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Published: February 4th 2009
I have finally figured out Hollywood. I’ve got all those television commercials pegged. I know the secrets of those tourist ad campaigns where a sweeping shot of the most beautiful beach imaginable is shown, where it quickly becomes the backdrop for some catch line as, ‘Visit the most beautiful white sand beaches in the world during your visit to (fill in the blank).’ Yup, I’m on to all of them. Here’s the secret… Boracay, Philippines is all of those pictures. No matter the country, the continent, or hemisphere, it’s Boracay. Boracay is the silhouetted sailboat against a burning sunset, it is the sand so soft it makes you think of flour, it is the brown palm trees with striking green leaves stretching over the aqua marine waters and crystal blue sky, it’s the happy hour margaritas with your toes in the sand, it’s everything that every beach in every part of the world wants to be.
We took the advice of our friends and booked a room for six days in this paradise. After our adventures in and around Manila, we were smashed into a baby plane that took us thirty five minutes to the south, where we would meet
a person from our hotel that would assist us through the process of boarding a shuttle ferry to the island and the multiple tricycles along the way. From there on, we had little more planned than chilling on the beach, putting fruity drinks to our lips, and watching the sun slip below the horizon to the sounds of the relaxing ocean swells.
The plane landed with a thump and a hilarious collective sigh rang through the cabin of the propeller plane. We stepped off the plane to a baggage check process that teetered on the brink of insanity, but we found our bags, walked out the doors of the airport to… drumroll please… nothing. Everyone from the flight scattered off in their respective directions with their hotel helpers, yet we were left standing there like were some kind of tourists in a foreign country, or something. We tracked down a man to call our hotel and let them know we were here so they could pick us up. When he showed up, we realized that wasn’t the correct hotel. Apparently Sea Wind Resort and the Sea Bird Resort are not one and the same. Who knew? We ended up
hiring a lady to get us through the navigation of the shuttle boat and all the other intangibles that may spring up along the way. Fortunately for us, the Sea Bird Resort was expecting us, and with cold drinks, as well.
Our place was just off the beach, so I can’t really get into the incredible view from our room, or the breathtaking introduction I had with it just yet. The island is set up, generally, in a north south direction, and resembles the shape of a capital letter ‘I,’ where the middle of the island is no more than a kilometer wide while spanning the length will make you travel about seven kilometers. There is one main artery that runs up and down the island that is choked with tricycles and locals, and is an entirly different world than White Beach itself. There are different veins of sidewalks that fight their way through the density of accommodations to the beach. This is where we stayed, about a 2.259 second walk to the water. Actually, there are many different beaches encompassing the island, but there is only one you need to know… White Beach.
Now everyone can picture
in their head the images I was trying to describe earlier. It is no lie. The second I walked out on the sand, those pictures weren’t just pretty pictures of a place I’ll never dream of finding; they were right in front of my eyes. Cass and I walked down our path, maybe thirty feet or so, and emerged on, a world so different than the one we had just spent so much time and effort navigating. Despite even it’s proximity to the local’s way of life, it was as different as can be. This path was our coat rack that we crawled through to enter the world of Narnia. Palm trees stretching to the ocean then gracefully curving to the heavens, sand so white that it takes a second for your eyes to adjust before you can take in the entire scene, and a beach lifestyle so chilled out and cool that Jack Johnson would feel at home. There wasn’t a boardwalk, but a beach path; there wasn’t a road separating the businesses from the sand, there wasn’t even the distant sound of auto traffic or smell of exhaust (all usually found on the most popular of U.S. beaches).
We looked in both directions and saw restaurants, shops, massage therapists, dive companies, adventure companies, and the occasional sunglass and watch vendors (maybe not occasional, but everywhere). The restaurants served their meals at tables in the sand; you can drink your fruity concoctions from the shade of a palm tree with your toesys in the sand, and your mind a million miles from anywhere. It was something I could get used to.
We took a walk in one direction, to get our bearings on ‘home’ for the next week. The more we walked the more we were amazed at purely the set up of this place. Apparently the city planners and engineers that were supposed to be fixing Manila, gave up on the poor place, and all went to Boracay instead. To describe this best, I’ll pull out a perpendicular cross section of the beach and try to describe it. First, opposite the water, you have all the businesses, all tropical themed as you can imagine they would be. The accommodations, along the beach, very from the backpacker’s bungalows at $3 a night, to the posh resorts. Their storefronts are all generally lined up with the beach path, an
eight or ten foot wide, hard sand area everyone accepts as the main highway of transportation. One step closer to the water is the area of palms. This is about a fifty foot wide swath of deep sand, the gorgeous palm trees, lounge chairs, with the occasional tiki hut grill or bar. It seems as though the corresponding businesses have claim to this area and either serve meals or drink there, but it is mostly set aside during the day for people looking for some shade. Then come the chairs and umbrellas in the sun, mostly all of them come with waiter service from the closest restaurant. Next, you reach the beach, where we normally tossed down our towels by day, and took in the sunsets by night. Finally, you reach the waves of the crystalline blue ocean waters.
A ways down the beach a man was finishing up one of the most magnificent sand castles I have ever laid my eyes on. It was nearly five feet tall, maybe eight feet wide and had detail that rivals a sand castle equivalent of the Sistine Chapel. It was definitely something to behold and I found out they were somewhat
of a commonality up and down the beach. Four or five artisans construct these behemoths on a daily basis at different locations along the beach.
We finished our walk, headed to the room to swimming suit-up, bought some towels (apparently we overlooked a couple details), and went off to go cook ourselves as best we could. Literally, cook ourselves. Apparently, the combination of being overly excited about our first day there, the fact that 15 SPF isn’t what it used to be, and perhaps being so close we could throw a coconut over the equator was just the right recipe for Cass to crisp herself right up to a medium, medium well done status. She would only find that out the next morning, though.
After the toasting, we took a nap back at the room, and got ready for a wonderful dinner under the palms. In that time, the beach had totally transformed itself; almost beyond recognition. The restaurants had spilled their tables out onto the section of sand under the palms and decorated the areas with the utmost brilliance. Tables and chairs in the sand, tablecloths and candles, rope lights on the trunks of nearby trees, the
sound of waves crashing, and decorative lights hanging from the canopy above. It was romantic, it was hip, and it was fun. We chose a place not too far down the beach to start our restaurant tour of the island, and walked away content.
Our after dinner stroll down the lit beach path took us to Charhl’s Bar, a beach cabana that had a stage set up on the beachward side of the bar. Wait, is that John Mayer, playing his acoustic? No, but if he had a Filipino twin… we found him. One of the best surprises of the trip was when we sat down to listen to two Filipinos, an acoustic guitar and a bassist, jam out on a beach stage, take our requests and then play the songs better than the original recording artists. All while sipping on San Miguel Lights and playing with the sand between our toes. I’ll always remember Cass yelling, “Yeah… Wooo Hooo! Why Georgia! John Mayer! Woooo!” He sang anything we wanted him to sing; he was incredible.
The walk home wasn’t without its fun, though. Things just keep happening here; there is always so much to see and do.
We walked up onto a crowd watching something. After working our way up to the front, we witnessed a pair of fire dancers. They where whipping balls of fire every which way while contorting their bodies in all directions. It was all pretty unique.
Day one in Boracay in the books, and our glistening introduction to the island life! I say the word glistening for a reason, because since we touched down at the airport, that could have been my name… and I would have answered to it. Stay tuned for some fun adventures, some adventures, and some not so fun adventures.
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Marc
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Paradise Found
Damn, a perfect description of paradise! I better head back there soon! What a fantastic blog!!!