gift-wrapped boracay in our eyes

drafted, march 27th
boracay island

everytime i go to boracay, it always does not cease to amaze me what nitty gritty stuff they charge the tourist with.

you only have to pay US$0.50 for the boat fare from caticlan to boracay island BUT theres about US$1 for environmental fee and another US$0.50 for terminal fee. this of course is not much for tourist who is fortunate enough to have been born in a country that is used to the $ or the pounds or francs.

but i do find it really ridiculous that the side charges are much higher than the main charge itself.

it is more or less how it is in boracay these days. i have been very unfortunate that i have not discover the place in its budding stage: in the 70’s or 80’s where it was agreed to be more beautiful, more pristine, more worth your money.

oh well that would have been asking too much. my parents can’t obviously have gotten on with it at age ten.

finding a place was quite a challenge, too. they were nine of us, three of which are kids. and you know how filipinos are when it comes to going on a holiday. they can never pack enough. so that was why the locals stared harder at us; we look like an entire family migrating to boracay with no intentions of ever leaving it.

to say that we were tired was an understatement. it took a good ten hours for the rest of the family to reach the place, and the flight jesse and i took was delayed by more than an hour. i have low tolerance for flight delays, it makes me grumpy and more intolerable. and on top of this, bags and everything, it took a good 30 minutes to settle to a resort where we will be staying for the next five days. but there is something about arriving in boracay that erases all these.

this was the image that greeted us:

and this:

and in dust, aching muscles, tired feet, haggard faces, we claimed the beach like it was gift-wrapped and specifically handed to us to devour. father got right on to business with the sand and molded a portrait with the body obviously not proportionate to the face. but who am i to judge? nobody in the island (lest for the professionals who crafted sandcastles) could produce something as close.

and true beauty is found in the state of imperfection, so i have heard.

i was not about to be left behind so i posed with it, anyway.

to be continued…


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