By  LPJ

Rabon is a thinly populated beach community on the outskirts of Rosario, La Union, a popular vacation destination for family and close friends. Rabon schedule came on the heels of our grand family reunion in Quezon City.  From one fabulous event to another – I didn’t mind the roller coaster excitement. Thrilled, in fact, to be again in that magnificent place, my nephew Chito and his wife Benita’s rambling home right on the beach where sunsets paint dramatic hues of blue, orange and gray that dominate the sky at the ocean’s horizon. Pure bliss for poets and romanticists.

(Photos by Rorie Pandes)

Dramatic sunset as seen from Chito and Benita’s home

Prime seating on the beach — my brother Tzetzu and I waiting for the waves

My brother Tzetzu and his wife Rorie at the native nipa and bamboo gazebo

A pose at the grand gazebo

I enjoyed the six-hour ride on smooth highways sporadically lined with fast food stops, clean and easily accessible. My favorite was Jollibee because of its delicately crispy fried chicken and saucy palabok (noodles).

There were new things in Rabon this time. A studio apartment was built beside the main house, facing the ocean beach. That was our comfortable accommodation during our stay. In front of the apartment stood a hang-out of nipa and bamboo fresh and inviting, a very native ambience  conducive to relaxed kamayan (using fingers to pick food and eat), or lazy naps.

At the other side of the house was built a humungous gazebo looking almost like a covered ballroom open on all sides. Fronting this grand entertainment center is a whole wide panoramic view of ocean and beach. When I was at Rabon, this center was the site of a large party from afternoon to late hours of the evening, attended by some 70 family, relatives and friends. But for a pause for the spectacular sunset, the gathering was a continuous flow of lively chatter, robust eating, zesty music and spontaneous dancing. Not able to resist the infectious beat of Bee Gees and Beatles songs, I pulled an eighty six-year-old lady to her feet for some shimmy. She cheerfully obliged. Not sure of her energy level, I stopped after two minutes; but she continued with gusto, giggles and soft laughter. She definitely was enjoying herself. I was exhausted. Delightedly, many others followed suit. Next day, I remember feeling slight guilt when that lady mentioned, in good spirits, that she had some leg massage after her activity of the night before. I didn’t tell her, my knees felt achy, too, after the dance. Maybe I should have. Doesn’t misery love company sometimes?

My meals in that gazebo were awesome. The scent and whispers of the ocean breeze and languid waves, along with the magnificent view boosted the appetite for sure. My favorites for breakfasts were the fried boneless dilis (small fish) with garlic fried rice, sunny-side up eggs and diced tomatoes.  There also were the longanizas (sausage) and tocinos (pork) just as delicious but which I passed for the delicately thin and crunchy boneless dilis. Lunches and dinners always offered seafood (crabs and shrimps) and fat-bellied bangus (milk fish). To my surprise, there was a dish I had missed for over eight years since my husband passed (he used to cook it so well), the Ilokano pinapaitan. It’s a mix of liver, pork meat and tripe tenderized in boiling water spiced with bile. The sharp bitterness is the center of the palate’s experience, something I had to get used to and eventually craved for. There also was another favorite, the tinola, chicken boiled with eggplant, okra, sayote and some leafy vegetables. I made sure I took extra servings of the delicious chicken soup.

The children often congregated around the fire pit right outside the gazebo. During the party, nothing could draw away the kids from roasting marshmallows at the fire pit. Noticeably, nothing could distract some adults from the fire pit, not even rigorous dancing. The fire pit crowd indulged in rowdy competition for melted marshmallows.

Every morning, I woke up to the squeals and laughter of children playing on the beach and cavorting with the waves. It must have been cold, but it didn’t seem to matter. They were constantly in and out of the water, like little nymphs teasing and chasing after the foamy waves. I watched from the window and I thought, how nice to be young and carefree. But I decided, I could do that, too, play with the waves.

So next morning, my brother Tzetzu and I did just that. While we were gingerly negotiating shallow waters over multi-sized pebbles, my nephew Chito had a brilliant idea. He had two chairs placed for us on the beach. Tzetzu and I sat for hours, just kicking off the foams that lashed past our seats, at times with generous sprinkles that teased us back. When my nieces saw the pictures, they were amazed. They vowed to do what we did at their next Rabon visit – sit like royalty on the ocean’s edge by the shore. I can imagine, a line of chairs on the path of the waves, primary seating for grabs.

The evenings were tranquil, despite the euphony of sounds from aggressive waves soaring over the waters and hitting the gazebo walls. The steady rhythm gave a calming salve that almost equaled a lullaby. And before sleep took over, I would gaze out and watch silhouettes of fishing boats slowly gliding over the waters, and shadows of fishermen casting their nets. Scenery was magnificently dramatic, especially on moonlit nights when currents refracted the shimmers, and shadows pantomimed like puppets on the water.

Much  as we loved paradise-like Rabon, it was time to move on to our next travel adventure, Bicol.

Linda P. Jacob