’s previous clients weren’t happy, that was a red flag we couldn’t ignore.
Our First Misstep: A Costly Lesson
Eager to start, we thought we’d found “the one.” We paid a contractor PHP 30,000 for a blueprint package, sharing our vision for a Mediterranean-style home inspired by countless Google searches and Pinterest boards. After multiple meetings, his floor plans and designs missed the mark entirely. Frustrated, we sketched our own layout and asked him to refine it.
Things got worse at the quotation phase. The Bill of Materials (BOM) omitted critical components like the septic tank, despite it being a first-phase essential. Costs were suspiciously high. To save money, I handled the building permit application myself at the city hall. That’s when the real shock came.
At the Engineering Office, I learned our blueprint was flawed—posts were incorrectly placed, and there was no structural computation, a critical document for a complete blueprint package. Worse, the contractor wasn’t a licensed architect or engineer, despite being introduced as one. His name appeared only as the contractor, with another professional signing off. When we confronted him, his vague excuses left us stunned and furious. We’d trusted him with our dream and PHP 30,000, only to feel betrayed. We ended the deal, determined to find someone who respected our vision.
For those wondering, here’s what you need for a building permit in the Philippines:
• 5 copies of the blueprint, signed and sealed by a licensed architect or engineer
• Structural computations
• Bill of Materials (BOM)
• Subdivision approval (submit 1 blueprint copy)
• Barangay approval (submit 1 white copy)
• Copy of the Transfer Certificate of Title (TCT) with an updated property tax receipt
This experience taught us to verify credentials and demand transparency. We weren’t perfectionists—just careful. This was our lifetime investment.
A Turn for the Better: Finding Our Builder
After months of searching, we found a contractor who checked all the boxes. During his daily walks, my husband lingered near a construction site, watching workers stack sturdy CHBs with precision and pour concrete that gleamed under the midday sun. The crew moved like a well-oiled machine, and the architect, clipboard in hand, was always there, barking instructions with a smile. It felt like a glimpse of what our project could be. The homeowner raved about the contractor’s work, giving us confidence.
We met with the contractor, a licensed architect, and discussed our 340-square-meter Mediterranean dream home, estimated at PHP 5-6 million. He proposed using the I-beam method for a sturdy structure and agreed to supervise daily. For the structural phase, we opted for a labor-and-materials contract, but for the finishing stage, we chose labor-only so we could select our own fixtures, flooring, and waterproofing. This gave us control over our home’s aesthetics and quality.
Watching Our Dream Take Shape
Construction began in November 2011. Unlike many contractors who demand a 30% downpayment, this one didn’t require it at this early stage, which involved enclosing the site and digging. Every morning, we’d drive to the site, coffee in hand, watching the lot transform. The rhythmic clanging of I-beams being set in place and the hum of the cement mixer became our soundtrack. Seeing sturdy rebars and neatly stacked CHBs gave us peace of mind. Our architect greeted us with updates, pointing out the foundation’s progress or explaining the next phase. It wasn’t just a construction site—it was our future home, rising from the dirt.
Lessons Learned and Advice for Homeowners
Building a house is a marathon, not a sprint. Here are our top takeaways:
• Vet Your Contractor Thoroughly: Verify their license on the Professional Regulation Commission (PRC) website or local engineering office. Visit at least two past projects—check for clean CHB alignments and ask homeowners about issues after a year or two.
• Question Quotations: Ask for a detailed BOM broken down by phase. Compare prices at local hardware stores to spot overcharges. For example, we found one contractor’s cement quote was 20% higher than market rates. If the BOM skips essentials like septic tank excavation, push back.
• Be Present: Daily site visits keep everyone accountable and ensure quality materials and workmanship.
• Trust Your Instincts: If something feels off, it probably is. Don’t hesitate to walk away, even if it means starting over.
• Do Your Homework: Understand permit requirements to avoid surprises. Handling some tasks yourself, like permit applications, can save money and reveal red flags.
Your dream home is worth it. Have you faced similar challenges building your home? Share your stories or tips in the comments—I’d love to hear how you found your perfect contractor! Let’s help each other build homes that last a lifetime.
The Rituals: Blood, Coins, and Holy Oil
After the lot was cleared and the digging started, our architect suddenly asked,
“Do you want to pour blood? Or do any rituals before we start pouring concrete?”
At first, I thought he was joking. But it turns out, it’s a real thing — a Filipino tradition, especially among the elders. They believe that pouring blood into the foundation brings protection and peace to the home.
We figured — there’s no harm in following old beliefs, especially if it brings good energy. It’s not part of the package deal, of course, so we paid a bit extra. Chickens are common for this kind of ritual, but since our lot is 450 sqm and the house is pretty big, our architect recommended a goat instead. More blood, stronger blessing — apparently.
But that’s not all.
Since my husband is from a different culture, he also wanted to include something meaningful from his side. We were lucky to find a Greek Orthodox Church, and from there, we got holy oil. So we decided to blend both traditions — the old local one, and his.
When the day came, we had everything ready:
- Coins for prosperity
- Goat’s blood for the local ritual
- Holy oil for spiritual blessing
- A prayer, said together before the first column was poured
The workers placed the coins and blood in the footings and columns, and I think they even poured the oil around the site. There was a moment of stillness — just a quiet, heartfelt pause before the real building began.
Was it required? No.
Was it meaningful to us? Yes.
Building a house isn’t just concrete and steel. Sometimes, it’s also about faith, respect, and energy — no matter where it comes from.
From 340sqm to a Castle — Oops, We Expanded
Before we poured any concrete, we brought in a termite control company. We wanted everything — footings, columns, slab — treated properly. No shortcuts. We’ve heard enough horror stories about termites silently eating away at homes, so this was a must for us.
Then came the string lines — the layout on the ground to show where the walls and rooms would be. And here’s where it got interesting…
With just the ropes and dug-up trenches, everything looked small. You couldn’t really “see” the rooms yet — just holes, lines, and piles of dirt. But my husband (a.k.a. Billygoat from Canada) looked at it and said,
“This is too small. I need space. I need comfort. This isn’t Canada.”
That moment was the beginning of what I now call:
The Great Expansion.
Suddenly, rooms got extended. Spaces widened. Walls moved. And just like that — our 340sqm plan grew to almost double in size. We didn’t even notice it happening at first. It was like adding a little here and a little there… until one day, the house was just huge.
And yes, the changes didn’t stop there.
We wanted:
- A maids’ quarter that was separate, not inside the house
- A mud room for shoes and laundry
- An exercise room (because of course, someday we’ll use it, right?)
- An office space inside the master bedroom
All of these were what we thought were just “minor revisions” — until the contractor said,
“Ma’am, that’s another quote.”
So yes, every change meant additional cost. A few thousand here, a few more there. Multiply that by ten changes and suddenly, your budget starts gasping for air.
Lesson?
Always plan for expansion.
Always assume your spouse will want more.
And always ask for a breakdown of every little change before agreeing.
But no regrets — we just wanted a home that felt like ours. Even if it took a little more space (and a little more money) than we thought.
A Short Calm Before the Storm
For a while, everything felt smooth. The build was progressing, and the site buzzed with activity. Around this time, my in-laws flew in from Canada to visit and check on the project.
They were amazed at how houses are built here — no prefab panels, no giant machines. Just a mix of manual labor, cement mixers, and skilled (sometimes shirtless) workers balancing on scaffolding like it was a circus act. It was raw, loud, messy — and fascinating to them.
They walked around the site wide-eyed, taking photos and asking questions. Coming from a country where construction is highly mechanized and super regulated, this was a whole different world. My father-in-law even said,
“This looks like how homes were built 50 years ago in small-town Canada — but it works.”
It was a nice break — a feel-good chapter in the middle of what would soon become a stressful stretch.
Red Flags After Month Five
At first, things were going smoothly. But after about five months, I started noticing something off.
The materials being delivered were fewer, yet our contractor kept asking for money “for materials.” The numbers weren’t adding up.
I kept telling my husband,
“The progress and the expenses don’t match.”
But being the trusting and good-hearted soul that he is, he kept handing over the money. His instinct was to give people the benefit of the doubt — mine was to ask questions. We clashed a bit, but I let it go, thinking maybe the pace would pick up.
Around this time, we flew abroad to shop for our faucets, fixtures, and lights — things we wanted to handpick ourselves. When we returned, excited to see progress…
There was barely any improvement.
The same bags of cement, the same half-finished corners, the same pile of sand — it was as if time stood still while our bank account kept moving.
When Trust Runs Out
As the months dragged on, progress slowed to a crawl. What once felt like momentum now felt like waiting… and wondering.
My husband and I started to argue.
He’s the kind who always gives people the benefit of the doubt. He couldn’t wrap his head around why someone we trusted — someone we were paying — could possibly be withholding materials or delaying the build.
I had to remind him:
“This isn’t Canada. Even educated people here scam others. You have to ask. You have to verify.”
So I started asking around.
That’s when the truth hit me like a hammer:
- The roofing materials weren’t paid for — even after we handed over money for them
- Only a quarter of the payment had been forwarded to the subcontractor
- Suppliers stopped delivering because they weren’t getting paid
I was furious. And heartbroken.
So I did what I had to do.
I called the suppliers.
I talked to the roofing subcontractor.
I paid them directly, and made sure every peso was documented.
From that point on, I told our contractor:
“I’m not handing over another centavo for materials. I’ll pay suppliers myself and deduct it from your contract.”
No more blind trust. No more waiting for things to magically fall into place.
It wasn’t the ideal setup, but it was the only way to keep the build alive and protect our investment.
The Breaking Point
Days went by. The roof finally started and there was visible progress — but something still felt off.
Our contractor kept asking for more money, again and again. But when I sat down and looked at everything carefully, it hit me hard:
He had already taken more than the agreed contract price, and we weren’t even done with the structural phase.
I couldn’t sleep for weeks. Every night, I tossed and turned, running numbers in my head.
So I did what I do best — I pulled out my notes, receipts, payment slips, and messages. I sat down and finished the bookkeeping. Every peso, listed and accounted for. Not just for me, but so my husband could see it too — on paper, black and white, no more doubts.
And I was done.
End of June 2012, early in the morning, I stood at the construction site and told him calmly:
“Stop all construction.”
No yelling. No drama. Just facts.
I had the numbers. I had the receipts. And I had enough.
Taking Back Control
Living nearby had its perks — I didn’t need a warning to act fast. One morning, I called the site early without notice. Then I gave the guard a direct instruction:
“Don’t let anyone in. Don’t let anything out. Not without my permission.”permission.”
Call it paranoia, but I’ve heard the stories. Some crews, out of spite or under orders, drill holes in pipes, steal materials, or sabotage the build. Our faucets were already on site — high-end and not easy to replace. I wasn’t taking any chances.
We called for a meeting.
When the contractor showed up, we laid everything on the table. I presented the numbers — the payments made, materials delivered, progress (or lack of it). The missing money? Almost ₱1 million.
His only response?
“Sorry.”That was it. No explanation. No plan.
I froze the project.
No one entered. No one exited. Tools were surrendered voluntarily at the police station, witnessed and signed by his own timekeeper and crew.
Picking Up the Pieces
We had no choice — we bought our own tools: mitre saw, drill, grinder, cutoff machine, everything needed to keep going. I wasn’t going to let his mess stall our dream.
Then came another blow:
We met with the laborers and found out… he hadn’t paid them either.
So we sat them down. I gave them a choice:
“You can leave — no hard feelings. Or stay and finish with us, on new terms.”Most
chose But I also made things clear: quality work only. If they made mistakes, they wouldn’t be paid to redo it. That was our agreement.
The good news? It worked.
We built trust. We worked side-by-side. Slowly, we became close to the crew. And as we earned their trust, they started telling us the truth:
- The contractor had instructed them to cut corners — deliberately
- Certain parts were done wrong on purpose, so it would cost us more during the finishing phase
- My husband would notice something wrong, but the contractor would always say,
“That’s just the Filipino way of construction.”
Holy cow. What a slap in the face — especially since we treated him like family. We drove him home, helped him financially, trusted him. And the final blow?
One of our employees — his own sister-in-law — told us he’d bought a house… using our money.
All we could say was:
“Wow, Really? “. Really?”
We Moved Forward — On Our Own Terms
I hired my own timekeeper to release materials and tools. We bought everything straight from manufacturers and official dealers to get better prices and avoid fake products. And you know what?
It finally started to feel good again.
No more stress from someone constantly asking for money.
No more fear of sabotage.
No more lies.
We could finally enjoy the process — watching our home rise, day by day, knowing we were in control.
Yes, we had to undo and correct a lot of things.
Yes, it cost us time and money.
But we were just grateful it happened early — before the finishing touches, before it was too late.
We’ve heard worse stories.
This could’ve ended in complete disaster.
But we held on — and kept building.
The Real Builders of Our Home
As the construction neared the end, we needed fewer and fewer workers. But deep down, we didn’t want to let any of them go.
These men didn’t just build a house — they stood by us through a mess we never saw coming. Yes, it’s their job to do things right, but they chose to stay, chose to be honest, and chose to take pride in their work.
As a small gesture of thanks, we gave each of them a tool or two — something they could use for their next job, or simply keep as a souvenir. And to this day, whenever we need help — even if they’re already working somewhere else — they come. No excuses, no delays.
To us, they are not just workers.
They’re gems — honest, skilled, and loyal.
So when people ask me:
“Would you recommend your contractor?”
I just we smile and say:
Because these men?
They’re the reason our house still stands proud.
They stayed, they cared, and they built not just walls — they built our trust back.
This is our home.
Our story.
Our sweet, sweet home.
