2005. Sepoc Pt., Anilao, Mabini, Batangas, Philippines
What will this bring me? I asked myself. Our banca has passed Sombrero Island and I'm seeing a big rock. The wind has stopped speaking; ending our conversation as if introducing the rock and all else that I will be meeting in the next 5 minutes.
Shall I say, pier? Bamboo walkways invited us off the banca. We followed it sincerely. Being rude will simply mean down to Balayan Bay. I'd thought I'd see a cove or beach once we went around the rock, but no we were greeted instead by short trees aligned like a gate. Where is the beach in the brochure? Fortunately, the gate had doors - a narrow trail that opened up to an accidental marsh on the right and thick greenery on the left. And in a split minute, it called my eyes - white sands, driftwood and corals. Welcome to SEPOC POINT! I felt the smile - from my facial muscles, to my tummy and down to my toes. This is where we were last weekend.
It's not just about being happy. It was Happiness seeing me. I went in the water as soon as I had some place to drop off my beach bag. It was cool and it felt clean. They asked me if it was salty. I literally tasted the water and reported "maalat" like a real beach should be and not like fabricated salt. What I really wanted to say at that time was that it was salty; cuisine salty, orchestrated by a cordon bleu chef. I am not sure if they'd be willing to understand what I'm saying. It totally had nothing to do with the beach.
I was in Cebu and I remembered swimming. I was in Bohol and the water looked romantic. I was in Boracay and the water was just fun. In Camiguin, I felt free. In Chicago, they said it was a beach but hey it was a lake! I just stood at the Santa Monica Pier and ferried across the San Francisco Bay when I needed to go home from Vallejo to San Francisco. Last weekend I remembered smiling and from that point looked ahead. I forgot my dreams. I need to know how different it would be in the Bahamas? How the water would taste in Maldives? How long really is the stretch of coast in Florida? Would I like it in Hawaii? Will I even notice the beaches in the south of France or the Mediterranean amidst everything else that looks beautiful (ahem including men?)?
I forgot my dreams. In Anilao, in the point where we were last weekend, I remembered them again.