Memoirs of Summer II
Friday, August 26, 2005
During that one night in Puerto Galera, the steady rythm of the splashing waves beckoned me to the shore. I sat on the sand floor beneath the dark bejeweled sky, reveling in this melodious seaside enchantment.
During the day, I contented myself with swimming, eating, shopping, and finally snorkeling on the shallow coral areas. At times, I am swamped by an appealing display of human specimens, some of which seemed cut out from fashion magazines.
Such crowds, however, are typically far removed from the hidden paradise of Camotes Island, which is dubbed as Cebu's Little Boracay. The waters are shallow and pristine, with almost a magical quality in it - as if mermaids will sprout from the sea and lull you into sleep.
I swam in the deeper parts of this sea, toyed cautiously with a surf board, spiked a volleyball, proffered a look on the large living clams I've discovered, and talked and laughed the rest of the time with my companions. The furnished accommodation that faces the scenic shoreline were very comfortable. The evening saw us telling stories, dining, and singing karaoke.
In the morning, I exuberantly went to the fishermen who've lined up their catch for our choice of breakfast meal. I lifted the biggest fish with my thumb pushed through one eye and with both my index and middle fingers pushed through the other - sorry there was no other way to lift this dead fish - it was maybe 3 feet long and 1.5 feet wide! We bought a different fish, which was taken away by the resort staff for grilling.
From Little Bora, I now saw myself in Boracay itself. The porous sands beneath my bare feet was enough initial excitement. Strolling the shore at night with my friends, I felt joy simply from the way the soft sand pushes up to meet my weight. And with Bora's lengthy shoreline, that is definitely a plus. There's so much to explore by walking, which is what we did in Bora's Station 1 on a night of bars, sounds, and lights.
Ah, during that blessed morning, I had a Banana Choco Peanut shake at Jonahs. The mere recall of this shake brings me to cloud 9. (I was told that, in the previous night, there was an hour long delay due to the numerous orders.)
My friends and I rented a boat to explore other points of interest. We went spelunking at Crystal Cave. We snorkled near the waters of Crocodile Island. And we swam in the waters of Puca Beach. These and many other simpler activities such as gulping halo-halo 2-3x a day and haggling with the salesladies gave us more of our fill of experience in Bora.
In all these three beaches, I never held up from the heat of the sun. Unfortunately, I got toasted in ever darker shades of grey. In time, I even got a reddish tint to it, which is indicative of a potential sunburn. As an excuse for such carelessness, I tell myself that I might have been all charcoaled up, but I also have the reddish glow of fiery embers – a symbol for my impassioned spirit.
The memories from that summer heats my bones right now. Yes, the rain still torments the ground. And I am still here in the dark. I am shut in this temporary prison, which is paradoxically also my home. I cannot go out. I cannot go out.
But I do not recoil from this temporary prison. The time for adventuring is done. And the time for internal communing is at hand. Which is why this memoir came to be.
The rains had only made me recall the sun.
[Note: Many thanks to the faculty of San Carlos in Cebu for being so hospitable. The food they served at that time was international class, which I could say as well to the generosity of the people I've met there.]
During the day, I contented myself with swimming, eating, shopping, and finally snorkeling on the shallow coral areas. At times, I am swamped by an appealing display of human specimens, some of which seemed cut out from fashion magazines.
Such crowds, however, are typically far removed from the hidden paradise of Camotes Island, which is dubbed as Cebu's Little Boracay. The waters are shallow and pristine, with almost a magical quality in it - as if mermaids will sprout from the sea and lull you into sleep. I swam in the deeper parts of this sea, toyed cautiously with a surf board, spiked a volleyball, proffered a look on the large living clams I've discovered, and talked and laughed the rest of the time with my companions. The furnished accommodation that faces the scenic shoreline were very comfortable. The evening saw us telling stories, dining, and singing karaoke.
In the morning, I exuberantly went to the fishermen who've lined up their catch for our choice of breakfast meal. I lifted the biggest fish with my thumb pushed through one eye and with both my index and middle fingers pushed through the other - sorry there was no other way to lift this dead fish - it was maybe 3 feet long and 1.5 feet wide! We bought a different fish, which was taken away by the resort staff for grilling.
From Little Bora, I now saw myself in Boracay itself. The porous sands beneath my bare feet was enough initial excitement. Strolling the shore at night with my friends, I felt joy simply from the way the soft sand pushes up to meet my weight. And with Bora's lengthy shoreline, that is definitely a plus. There's so much to explore by walking, which is what we did in Bora's Station 1 on a night of bars, sounds, and lights.
Ah, during that blessed morning, I had a Banana Choco Peanut shake at Jonahs. The mere recall of this shake brings me to cloud 9. (I was told that, in the previous night, there was an hour long delay due to the numerous orders.)My friends and I rented a boat to explore other points of interest. We went spelunking at Crystal Cave. We snorkled near the waters of Crocodile Island. And we swam in the waters of Puca Beach. These and many other simpler activities such as gulping halo-halo 2-3x a day and haggling with the salesladies gave us more of our fill of experience in Bora.
In all these three beaches, I never held up from the heat of the sun. Unfortunately, I got toasted in ever darker shades of grey. In time, I even got a reddish tint to it, which is indicative of a potential sunburn. As an excuse for such carelessness, I tell myself that I might have been all charcoaled up, but I also have the reddish glow of fiery embers – a symbol for my impassioned spirit.The memories from that summer heats my bones right now. Yes, the rain still torments the ground. And I am still here in the dark. I am shut in this temporary prison, which is paradoxically also my home. I cannot go out. I cannot go out.
But I do not recoil from this temporary prison. The time for adventuring is done. And the time for internal communing is at hand. Which is why this memoir came to be.
The rains had only made me recall the sun.
[Note: Many thanks to the faculty of San Carlos in Cebu for being so hospitable. The food they served at that time was international class, which I could say as well to the generosity of the people I've met there.]
