It’s 5:48 in the afternoon, and the sun is just about ready to set. Picture yourself sitting on freshly cut grass, on top of a cliff that overlooks the sea. A few good friends surround you. Some are sprawled on a mat, looking at dinosaur cloud formations. Others are so relaxed in this moment that they fall into a peaceful sleep. One pours you a glass of your favorite Merlot, served in a red plastic cup. The Youth Group’s Forever Young comes on over the speakers and everyone sings along, out of tune and stumbling over the words. Let’s dance in style; let’s dance for a while. Heaven can wait; we’re only watching the skies. It’s 5:56. You look up expectantly, still waiting. Now, there are barely any clouds left and the sky transforms into a spectacle of pink, orange, and light blue. The glow from the sun bounces off your friends’ faces, and everyone around you looks golden. The sun slowly descends. It lingers by the horizon line for a few minutes before disappearing into the sea. In this quiet moment, with the sky above you revealing a kaleidoscope of color, you feel immortal.
What if you could see that sunset everyday? What if this place was real and moments like this could happen all the time? What if I told you I knew a place where all this is possible?
It’s early Saturday morning and I’m on my way up to Tali Beach. I’ve taken this drive countless times before. Having spent most of my Christmas breaks, holy weeks, and long weekends there since birth, the two and a half hour drive to the coast of Nasugbu, Batangas feels quick and easy. As I near Tali, I find that every twist and turn of the road and each bump on the street feel familiar. I pass by the exclusive, members-only beach clubs that surround Tali, like Kawayan Cove, Maya-Maya, and Punta Fuego. Further down the road from these is a small billboard that reads, “Tali Beach: Catch the Sun in a World of Fun.” Beside it, I spot the little white guardhouse I’ve been waiting to see. I greet the old friendly guard and give him my last name. He lets me in. My heart starts to pound a little bit faster, the way it does when you come back to a place you’ve missed for so long. I’m home again.
Tali Beach is a private, residential community along the coast of Batangas. Unlike the beach clubs around it, there is no membership required. It does not have a golf course, a clubhouse, or restaurants for that matter. Though it may seem like Tali cannot compete in the ranks of these commercial establishments, those who know it think otherwise. Simple as it may be, it serves as a secret getaway for its homeowners and has become a haven for those who wish to get away from the hustle and bustle of city life. For over thirty years, families have continued to visit Tali, a tradition that carries on today. What is it that makes people keep coming back?
I hit first the Main Beach, one of the eight beaches found in Tali. I descend the fifty or so steps and reach the higher level of the beach. I cut through the volleyball court and make my way to a hut on the right. I put down my things and sit on a concrete bench that looks out into the sea. On the lower level of the beach, where the waves crash on the shore, two young kids are playing with their yaya [nanny]. The children’s parents are watching from the hut next to mine. To my left, a small group of twenty-something year olds are tanning and drinking beer. The Main Beach is where everyone comes when they’re here, and it’s always buzzing with people. The beach itself is not spectacular (in fact, the sand is quite rough and it gets rocky not too far from the shore) but it’s the old friends you see here that make it special. On long weekends, a middle aged Tali regular comes down with his red beach bag slung over one shoulder, belly hanging out of his too-low board shorts, shouting “Volleyball!” This is the call for the morning volleyball game, and everyone is invited to play. Those who decline the invitation end up lying out in the sun or swimming to the bamboo rafts off shore. Others sit around, eating and making plans for the night. All around you are people laughing and having a good time, regardless of what they’re doing. The Main Beach is the perfect place to make a bunch of new friends as well as reconnect with people you love.
After lunch and a quick nap, I go to see one of the best features of Tali: the cliffs. They are, as the name suggests, colossal rocks that hang over the water. Nevertheless, it is a special place for Tali comers and people who come from neighboring beach clubs. One pastime, most especially for the youth, is to jump off one of the cliffs and into the water. Beneath the cliffs are three caves you can swim in. Two of them do not go in very deep, but the third leads to a narrow underwater passageway that brings you out into the sea. I swam through it once before, but emerged from the water with a few scratches and cuts. When I arrive, local Tali boys are doing back flips off the high cliff. I choose not to jump or swim in the caves. Instead, I take a seat on one of the smoother rocks and look out at the water. I come up here whenever I have a million thoughts running through my head and I need to unwind. A panoramic view of the pristine sea and a front row seat to a perfect sunset make any awful thing seem okay. I sit back, relax, and let all my worries fade away.
After spending the day in Tali and really giving myself time to think about it, I realize what makes it so special. It’s the feeling of comfort you get from being there, as if you’re home again. It’s the way that everyone treats you like you’re family, even if it’s your first time to meet. It’s the untouched beauty that melts your troubles away and gives you total peace. It’s the oasis you wish you could hide in forever. This is what makes people keep coming back to Tali, year after year. Here, that sunset is yours to watch forever and in every moment you are immortal.
by Maria Regina B. Tuason
Photo: sunset from the Cliffs (c) Banina Wassmer
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