My name is Lauren. I dropped out of graduate school to write for a living and co-own an online boutique. I like scary things, pretty things, and geeky things. I'm not really always right. (More)
If it were not for our lovely sponsors, I would not have spent last weekend with bloggers in Boracay. It’s funny, because I’ve been to Boracay twice, and I don’t believe I’ve spent more than a thousand pesos for both trips. The first time I was at Boracay, friends from Canada took care of plane fare, my hotel accommodations, and everything else I ate or drank. The plane fare and accommodations of last weekend’s Blogger Boracay Trip was paid for by Seair and Microtel Boracay respectively, with dinner sponsored by Zuzuni on Saturday night. The only time I shelled out any money was when we went clubbing on Saturday night. Even then I didn’t need to order too many drinks because we had some Absolut vodka beforehand, courtesy of the Microtel bar.
My life is made of awesome like that.
My life. It is awesome.
Most people I know who have been to Boracay rave about how Boraaaah is THE place to be at. Take it from me though – it’s not as great as people make it out to be. Or maybe this is because I’m the type of person who’d rather go camping at isolated beaches or shack up at low-key resorts, the kind that don’t have the comforts of home, instead of partying in tourist-trap tropical islands.
I arrived in Boracay late Friday afternoon and was very disappointed to wake up to dark, overcast skies on Saturday morning. Not that it stopped me from attempting to swim in Puka Beach (which isn’t meant for swimming to begin with) and snorkeling out in the sea.
After a lovely dinner at Zuzuni, we went clubbing. Yay, how totally unpredictable! I was itching to do something completely out of the box though, so I decided to go on a mission that evening. My objective was to make a new friend, and that friend has to be a foreigner. Boracay in January is crawling with tourists from the west and I had difficulty suppressing how envious I was of them. How lucky they are to be in a country so strange and foreign to them! I wanted to get to know someone and live vicariously through his experiences, adventures, and views about the world. And yes, it has to be a guy because girls scare me.
A night life. We has it!
As the night progressed, however, I realized that a discussion like that might have been too much to hope for. I did meet a lot of guys that evening, some too briefly to even consider them an acquaintance. Most of them were only interested in dancing with me or making small talk in heavily accented English. At two separate occasions however, I did get around to have a proper conversation with two guys who told me all about Madagascar, Africa, the villages of northern Thailand. But even these conversations had a small talk-like feel to them. Also, it was difficult to really listen or make yourself heard when there’s a large speaker blaring hip-hop or dance music two feet away from you. I was tempted to ask, “Would you like to go someplace more quiet?” but thought the better of it. I’m Filipino, they’re white – what else do Filipino girls and white guys do in Boracay? They didn’t seem like the sleazebag type but still; the last thing I wanted was to look like I was trying to pick them up. In any case, the conversations never got very interesting and as if on cue, my party companions would drag me out to another bar right when I was running out of questions to ask.
All I wanted to meet that evening was some kind of a kindred spirit, but I suppose Boracay is the wrong place to look for those. You see, people go to Boracay to visit the clubs, drink the booze, get tanned, try out the water sports, and most importantly – have random, anonymous sex. I bet they don’t even notice that the locals live along narrow, dirt-road streets in crowded, hollow-block houses half the size of their hotel room. They bury their cigarette butts in the sand and toss their cellphones overboard. Marc actually spotted an old Nokia phone among the corals while he was snorkeling and fished it out of the water. Yay for decent human beings who remove tourist trash from the sea!
It makes me a little sad about how the hordes of visitors to Boracay don’t really give a damn, but on the other hand, I can understand why they feel that way. The allure of Boracay, according to a Manilenean I talked to there, is that its’ a beautiful escape from the stress and reality she has to deal with back home. That’s not a very telling statement since all vacations are a grounded escape from reality. I think the real allure of Boracay is that it’s a safe, familiar escape. This island, really, is pretty much what fancy mall Greenbelt would be like if you added a tropical beach to it. Boracay’s white sand and white tourists is enough to make you feel like you’re far away from home, but it’s familiar enough so you don’t get culture-shocked by strange customs and unfamiliar languages. It’s a great place to meet strangers, fuck strangers, and act out in any way you want because chances are, everyone will be too drunk to remember all the stupid things you did there. Who you are in Boracay is not who you are in Manila. For people who don’t have the balls to act the way they want to in the city, anyway.
I’m still me wherever I go, though. Idealistic notions about the world and all.
Some unsolicited advice for those of you who are planning to go to Boracay. Wear your tsinelas (or Havaianas, or whatever you call them) as your feet will get wet when you get on and off the boat. Make back-up plans in case of rain. Respect the locals. The beach is not an ashtray, so your goddamn cigarette butts in the trash. And don’t be an idiot and take your cellphone with you when you go out swimming.
Oh, and because somebody on my Livejournal commented that I look like an endorser of Microtel in my photo, Bim took the liberty to make the following awesome adverfisments:
Posted by Lauren | Under Travel with 3,565 views
Monday Jul 2, 2007
I damn near didn’t go to the Anawangin Cove beach trip my friends from work were organizing. For one thing, I’d been feeling strangely lethargic and exhausted all week. Then I was told we’d be heading to a remote island with no electricity, running water, or anything that’s been invented after the 1800s, and that we’d be sleeping in tents. I’m not sure what exactly it was that convinced me to go but whatever it is, I’m glad I stopped being such a pussy. This beach trip was quite an experience.
On my way up north
I wish I could tell you what the ride to Zambales was like but unfortunately, I was asleep most of the time except for the part where everyone whipped out their cameras. Oh, and I made myself semi-useful and became bag-carrier when we went to the wet market to grab ourselves some meat and a grill. It was another one of those moments where I felt very inadequate as a woman because I didn’t know shit about what kind of cut to buy for liempo or anything like that. The boys did the shopping while I just kind of stood and…watched. And waited for them to hand me the plastic bags of food. I’m going to make someone a really great housewife someday.
On an island in the sun
To get to Anawangin Cove, we parked the car on the mainland and took a 20-minute boat ride around a peninsula-like island to get to the most gorgeous beach I’ve ever seen. It was like something out of Survivor and what really struck me that the shore was dotted with fir trees instead of the usual palm and coconut trees. There was no electricity, no cell phone signal, and the only form of running water we had was a pump that led to a freshwater well. Besides us, the only other inhabitants of the island is this family who takes care of the beachfront. I was madly in love. I’m the type who’d rather relax in isolated beaches instead of partying hard at places like Boracay and up until last weekend,I’ve never been to a non-tourist trap island in my life. I immediately began plotting ways as to how I could stay in this cove for good despite my very limited nature survival skills. Perhaps I could build a hut in the forest nearby using dried leaves, live on fruits and fish (even though I hate fish), and make money by ferrying people to the mainland and back. I’ll be like Tom Hanks in that movie and make friends with a beach ball. I shall defend my island with sharp sticks and rocks.
We’ll be playing and having fun
(Click here and here for more beach insanity videos.)
Once we had our tents set up, it was smooth sailing. I dove into the ocean with everyone, then spent some time lying on the sand, reading a book and napping. Dinner was liempo and a shitload of rice. I’m not a rice nor a liempo person but for some reason, rice doused in a lot of toyomansi tastes excellent after a nice long frolic in the saltwater. We planned to spend the rest of the evening just drinking and talking but the stupid weather ruined things. At 6 pm it started to rain heavily and for the lack of anything better to do, we stayed in the tents and played cards. (I finally finally know how to play pusoy dos. Sort of. I can never get the hang of those card games, which makes me a really uncool person to be with at times like this.) By 8:30 we were dead til 8:30 the next morning because it was so cold and we were, for some reason, really exhausted.
If I could only get you ocean side
More frolicking in the ocean on day two and a lot of camwhoring. Sometime in the middle of the morning, the guy we paid to ferry us back to the mainland arrived and informed us that we apparently left the headlights of the car on the entire time. The batteries were very very dead. I couldn’t decide if that was good news or bad news, but eventually my sense of responsibility kicked in and I grew worried that we’d get stranded here for a while. Living on an island only sounds good in theory, but I bet I’d get sick of the sand and the sun after a week and start longing for buildings, pollution, and the assholes on the street. Once we reached the mainland, it didn’t take too long for us to find a willing guy to lend us a car battery we could use to jack power from. We paid them in gin and some cash and we were back on the road, speeding towards Manila and Monday and the humdrum monotony of our jobs. But not before we stopped by Subic for two hours to do some unexpected money spending and a delicious dinner of kare-kare and bulalo in Pampanga.
Now that I look back at how depressed I was before I started working, I feel a little embarrassed about all that stupid existential angst. This weekend proved to me that the fun doesn’t stop just because I’m now “grown up” and out of college. Life is full of surprises and it sure is damn good to be alive.
Props to Reg for organizing such an awesome trip and for being an excellent driver; Kat for being a great camwhore buddy; Paul for the delicious food; and Randy for providing the line that sums up the whole trip: “Into the tubig!” I wish I could point you guys to my Multiply site where I uploaded the rest of the Zambales photos, but I don’t want any perverts to get pixel copies of me in a bikini.
Posted by Lauren | Under Travel with 2,131 views
Monday May 14, 2007
Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have chosen to spend my last days of unemployment at Boracay. It’s just like how I swore that I would never set a foot inside Embassy; I’m too fucking cool and non-conformist to go to where the rich and famous party. But from the moment I emerged from my final final exams, I knew that this wouldn’t be a normal summer and I’m glad that this was how I chose to end it.
A few weeks ago, I received a Friendster message from Jen, a classmate I haven’t seen nor spoken to since third grade. She moved to Canada after grade three and although we wrote each other letters for a few months, we eventually lost touch. Thank God for Friendster! She messaged me to say that she’d be in the Philippines for a few weeks and would I like to hang out with her and maybe go to the beach with her and her cousins? I replied immediately with a “Yes!” and this is how I ended up in Boracay with awesome new friends during election weekend.
The Nightlife
What with its reputation as a place to party and hook up with strangers, I imagined that Boracay to be something like an Eastwood with a tropical beach. I was surprised to discover that flights don’t take you directly from Manila to the island. From the Kalibo airport, you need to travel an hour and a half on land, then take a fifteen-minute boat ride before reaching Boracay. I was even more surprised when I saw that the streets of Boracay looked like a sleepy provincial town. If it were not for the restaurants and bars along the beach, I could’ve sworn we were in a normal rural village. I laughed at the thought of all those conyitos and conyitas walking on the narrow plank that leads to the boat, and then riding a tricycle to reach their hotels. It just doesn’t seem like something rich people do.
We reached the island early Saturday evening, which was a little disappointing because I was so ready to jump into the water. It was a perfect time, however, to grab dinner by the seaside and experience the night life. Upon checking in at Hotel Hannah (a quaint little place at Station 1, about a minute’s walk from the beach), we had dinner at Cocomangas and hung out in our rooms for a few hours before heading out to go dancing at the same place. I am by no means a party person. I love to dance (even though I suck) but I don’t listen to hip hop, and the thought of going to clubs and rubbing bodies against random strangers makes me feel a little uneasy. For that reason, I thought I would hate the Boracay night life but the exact opposite happened. No sleazy guys tried to pick me up and I was dancing with friends, which made the body contact part not as awkward as I imagined it would be.
The Beach
Despite our late night, we forced ourselves to wake up and hit the sand at 8 am. I hate waking up any time before noon but when I looked out the window and saw that the sky was a perfect cloudless blue, I perked up immediately. The weather’s been unpredictable lately and I was worried that our days in Boracay would be gloomy and dark. I guess the world is making up for the beach appetite that was left unsatisfied during my Ilocos trip.
Jen and I spent the whole morning lying on beach towels, getting a tan. Normally when I go to the beach, I just jump into the water and randomly get dark. This was the first time I’ve ever laid on the sand for hours with the intention of soaking up UV rays and I suppose it’s something you need to try at least once in your life. It’s not particularly exciting but I’m never energetic in the morning anyway, and the sun was too good to spend those hours sleeping in the hotel room.
One thing I discovered is that if you’re a rich tourist from a first world country, you can go to Boracay island with nothing but the clothes on your back and a fat wallet. Anything beach-related can be bought there–bikinis, towels, flipflops, sunscreen, even normal clothes. If you really want to get the beach look pat-down, you can even pay a local to braid your hair or give you dreadlocks. I passed by several tattoo parlors and was tempted to inquire about their rates, but I restrained myself from doing so. I could have blown the rest of my money on a tattoo but my parents would eat me alive the moment I get back and that’s never a good thing.
Another thing I learned during this trip is that it’s not always a good thing to travel with someone you have a crush on. I tend to get really neurotic, which makes me tune out the scenery because there are times when the only thing that’s on my mind is, “Notice me! Notice meeee!” In my desperation to get noticed I paid a local kid to teach me how to skimboard after lunch, thinking that I could impress him by looking cool and doing handstands and stuff. Unfortunately, I completely forgot that a) people are good at making difficult things look easy, b) I have no sense of balance, c) I can’t stand on a moving object to save my life. Technically, I already know how to skimboard but my body couldn’t do what my mind was telling it to. I kept falling on my ass and embarrassing myself the whole time.
And people wonder why I’m single.
The rest of the afternoon was spent frolicking in the water, failing to skimboard, and playing frisbee with random people who asked me to join their game. After everyone took a power nap at sunset, we hit the clubs again and discovered to our disappointment that the places were pretty dead. Then again, it was a Sunday evening. So instead of partying like Paris Hilton we played pool and found ourselves a karaoke bar, where we sang off-key to our favorite songs. And when the karaoke bar got too expensive, we walked along the beach and found a spot to lie on the sand under a canopy of stars, singing the entire time.
Leaving Boracay
Because I’m a loser and told my boss I could start on Tuesday when I could have easily said Wednesday, I had to leave Boracay at 6 this morning. Luckily I did the smart thing and barely got sleep the night before, which made me too exhausted to get properly depressed about heading back to Manila alone. I was still pretty sad anyway. No matter who I’m with and no matter how shitty it gets, I’m always at my happiest when I’m traveling. Now the fun part’s over and I need to face the fact I’m still at a complete loss as to what to do with my life despite being employed. That and all the other neurotic thoughts that plague my head every now and then.
I would definitely go to Boracay again, but not necessarily for the night life. It’s one of the best beaches I’ve ever been to–the white sand was heaven on my toes and despite the heat of the sun, the water stays ice cold. I love that I can walk around town in a bikini top and a skirt without looking out of place; it’s just too hot in this country to be fully clothed. The company, however, was what made the whole trip an indescribably wonderful experience. I’m extremely glad I got the chance to rediscover an old friend and find out that we get along very well even though we haven’t seen each other in over a decade. Things like that don’t happen to people on a normal basis.
Tomorrow’s my first day at work and the thought is semi-depressing. The only thing that’s keeping me going is that this is an opportunity for me to earn more money. More money equals more travel. Or maybe I could just save that money and act on my new Life Plan: learn and master a water sport, quit my day job, then live on a shack in the beach and make a living extorting tourists out of their money to teach them the said water sport. I know that’s probably not going to happen but hey, a girl can dream about happier days.
A few weeks ago, I received a Friendster message from Jen, a classmate I haven’t seen nor spoken to since third grade. She moved to Canada after grade three and although we wrote each other letters for a few months, we eventually lost touch. Thank God for Friendster! She messaged me to say that she’d be in the Philippines for a few weeks and would I like to hang out with her and maybe go to the beach with her and her cousins? I replied immediately with a “Yes!” and this is how I ended up in Boracay with awesome new friends during election weekend.
The Nightlife
Jen and I spent the whole morning lying on beach towels, getting a tan. Normally when I go to the beach, I just jump into the water and randomly get dark. This was the first time I’ve ever laid on the sand for hours with the intention of soaking up UV rays and I suppose it’s something you need to try at least once in your life. It’s not particularly exciting but I’m never energetic in the morning anyway, and the sun was too good to spend those hours sleeping in the hotel room.
One thing I discovered is that if you’re a rich tourist from a first world country, you can go to Boracay island with nothing but the clothes on your back and a fat wallet. Anything beach-related can be bought there–bikinis, towels, flipflops, sunscreen, even normal clothes. If you really want to get the beach look pat-down, you can even pay a local to braid your hair or give you dreadlocks. I passed by several tattoo parlors and was tempted to inquire about their rates, but I restrained myself from doing so. I could have blown the rest of my money on a tattoo but my parents would eat me alive the moment I get back and that’s never a good thing.
Another thing I learned during this trip is that it’s not always a good thing to travel with someone you have a crush on. I tend to get really neurotic, which makes me tune out the scenery because there are times when the only thing that’s on my mind is, “Notice me! Notice meeee!” In my desperation to get noticed I paid a local kid to teach me how to skimboard after lunch, thinking that I could impress him by looking cool and doing handstands and stuff. Unfortunately, I completely forgot that a) people are good at making difficult things look easy, b) I have no sense of balance, c) I can’t stand on a moving object to save my life. Technically, I already know how to skimboard but my body couldn’t do what my mind was telling it to. I kept falling on my ass and embarrassing myself the whole time.
I would definitely go to Boracay again, but not necessarily for the night life. It’s one of the best beaches I’ve ever been to–the white sand was heaven on my toes and despite the heat of the sun, the water stays ice cold. I love that I can walk around town in a bikini top and a skirt without looking out of place; it’s just too hot in this country to be fully clothed. The company, however, was what made the whole trip an indescribably wonderful experience. I’m extremely glad I got the chance to rediscover an old friend and find out that we get along very well even though we haven’t seen each other in over a decade. Things like that don’t happen to people on a normal basis.
