It’s been 3 days now, since we have parted from the place; but I can still see clearly in my mind’s eye those small grains of sand staring back at me, up close and personal, as I melt to the ground in sitting forward stretch. Ah. Three days of mat-less yoga on sand, under palm trees, with nothing but the feel of sand on your feet. The sand sometimes, er, oftentimes, cling to your body as you perspire; and the sea breeze is at constant play, coming in through you and around you. Whew! Outdoor yoga has never been this visceral, I say. The practice truly rocked. Hehehe.
The late afternoon/ early morning jogs I took by the beach, really provided a sharp contrast with my city runs that spelled more like “health hazard” rather than “healthy”—what with all the smoke one is bound to inhale just by running in the vicinity where cars and other vehicles honk at each other to death. The sand provided an added challenge; I never thought it would be that hard; like wading through some thick, gooey syrup. I learned the trick early on, though; that to run more easily, one has to stay close or near the water; where the waves come-a-crashing on the sand. And running barefoot, besides the fun side of it, will only make the activity a breeze. I dunno, there’s just this thing that makes running barefoot a lot easier than struggling with the sand with your flip-flops on.
The beach was in Morong, Bataan. Earl, who found the place for the eight of us (Earl, Arnel, Eric, Noel, Francis, Gentle, Eyvicat and Jay) who went there last weekend in time for the May 01 Labor Day/ Pistay Dayat celebrations, chose it over the other place he had been eyeing, precisely because it was near the Ayala Land developed and managed Anvaya Cove. He posited that because it’s near Anvaya Cove, the sands must be pristine. And so we bought the idea. We went there half-expecting paradise. It didn’t turn out as we expected. Hehehe. It’s just a regular beach, much like what you will find in Pangasinan; but it served its purpose nonetheless—a breather from a tiresome city life. While I pretzelized myself on the sand—amazed to discover that mat-less yoga is the way to go in beach yoga sessions, my companions hunkified their physique by way of beach volleyball.
Arnel brought with him adobo that his aunt, who runs a carinderia cooked for us; and not to forget the divine brownies he himself baked that had eyvicat salivating to no end hehehe. when the food from home ran out, we survived with roasting hotdogs over fire and buying cooked food from nearby carinderias around. The strategy was a real saver, as the trip costed around Php2500—transportation, lodging and food for three days included.
Of course what is a night at the beach without good ole videoke bonding? As I am quite old-fashioned in my musical tastes, the group saw me singing Neil Sedaka favorites. Hehehe. I grew up with my dad’s taste in music, so there. They have no choice but to accept my singing with all their hearts, haha! Surprisingly, Earl also knows a tune or two of Neil Sedaka’s songs, so I didn’t turn out to be so far-removed from the present world at all.
And oh, there’s ghost-sighting, too; for what is a night at the beach without videoke sessions AND ghost stories? Hehehe. Among the group, it is Earl who claims to have a third eye, and that he can easily see spirits. He told the group that he saw a malevolent-looking ghost, an old woman who looked irked with the group’s singing deep into the night. He was clearly frozen stiff. When asked what she looks like, the ghost; what she’s wearing, characteristic of an Earl humor, he told us that Lola was wearing an empire-cut dress with lotsa electric pleats on the bodice. Hehehe.