Mandatory Post-Beach Trip Blog Entry

2 06 2009

Although I am not what you would consider a Beach Person (there are only so many times I 100_4604can listen to “Santeria” without feeling like a douche or wear tie-dye without being ironic), I very much enjoyed my weekend with D at Puerto Galera, more cloyingly known as Oo Pakyu Isang Taon Na Kami.

I believe I did pretty much what any beach-goer would do—eat grilled meats, bake my skin, float in the sea, eat pancakes, make sand penises, make fun of expats and their secretly nerve-wracked Tropical Delights, eat ice cream, purchase and wear jewelry impetuously categorized as “tribal,” eat crab, get drunk on Mindoro Sling amidst hordes of lovely ladyboys (being a very avid fan of all things Tranny, I was very pleased indeed to find the place crawling with these delicate, hulking creatures) and sit and stare at the black, black sea and be happy.

Second to the fact that I just had 100_4577a plain good time being sluggish and indulgent somewhere other than Manila with my not-so-closeted Tranny of a boyfriend, I also enjoyed the beach for its relentless self-referential nature.

I am certainly no expert on beaches–I am, at heart, a very cold clime kind of a person–but Puerto Galera is obviously incredibly aware that it is a beach, and would very much like to shove that fact in your face as much as it possibly can. And being Capitalist Scum myself, I am not complaining. I100_4620t is, in fact, fascinating how many people are suddenly convinced to look the part of the Happy Islander, getting all batik’d and henna’d and cornrow’d out.

Nobody looks good in cornrows. Nobody.

Of course, by the end of the trip (which I even had extended, day job and budget and non-existence of ATMs be damned), I didn’t fucking want to go. I didn’t fall in love with the place, exactly (although, yes, yes, its high Tranny concentration is quite the draw). It was just that, 100_4626for the first time in quite a while, I didn’t feel like glorifying the rank, rambunctious city to myself like I used to do. I wanted to be anywhere but Metro Manila, where some portions of my life are at limbo of a decidedly less comforting kind.

Behold the tag on our life vests, which definitely shared my sentiments at that slightly depressed and terrified moment on the boat back. Don’t you love it when people condone their errors? I mean, I do. God, I do.

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