BALESIN-fatuation
By Tals Diaz

SO THE temperatures have soared north, a canvas of a cerulean sky out your window peers back at you temptingly, and it's an impossible feat to convince your companions that the growing sweat stain splashed across your T-shirt is really the map of Africa. Short of shaving your head and tearing out your clothes to run amuck through the air-conditioned byways of shopping mall complexes, you're dreaming of a real escape, to traipse barefoot and half-naked through the natural Shangri-Las of sand far away from the stress in the city. Yep, summer has arrived, and you're starting to feel beachy.

But as you're drawing out plans to hit our sun-drenched coastlines, you're then stricken with the malaise of everyone else getting that beachy feeling too. Suddenly, a mental image distresses you: the chimera of a human throng teleported during Holy Week to Boracay, transforming it into something more like a Babylonian circus, or Greenbelt Mall only with more coconut trees.

You shudder to think that you're bound to bump into the very people you wish to avoid: your boss, the gossipy old college classmate who knows more about your life than you do, that ubiquitous nocturnal barfly highly adept at mind-numbing small talk, or your ex who's now going out with your gay best friend. You realize that it's not exactly your idea of a true fantasy-driven flight of passage, and thus you're thinking of alternatives to the "It" island.

Well, guess what, there are about 7,000 other isles to choose from here in our little tropical space in the Pacific. Allow me then to formally introduce one of them, an island apart from the mainstream holiday menu. Switch your mental channels to Balesin Island. Hooray!

Sun of a beach

As most of my life has been punctuated by eternal Sanderlust, I was up for another island venture, albeit one that involved hopping on a cozy, single engine ChemTrad plane, to zip 40 minutes away from Manila into Balesin.

Peeking through the gaps of wild flowers and the fronds of coconut trees, were the mingling shades of turquoise waters touching the cloudless sky. It reminded me of a line from "Reef" by Romesh Gunesekera: "...to break out into a clear world beckoning from beyond the edge of their dreams, there to make at least a moment sparkle like a star in the night." Yes, to edit the drama, it is that beautiful.

A nicely tanned Buddha would have fit in perfectly on this serene isle east of Quezon province, gently lapped on one side by Polillo's Lamon Bay, and sculpted by the Pacific Ocean on the other.

After casually picking up my jaw that dropped amongst the seashells washed along the coastline, I then tossed two of my beachcomber life's luxury items---my beloved Rudy Project wraparounds and well-worn Havaianas flip flops--- to a little space on the snow-white sand. The better to fling my bikini-clad self into the liquid sapphire waters in homage to the sun. Yes, it is that beautiful.

The best part about it all was that I could stare back at the beach from the bay and see no urbanites outdoing each other in the retarded artistry of making pa-porma, with no threat of being assaulted with lines like, "pah-reh, did you check out that chick checking me out? Wonder if she's on Friendster..." The only love affair is between you and nature. Now that is a real getaway!

Hello, hedonists

Balesin island developed in the mid 1970s as an idyllic island-resort community tucked into a 424-hectare land mass, with a 7-kilometer stretch of coastline. It pioneered what is considered today as the "niche" or "spa" approach to resort development, and over the decades, it has attracted a host of European and East Asian tourists looking for an alternative, private hideaway away from the more tourist trap beach destinations in the Philippines.

Fish, fireflies and fantasies

Balesin is blessed with an awe-inspiring sunset, the perfect addition to my growing mental snapshots of the last day's light. As the stars began to pierce the indigo skies, I started to wonder if "somebody put something in my drink" as the Ramones sang, for I could have sworn I witnessed the constellations falling on the island!

Nope, no potent hallucinogens in my rum coke, amigos, what I saw was actually a hypnotic gathering of fireflies, languidly swirling through the trees as if in conspiracy with the stars. Along with the sweet sea breeze, there wafted the lilting melodies of The Cocteau Twins to set up the most freakin' romantic dinner by the moonlight ever. As the fresh seafood dishes (starring the island's unique kinilaw specialty) melted in my mouth with each bite, I could not help but ask myself, why the hell didn't I bring a date???

But since my usual romantic getaway companion Gael Garcia Bernal was somewhere off in Mexico shooting his latest film, I simply made the most of my spacious cottage to unfurl my growing collection of suntan oil. I could just imagine honeymooners scheming with naughty designs upon sighting the quaint, beachfront wooden cottages sprawled nicely along lush grassy vegetation and rustic cabanas. I did find myself summoning a man to my quarters that night however... the resort's masahista. It was rub at first sight.

Perhaps too much sun exposure can lead to permanent mental chillness. Or the sight of fireflies circling about to visit you from the pages of your childhood past can make you forget to act your age. Or frolicking around this dreamy little isle really can impair one's ability to distinguish between reality and fantasy. If that is so, then baby, bring it on!