Doing it right

Leisure is a competitive sport these days. It’s the only one I participate in actually. Things to consider alone can vex the neurotic mind of a brat. For example, what landscape do I feel like having? Mountain, urban or sea? How many stars? Fight star or granola? Granola of course being the default choice when my bank account grows anemic. Then there are the outfits to mull over for the digital memories. There is also the war against the predictable, not going to cliché places and doing uncool cliché things (wherein too many cool for school folks end up doing nothing). By staying away from the predictable I become predictably exhausted. Exhaustion also comes from starvation by sniffing food and partaking in what a dysfunctional many may call aromatherapy eating. Aromatherapy eating of course being the key exercise to snag the chunkiest piece of walking meat in town and being at the top of your game amongst gaunt and tanned aromatherapy eaters in their lycra and water resistant undies. Forget what men say about personalities and how they hate makeup – they’re lying. Hello, haven’t you learned by now that they always do! These are just the basics and doesn’t it sound like fun already? I am indeed a very fun person.

People have accused me of being shallow, and as Elmer Fudd says, "If you cant beat them, then join them." So while some may come to profound epiphanies while staring with acid tinted shades at the salmon skyline while the sun sets or sets up camp and find inner peace in yoga and silence, the shallow person will find that orgasmic rush of bliss in putting together the perfect outfit.

The time comes when the back packer wants to be a brat packer. Luxury is truly a misunderstood concept. It does not mean avaricious spending and forking copious amounts of dough for an overpriced anything. It’s the opportunity to experience something different. To languidly enjoy a charmed and uncommon life even if you know it’s just a tease of fantasy.

I’ve done Boracay in all ways imaginable. I’ve felt like a foreigner in the Philippines when I stayed at the densely Korean populated part of the island. I actually got lost because no one understood me when I asked for directions. I’ve stayed near the party hubs and found myself actually refusing alcohol because it was simply obscene. I’ve stayed in ‘resorts’ so shady that residents of the island have not even heard about them. I’ve shared roach stories in my sink, shoe, kikay kit, making it prime fodder during my cocktail session scuttlebutt with friends staying at more fortunate places. I’ve stayed on the hills of Bora and also found myself waking up with only the ivory coastline in view. I loved every experience equally but staying at the majestic Nami villas, perched on the hills of the Diniwid Coast outranks the rest.

As my friend Miguel sums it up it’s, "Outlive, outlast, outfit: survivor Nami." The place really saves you from the curse of the same shit, different outfit spell that the city brings. Here it’s no shit and different outfit – it truly is the only way. Of course no place is safe from scandale, but being in such lux surroundings makes swallowing a Delilah pill so much easier.

Staying at the resort is like seeing a cute baby and playing with it and making it giggle and all. But you don’t take it home and listen to it squeal all night. Nature can be charming with its arresting foliage and crown of gem colored blooms, but the thought of a tuko landing on your wouldn’t you rather have a man who shows his love for you in bits and pieces everyday throughout the year La Mer’d face can send you running to your therapist. Sometimes even in the most beautiful and picturesque landscapes (Nami is the only resort clever enough to take advantage of the picturesque beauty of the island) there’s nothing like a Freon cooled bedroom to snuggle in. Although some may complain that its location is too out of the way. Like my definition of charm, Nami becomes so because of its unexpected and unique place on the island. Think of the famed Antonio’s in the middle of nowhere in Tagaytay. Some places are so elusive that you just have to be a regular. And you will thank your lucky stars that while you are nursing a hangover the next day that you are not near a beachside bar (which most hotels are) that is still playing trashy trance music from the late 90s (DJ Montano has supplied the resort with his selection of elegant tunes ranging from Brazillian jazz to French pop to slick chill house). You may repent for your sins getting drunk on tanning oil instead at the private stretch of the beach of Diniwid.

Since Diniwid is so tucked away, brat packers are saved from the painful experience of seeing straight male tourists donning fake candy Murakami sun hats wading in the waters with their button down long sleeved shirts and long shorts. I mean aside from offending my sartorial sensibilities, it also makes me think of things I don’t care to think about like "Who put a gun to their heads to go to the beach?"

Speaking of eye pollution, Nami’s fight rooms are dressed in elegant combo or dark wood, simple white walls and sheets, tasteful artwork and a bathroom to marry. It’s freed from what is called the cheaper by the dozen look. Whoever came up with the theory that color and pattern overload makes for a good night’s sleep must be using Ivana Trump’s shoulder pads as a dildo. It’s what I call barok (a bastardizing of baroque). Chill seekers rejoice when they discover a jacuzzi outside their balconies with a lush bath bomb waiting to be luxed out.

Anyhoo the deadliest part of Nami for a shallow fight girl like me is the lure of a genius ala carte menu. You are in a tony resort one step away from being in your birthday suit and the last thing you need is the head of your fat fetus protruding its ugly head. From the mushroom tart, to the tender salpicao that drips in garlic sauce, the garlic rice that melts away in creamy buttery goodness, the seafood salad, and everything on the Champagne brunch menu – you truly feel that the world is against you.

You really know you’re in the right place when even in the most rustic surroundings you have dial up access to a butler. Boracay can be many things all fab and fight. However the one I don’t mind having is this slice of paradise. Don’t call me spoiled. Call me spoiled rotten.

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Check out Nami at www.namiboracay.com. Call their Makati office at 8121689 or Boracay office at 036288