Some houses aren’t designed from scratch. 
Some houses are already there, just waiting to be heard. 
This one, located in the La Ermita neighborhood of Mérida’s historic center, still had most of its original walls standing. Over time, new slabs had been added in odd places, but traces of the old construction remained — wooden beams, fragments of structural systems, textures that carried quiet stories. That’s where we began. 

The clients, a couple from Colombia, were looking for a place to rest in Mérida. One of them is a chef, deeply connected to spaces that allow for conversation, presence, and ritual. The other is an artist, sensitive to light, material, and the beauty of the everyday. We knew from the start that the kitchen would be the true center of the house — not just functionally, but emotionally. 

The first bay became a vestibule-living area with a double-height ceiling. A built-in bench on the right invites you to remove your shoes. On the left, a curtain made of fique —a natural fiber— filters the light toward the sitting area. Low furniture and a large wood plank define the space. Two skylights let in a soft, diffused light that warms without overwhelming. 

From there, the house branches in two directions. One leads to a circular dining room with a bookshelf, wine rack, and display cabinet. The other opens to a stone path surrounded by vegetation, which guides you to the rear of the property. 

The kitchen is placed at the core of the house. We left the walls exposed, just as we found them, and added an antique work table at the center. The vaulted ceiling was built with dovelas, intentionally left incomplete at both ends so the sunlight could pierce through and cast shadows — reminiscent of what we saw during our first visit, when the old wooden beams filtered light in slanted rays. These subtle echoes of the past were essential to how the design took shape. 

Outside, a narrow path leads to a terrace where a pool wraps around a raised concrete tank —commonly called an aljibe— now repurposed as a jacuzzi. A narrow water channel, starting from a small fountain near the vestibule, weaves through the house and connects everything through the presence of water. 

At the far end of the property, the private area is composed of two volumes. The primary bedroom is on the ground floor, tucked behind the aljibe and detached from the perimeter wall, creating an internal garden that brings ventilation and filtered views. The bed’s headboard doubles as a closet and hides the bathroom, which opens to the outside and includes a bathtub and open-air shower surrounded by plants.

The secondary bedroom is upstairs, with a mezzanine that allows for more guests. It’s accessed by a staircase made of alternating local stone and concrete steps. The new volume was painted in a washed yellow tone, echoing the original building’s color. We didn’t want the new to stand out — we wanted it to belong. 

The entire house was built with honest materials: natural patchwork finishes, solid cedar woodwork, and local stone. We weren’t chasing perfection. 

We were looking for something real. An architecture that respects, that listens, and that allows time to keep doing its work.