Puerto Galera

The skies were overcast when we left our office building. At least two people told me that a storm was brewing and is headed straight for the place where we were supposed to spend the weekend. By the time the bus speeded along the South Expressway, the sun was already beating hard on the windows. Its heat seeped thru the curtains and I felt warm even though the bus was air-conditioned. I slept briefly on the trip to the Batangas pier. We bypassed the pier and went to a beach about a quarter of an hour from the pier itself and took a motorized banca to Puerto Galera.

Our boat ride was quite eventful. Thrice, the steering wheel got stuck and we were buffeted by the strong waves while the pilot fixed the steering wheel. Meanwhile, Rhen was controlling her urge to throw up. Nearing the island of Mindoro, dark clouds hovered over the tops of the mountains but the beach itself was awash in brilliant noon-day sunshine.

I admit, it was disappointing! The hype was such that I thought this place was pristine and unspoiled. It was a virtual carnival without the rides. The place was teeming with restaurants and souvenir shops so much so that the stretch of beach between the buildings and the water was a short hop, skip, and jump. The hotel we stayed in was the most decent place we could find there. The garden area of the hotel was an oasis of calm in the market atmosphere of this beach resort. The sand isn't even white but a cream color that darkened to tan when the water hit the shores. I guess seeing the white beaches of Palawan spoiled me for others.

Anyway, we came here to enjoy what was supposed to be the prize we won for winning the Quality Cup for our team. It was a time of bonding for a team that was already bonded like crayons in a Crayola box.

I liked soaking in the waters. The temperature was just right but I did not enjoy the strong waves. I prefer floating on top of the water but the strong wave action prevented me from doing this most relaxing activity. When I sat down on the sands to commune with the sea as I always do at any beach I go to, I could not meditate. All I could sense about the waters in this place was violence. I'm not sure if it was because many Negrenses lost their lives in the rough waters of this strip of inland sea when the M/V Don Juan went down a quarter of a century ago. Yet, I could not commune with these waters. And I don't like it... I was restless the whole time I was in the waters of White Beach.

I was so looking forward to this weekend. I was hoping this would be another great experience to pull from my memory bank. But don't get me wrong. There definitely were some high points to this weekend. Having our pics taken "friendster" style: a photo of our faces in a circle above the camera and a shot of our feet, just the feet, on top of the sands and Karen and Jary lying on the same bed (Galera scandal?!?). There was also Sunshine taking a video of a loudly snoring Mon. Hilarious! Then, watching Pacquiao beating Morales, somehow made this trip more enjoyable than it should have been. The trip back was so much fun, what with Marky leading the singing, even going falsetto in some songs. We sang "Twelve Days of Christmas" faltering on the 6th, 7th, 8th and 9th days... oh, yeah... nine ladies dancing, eight maids a-milking, seven swans a-swimming, six geese a-laying........

As I write this, our team has retained the top spot for the Quality Cup for the month of November. The management said the next destination is either Pagsanjan or the Hundred Islands in Pangasinan. Hope we win again so I can add another memory for the days ahead. Thank you for the blessings, Lord!!!