Friday, April 20, 2007
show don't tell.
Upon a mountain in a veering gulf is a cottage. It's nestled within coconut trees and palms with leaves shaped as fans, green like jade, reaching up into the sky. The faint smell of grilled seafood lingers on the back patio, a rustic concrete slab with thick plastered walls and yard chairs. The back patio door slides open to reveal a minimal living room, with local made rataan chairs, a TV, and a small kitchen equipped with a sink and a fridge. The bathroom is compact, with a large rectangular window viewing a small courtyard filled with rare flowers and rain drenched shrubbery. The floors of the cottage are made of creaky nara wood, dark in complection and resilient in the light. The small bamboo door leads into the sleeping quarters, filled with two foam beds with satiny white sheets, a drawer made of Nara and bamboo, and an old dial phone. The dials outgo to many different utilities, the front desk, room service, and the night club. The faint sound of misting rain can be heard through the windows made of wood paneling and rustic glass. Through the windows the cascading bay flaunts its beauty, seldomely the monotony is broken by the occasional steam boat or fishing kayak. This place is serene and majestic, away from the bustling streets filled with honking jeepneys and locals selling their goods. For those who don't look for luxury but rather beauty, this place can seem like a tropical heaven.