The ghosts of vacations past
While it is often considered one of the most beautiful islands in the world, my recent experience on the island was at odds with Boracay’s reputation as a place of immense natural beauty.
Haunted by the ghosts of a happier trip to the island in my past and with my perceptions perhaps tainted by my ongoing issues with depression and the cynicism of age, I found very little to love about the Philippines’ premier beach playground.
My first memories of Boracay are of a rosier sort.
Of days spent glowing with sweat hard-earned in our explorations of the island.
Of delicious meals eaten with a side order of ribald tales and fond recollection.
Of one scrapbook moment spent tangled in the arms of a pretty local girl underneath the gem-studded sky as we kissed to the rustling approval of palm trees.
Returning there this year, buoyed as I was from time spent with friends and a new romance, I found that my every move on the island was a gross parody of my earlier explorations.
Restaurants and bars that had seemed so new and exciting on my previous visit seemed now dull and, dare I say it, almost predatory.
The white-toothed smiles and jovial cries of hawkers no longer seemed endearing so much as opportunistic. Vegas on the beach.
It’s a dangerous business, revisting a place where you’ve had fond memories and expecting it to be the same.
The place might have changed.
The company you keep might have changed.
And you most certainly have changed.
Boracay is undeniably beautiful
By day it’s hard to deny Boracay’s status as one of the most picturesque islands on earth.
If you can tune out the hordes of Korean and Chinese tourists clamouring for the perfect selfie spot and just soak in the ambience of the place, there’s a lot to like.
A long stretch of white sand is a ribbon of separation between the cerulean water and the ever-present palms that seem to lean towards the ocean with yearning.
Sailboats skim across the mirror still waters all day, white as the wings of gulls by day and ominously dark silhouettes against the fire of the setting sun.
And the sunsets! Boracay was made for sunset.
Every evening the island’s waters are transformed by an infernal palette of reds, yellows, oranges, and purples that prologue the island’s inevitable decline into sordid decadence by night.
I don’t use the word infernal lightly. Brilliant and beautiful though the colours may be, they speak to the descent of the island from beach playground to adult playground.
As children turn towards their beds and the young set emerge from their hangovers from the previous night, the island takes on a face that is at odds with its natural beauty.
Boracay’s Ugly Side
Like Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Boracay is a different animal by night.
With the beach and the water now hidden behind the descending curtain of darkness, it is to the narrow boulevard that tourists are drawn.
Lit alternately by sickly fluorescence or garish carnival light, the walkway is awash with light and sound. Acoustic performers, acrobatic fire dancers, and vibrating stereo speakers vie for your attention in a warring cacophony of wailing voices and pounding bass.
These splashes of light eat away at the darkness, but they don’t banish it completely In the islands of darkness that stand as testament to businesses gone by the wayside, the opportunists lurk in the inky shadows cast by palms, all painted on beauty and too tight clothes.
“Massage sir/madam,” girls coo from the yawning mouths of alleys, “Massage with happy ending”.
These are low level scavengers. A product of the beer-bellied sexpats and sexed up idiots who come to the Philippines looking to prey on its poor and pretty.
Up ahead a figure looms out of the darkness. She’s scarecrow thin and wearing an outfit that tries and fails to emphasize her non-existent curves.
“Where you been baby?” she asks, forcing a familiarity that I sure as hell don’t feel, “Want to have a drink with me?”
I shake my head. I’ve seen carnival grotesques with more inherent appeal.
She claws at my arm with fake nails and thinly veiled desperation. Her grip is surprisingly tight on my arm, and as I try to walk away she momentarily brings me to a stop. I snatch back my arm and bite back a curse. She stumbles, relinquishes her grip, and staggers on in a daze.
We’ve created a monster
I can’t fault the Philippines or even the Boracay residents for the decline and decline of what was once considered one of the most beautiful places on earth.
The locals and the opportunistic foreign owners are servicing a need that we as tourists have brought to the table.
We cried out for the opportunity to drink cheap Red Horse and watch the sun set.
We wanted to churn up muddy tracks on ATVs and leave frothy contrails behind our jetskis.
We yearned to be closer to the setting sun and conjured up the dozens of sailboats that now blot the horizon.
We asked for the happy endings and the pump and grunt of bought love.
We’ve created the monster that is modern day Boracay, and I’m not sure it’s within our power to fix that.
As long as the island’s siren song draws drunk backpackers, lonely white guys, and hordes of Asian tourists who don’t understand the negative impact of their stamping feet and grasping hands – Boracay will continue its slow sink into Sodom-esque depravity.
A matter of perspective
Of course, my feelings for Boracay were different only two years ago.
Has the island changed so much? Or have I been the one who has undergone changes?
Has my time abroad simply allowed me to turn a more critical eye to the things I once found acceptable as a doe-eyed tourist?
Or was it the absence of familiar faces that made things that might have once seemed charming suddenly feel so sinister?
Would I have found the seething, sweaty mess of Epic more appealing if I had friends with me to join the revelry?
Maybe it’s just that I’ve grown and changed in the intervening years. I’ve experienced beauty of a similar scope in Tanzania, Malaysia, and Thailand without any of the gaudy trimmings that tangle Boracay’s White Beach.
I’ve been elsewhere in the Philippines and encountered a warmth and friendliness that goes deeper than wanting the money in my pocket.
I’ve come to want more from my travels than booze, food, and sunshine. Boracay offers little beyond these skin deep distractions.
I don’t think that I’ll be returning to Boracay any time soon to give it another opportunity. I’ve already tainted my first memories of the place by dredging up its ghosts, and a third visit is unlikely to show any less pollution, prostitution, and overpopulation.
What have been your experiences in Boracay or other places like it?
Phuket in Thailand, Bali in Indonesia, Hainan in China, and Jejudo in South Korea – for example.