Because beachin’ is spelled a-w-e-s-o-m-e

I used to dislike the idea of going to beaches. Growing up in the province where a nearby beach is rich in black sand and the stench of freshly-caught fish lingered, the mental image that I’ve had of beaches wasn’t very inviting. (Jeezus, was I swimming in a fucking port?) Although arguably, when you’re a kid (a provincial kid) you don’t have a concept of sosyal sand – the white sand. You’re indifferent between black and white. Sand is sand and the water is just a few footsteps away.

And then came Boracay 2 years ago. Oh. My. God. What in the world was I thinking? It was love at first sunburn. The irony is, I don’t know how to swim and I’m shit-scared of drowning that if I were to die, I’d rather be shot in the head, even by two assassins (one on each side) than be devoured by a body of water, blue as it might be. And at the age of 20+X (oh fuck you, don’t rub it in), I do not intend to enroll in any swimming lesson. I am content just lying on the sand and be toasted by the sun. (The tanning oil was a good investment! However, please know I am not getting paid to endorse this product.)

I could only be excited about the trips I’ll be having this year.

Boracay 1, done in Feb.

Pagudpud, Labor Day weekend.

Boracay 2, September.

Baler, c/o the Jericho Rosales movie. Okay, so really this doesn’t count but I do have the option of going in March. If only I still had funds left. Between going and watching, it’s simple math which one is cheaper. P50 DVD versus a few thousands.


Just say it.

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