"BECAUSE I'VE NOTHING ELSE HERE FOR YOU, AND JUST BECAUSE IT'S EASIER THAN THE TRUTH, OH IF THERE'S NOTHING ELSE THAT I CAN DOOO, ANVAAYAAAA COOOVE.."

Oh, Spandau Ballet...is there any real estate development "I'll Fly for You" wouldn't make an ideal soundtrack to?

Anyway, through my sister's grace, the LLDDL and I get to take a day trip to beautiful Anvaya Cove. ("anvaya" is ancient Balinese for "your club membership is good, but we need you to buy a house and lot too"). I say grace, but basically the LLDDL and I just gatecrash my sister's vacation, lured by all those glossy Ayala brochures and scale models you see outside the moviehouses. I mean, just because we could never afford to live in a place that nice doesn't mean we couldn't go there, swim in their pool, take pictures and pretend like we belonged, dammit!

"I haven't got a clue,
I haven't got a thiiii-ing
Cell-cam and speedos
Is all that I could briiii-ing"

First thing's first: getting there. The trip could have been made in under two-and-a-half hours, but I always succumbed to the siren call of expressway rest stops. What is it about these places that makes the burgers seem juicier, the convenience store soft drinks colder, and the bathroom breaks more, um, satisfying?

The new Clark-Subic expressway was as good as advertised. Great countryside views, with nice smooth roads Silver Shadow, my 11-year old car, could easily handle. The only problem for the LLDDL was that I would always burst out into "Life is a hiiiighwaaaaayyyy, IIII'm gonnaaa riiiide it all niiiight loooooonggg..."

(well, it was a problem for her)

Anvaya itself. As you can see, it's drop dead gorgeous, with lush forests, clear waters, and a 2:1 staff-to-guest ratio. The gameplan was for the LLDDL and I to look so happy, my sister would ask us to honeymoon there.

So work it, sweetie, work it. We need sis to give us signing privileges too.

The Fil-Aussie pamangkins (Oi, Oi, Oi and Oi) were there in full force, continuing their New Year's jackassery. Their favorite game was to wait at the bottom opening of the pool slide (the "anus", they called it), and then try to punch/kick/jump on whoever came sliding through. Even the lifeguards gave up on them.

Later in the afternoon, we found out that a couple of prominent families were having a wedding on the beach.

Noooooooooo, no, no, no, sweetie. Don't get any ideas.

After day gives in to night, the whole place is romantically illuminated by what my sister says is "the biggest full moon ever recorded." I build on the mood by remarking "Isn't the moon always the same? How can this full moon be the biggest ever? What, it tried harder this year?"

As we enjoy the beach bonfire, laying on the sand and sipping pina coladas, fireworks go off over the wedding reception. The wedding DJ rattles off a playlist that is -- how shall I put this -- old. He starts off with "Billy Jean", then goes further back in time with "Do the Hustle", "Hound Dog" and "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy". The LLDDL and I decide now's the best time to depart, before the DJ fires up his Charleston re-mix. We're very sad to leave such a beautiful place, but are consoled by the fact that we have our fill of "Friendster" pics, and there are at least three highway rest stops on the way home.

Spandau! Play us out!

"I'm just an average boy,
You're more than average girl,
and when you sing to me
the 'shoo be doos'
you sing so well.
Oh, don't you know that when I drive home
I get Chiiicken joooooooo-oy"