I just spent another long weekend at the beach with the best girls (and boy... at least one of them) in the world.
La Union isn't the closest destination beach from Manila. Heck, it's not even the best looking! But it's home to me and I'm so happy that it's become home to my girls, too. We don't go there to surf, and because of the unpredictable pull of the current and unrully break of the waves, we hardly even touch the water. But still, whenever one of us needs a getaway, La Union is top of mind.
There's something about the crash of water on surf that calms the spirits rattled by city life. And it doesn't hurt that Lola Nanny's menu (meals care of Ate Emar) is TOP NOTCH! Plus, baking under the scorch of the sun while the surfers prep for catching waves is just the true epitomé of zagging while everyone else zigs. I love that we're different from everyone else there, not because we want to make a statement or to somehow shine an imagined spotlight on ourselves, just so we can be completely ourselves.
Speaking of ourselves... my korakchas... I swear to never go to the beach without them. They endure all the stupidities that try to ruin a perfectly good weekend. They bear the schizophrenic "laugh-now-cry-now" modes one goes thru when one is anywhere near saltwater. They let one order Chuckie when everyone else is on Mai Tai, Margarita and Mojito. I LOVE YOU GIRLS TO BITS!
This was, thus far, the best beach weekender. Destination home in both terms of place and company. There shall be many, many more to come and I look forward to them with the abandon of a starry-eyed, silly girl.
(Dedicated to Chaw, Wins, Beej, Pres, Raj and G-third... And to our family in L.U.)