Boracay bragbook -2

Boracay for me is lying on the sand under a blanket of stars with Tammy, Jason

and Tim at 3 a.m. It is neglecting my cell phone and realizing that I could actually

live without text-messaging. It is kicking myself for my stupid obsession for shoes

when I could actually live in this island without a single pair. It is forgetting my low

tolerance for spicy food and savoring every bite of our meal at True Food. It is

automatically ordering banana-mango shakes in every single restaurant and

sipping them while my feet are buried in the cool sand. It is the P80 gourmet pizza

that you can enjoy while watching the sunset. It is walking around drenched,

waiting for the sun and the wind to dry me up. It is getting really, really burned, as

red as a lobster, and not really caring at all. It is the endless laughter. It is the

adrenaline rush and the nonstop flow of activities. It is looking up at the sky at

night and actually seeing stars. It is finding precious hoop earrings for a very low

price. It is spending long minutes in an art museum that is posing as a store. It is

digging "2bU!" in the sand. It is swimming while fish fly in front of you. It is getting

bitten by nasty mosquitoes but having too much fun to really notice. It is this place

that seems to never sleep. It is twisting your foot while walking in the sand. It is

finding sand in your underwear and not shrieking about it. It is taking a bath with

saltwater coming out of the shower. It is petting friendly dogs that are wandering

on the beach. It is eating hotdogs and barbecue on the sand after dancing at 4

a.m. It is a discovery--the humbling experience of an accident that made me

realize I am human, as fragile as everyone else. It is letting go of all insecurities. It

is liberation. It is the freedom of wearing whatever you want. It is the interesting

characters that play so many roles, with the beach as their backdrop. It is missing

the people I love and wishing they were with me to cherish every view, every

taste, every sound, every smell. It is a sensory overload. It is not caring about

how many rolls of film you’ve used up--just as long as you capture the moment.

It is forgetting to give out my calling card. It is making connections--not the

business but the human kind. It is sharing a room with five other people, a bed

with three others and still loving the whole experience. It is loving my colleagues

as I would love friends, and loving these friends as if they were my siblings.

That was my Boracay experience. Pam Pastor, Inquirer News Service

THE last time I’ve been to the beach--well, I don’t even remember the last time

I’ve been to the beach. That’s because my parents aren’t exactly big fans of the

beach. So to me, just to be near a beach was nirvana. Maybe not exactly

nirvana, but something extremely different. And to be spoiled enough to not only

be able to see a beach but to see Boracay, damn, I probably wouldn’t settle for

any other beach again, ever.

It was also my first time to travel without my parents…not that I was going to

travel with complete strangers, since three of the 2bU! correspondents were

already in Boracay, and two more were on their way. And I have no problem

with airplanes--the ones that don’t crash, anyway. The trip to the island wasn’t

that boring, considering I didn’t have a discman with me (I did not forget to bring

a discman…I merely did not have a functioning discman). Ruth and Mon from

Smart were with me, as well as YS writer Marco Lobregat. It was pretty cool

since I’ve seen Marco a bunch of times before the trip (not to mention he’s pretty

easy on the eyes).

Fast-forward to the island--the ocean’s beautiful. Looking out the car window

during our Aklan drive, I already wanted to jump into the ocean (Sir Mon

actually said that…and believe me, he takes that literally). I spent the first day

gawking over the ocean and switching hotel rooms and hotels with the other

2bU! correspondents and the people from Smart. Finally, after squishing us six

correspondents into one room that Sir Mon gave up for us, our Boracay

escapades were about to begin. And it’s a very good thing we got our room on

the first floor and not have to hike up a darn mountain to get to our rooms (room

107. How ironic to have a room with the same number as my favorite radio

station).

If there’s one thing I didn’t want to do in Boracay, it would have been to sleep. I

had a total of eight hours of sleep, and if I could, I wouldn’t have slept at all. The

minute you wake up there’s something to do, somewhere to eat, and at night,

some place to party. It’s a wonder how one stretch of restaurants, bars, shops

and resorts could keep a person so busy. The banana boat ride, the

island-hopping (well okay, it was only one island, but still), the snorkeling--where

I almost drowned, but hey, I went snorkeling in Boracay, dammit, how cool is

that?!

The best activity would probably be jet skiing. I’m not really a daredevil, and I

have to admit, I was reluctant when I saw the banana boat pull up the shore

(okay I’m chicken, so there!). But after Pam repeatedly said it was cool and it

was fun, I finally drove that baby over the waves. And I have to say, that was the

first thing I missed when I stepped off the airport. It was like controlling your own

roller coaster, pushing up to speed and riding off waves as salt water splashes on

your body and the wind whips at your face. Of course, let’s not forget moments

like Pam and Tammy falling into the water after colliding jet skis.

Eating was also a priority. Ruth and Mon practically shoved all the good food

and shakes into our mouths at every activity pit stop. And who are we to say no?

We taste-tested every restaurant that served calamares, downed more than a

dozen fruit shakes and marveled over all the delectable seafood on every menu.

At night, different bars offered different drinks, from what Jules calls "the kiddy

drinks" to hardcore mixes, some exotic and only found on the island.

The beach alone was already amazing. The algae didn’t bother us that much…at

night it was low tide, and we’d walk along the shore and check out the marks the

waves left on the sand. Then there were the sunset, the sunrise (which I

unfortunately never stayed up for or woke up for to see), and just the sun, period.

Me, the person who proclaims daily that I hate the sun, finally gave in to what

man used to worship as a god and got a pretty good tan in return. The sand was

powder-fine, and unfortunately for my mom, who wanted me to pick shells for

her, was shell-free. You could run on it without sandals and not worry about

getting cut by nasty crustacean leftovers. And the water, the water…it was so

clear you could see the bottom.