It didn't sink in to me that the beach weekend had ended until EDSA. Where a bus swerved from the right most lane to the left, almost knocking all the cars (including ours) coming from the South Super flyover into the concrete divider. Ah yes, the city. I'm back home. White lights lined the roads, red brake lights swerving around you, billboards and buildings all around. So it finally donned on me - the beach was gone. It's a memory. Past (senti noh?). And I wanted to relive it. If only life had a rewind button. If not, I wished that the weekend would go on and on and on (and that we had the luxury of extending our stay in the resort for as long as we wanted). Both options impossible.

We ate dinner at what we call the "Dream Figaro place" - the Figaro branch sitting on the service road off the Sucat exit. It was windy and breezy. It felt like the beach, minus the sand and the water. It was relaxing. If we couldn't extend our stay at the beach, at least extend the feeling of being on vacation. There we had coffee and talked. We talked about the simplest things, the silliest things, like how bacon has got to be the grandest thing on earth. Or how Tin and I were so lucky because both our guys knew how to cook (while the closest thing we got is the toaster). No talk of work. No talk of the city. We recounted what happened in the beach, extending the "stay" as much we can.

What I like about the resort is that it makes you forget about the things we say we couldn't live without - like the TV or shoppping or the computer. Out there, there was no need for electricity (except for the chill-out music the resort plays on their sound system). You've got a living aquarium channel. The heat was calmed by the breeze, by the ocean. You wouldn't mind the sun at all. You'd just lie there and let all the gifts of nature seep in. Who cares about sweat and what it does to your make-up (what make-up even?!?). And at night there were candles. The only bothering heat that we felt was of the cheap tequilla blazing down our throats. Drunk and disoriented, we laid ourselves down on the beach and stared at the stars. With the only disruption being a man on a videoke machine several resorts away singing "Laklak" and "The Greatest Love of All" (odd repertoire we know).

But the most welcomed disruption came from the sky. A shooting star. Not just a simple falling star that's gone in a second. A shooting star. I couldn't describe the awe we all felt. Our jaws just dropped as it lit up the blanket of darkness above us. Voices raised, we confirmed with each other that it was real, and wasn't a hallucination brought by the cheap tequilla or the mango-rum (aka Zesto-Tanduay). A trailing blaze of sparkles, a giant firework falling from the spanless sky. It was utterly magical. Literally the highlight of the weekend.

Now I can't wait for Boracay. End of the month. Three agonizing weeks of waiting to go.