Whenever I go to great beaches, snorkeled and swam with schools of fishes, memories of my good, old childhood comes flashing before my eyes; I could here the quietness of the beaches of San Jose (Mindoro) and Puerto Princesa (Palawan) and taken back in time when my Dad teaches me how to swim.
Yes, I’m a beach babe. No, I don’t have a hot body that one could flaunt in a nice piece of rag. Okay, I’m just saying babe because I don’t want to be called a ‘beach bum.’ I’m one of those kids who were raised to love the open waters. San Jose has a good beach (not white, though); however, we do have a White Island not too far from our main land. You could see it from the beach but you have to wait for the low tide.
I learned how to swim thanks to the snorkeling gear my Dad bought for us. Yeah, we all got little fins, goggles and, of course, the snorkel – that long tube which helps in breathing. So, if at one point that we get to swim at the pool together, you’d notice that I never dip my face into the water. This is quite funny actually, because I don’t know how to close my nose and open my eyes underwater without goggles and a snorkel. It’ll be odd, isn’t it, if I use a snorkeling gear at the pool?
Almost every Saturday morning, back when we were still in San Jose, my family would go down to the beach. We would bring along an empty pot (kaldero) and go to Gotohan sa Mabini and buy lots of Arrozcaldo to fill our pot. Then we’re off to Mayon Bakery for fifteen pesos worth of hot pandesal. There’s nothing like eating hot arrozcaldo and pandesal early morning by the beach, with your feet on the sand and watching the fishermen board their little bancas off for a bit of fishing, and the sun hasn’t risen that high yet.
My younger brother, Reggie, didn’t like the water at first. I remember when he was three or probably four, he’d spend his time at the beach playing with the little stones, shells and sand, and later would freak out whenever the water would come lapping at his feet. He simply doesn’t want to go into the water, and was kind of a joke in our family; we got pictures to prove it. But after years, it was him who was hard to pull off from the water.
There was a year wherein we would spend the whole of Sunday in the beach with other family friends; that was when I burned my skin really dark. I was on my third grade that time and Sunday was the greatest day of the week. After Sunday morning mass, we’re off to the beach until the sun goes down. My Dad gave diving lessons that’s why. We only took a break of probably two months after one Colonel disappeared while diving and was found dead and bloated two weeks later.
Just imagine the joy when my Dad learned that he’d be assigned to be the Branch Head of DBP in Puerto Princesa. More beaches and diving places to explore, much better than in Mindoro even than Boracay.
My Dad made a promise to me and my brother that when we turned eighteen he would bring us along to one of his dives and really teach us how to go to the deep seas and explore the life throbbing beneath the dark waters. He didn’t last that long enough to even be with me on my eighteenth birthday, for he died on my brother’s sixteenth birthday.
Swimming was bonding time for my siblings, my Dad and me; it still is for my Dad and me, for he is with me whenever I take a plunge into the blue waters.
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