In a house-cleaning frenzy last Saturday motivated by the presence of my clean-freak friend Mar, I hastily made an apron from an old pair of jeans. It was a bit late in the making but it still had its use. Here’s the super simple 2-step process:

Ingredients:

• old pair of jeans – preferable one that fits loosely or just-about around your waist
• a pair of scissors

Steps:

1. Make a jean skirt by cutting along the dotted line as shown in the picture. Be sure to cut the crotch of the pair of jeans to turn into a skirt. Also, trim the hem of the jean skirt to make it straight.
2. With the front side facing you, cut a little to the left side of the fly from the bottom. Upon reaching the waistband, cut across the zipper thereby separating the two sides of the front.

That’s it! All done! Wear the apron buttoned from behind, so you’ll have use of the before-back-pockets in front for the putting of various cleaning implements.

Agdangan, Quezon is the second (or third?) town of the Bondoc peninsula, about 20 minutes after the more famous Padre Burgos which was our original destination. Discovered after driving through all of Laguna for 5 or 6 hours straight, then worriedly meandering through more towns of Quezon and finally landing on Padre Burgos only to find out that the accessible resorts were full up because of other Holy Week vacationers like us.

Still, it’s one of the best accidental roadtrip discoveries ever. Check out the photos at flicker.

Lookee the piccies! Wonderful place. If only it didn’t take us 10 1/2 hours to get there.

I don't know if this counts, though, since we didn't really stay. It was a terrible time to be in Munting Buhangin. Almost EDSA 4 mass proportions.

Two days of gluttony, drunkeness, orneriness and side-clutching laughter. It may have only been two days, but it felt like a week, what with all the food and alcohol supply we took with us. It almost seemed criminal that we left three lobsters, half a case of beer, several bottles of rum and a small basin of pinakbet in the kitchen. Only the thought of the forthcoming fiesta kept our consciences quiet with (accidental) altruism of providing for the caretaker’s ravenous clan.

On some serious note, btw, the beach house we stayed in is owned by the family of one of the company’s partners. Access to the house is through a guarded right-of-way lane owned by some political bigshot whose name slips my mind at the moment.

We came, we saw, we ziplined.