A remembrance of a lazy Sunday on a relatively unknown beach in Guimaras that felt as warm and comforting as the Filipino sun
“Tatay, nakakalangoy na ‘ko!” Kid A exclaimed as he dog paddled, the calm, cyan waters rising to his toddler chin. The late afternoon sun glimmered against the waters of Tando Beach in the island-province of Guimaras as Bob Marley wailed about how he shot the sheriff, but not the deputy. Aside from a few kids giggling and making a boat out of a seawashed log, we had the entire stretch of beach to ourselves.
We were on the Guimaras leg of our Western Visayas tour with our toddler. Having flown to Iloilo City the night before, we wasted no time taking a one-song boat ride to the province early the next day. This short trip across the Strait of Iloilo is made possible via the open-air outriggers that ply the Fort San Pedro–Jordan Wharf route.
Serene Saturday
We stayed in one of the southernmost and remotest lodges in the island, Nature’s Eye Resort—an off-grid, cliff-hugging accommodation in the town of Nueva Valencia. It was the Habagat season, and we were forewarned not to stray too far from the resort’s in-house beach due to strong waves.
Fortunately, we spied a relatively unknown beach during our hike from the island’s main road. “That’s our beach,” my wife said.
With a beach mat, snorkeling gear, sand toys, and snacks in hand, we made our way to Tando Beach, named after the barangay it was situated on. Coconut trees lined the soft, cream-colored sand, where a makeshift swing was tied around the branches of a talisay tree. Dried seagrass and driftwood, along with flotsam—food wrappers, ripped fishnets, and a lonesome slipper, among others—were strewn on the shore.
Kid A began picking up every piece of trash he saw. It was a practice that we taught him when we did a month-long stay in Boracay during the pandemic.
“Trash hero!” he exclaimed as he brought back and gathered handfuls of debris in a dry part of the beach.
We spent the afternoon just wading through the water and snorkeling, with a small school of fish following us around. We had earlier thought of enrolling him in a swim school, but were thankful that we decided not to, as he suddenly learned how to swim on his own.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, we returned to shore to find that someone already swept up the trash that our kid collected. It boosted my faith in the community, seeing the locals care for Tando Beach despite it being a fee-free public beach.
Spirited Sunday
Right after a hearty silog breakfast and fresh Guimaras mangoes, we wended our way back down to Tando Beach. This time, we didn’t get to have the beach to ourselves for long.
Within minutes, parents and kids arrived. A few more aunts and uncles followed, holding plastic containers and cauldrons. A picnic spread was soon laid out, and breakfast commenced.
More groups turned up—kid swimmers, make-believe castles, moats, and volcanoes soon erected on the shore. Even the secluded mangroves at the far end of the beach found its explorers, each staking their claim on the sand. And as Pinoy weekends go, different speakers started booming across the stretch—some playing budots beats, some Visayan songs, and others, staples from Aegis. Soon, the inevitable videoke session began. We let Bob Marley rest, and just soaked in the local vibe.
Tando Beach, it turns out, is a weekend favorite among locals in the area. Unlike most tourists who detest crowds, places organically filled with locals are something we enjoy.
Nanays and tatays, lolos and lolas, and titos and titas soon jumped into the warm waters. A rocky islet several meters from the shore welcomed its first group of swimmers.
The deserted beach was now replaced with a full-blown fiesta. It was a heartwarming sight to behold: an unadulterated, unfiltered, and authentic Pinoy beach gathering, sans the pretensions of tourist-posturing and Instagram aesthetics. It’s noisy and chaotic, but it’s as familial and warm as the rays of a Sunday morning sun, filtering across a relatively unknown Guimaras beach.
