IN THIS country, you’ll hear two ways of saying it: “Sweet” 34 or “Shoot” 34. The Mr. & Mrs. AutoCorrects, I know, would grit through their teeth saying that the former is the right pronunciation. For me though, it really doesn’t matter. Particularly when Suite 34 of Alona Tropical beach resort in Panglao, Bohol has come to mean both.

One hot summer, my cool cousins from Australia – Nimrod and Jet – dropped by Cebu to visit. “Cuz, we’ve been tasked to be the official welcome and tour committee,” cousin Fritz, who was living with us, told me. Answer: “Sige, go!”

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“Hey guys, gimik starts tonight?” Nimrod greeted us at the airport. Answer: “Sige, go!”

“Ayin, let’s introduce you to Jack Daniel. Wanna give it a try?” Jet asked me at Formo. Answer: “Sige go!”

Then, on their final day in Cebu, I got a text message, “Cuz, hir @tiket ofis. Going 2 Bohol. Aussies treat. Wana go?” I had a writing deadline the next day, but what the heck, I sent two words: Cge, go!

They could have said Basilan or Batanes and my answer would still have been the same. When you’re young, broke (read: jobless at that time) and with no serious commitments, you’ll find that your answer to almost anything is “Sige, go!” After all, what have you got to lose?

So there we were swapping childhood stories aboard Oceanjet’s last ferry ride for the day to Bohol. My cousins migrated to Australia more than 10 years ago and since then we haven’t really communicated or seen much of each other. But amazingly enough, there was none of the awkwardness or stilted silences common among strangers. I guess we have our childhood summers in Davao to thank for that.

Summers in Davao meant sandcastles in beaches, swimming pool dunks, misguided dares, shared punishments, endless storytelling and hilarious games -- which, thinking now, made us particularly close. And being the youngest batch of cousins in our clan, we shared the burden – and glory, mind you – of being irresponsible, late, creative (oh boy, the things kids could think of!), daring and spontaneous. And today, we find nothing much has changed.

It was already dark when we arrived in Alona Tropical, Panglao.

“We only have the Suite room available. With the extra beds, it will cost you P6,000+ per night,” the guest officer told us.

Fritz and I, in all good Filipino conscience, tried to protest at first. That’s already a package cost for a 4 days/3 nights Bohol/Panglao trip. We braced ourselves to look for another resort.

But Nim and Jet thought differently. Comparing it to resorts in Australia – which they claim are not even half as nice, they insisted it was cheap. Plus you factor in the late hour, our tiredness and growling stomachs, well… “Sige, go!” they chimed with that charming Australian accent.

When we opened the door of Suite 34, the first word that rolled out of Nim’s and Jet’s tongues was “SWEET!” Apparently, “sweet” is what you say in Australia when you mean “cool, dude!” or “the best!” or simply, “sige, go!” I had to agree. I figured when you’re paying that much, it has to be suite or sweet, right?

I don’t want to attempt to go into details about the features of Alona Tropical’s Suite 34. You have to stay there to smell, see, feel, taste or revel in its “sweetness”. We were just happy. So happy in fact, that when one pleasant restaurant staff asked us later, “Which room, sir/ma’am? Shoot 34?” We just amiably answered, “Yep, that’s right. Shoot 34.”

The best perk of Suite 34 is having the swimming pool and the partly-submerged pool bar right outside our door. There we spent midnight-to-dawn sessions – swimming and plotting world domination over iced Tanduay Rum-Coke, Red Horse, chips, white Toblerone and snickers.

It was on our last midnight session at the pool, as we were mapping out the organizational details of our new would-be cult, when we were distracted by the arrival of Mr. VP Kabayan of the Philippines and his entourage, checking in at Suites 33 and 35.

We stared and, considering the number of body guards, naturally thought of possible assassinations. The bodyguards also stared, considered, and perhaps wondered if we thought of assassinations. Did we really look as sinister as our overactive minds? How would they call us in the papers – the “Shoot 34 Gang”? Oh well. I smiled at them anyway. Life’s too sweet to entertain such bloody assumptions.

On our third and supposedly last day, after mooning for awhile at the brunch table, we dared each other to forget our obligations back home and extend for one more day. It was a late move, irresponsible, spontaneous and totally inspired – the most brilliant idea we’ve had so far.

Of course, the cool gang of Suite 34 chorused: Sige, go!

And you could almost hear the enchanting answer: Sweet!