SOLA MUSICA will be released on August 28. To celebrate, I’m hosting guest posts from the authors throughout this week.
A beach cove, a hot summer weekend… SOLA MUSICA is where everyone’s going, to enjoy the best new music from all over. Bestselling Filipino YA/chick lit authors Mina V. Esguerra, Marla Miniano, Chinggay Labrador, and Ines Bautista-Yao each tell a story about this festival: the music, the people, the hearts that will soar (or break).A CAPTURED DREAM, Ines Bautista-YaoGem has the chance to make her dreams come true and perform at Sola Musica, with one crippling problem: all her talent left her six years ago when a boy kissed her.
I grew up near the beach. Most weekends were spent driving to the water, pitching a tent, and hunting hermit crabs.
I still remember getting all excited about finding those perfect little holes in the sand that were built sideways. I would squat down next to them and wait for the hermit crab to come out. Then I would try to catch it and put it in my little plastic pail. It would always scurry away of course, but I can’t forget my elation on chancing upon another diagonally built hole.
I also remember my dad’s fishing boat. It wasn’t a yacht by any means, but it wasn’t a banca either. It was a big fishing boat that my fun-loving parents and their friends converted into a floating party. We got on when the sun was still making its way up in the sky and got off when we were surrounded by darkness from above and below. It was named Ines. I found it very weird, especially when my dad joked that he named me after the boat. It was only later that I realized it must have been the other way around.
One of my favorite memories on that boat was eating freshly grilled fish while trying to keep my balance as we gently rocked on the waves. I loved eating anything sugba or inihaw because that meant we were outdoors and the fish was swimming in the water just a few minutes before. In fact, when the fishermen pulled the dark green net bursting with fish onboard, I was right there watching. They teased me that they had caught a mermaid. I wished with all my heart that they had so I could finally meet one, jump into the water, and swim next to her. My excited little eyes were glued to the coils of the net, looking for a dark green tail—or anything that resembled a mermaid. But all I saw were little silver fish glistening in the sun and frantically flopping around on the boat’s wooden deck.
There was one night when the grownups pitched tents along the shore and sent all the kids into a house to sleep. I wasn’t too sure about sleeping away from my parents, but I wanted to sleep with the other kids. So I bravely agreed. I recall staring up at the ceiling fan, studying the long-legged spiders crawling across the beams, wondering if one would fall on me. Eventually, I got up and made my way out the house and to the beach. I stared at the different tents (there were many of them) and counted the third tent from the left—which was most probably where my mom told me their tent would be—and zipped down the flap. I remember saying, “Mama?”, breathing a huge sigh of relief that I had found the right tent, and crawling in next to them, finally falling asleep.
I have loads of beach memories because it was so easy for my parents and their friends to make the drive. It didn’t matter that the sand wasn’t powdery white like Boracay’s (my city-born-and-bred husband only likes white sand!), that there were no air-conditioned rooms and we had to sleep in tents, and that our food was whatever we caught in the sea. I cannot imagine doing that today or taking my daughters to a beach without running water and an air-conditioned room to escape the heat, but when I was growing up, that was how it was. And I happen to have great beach memories. But come to think of it, if that mermaid had showed up, they would be even better!
Salamat, Ines! Seems like the beach was your playground when you were a child, I’m jealous. :P