After two whole months of stitching up wounds, pretending to "see" something significant in the radiology films, being well familiar with the OR’s ever faithful gang of retractors, saying good morning to little boys falling in line for circumcision, and getting the hang of the surgeon’s unwritten rule of "Always do everything with a swagger, " my fellow post grad interns and I finally got to graduate from the department of surgery. We were only too overeager to have our break, that we plunged into the next available weekend off to the white sandy shores of Boracay…
Do I sound like reading off a Boracay brochure? …
The real thing is less idyllic.
I spent a whole day with my father circumcising little boys in this small town, Ivisan, so I could "earn" my spending money. 20 little boys got their foreskins cut off by a female doctor doing it for the money. 
not that I didn’t do a good job… I got a couple of thousands in cash come 4 o’clock in the afternoon.
It was a short overnight trip. We left early Saturday morning and came home Sunday after lunch. We were out to relax anyway, not party till we drop… though we almost did that too.
Boracay was of course, beautiful. I have never seen an ocean so blue. I got a tattoo (Henna, of course, or my dad would have squinted his already too small eyes at me and that alone would have haunted my
sleep) and a braid that the lady with the fastest braiding fingers I have ever met told me it could stay for as long as two weeks if I was careful (TWO WEEKS!? No way am I not gonna wash my hair for two weeks! are you kidding me?!) I kept it until the next morning and then my head started to itch. and when I unraveled the whole masterpiece i looked like the Perming Monster attacked me in my sleep.
Shopping was funny. The locals were speaking English to my boyfriend every time I touched something in their stalls. My brother Johnny said they were trying to speak Japanese or Korean to him when he went to Boracay. At first it was really flattering that they always assume they’re dealing with foreigners, but the prices were slashed to 60% when they discover you speak better Ilonggo than they (these Aklanons are real nifty). We got mom a nice beach dress for mother’s day (and an extra one for me) at a discount. It was shopping heaven, I tell yah! I wish I had my grandparents’ 
bargaining skills, but somehow, that part of the Chinese gene pool swam by me along with the pearly skin and the tiny waist… (okay, not having the tiny waist was my fault, but still…) At the end of the day i was content. even when my hard-earned
pocket money was disappearing by the minute.
Apparently, we were star-studded. There were crowds here and there with rumors of celebrities pretending to be normal people or promoting something like shampoo or beer, but try as I might, i couldn’t recognize anybody. I’ve lost track of the celebrity gossip. I could’ve bumped into one and I would’ve been bitchy, even. 
(sigh*) so much for a social life.
And of course, what is a romantic getaway without the ever reliable lover’s quarrel? Tope is such a typical male. he hates window shopping. And I am such a girl that window shopping makes me glide from stall to stall, oblivious to the sorrows of the world. So he sat on a nearby bench designed specifically for males who get bored while their females are shopping and I continued to glide from stall to stall oblivious 
of the sorrows of the world… at least until i dis
cover they have nothing in my size and then I sit next to him on his bench also designed for frustrated female shoppers who never find anything in their sizes and I start to brood over how this injustice should be corrected with an iron will in the fashion industry…(I mean. come on! a gazillion people are in XXL clothes! only two year olds fit in a dress the size of my leg!)
Hence, i deve loped a throbbing migraine. All that brooding filled up the inside of my skull with too much pressure. Fortunately, to compensate for his lack of shopping interest, the boyfriend has an excellent knowledge of were to get one of the best comfort foods in town. He overcame his boredom and my frustration with a fabulous Led Zeppelin and Cold Play Crepes. (yumyum !)
For a couple of days I forgot I have a mountain of reviewers waiting on my desk. I didn’t have to put on the deceitful white coat that’s just so hard to keep clean and that leads people to believe you know the anwers to all their problems. I didn’t have to call a consultant in the middle of the night just to inform him of an admission that could have lasted 3 minutes if he didn’t barbeque me with theoretical questions.
The truth is, we all need to get away and forget sometimes. To go to a place where we could be someone else. An excited shopper instead of an overworked businessperson. A stroll in a beach on a sunset afternoon instead of 6 hours in the labor room. A wonderful tumble on the sand heedless of the dirt in your hair instead of the immaculate antisepctic cleanliness of floor tiles. To allow ourselves to be healed by others and by the sea.
To be free…
…
… I better stop now.
… I’m getting so cheesy I could get a nosebleed.
May 12, 2008
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