Eat, praise, love

Holy Week was a time for a faith lift, not just by going down on my knees in prayer, but also by standing on tiptoe in praise. Of my Creator, of His majesty, His beneficence, and the abundance of His love.

My sand-tiled cathedral had a fluid sapphire altar that stretched as far as the eyes could see, and before it, one could genuflect in thanksgiving or look to the skies and proclaim, “This is the day the Lord has made!”

On this sand-tiled cathedral, one can experience a thousand resurrections, a thousand absolutions, a thousand epiphanies.

During the Holy Week just past, my husband Ed and I were invited by our good friends lawyer Rene Puno and his wife Ann to their secluded beach house in Calatagan, Batangas. With us were haute couture designer Ito Curata, former banker Bob Miller and their son Taj.

The Punos’ hacienda-inspired white manor forms part of a cluster of privately-owned Mediterranean-style homes in a cul-de-sac called Rincon de Santa Ana. Rincon literally means “corner.” And this corner of the sky is indeed heaven on earth. About 10 minutes away from the town proper of Calatagan, Rincon is at the end of a winding road away from the madding crowd. The road, some parts of which are still dirt road, snakes up and down a hill with a magnificent view of the azure sea. You know you’re at heaven’s gate when you see an arch bursting with bougainvillea blooms, like Reina Elena’s arch during Santacruzan, with the sign, “Rincon de Santa Ana.”

 The Punos discovered the place because one of Ann’s sisters owns a prawn farm nearby. From one house, Rincon de Santa Ana has grown into a cluster of some seven homes, each owned by a relative or a friend, or a friend of a friend. It is a tightly-knit neighborhood, where homeowners send food to each other or have regular potluck dinners. The wide end of the compound faces the sea, and the islands yonder.

“Here, there are no rules,” says Ann, a breast cancer survivor who embraces every new day like the gift from God that it is. She begins each day with an hour of exercises, including the abdominal exercises of Manny Pacquiao. Then she and Rene sunbathe with Rene’s secret tanning lotion before she wields the baton in her busy kitchen. Ann makes the best cochinillo I’ve ever tasted in my life, which she bakes with lemon grass grown in her garden. Ann also bakes the best chocolate chip cookies, for which she uses dark chocolate morsels, not just chips. (She accepts orders for the cookies at 0908-8739636. The cochinillo she only makes for guests!)

Rene, lawyer to movers and shakers, and Ann tell houseguests they can rise with the sun, or sleep with it. Whatever is their pleasure. They can laze on a hammock in the veranda or go snorkeling. At Rincon de Santa Ana, marine life already bustles even when one is only knee-deep in water. Fish of all shapes and colors tease you, and they become more plentiful the deeper you go. During low tide, one can be half a kilometer away from shore and still splash in thigh-deep waters. Just my type of beach.

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“I can live here forever!” gushed seven-year-old Taj. It was nice to see the world through the eyes of Taj, trusting of grown-ups yet possessing the intrepid spirit of the young. He jet-skied with the Punos’ neighbor chef John Diego, and upon reaching the raft floating in the deep sea, dove into the waters to snorkel. Armed with a life jacket and snorkels, I joined Taj, John’s mom Marissa Diego and the Punos in the deep blue sea and lost myself in a world that was so serene, so colorful, so vivid. Seeing that I could do it, Ito plunged into the waters as well.

Rock and coral formations were like castles on the seabed and I, a spectator to their thread of life. The only sound you hear is the wind hissing above you and your breath below. It was awesome.

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Ito did the Visita Iglesia on Thursday, since Batangas has many churches, most of them historic. I decided to visit the many corners of my soul, to plumb its depths and embark anew on the never-ending quest for a purpose-driven life.

In the silence of my heart, I prayed, not just for me. Ann once told me that when good things happen to you, it is also because of the prayers others say for you; and when good things happen to those you pray for, it is also because of your prayers.

The Punos consider their three children Renee Ann, Yago and Luis their greatest blessings. I couldn’t agree more.

On Good Friday, the homeowners did the 14 Stations of the Cross, which culminated by a simple wooden cross facing the sea. Homeowners’ president Joey Avellana led the group in prayer, and somehow, I was reminded of the stillness of the sea of Galilee as I gazed beyond the cross to the calm waters. Then the homeowners gathered for some guinataan, cassava cakes, sago and gulaman and other native fare in the home of Dr. and Mrs. Boy Pineda.

On Good Friday, Joey also played songs of praise in the gazebo near the beach. Under God’s bright skies, beside His blue sea, surrounded by people who endeavor to show others the face of God, with songs of praise echoing the lyrics of one’s own heart, one knows that one is loved, and must love in return.

“The sea cures everything,” a pretty young resident of Rincon said, after I told a little girl with a gash on her leg to dip it in the sea and the wound will heal faster. I learned this when I was a little girl myself, when those doing penitensiya in my mother Sonia’s hometown, Bongabon, Oriental Mindoro, would plunge into the sea after self-flagellation.

Truly, the sea heals and rejuvenates — body and soul. (You may e-mail me at [email protected].)