Nosy Tarsee is hearing curious things about a certain Batangueño solon known for keeping a road project in the family, so to speak.

Word going around Malacañang corridors is that this young lawmaker is gearing up to play environmental hero. The pitch: get the President to declare a famous crater lake down south a protected eco-tourism zone, demand that a long-running perimeter road project be rerouted away from the shoreline, and push for a ban on big construction along the water’s edge.

Lovely sentiment. Except Tarsee’s sources who bothered to read this lawmaker’s own pending bill, the one meant to shore up protections for that very same lake, found something curious tucked into the buffer-zone section.

The measure mandated a strict no-build greenbelt hugging the shore, citing the area’s status as a permanent danger zone. A firm provision until you reach the “notwithstanding” clause, which quietly exempts one specific project from it: the same road that this lawmaker is now publicly demanding be moved.

So which is it? Is the road a hazard that belongs nowhere near the coast, or is it a priority project that gets to skip the very rules being written into law in the same breath?

Families have backed tourism roads for generations, and it’s entirely possible that the thinking has evolved alongside the science.

But penning yourself a carve-out while striking a conservationist pose for the cameras is the kind of thing that raises eyebrows among locals who’ve watched this family’s name attached to that same stretch of asphalt for three generations running.

A volcano that’s been rumbling on and off all year tends to sharpen scrutiny like that.

Batangas residents would love an explanation, preferably before the next “notwithstanding” clause sneaks past somebody.