Pundaquit

     Pundaquit is a beach.

     We were invited to spend Sunday the 6th with one of Val's former patients. She and her Aussie husband live in the Australian Village, a complex of pretty swanky homes inhabited by ex-pats who are, not surprisingly, mostly Australians. Turns out, the Australian Village has its own private Pundaquit beach area with a two-story structure, complete with grill, working sink, tables, benches, etc. The second floor is an observation deck.

     The drive up to Pundaquit was pretty long. You have to get off the main highway, do some twists and turns, and go quite a while before there are any indications that you are going the right way. The land in that area is depressed (low, not sad), and Val said that when the flooding is bad, the whole area is under water. Apparently, the water laps the sides of a bridge spanning a particularly sad low area, but the bridge is fairly high up. During the floods, locals farm kang kong, a local water spinach, and when the floods recede, they set up houses on the river banks.

     The drive was pretty spectacular. The mountains that are in the background in Castillejos are really close to Pundaquit, allowing us to see the tree cover in more detail, which was quite something. There were, again, quite a few resorts along the way as well as small family farms planting rice for the second or third crop. Once we got there, we passed the Australian Village the first time, turned around, went too far the other way, and finally managed to find the place after our hostess walked out of the gate and waved at us. She is a Filipina, and her husband is an Aussie.

     I was pretty impressed by their house. It was two stories, and it was essentially two separate houses on top of each other. The 1st floor was for guests, and they lived on the 2nd floor. There was also a deck on the 2nd story overlooking the mountain where the moon rises. Below that was an outdoor space with a large raised table and a grill built into a counter with a sink.

     Anyway, we went to the private Australian Village beach strip and set up shop. Our hostess brought cheese and crackers and pickles and chips and salsa. Mona and I went to frolic in the water, while Val and the hostess talked about something or other.

     Our lunch was at a place called Dogs Offshore in a kubow 15 feet in the air. The view was great and there was a nice breeze, but getting up and down was difficult.

     And that was my Sunday.