Day 1 started upon our arrival at roughly 9 am, Boracay Time. What would be the next four days on the island felt like 20, and I couldn't decide if it felt more like time slowed down or stopped entirely. Regardless, we were sucked into the beach culture time zone that erased all worries and any memories of insignificant schedules.We swam, we explored, we ate amazing meals, we met new friends, we shared some San Miguels and cheers'd to our good fortune. Sunset started around 6pm. An audience filled the beach, soaked in the surroundings, and collectively watched the sky turn into a pink, orange, and red masterpiece for an hour to follow. It never failed, and the next days went along the same schedule, sunset time being the highlight of the day for what appeared to be the majority of the island. (You can also read about Gina and Alyssa's take of the trip here and here.)
What we saw of the Philippines was unreal, and when I think back on the four days we spent in paradise I know that I experienced island images that so many others only imagine. However, what I found engaging wasn't the beaches or natural beauty they had to offer. I used to thrive on going to a beach (in any shape or form), stretching out a towel, lathering on some tanning oil and calling it a day. That's no longer appealing. Walking along the Boracay beaches only came with the inspiration to see the Philippines, and see what I didn't already know. Who am I to ride banana boats and sip on mango daquiris? I travel to gain life experience, and if I've learned anything so far, the only way to take from an experience is when you're first humbled by it. As good as the above activities can be, they only satisfy for so long.
With that, of the more significant things I'll take from this trip is a sequence of events.
It starts with the local bar we frequented over the 4 day span (keep reading.) It was run by locals, and located on its own secluded beach one 15-minute tuk-tuk ride out of mass tourist reach. What we heard through the grape vine was something along the lines of a few wooden tables in the middle of a "jungle" on the opposite side of the island, with a crew that never failed to supply good music and even better company. We were sold, and that's exactly what we found.
The locals we met at Jungle Bar and everywhere else on Boracay continuously baffled me with their hospitality, insight, and ability to inspire. Of the handful of people I had real conversations with, each one was more than willing to explain why their way of life was the foolproof way to happiness and why mine (as a Westerner) wasn't. I was intrigued, and continued to listen as the night progressed, all the way through the Jungle establishment filling up, the music getting louder, the full moon celebration reaching its peak, and my camera disappearing. Bummer! Luckily it was my small (NOT-SLR) camera, but the pictures were gone and the memories of the trip were seemingly lost forever. I did my best to look around for it, doing nothing but causing curiosity as to why I was crawling around in the sand and at people's dancing bare feet....Soon, a full out Jungle-Bar wide search party had begun. Police became involved, stories of who-saw-it-last were in full debate, new friends joined me in sifting through some random sand, and the escalation became an amazing group effort.
My camera wasn't found...But that was the beauty of it. Of course no one actually cared if the tourist found her trusty point-and-shoot, because that's all it was. After a suspenseful wait to identify the camera that police retrieved from a tuk-tuk earlier in the evening as unfortunately "not mine", the group then (voluntarily) helped me to redefine the loss.
Archie 'voice of wisdom' got the job done, and this is my loose variation: "Backpacker who has come to our island for four days and knows nothing about life, your camera is a material thing, and you won't get anything out of life unless you see it for what it is. Live simply, live in the moment, the best memories are in your eyes." And so, I once again received help without asking for it, this time through Archie putting me in my place.
Then, the 30 people left on Jungle Bar's secluded beach sat down to watch the sunrise. A group of six or seven began playing wooden drums, one on a didgery doo. Everyone became silent, and listened to the sounds these musicians were creating. It's amazing what a few bongos can do together, but the music, like good music usually does, took over everyone. I looked out over the water and watched the sun rise for two hours. I sat in the sand next to a small group of like-minded strangers and best friend, listened to the best two hours of bongo-drumming I'll ever hear, let the surreal feel real, and refreshingly embraced the moments that a camera could never do justice.
Who says you need a ton of pictures to make something truly worthwhile? Archie put it best...The best memories are in your eyes. That's going to stick.
A picture found from that morning floating around on the internet later... Because you don't have the mental image.
What we saw of the Philippines was unreal, and when I think back on the four days we spent in paradise I know that I experienced island images that so many others only imagine. However, what I found engaging wasn't the beaches or natural beauty they had to offer. I used to thrive on going to a beach (in any shape or form), stretching out a towel, lathering on some tanning oil and calling it a day. That's no longer appealing. Walking along the Boracay beaches only came with the inspiration to see the Philippines, and see what I didn't already know. Who am I to ride banana boats and sip on mango daquiris? I travel to gain life experience, and if I've learned anything so far, the only way to take from an experience is when you're first humbled by it. As good as the above activities can be, they only satisfy for so long.
With that, of the more significant things I'll take from this trip is a sequence of events.
It starts with the local bar we frequented over the 4 day span (keep reading.) It was run by locals, and located on its own secluded beach one 15-minute tuk-tuk ride out of mass tourist reach. What we heard through the grape vine was something along the lines of a few wooden tables in the middle of a "jungle" on the opposite side of the island, with a crew that never failed to supply good music and even better company. We were sold, and that's exactly what we found.
The locals we met at Jungle Bar and everywhere else on Boracay continuously baffled me with their hospitality, insight, and ability to inspire. Of the handful of people I had real conversations with, each one was more than willing to explain why their way of life was the foolproof way to happiness and why mine (as a Westerner) wasn't. I was intrigued, and continued to listen as the night progressed, all the way through the Jungle establishment filling up, the music getting louder, the full moon celebration reaching its peak, and my camera disappearing. Bummer! Luckily it was my small (NOT-SLR) camera, but the pictures were gone and the memories of the trip were seemingly lost forever. I did my best to look around for it, doing nothing but causing curiosity as to why I was crawling around in the sand and at people's dancing bare feet....Soon, a full out Jungle-Bar wide search party had begun. Police became involved, stories of who-saw-it-last were in full debate, new friends joined me in sifting through some random sand, and the escalation became an amazing group effort.
My camera wasn't found...But that was the beauty of it. Of course no one actually cared if the tourist found her trusty point-and-shoot, because that's all it was. After a suspenseful wait to identify the camera that police retrieved from a tuk-tuk earlier in the evening as unfortunately "not mine", the group then (voluntarily) helped me to redefine the loss.
Archie 'voice of wisdom' got the job done, and this is my loose variation: "Backpacker who has come to our island for four days and knows nothing about life, your camera is a material thing, and you won't get anything out of life unless you see it for what it is. Live simply, live in the moment, the best memories are in your eyes." And so, I once again received help without asking for it, this time through Archie putting me in my place.
Then, the 30 people left on Jungle Bar's secluded beach sat down to watch the sunrise. A group of six or seven began playing wooden drums, one on a didgery doo. Everyone became silent, and listened to the sounds these musicians were creating. It's amazing what a few bongos can do together, but the music, like good music usually does, took over everyone. I looked out over the water and watched the sun rise for two hours. I sat in the sand next to a small group of like-minded strangers and best friend, listened to the best two hours of bongo-drumming I'll ever hear, let the surreal feel real, and refreshingly embraced the moments that a camera could never do justice.
Who says you need a ton of pictures to make something truly worthwhile? Archie put it best...The best memories are in your eyes. That's going to stick.
A picture found from that morning floating around on the internet later... Because you don't have the mental image.
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