
Whoever invented karaoke ought to be shot. In the balls. Twice. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure karaoke has its joys, and I’m all for going to KTV’s, entering one of those enclosed cubicles and singing your heart out as loud as you can, for as long as you want. But I consider karaoke as similar to another habit, smoking. I’m okay if you smoke in your own space, but once your fumes invade my air, then we have a problem. You can blow as much smoke into your air, because that’s your choice. Breathing smoke is NOT my choice, so I don’t want it in my space, and that’s MY right. Same with karaoke. Go sing until your jugular snaps, for all I care, but once your drunken atonal wailing of “Beauty and Madness” seeps loudly into my resort room at 1:00 AM, then it ceases to be cute. But, I get ahead of my own story…

It was actually a nice weekend at the beach for us, leaving 6 AM Saturday morning, sun blazing full strength, racing down the SLEX with Alicia Keys’ latest album blaring in the background (especially my fave “Love Is My Disease”), rolling fast, far away from every worry left behind in the city. We went to our friend’s resort in San Juan, Batangas, and enjoyed the sun, the sand and the surf. Since summer has officially started, the Batangas resorts were filled to the brim, especially with companies holding their outings and team buildings in these resorts. So everything was par for course for a busy weekend in a resort; they’d be blaring their megaphones as they do their activities and I’m cool with that. It’s a little too noisy for my taste, but it’s all good, nothing I can’t handle. But the karaoke. It started after lunch, stopped only for a bit during dinnertime, I guess because they can’t sing and stuff their pie holes at the same time. But of course, shortly after dinner…the drinking and the karaoke…started. And it didn’t stop at 9 AM, it didn’t stop at 12 midnight, it went on until past 2 AM. And all this racket happening a few meters outside our rooms. And not just the caterwauling, but with the accompanying shouting and laughing at full volume, as if they were having their inuman in the privacy of their own homes. Unbelievable. Thank goodness we were so sleepy that we would drift in and out of sleep despite the noise. Otherwise, I would’ve knocked on Governer Vi’s door and asked her to pull the plug on those bozos’ marauding merriment. Then maybe offer her a warm glass of Bear Brand after to help her get back to sleep.

Aside from the unfortunate insensitivity of our fellow weekend warriors, it was a nice escape from the hubbub of the hectic city life that reins us in day-in, day-out. It’s always therapeutic for me to soak in the salty waters of the sea to calm my often frazzled nerves. I get upset about the slightest hitches (and as we all know, life is replete with hitches), so when I submerge and the water closes up my ear canals, I’m suddenly in another world, far removed from life on land. I hear nothing but the gurgling of the waves (and the occasional motor boat) and I close my eyes and absorb everything. Although on the first day, I wasn’t really able to swim much because there was a surprisingly large amount of dead fish in the waters near the shore:

We asked around and apparently they’re tamban, often used as tuyo. The people there didn’t really know why those decomposing dead fish were floating around in such big numbers. Some theorize that maybe the early morning boats cast away some of the day’s catch, but they also countered that it’s a little too much for those to be discards. But whatever the cause, they were stinking up the place. The water had a malansa stench that limited my time in the water. I stayed mostly in the deeper parts where there weren’t as much fish debris. I was still able to shoot some fish pics like this puffer fish that was fearless.

I would swim deep right next to it, and it didn’t flinch, refusing to budge from its little kelp bed. So cute. Unfortunately, we couldn’t snorkel in the area where there were more corals because the resort that “owns” that area of the beach doesn’t allow non-guests to swim in “their” waters. We would know because we went to that resort the last time. But one scary aspect of our weekend was that apparently, it’s also urchin season. No less than 3 guests in our resort alone, stepped on urchins, and you could see them hobbling to and fro or soaking their feet in hot water and vinegar. Since we also had a brush with an urchin incident in the same beach before, the trick is to soak the appendage afflicted with the spines in hot water with vinegar. Make it as hot as your skin can stand, and soak it for as long as you can. Don’t try to pull the embedded spines because you’ll just make it worse. Just leave it, and the body will absorb the spines and within the day, most of it will have disappeared into your body. As we were swimming, I was able to take a picture of one of those suckers just mere meters from the shore, close enough for you to step on it if you were wading (that’s why I always wear my water shoes while swimming):

But despite the pricks on the urchin and the pricks behind the microphone, it was a nice weekend, with a stress-free drive back home, since no cars were on the streets, with everyone glued to their TV’s for the Pacquiao-Clottey fight. We were able to catch the fight as we ate a late lunch in Lipa, as well as the now controversial Arnel Pineda rendition of the Lupang Hinirang. But everything considered, last weekend was a nice recharging weekend, and we’re now gearing up for another out-of-town romp this Saturday, this time in San Antonio, Zambales, for a landscape photoshoot. I pray to the heavens that they don’t have karaoke…
