U.P. Gets a New Landmark: The Story Behind Diliman's Atencio-Libunao Hall

(SPOT.ph) There is comfort in the quiet corners of U.P. Diliman, those pockets of stillness that exist between the always-bustling colleges. Sometimes it’s a root-tangled spot under the trees by the lagoon; other times it’s the early morning hush of the Academic Oval before the inevitable chaos of the school day sets in.

In the lost years of the pandemic and remote learning, when the campus (and the rest of the metro) was uncharacteristically empty, another such place emerged: the Atencio-Libunao Hall.

It sits at the corner of Laurel Avenue and F. Agoncillo, an arched Spanish-inspired building beneath sun-dappled trees. The not-quite-hidden gem looks more like a resort-style provincial villa than an institution amid UP’s modernist architecture. Tucked between two different churches, the serene facade might even be easily mistaken as another place of worship. Peek in and you might glimpse a sliver of turquoise water from the huge pool cloaked behind concrete walls draped in vines and shrubbery.

The hall is not new nor is it a secret. Yet, mention its name to alumni or even current students, and not everyone will know exactly what you are talking about. U.P. is, after all, a massive campus. On weekdays, students rush past on autopilot, fully focused on getting to their next class. Sundays see churchgoers stream along, happily yapping with family and friends. Every day, it’s easy to drive by and never notice the unexpected hall that has surfaced here.

And once you realize there is something hidden in plain sight, it begs the question: What is it? The simple answer would be a swimming pool and ballroom complex managed by the UP College of Law. But in a different era, some decades ago, this refined space was just a weather-worn campus pool.

Flashback to the mid-1980s: It was a time of national upheaval, and UP Diliman buzzed with the restless energy and righteous anger of youth on the precipice of revolution. There were protests and debates, and a sense of bubbling danger in the air.

But look beyond the marches and human barricades, and you’ll find that many students were still just students, navigating the mundane requirements of university life. For those enrolled in P.E. classes, the daily grind might lead them to a humble, concrete relic that sat right next to the chapel: the University Swimming Pool.

It is here that we meet Rodrigo “Rod” Libunao. He is a “lifer” in the truest sense, with a stint in the University of the Philippines spanning practically the entirety of his formative years: from high school all the way through his law degree. Libunao, along with his partner Januario Jesus “JJ” Atencio, sponsored the creation of the Atencio-Libunao Hall. 

Like many alumni of any era, Libunao speaks of his Diliman days with a mix of wry, humorous realism for the aging facilities and an unmistakeable affection for the institution that shaped him. It is fair play: Back then, no one would call the pool a “hidden gem.” It was quite the opposite; even students required to swim had very little desire to do so.

“It all started with the swimming pool because when we were in high school, it was already considered sub-par,” Libunao says, recalling how put off him and his classmates used to be at the questionable waters of the old facility. “The toilets were clogged, the showers were leaky. There were frogs in the swimming pool!”

And so it was for the next few decades. Even as the world beyond the campus transformed, as smartphones, Katipunan skyscrapers, and revolutions changed the landscape. Yet time stood still for this Olympic-sized relic.

“Imagine, when I was in high school 40 years ago, it was already considered dirty and sub-par, right?” Libunao points out. “And then 2020 na, ayun pa rin ‘yung swimming pool.”

Although U.P. students are never in short supply of school pride, there is a lingering acceptance that many of the university’s facilities simply aren’t on the same level with those of its private school neighbors—let alone premier institutions abroad. For a long time, that gap was just a part of the experience. But when Libunao stepped foot elsewhere, the stark contrast made all the difference.

The catalyst for the project didn’t actually happen in Diliman, but over 2,000 kilometers away. When Rod Libunao went to get his master’s degree at the National University of Singapore (NUS), he experienced a sharp moment of culture shock—not from the city, but from the university’s facilities.

“When I studied at the National University of Singapore, nakita ko yung swimming pool nila, yung facilities nila,” Libunao says. Seeing a peer institution in the region with world-class amenities, it was difficult not to compare it to the damp locker rooms and chipped tiles back home. “And I was thinking, kung pupunta dito yung student ng NUS or visiting professors of NUS, nakakababa ng pagkatao.”

It was a matter of perspective. He began to look at the Diliman campus through the eyes of an outsider, imagining what a visiting academic would think of the aging swimming pool. “Supposedly [UP] is a premier university,” he points out with blunt honesty. “Tapos ganyan swimming pool. Ano pa yung hindi premier university, saan kayo nagsu-swimming?”

The realization that even a premier national university struggled to compete with the basic facilities of its regional neighbors changed Libunao's approach to giving back. Initially, he hadn't planned on a major construction project. “Initially, I wanted to donate a classroom to the College of Law,” he admits.

However, a meeting with then-UP President Danilo Concepcion redirected the plan. Recognizing the dire state of the campus facilities and the strategic importance of that specific corner, Concepcion made a counter-suggestion. “Sabi niya, ‘Rod, why don’t you just handle the swimming pool?’”

Libunao agreed, along with his partner Atencio, to help execute the vision. Together, they moved from the idea of a single classroom to a full-scale complex. The goal was practical: to create a space that wouldn't just be “good enough for UP,” but would actually hold its own when compared to private institutions or international guests.

The first phase of the hall—the pool and the ballroom—was completed in late 2022. However, it’s just now that the complex is reaching its full, intended silhouette.

Although the facility sits on the same historic plot, the sprawling pool we see today is entirely new. It has been scaled down from the original 50-meter Olympic length to a still-huge 40 meters, with a more user-friendly depth of 4.5 feet (for those of us who are vertically challenged). Plus, what it lost in length, it more than made up for in aesthetics: the new design features a rim-flow perimeter that spills toward the edges like a pool in a high-end resort.

Framing the pool are a series of soaring, Moorish-style keyhole arches. These tall white structures offer a shaded shallow area to wade through when the mid-day sun gets too strong. As it filters the sunlight, the lattice-work on the arches cast soft patterns across the pool’s surface. (As a reminder of the old pool, the designers kept the concrete hollow block wall that remains unpainted to this day.)

But for Libunao, it wasn’t enough to build a beautiful pool. He wants it to never revert to the “sub-par” state he remembers from his youth. “Part of the donation was, I wanted to see to it that the swimming pool will always be maintained,” he says. “Five-star hotel quality.”

To do that, the complex must be self-sustaining. Knowing that it would be a challenge to survive on a fluctuating government budget, Libunao and Atencio conceptualized a ballroom and a smaller function room as a revenue engine. “All the earnings go toward maintaining the swimming pool.”

It turns out the public is happy to have this space. Libunao describes the ballroom as a runaway success, with bookings filling the calendar nearly nonstop. He points out that while every college on campus has an auditorium, the university lacked a proper ceremonial hall for more distinguished moments of academic life: memorial services, testimonials, or formal dinners.

The ballroom’s proximity to the Parish of the Holy Sacrifice has also made it a premier wedding destination. In fact, for those opting for a civil ceremony or a non-church wedding, the ballroom itself serves as a stunning venue. Libunao even speaks of an additional benefit: “Your march is longer here than in the UP Chapel.”

The final piece of the complex—or the “third phase”—is set to open within the year. It is the striking bahay na bato that will serve as an exhibit space/museum. For its first 10 years or so, Libunao says it is housing “The World of 1908.” The name is a nod to the year of UP’s founding, and the items on display will be a time capsule of the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

Bahay na Bato speaks of Libunao’s dedication and trust to UP and the College of Law, as it is a deeply personal contribution. The exhibit pieces are all from his family’s private collection; even the ornate carvings and bahay na bato design are inspired directly from the Libunao home in San Miguel, Bulacan. Later this year, guests can fully experience the Atencio-Libunao complex, including this on-site museum.

Managed and operated by the UP College of Law, all funds generated by the hall are funneled directly back into the college. The ballroom, which fits 200 people, a smaller event space for 75 people, and the swimming pool are all open to the public for rent. (This author may or may not have booked a date already.)

There is, admittedly, a certain romanticism (and humor) in the struggle: humid classrooms, peeling paint, and all that grit. It is a rite of passage, right? But there is also satisfaction in creating better conditions for incoming generations to be genuinely proud of.

This is a familiar story: study, graduate, see the world, and give back—to your family, your alma mater, your country, the world. The words “para sa bayan” echo endlessly across the campus, whether shouted as a rallying cry during angry demonstrations, declared in solemn graduation speeches, or offered as a gentle reminder from a weathered professor.

But a realization often comes long after leaving the pocket of idealism that is Diliman: service takes many forms. Atencio-Libunao Hall is a gift from a former student in hopes of creating a sanctuary worthy of pride and the university’s storied alumni. It is a space built on a simple, radical idea: that the country’s premier university should open its doors to the world with a beauty that matches its brilliance.

Frogs optional.

For more information, visit the College of Law Instagram page. The Atencio-Libunao Hall is at F. Agoncillo Street, Laurel Avenue, UP Diliman, Quezon City.