Boracay

We landed so shortly after take off that there wasn’t time to let sleep take over my wanting mind. We were ushered off the plane directly onto the tarmac (fairly normal protocol among our flying adventures), rain thundering onto our hooded raincoats. We bought a minivan ticket to transport us from the airport to the ferry on the other side of the island. From there, the ferry would usher us to paradise.

More people than seats were packed into the minivan, swerving and dodging oncoming traffic during risky lane changes the entire 1 hour trip. We trudged through flooded streets to the ferry, a rickety outrigger with make-shift rigs, found a pair of life jackets, and bounced over the waves. The storm, officially called Typhoon Queenie, was pouring a mild vengeance down onto us; we missed her wrath both in Manila and now Boracay. Although I should have felt thankful we weren’t hit hard, I couldn’t help feeling a little upset with Mother Nature literally raining on my parade.

We hopped in a trike with a very tall Dutch woman, splitting the fare to our separate guesthouses. The rain was so bad that the motorbike and rickety metal cage-seat couldn’t pull us through the washed over road. We were forced to hop out and walk through the sloppy puddles the remainder of the way.

Sopping wet, we were received with warm smiles, more cats than I can count, and free coffee. The last few sleepless nights washed away as I set my pack in the corner of our private room and gulped my first cup of kope. We made it! And although I couldn’t run to the beach like I envisioned (exactly like the time I saw the ocean in Florida when I was 10, started running, and bounced violently off the pristine glass door, taking a stubbed pinky and fat lip as my reward), I was hugged by the salty ocean air I had craved for months. Victory was mine!!!

The next week was an incredible blur of beach bumming, swimming, caipirinha’s, cheap beer, and napping. I would wake up early, grab a coffee (for free!), work on holiday cards, and argue with the frail Internet connection until Will would rise. Then, we’d enjoy our free breakfast at the ‘resort’ (which we didn’t know was included and the extremely nice staff motioned early one morning, which warmed my heart since they didn’t need to do that), hopped into swimming suits, and relaxed until it was an appropriate time to get an adult beverage, which is anytime you’re on the beach.

Filipino food is basic meat and rice. The meat is typically very fatty, and the rice plain white, sometimes jazzed up with lots of garlic (which was great). We quickly grew tired of the redundancy, however we thoroughly enjoyed breakfasts. Meat and rice is still the staple meal, even for early morning, but a fresh fried egg sits on top the mound of rice, gooey yolk flooding the plate after the first bite. My favorite morning meat selection was called longsilog- a maple-y flavored meat with a vibrant fuchsia hue. I assume some magic combination of Filipino spices creates the color. I didn’t ask (for fear of not liking the answer) and thoroughly enjoyed my bright pink breakfasts!

White Beach, where we stayed, is sectioned into 3 stations. In the afternoons, we would abandon our home in Station 3 and explore the other two stations, creatively called Station 1 and Station 2. Station 1 is the nicest area of the beach, housing the most expensive resorts and accommodations. Still ridiculously cheap compared to US standards, but the most expensive on the island. Station 2 is the most developed, with a ‘mall’ of shops and plenty of restaurants and bars, even a McDonald’s and some local Filipino fast-food chains. This is also where the ‘party scene’ is, and many who’ve traveled to Boracay more than 5 years ago complain about the noise, how it’s ruined Boracay. There are certainly places to enjoy music, drinks, and dancing late into the evening, but it’s fairly mild in comparison to many other popular island party scenes. It’s different and has further developed in the recent past, so those who were lucky enough to experience the island before this growth don’t like it. It’s always hard to see a place full of memories and love changed.

Station 2 still houses a popular restaurant the “foreign-locals” enjoy called Smoke. We enjoyed 2 meals there topped off with mango shakes. The flavors were vibrant and portions plump. I’d highly recommend a visit if you like to experience what the locals do.

Station 3, where we stayed, was a sleepy little part of the island, where many foreign-locals have relocated to spend their life beaching. A few Dutch and German’s own ocean front bars and restaurants here. We made friends with a Filipino who owned the place outside of our ‘resort’ (I use resort loosely, as it was no Sandals. It was very nice and comfortable, though) called Shantal’s, named after his daughter. During our 5 day stay in Boracay, you could find us there @ 1:00 for the start of happy hour, where caipirinha’s and San Miguel were 35 Filipino Pesos, a whopping $0.80. At 8, we would hop next door to the Dutch-owned bar for the tail end of their happy hour. The owner, a whiter Jabba-the-Hutt type, would sit at his bar from sun up to sun down, eating wienerschnitzel and watching the waves. He had quite the posse surrounding him; plenty of beautiful Filipina bar tenders, his leathery, sun-bronzed wife, and maybe a half dozen other Dutch and German groupies who enjoyed beer after beer and playful banter. He’s built quite a life for himself on the beach!

After happy hours would end, we’d walk along the main road, parallel to the beach, and explore the town. Locals make and sell food for much less than the beachfront restaurants and stalls. We’d heard of some tasty treats at a bakery, and enjoyed a sugary nightcap almost each night of our stay. For a mere 5 Philippine Peso, a chocolaty or coconut treat was yours for the taking. That’s about 10 cents.

By 9, we were sound asleep, snuggled in bed, exhausted after a rough day of sunning and beachy cocktails. It was quite the lifestyle!

One adventurous day, we walked down White Beach through the hustle of Station 2 and fineries of Station 1 and stumbled upon a small path through the rocks. After exploring further, we discovered this footpath-less-traveled led to another beach, secluded and tucked into a little bay. The water was divine. Coral reef speckled the waves with dark patches. There were only a handful of resorts with restaurants over here, and we were 2 of maybe a dozen people enjoying the currents and cloud-scattered sky.

We took a break from our trek and dipped in the turquoise water. I swam out to the coral, where goggles weren’t needed to see the marine life. I thoroughly enjoyed myself until a sea snake slithered by, causing irrational panic and intense self-control to suppress a shrill scream. Sea snakes are extremely poisonous, however their mouths are too small to administer harm to humans (whew!). Who cares, I wasn’t taking my chances. I decided I’d had enough water at this point. Will didn’t see the snake, and I’m not sure he’s convinced I really saw it. This is exactly what my little sea monster looked like. Although I dig it’s graphic skin with contrasting stripes, I don’t think we would be good friends…

Continuing our journey, the path picked up again across the beach along the rocks, winding through a cliff-front resort. Tucked through a cave and up a flight of rock-stairs, we found Spider House, aptly named as the cave housed quite a large, threatening looking spider. Bamboo floors and railings created a cozy bar, wrapping around the cliff and overlooking the astonishing bay. For a mere $75 per night, you can book an open air, cliff-side room with a private balcony, complete with crisp white linens and airy mosquito nets. Out of our budget, but I would highly recommend looking into Boracay for a steal luxury vacation.

We purchased a cocktail, grabbed the best seats in the place, and enjoyed the sun’s kisses on our cheeks.

I didn’t think this experience could get any better. Until it got better.

We climbed right over the side of the bar and shimmied down a bamboo ladder, gliding through the water to a floating dock. Since we’re smart, we floated our cocktails over with us, basked in the sun, sipped, and dipped when the heat got intense. We chatted with a nice Irish woman backpacking with her boyfriend, and two British men. One of the travelers is coming to Michigan this summer for a work abroad trip at a summer camp. We exchanged emails and told him to keep in touch!

The sun started to get ready for bed, signaling our time to return to our humble Station 3. We walked back stunned by the beauty we experienced. Cliché or not, it truly looked like something from a postcard, of a place you only ever dream of seeing. A shot framed on a desk, brightening a dull grey cubical. A bucket-list location. Except we actually saw it. We were THERE. We jumped into that postcard. And incredibly enough, we lived there for quite some time.

From Boracay, with Love,

Sara + Will