Bora-Ca
April 20, 2003 | 12:00am
Explanations first. My youngest son, Luca just turned four. Within the family, our term of endearment for him is Ca (I know, it makes him sound like some character from Star Wars or a villain out of Spiderman or X-men). For his birthday this year, his big wish was to go to the beach, and like the slaves we are to his every whim, the whole family spent five days in Boracay.
I don’t know about you, but for me, the beauty of Boracay is captured on those off weeks (or days), when there aren’t that many people around. I had the unfortunate experience of spending one Holy Week there a few years back and navigating around all those prone bodies stretched over every square inch of sand was no joke. Lying on the beach and tanning became endless brushing sand off my face as people walked by.
Besides, one reason you go on vacation is to "get away from it all"; and seeing every face you regularly see on the nights out here in Manila there in Boracay – only this time equipped with shades, surfing shorts, bikini, and Nivea sunning lotion but still with the ubiquitous beer bottle or martini glass in one hand, and requisite cellphone enclosed in waterproof bag in the other – hardly makes for getting away, right?
Boracay is still a real special place. Almost without fail, we’ll stay at Waling-Waling Beach Hotel. It’s like a second home to us, and the people there – Dr. Sacay, Donnie, Jimmy and Tina – reinforce that impression. The wonders of Boracay have to do with the variety that’s there for the taking. Dining-wise, you can hardly ask for more. This trip out, the old favorites of Binggoy and his Dos Mestizos, Louie Cruz and McSandro, the pizzas of Hey Jude and the newly-opened Aria (a stone’s throw away from Jude, Aria’s salads and appetizers are also a must) figured prominently.
Having a four-year-old like Luca is akin to being immersed in a "tempest in a teapot." He’s constantly on the go, perpetual motion is his byword, and his mouth knows no concept of "the breather." On the car ride to the airport it was an incessant barrage of questions, comments and extra-loud sighs (when no one responds to him). At the beach, one moment he can be a right pain, complaining about the sand that gets into his slippers, or how the label of his T-shirt has to be cut ("Right now!") because it’s itchy or bothering his sun-tanned skin, or how the cartoon on the TV is infinitely more arresting than the glorious Boracay sunset.
And then, out of the blue, he’ll make every moment with him a very precious one. I had to leave one day early because of the Rex Navarette concert at Dish, and as I say my goodbyes, he turns to Trish and says, "Momma, I’m sad, I don’t want Poppa to go, because he’ll be home tonight, all alone."
It’s when things like this come out of his mouth – and let’s not forget the funny, hilarious or crazy things he’ll blurt out – that we have to make the effort and write them down in some notebook. Really, I remember having "close to tears" moments with my two older boys. Kids really do say the funniest things. But if you ask me what they were, I’m stumped coming up with more than two or three. And believe me, the kids will ask. They’ll be similarly amused with Luca and wonder if they were like that, and plead for anecdotes from their own respective childhoods. It’s good to have something you can refer to for those moments. Better than saying, "Yes, you were also so funny, but I can’t remember right now what it was you said (or did)." Or worse, inventing something just to keep them happy. Fill up the book at night, before bed; and as it fills up, you’ll have a treasure trove of memories that’ll be just as valuable as photographs.
Happy Easter! Has anyone ever studied how one very religious celebration, apparently the most important holy day of obligation and the cornerstone of our Catholic belief, is secularized and becomes a day about bunnies and hidden eggs? For that matter, do vegetarian rabbits have even the remotest interest in eggs?
Hmmm.
(E-mail the author at peopleasia@qinet.net)
I don’t know about you, but for me, the beauty of Boracay is captured on those off weeks (or days), when there aren’t that many people around. I had the unfortunate experience of spending one Holy Week there a few years back and navigating around all those prone bodies stretched over every square inch of sand was no joke. Lying on the beach and tanning became endless brushing sand off my face as people walked by.
Besides, one reason you go on vacation is to "get away from it all"; and seeing every face you regularly see on the nights out here in Manila there in Boracay – only this time equipped with shades, surfing shorts, bikini, and Nivea sunning lotion but still with the ubiquitous beer bottle or martini glass in one hand, and requisite cellphone enclosed in waterproof bag in the other – hardly makes for getting away, right?
Boracay is still a real special place. Almost without fail, we’ll stay at Waling-Waling Beach Hotel. It’s like a second home to us, and the people there – Dr. Sacay, Donnie, Jimmy and Tina – reinforce that impression. The wonders of Boracay have to do with the variety that’s there for the taking. Dining-wise, you can hardly ask for more. This trip out, the old favorites of Binggoy and his Dos Mestizos, Louie Cruz and McSandro, the pizzas of Hey Jude and the newly-opened Aria (a stone’s throw away from Jude, Aria’s salads and appetizers are also a must) figured prominently.
Having a four-year-old like Luca is akin to being immersed in a "tempest in a teapot." He’s constantly on the go, perpetual motion is his byword, and his mouth knows no concept of "the breather." On the car ride to the airport it was an incessant barrage of questions, comments and extra-loud sighs (when no one responds to him). At the beach, one moment he can be a right pain, complaining about the sand that gets into his slippers, or how the label of his T-shirt has to be cut ("Right now!") because it’s itchy or bothering his sun-tanned skin, or how the cartoon on the TV is infinitely more arresting than the glorious Boracay sunset.
And then, out of the blue, he’ll make every moment with him a very precious one. I had to leave one day early because of the Rex Navarette concert at Dish, and as I say my goodbyes, he turns to Trish and says, "Momma, I’m sad, I don’t want Poppa to go, because he’ll be home tonight, all alone."
It’s when things like this come out of his mouth – and let’s not forget the funny, hilarious or crazy things he’ll blurt out – that we have to make the effort and write them down in some notebook. Really, I remember having "close to tears" moments with my two older boys. Kids really do say the funniest things. But if you ask me what they were, I’m stumped coming up with more than two or three. And believe me, the kids will ask. They’ll be similarly amused with Luca and wonder if they were like that, and plead for anecdotes from their own respective childhoods. It’s good to have something you can refer to for those moments. Better than saying, "Yes, you were also so funny, but I can’t remember right now what it was you said (or did)." Or worse, inventing something just to keep them happy. Fill up the book at night, before bed; and as it fills up, you’ll have a treasure trove of memories that’ll be just as valuable as photographs.
Hmmm.
(E-mail the author at peopleasia@qinet.net)
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