For young professionals working tirelessly five days a week, there has to be some sort of stress buster and a much needed get-away to escape from the daily grind and give their soul and body a refreshing respite. Sometimes however, going out of town can bring more stress, with traffic and travel snafu getting in the way. It's therefore understandable when these 20-something hard-workers choose to spend their rest day holing up inside their room, sleeping their way over the weekend, amidst the sweltering summer heat.
But it shouldn't be that way. Ever heard of 'staycation'? It's not exactly how Urban Dictionary describes it, 'vacation for cheap-asses, perfect for tightwads.' To put it in a more decent way, staycation is a vacation that is spent at home or a hotel. A far less costly means to getting a vacation without having to travel, 'staycation' is devoid of all the stress associated with travel such as long trips and waiting at terminals. It can be enjoyed alone or with family or friends. And it's definitely best enjoyed when you have a great hotel/condo/apartment.

It was summer of 2010 when I first saw this beach. I was on top of a hill overlooking a gorgeous seascape. I instantly fell in love with her beauty and I promised to myself that I'd go here next time I go home. But it wasn't until April of this year that I got to see her up close. A relatively short visit but a very memorable one.
How short?
We got there at around 4:30 in the afternoon and we left few minutes after 6. I planned to go there at 2 but my travel buddy said it wasn't a good idea because the sun's still up. We'd burn, as if our skin wasn't burned enough from the previous day of beach hopping.

Some provinces in the Philippines still practice a traditional ritual that turns young boys into real men. In Romblon, we call it 'paltak', a circumcision rite that involves the use of sharp knife to cut the foreskin of a boy's jewel, pulpog (beating) style. I didn't know that it's slowly being eradicated until one sunny day in April when I went hiking to the mountain to visit a local 'doctor' who's responsible for every boy's rite of passage into manhood. I tagged along two kids from the neighborhood because I wasn't sure how I'd get to the 'doctor's' house.
These two young boys apparently knew the way to Sonny's house (Sonny is the local circumcision doctor) because it was where they faced the same ritual themselves. With a tripod on my back and a camera in hand, I followed the boys and we began the trek. It's just a short trek, roughly around 3 kilometers off the road in Sitio Deposito in Punta, Looc, Romblon but it was scorching even though it's only 8 in the morning so I decided to buy a couple of Jelly Ace for us from a small sari-sari store beside the road. (A habit I learned from trekking Pico de Loro and Mt. Pinatubo). I let the boys led the way and I slackened off a bit because I had to take pictures. To keep up, I would take a sprint and bridged their distance from mine.

Said Beach

As the motorcycle we were riding on snaked its way down a one-laner path to Nausa, a small village in the northern part of Carabao Island, I asked our friendly and accommodating guide, Kuya Darwin why Hambil took its moniker after the country's national animal (even though I already knew the answer.)

"This place was once home to several carabaos," he told us. "Funny, I don't see any carabao here," I intoned, chuckling. Kuya Darwin gave me a non-committal grunt. I was ready to torment him with questions regarding the whereabouts of the carabaos on the island - why they were gone, or where can we see them - but all inquiries I had formed in mind vanished in thin air when the motorcycle revved up toward a craggy and narrow road, prompting me to hold on to the motorcycle pretty tight. The vehicle swayed and jolted as it trod on bumps and rocks. With such distraction, I have completely forgotten to take snapshots of the grassy fields along the way. I could have probably spotted a carabao if I looked very hard.

As kids, I and my cousins used to watch the flickering lights in the sea from the window sill of our grandmother's house while waiting for supper to be served. Lights coming from small fishing boats glimmered like small constellation in the sea, but it was the light emitted by old lighthouse that was predominantly visible from afar. It danced in the night in a slow, constant rhythm. Before going to sleep, our grandmother would tell us stories about the mystery of the lighthouse. She said 'bulalakaws' (falling stars) liked to land on a spot near the sentinel. Local fishermen would spot weird creatures in the area, like a giant squid and possibly a 'sirena'. That was more than 20 years ago, the lighthouse might have been less older than it is today.