Stations of the Double-Crossed
Party. Fun. Friends. Those are the words that I immediately connect to Bora. Of course, those are aside from the obvious ones like images of powdery-white sand, bikinis, bronze tan, colorful shells and pebbles, breathtaking sunsets, vivid-colored sailboats, hot scorching sun and calm blue water.
However, when I got to Boracay, things just weren't what I envisioned them to be. I was with the wrong set of people. Somehow, beaches can be more appreciated when with friends.
I was able to get there courtesy of my mom's office. She works for a small NGO (non-government organization) and they are entitled to one office outing per year. Since they are only five in the office, they got to bring their family with them. It's bad enough to have my parents with me on a trip to the beach. There are so many thou-shall-nots-- "Don't go too far beyond the shore!", "Don't swim in an area where there are no other people," "Don't go anywhere w/o asking permission from us (in which case, if you ask if you can go bar-hopping in the night, you won't be allowed to go)," "Don't stay up too late," "Don't spend your money on too much souvenirs (si papa may sabi nito..)," and the list goes on.. It's even worse when you have extra 8 pairs of eyes (the officemates and their respective husbands) who will evaluate the level of indecency of your bikini. I guess they're not too conservative but well, one never really knows.. Oh, and I've almost forgotten that we had our aunt with us- my mom's 65-year old sister who believes that at my age, I'm nearing 22 by the way, I still shouldn't aspire to have a boyfriend because I might get pregnant. Now, I'm not the type to go running around the beach scantily-attired in a cute little triangle bottom and a bra top, but I sure would appreciate the lack of unspoken disapprovals. I draw the line at wearing that attire though for a private photo shoot at a deserted part of the beach. For the most part, I guess I can walk around wearing a bikini top and board shorts. Even if I don't have flawless abs, I don't care (aba, walang pakelamanan, di naman ako kilala sa Boracay no!).
The few good things perhaps with having my mom around was that we were able to get the best buys from The Original Talipapa (the tiangge place where we could buy souvenirs) and sidewalk vendors, we could ask for some money (as if we ourselves didn’t bring some) and her presence can scare away potentially lecherous foreigners and locals.
The Orchids Resort, the place where we stayed, was located in Station 3. The most polite thing to say about the area is that if I wanted isolation from most of the vacationers, I would stay there forever.
Station 3 vs. Stations 1&2
Round 1: Lights out!
It's already lights out for this part of the beach when the clock strikes 8:00 in the evening, the relatively lesser number of shops and restaurants close at the very minimum, 7pm (except for Andok's, a pastry shop and some establishments which cater to beer-drinking individuals and encourage the pick-up of local women by male foreigners).
Round 2: Sandcastles
The sand at the beachfront is coarser, with crushed red coral grains and pebbles dotting the tide line. By the way, the sand gets finer as one strays away from Station 3-- Station 1 sand is the best, as I’ve discovered by far, especially if you want to build sandcastles or bury a friend in the sand. There is also a group of people who build sandcastles in Station2 everyday and you can take pictures of it (or with it) if you donate money.
Round 3: Vacationers
In terms of beachgoers, there are more people in the two other stations. If you're looking for a potential romance, go to Station 1-- the beautiful people are there. It's the place where wearing a one-piece suit is considered passé, and the place where you'll find guys who will speak to you in a coño slur, "Whassup, baby girl?" (I swear, this really happened! I almost had a nosebleed when I heard that stupid statement..). If you're into meeting children and their family, Station3 is the best place to be in. And if you're not that pretty and don't want competition from those beautiful people, again, Station3 is the best choice. Most of the locals are there and would not hesitate in issuing wolf whistles at you. One incident, which was more creepy than funny was when my sisters and I were eating ice cream, on our way back to the cottage. There was this guy who said in the semi-darkness, "Mukhang masarap yan, ah.. Penge naman." Still not satisfied with his one-liner, he proceeded to follow us and said, "Sige na, isang kagat lang naman!" Yikes. My sisters and I don't know until now if the person was gay or just loony.
I also have a few issues on my mind. I'll start with a light one.
The Unfairness of it All
How come men have the opportunity to stare at women in skimpy bikinis and butt-baring thongs in the beach? Why aren't women afforded the view of men in tight-fitting trunks or barely-there thongs? Not that I'm super disappointed, it's just that it's kind of hard to find something to amuse one's self with at the beach. I guess it would be fun to reverse roles for a while-- women would be the ones to hoot at irregularly-shaped men and stare open-mouthed at those with great bodies. There were a lot of guys, mostly locals, hanging out by the sidewalks with the primary intention of screening candidates for the embodiment of their fantasy date. By our second day at Bora, I was already used to hearing greetings from strangers. The funniest spoken words of admiration I've ever received were "Hi, Ms. Beautiful!" Hehehe.
Those Insufferable Polluters
During our long trek back to our cottage in Station 3, my sisters and I encountered an obstacle. Somewhere between Station 1&2 (funny how I was never able to learn the boundaries of each), a floodway can be found on the sandy beach. The makeshift floodway was built by carving a path on the sand, which enables the water coming from an establishment(s?) ---> I don't have the necessary facts to be directly expelled into the beach waters. At first I thought it would be safe to just walk on by as if the small trench wasn't there, but as we got nearer, the strong smell of imburnal was enough to make us take a few steps back. Man, the water path was tainted with black grains (or was it just muck?) and the smell unmistakably identifies the water as filthy beyond reason. I wonder how much the responsible individuals are paying in order to keep the local authorities mum on the issue of polluting natural resources. Annoying, arrogant bastards. The only thing that made the situation a bit lighter was when my eyes followed the path that the stinky water took. And there, right at the very end of it were some people who were enjoying a cool afternoon swim. I do hope they were not able to take in even a few drops of beach water... My sisters and I kept laughing all the way back to Station3.
There were also some people who did mindless acts like leaving bottles of beer, bottle caps and junkfood wrappers on the sand & throwing plastic sachets of sunblock in the beach water. The latter action enraged my older sister, particularly since the obvious culprit was a Korean (the packet had Korean characters on it). My sister works for an organization within the Korean embassy and after working with Koreans for some time now, she has decided that they are despicable.
Damn Illiteracy
I may not have spent my whole academic life in the streets fighting for noble ideals but I am an inactive activist for rights to education. I hated University budget cuts. I hate illiteracy. That's why it made me sad to witness a scene in our cottage grounds.
An Italian man and a fisherman were negotiating a fishing trip for the next day
Italian: How about the equipment?
Fisherman: No problem.
Italian: So, you have a cast?
Fisherman: Yes. No problem. Because, because.. So many the fishing boats.
****
Italian: Where should we find you tomorrow? (referring to himself and his girlfriend)
Fisherman: There, the beach.
The Italian, puzzled as to where exactly they should find the fisherman, asks again,
Italian: Where will you be tomorrow?
To which, the fisherman replies,
Fisherman: Back to back. From station 1, then station3 then back..
If a place is declared as a tourist spot, the government must at least ensure that the people living within the area could at least communicate to travelers. It's hard for the locals who are making a living for themselves to express themselves to the foreigners who are asking for directions or communicate when negotiating a transaction.
Ghosts & ghouls
Even if we were in Boracay for the Halloween season, I'm glad to say we didn't run into any manananggal, white lady, kapre or tikbalang. The ghosts and ghouls I'm going to talk about are different creatures. They're human beings. My sisters and I quite spontaneously found a way to alert each other of strange match-ups. Our alert goes, "G-g-ghost!", an expression gotten from Scooby Doo when he sees ghosts. The expression's meaning cannot be easily explained because just like some other person’s undefined Mr. Right, we know it when we see it. However, to give one an idea, it is somehow equivalent to scary-funny-weird-ngek-grabe-anobayan. Meanwhile, a ghoul is ghostness in the more advanced level.
Where there are foreigners, there will always be those making a living out of their own flesh. There's Subic, BayWalk, Pagsanjan and other tourist spots or former naval bases. There is no way of regulating such a trade. Due to these trying times, I really can't blame the women who literally drape themselves around foreigners just to earn money or have a free meal. Difficult situations call for desperate measures, and it’s easier to earn money accompanying strangers than selling souvenirs along the beach walk.
When you know you’re going to stay for a long time in one place, you feel that time couldn’t move fast enough. That was how things were when we got to Boracay. By the third day, after we have gone swimming, shopping for souvenirs, boating and snorkeling, we were already bored. But when we were nearing our last twenty-four hours, we wanted nothing more than to stay a little longer. It was so ironic yet predictable that the situation just seemed so pathetic.
The next time I travel to Boracay, I’m definitely bringing my friends with me. Or my cousins. Or my sisters. No parents allowed.
posted by lovefool @ 5:00 PM
1 comments
