The countryside provides an opportunity for me to feel what it is like outside the metropolis. It's been a very long time since I last felt how to live where time stands still and in one fateful morning in Nasugbu, I've realized that I could at least experience for myself what the local scene has to offer for me.
Perhaps, it could make me feel that indeed, time stand still when you're not living in a busy city.
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When I returned to the resort after my brief escape towards the shore. I found everyone huddled around the karaoke, taking turns singing their favorite songs. Some of them even invited me to join them but I politely declined their invitation. Like what I've said over and over again, the only time one could make me sing is when I'm heavily drunk and terribly depressed. Beyond that, I would rather dance on the floor.
Good thing, cousin D doesn't sing either. So the whole time my other relatives were belting out, cousin D and I were at the gazebo updating each other's lives...
Anyway, what's with kids these days?
One time, I was having a conversation with a a PLU (homos) about the differences between our generation and the generation that succeeds us. One thing we have noticed is that our successors were more sexually active at a younger age compared to us. In fact, when one would check the chatrooms lately, that person would be surprised to find out that most people who were open to sexual advances were the youngest ones (ages 19 and below).
It appears that cousin D, my straight cousin has been doing things I have only discovered or started doing when I was 21.
He is just 17.
At that age, I was just experimenting with having girl phone pals. Like some looser kids from my past, I was merely contented with having pseudo relationships on the phone.
Sex has never gotten past into my direct conciousness at that age. Having a porn video with me is all that ever mattered.
We had a good talk that night. As a big brotherto him, I told him to be extra cautious with his activities. Unlike me, when he commits a big error, a huge part of his life would be in jeopardy.
He still have four or five years to figure out what his life would be.
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The following morning, I woke up very early.
I thought most of my folks who were singing that night were already up and was at the beach. So without even washing my face and brushing my teeth, I went out of the resort, crossed the street and into the beach only to find out that the only people who were awake are my two aunties who were in the market and a female cousin who I saw staring aimlessly beside the pool when I was on my way out.
While at the beach, I noticed this huge boat docked a couple of kilometers from where I'm standing. Based from my interviews from the folks who lives in the area, I have learned that it was a port.
Haha, Imagine having a small port just several blocks away from the public beach.
Anyway, I decided to check the place out since it appears to be interesting. Besides, it would also be an opportunity for me to sample what the local culture feels like. Finally, here's my chance to hear someone speak in Tagalog with a Batangas accent.
And I find it cool, you know.
So, despite the heat of a 9 AM sun, I started walking towards the port. At first, I was just a feet away from the water, but since my feet kept on sinking in the sand, I decided to leave the beach altogether and remain on the main road for the rest of my journey.
However, after a couple of blocks away from the resort, it appears that the main road curves toward the highway. Once I followed that track, I might get lost since my only guide going back to the resort is the beachfront itself.
I had to go back to the beach and contend myself walking in the sand.
---
At this point, the beach scene was replaced by parked fishing boats and a sprawling fishing community.
There were no more tourists in sight and the waters had become more brackish compared to the waters from where I came from.
The fishing community on my left side, despite its rustic charms appears to be mired by poverty. Never have I seen a tiny home made from cogon and nipa in my whole life. And that morning, I saw an entire community of it. But the people who lives there appear to be content with their lives, I don't even sense a corruption brought about by Capitalism when I was passing through the area. They seem to have a relatively blissful life. Besides, the community spirit appears to be more evident there, than what I have seen here in the city so far.
So despite my yuppie image while taking a stroll in their area (which was a wrong choice of get up on a very fine morning), I can still feel a sense of security despite my lingering thoughts that sometime ago, I've heard that the provinces, particularly Batangas was notorious for its Ampethamine consumption.
Finally, after 30 minutes of walking, I have finally reached the port. The massive seacraft I saw was actually a barge full of Iron Ore. Perhaps there was a small steel plant nearby. I have also discovered that there was a river that separates the plains and the hills that I saw from the resort... so it was quite impossible to go on a hiking and take pictures of the beach from the top of those hills without hiking several more kilometers.
Therefore I had to go back and take the long safer walk going back to the resort - which is the main highway.
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When I arrived at the resort, my cousins were still sleeping.
However, breakfast was already been prepared at the table. And my aunts asked me to eat already so that they could accomodate those who were about to get up yet. After I have finished my breakfast which is sinangag (fried rice), adobo and a hotdog, I went back to our room to wake up my mom. As I waited for her to get up, I decided to explore the compound where we stayed for the night since I've been ignoring the whole place since we arrived there.
And one thing that stirred my excitement was... a Gumamela flower. Yes, it was a Gumamela that made my morning more pleasant and meaningful than the all mornings I had lately. You see, it reminded me of a time when things aren't as complicated as it is today. The Gumamela reminded me of a long lost childhood, totally different from the ones being enjoyed by children today.
You see, around 15 years ago, we lived in this community in Sta. Mesa. Our house was located in a very narrow alley surrounded by big commercial buildings at its front entrance, while the alley leads to more alleys that serves as a gateway to even larger residential communities in our immediate neighborhood. 
One thing special about our old place is that it was still surrounded by plants. Opposite our home, there was this old house which had a small, jungle-like garden in front of it. I could still remember that during Decembers, the place smells so eeriely sweet no thanks to the Dama De Noches that blooms during that time of the year. There was also this Gumamela tree that was owned by another neighbor.
Everytime we would make soap bubbles, we raided that tree for our ingredient. We even used its flowers... well... to beautify ourselves.
The last time I was there, the jungle was replaced by a small sari-sari store. And the spot where the Gumamela tree used to stand was already replaced by a pavement. Finally, urbanity has taken hold of my once lovely community.
And when I saw that Gumamela flower at the resort, in my mind, I have thought whether I would still see one in the future, or whether it would be my last in this lifetime.
Just to be in the safe side, I took pictures of it.
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