In the islands of paradise, it only feels natural to explain it as an ideal happiness or miraculous awe of natural beauty. The beaches were lavished in white powdered remains of coral shell and the infinite sway of the palm trees. The sunset blurred into streaks of mandarin splashes in the sky, and tagging behind came freshly squeezed plums. The crystal water that reflected the light blues of daytime rolled softly to shore time and time again, providing just enough peace and serenity to a perfect nap in wrapped blankets of sunshine. Masseuses waited in the shade until there was a decision made for ultimate relaxation. One hour for 10 USD. Rubbed coconut oil scents were absorbed by the sponge of our bodies and the thirsts of our hair.

Boracay was not an easy place to travel to, but rightfully so because only the extremely willing should ever make it. You must fly to Manila, The Philippines, and take a connecting flight on a smaller rickety plane to Kalibo Airport (which you will see in the photo gallery), a small and very humble establishment. After passing through the tiny baggage claim, we found the sign for “Boracay Resort” outside and all hopped into small vans that drove us 90 minutes down the countryside to a ferry station. The countryside moved through my window in blurs of greens and blues, from mountains to grasslands, to cliffs that beamed over ocean waves.. Our small bus barely had enough traction for the tiny roads hugging the gorges. We were in forests, passed schools of children running along the streets, and dodged “SLOW DOWN” fences for speed bumps that barricaded and obstructed long straight roads. The way back was worse for me. Our driver was on a speed chase and I am that annoying backseat driver, so I was buried in sweat and panic for hours. Nevertheless, I resorted to distracting myself with the rush of rainbows that escaped my window. The beauty of nature was so untouched here. It brightened my spirits, but also filled me with melancholic sadness for the rest of our world.

From the ferry station, a small, bright yellow, spider-like boat with balancing legs motored us across the calm waters to the island of Boracay. From the ferry station on the island, we took another small tuk-tuk-like van with all of our luggage strapped on top, 15 minutes until the hotel. We stayed in a hospitable 2bd. suite with a capacity of 9 people for 4 days. USD 60 per person for the entire weekend.

The hotel was a 1 min walk from pure sand and ocean water. Along the shore was a row of shops, restaurants, smoothie joints, spas, and cafes. Every day we moseyed out of bed, grabbed the necessary towel and lotion, and hit the beach with mango smoothies in hand for breakfast. The cuisines were various and plentiful. By sunset, the restaurants set up their territories on the beach for dining. The candles were illuminated, the colors, the “Christmas” decorations! Everything was a step into wonderland. The beach strip was so small that no one worried about finding others; a short walk down the right or left would find you at a table of 15, happy houring and dancing. The red caper was a delicious local steal, and the lobsters were speckled and plump. The drink specials usually involved a two for one deal, so the cost could be split between two people. about 2.50USD for pina coladas and sweet mixed drinks. Everything else was about 2 dollars.

Nights consistently made history. Great music, warm weather, and carefree attitudes made the weekend such a success. We went to a gorgeous vacation house on the other side of the island the first night for a party, rented by other students from Taipei.. Our eyes were so stuffed with beauty and the party was a royal blast. Endless drinks and great people made the night, until I jumped in the pool with my dress on. I was quite cold afterwards so I headed home early. Regardless, life was simple, easy and enjoyable. Other nights included a live cover band on the beach which entailed lots of hott dancing with our feet kicking up sand, drinks galore, plenty of bar hopping, and late night star gazing.

This was a wonderland, paradise, and surreal. But it seems there is always a gilded surface to everything.

3 blocks into the island was Boracay, an island of great poverty, like many areas of the Philippines. I have to make sure I include this in my blog, because one should remember that fantasy land is indeed a fantasy and that the locals feed off of the tourism because it might be their only opportunity to feed their families. Women, men, and children trucked up and down the strip on the beach, beseeching travelers to buy sunglasses, pearl necklaces, other jewelry, sarongs, fruit—all at an alarming value next to nothing… My economic rationale was squandered. What are the marginal costs of these goods and how are there profits? Then it became clear to me. With the division of the markets, it was clear that the value I associated with these goods was a pure act of arbitrage. My humanitarian rationale conduced that this wasn’t by any means “fair” or sustainable economic development for the Filipinos. Over the last four years I’ve found that this happens everywhere in Asia. It happens a lot.

Women walked with fruit baskets on their heads in the blazes of heat, willing to cut fresh fruit for sunbathers. Others offered massages, and 6 year old children were begging tourists to buy conch sells. There was a lot of pain in the eyes of the local, sometimes to where I was guilty for loving the mirage of paradise. Young girls, age 8, were already looking after children and carrying babies. Their lives were devoted to surviving. Yes, they lived on a beautiful beach full of sunsets and wonder and beauty, but they may know nothing of really enjoying it because they are born by chance into inherited poverty and limited resources. Boracay for any outsider is a dream, a heaven.. But do not come here and have no respect for the locals who would give anything to be in your position. Behind the tall walls built around the resorts are shacks. Plain metal scrap sheets constructed as a roof and twined sticks for walls. There is one area on the beach that cannot be accessed by tourists because some had been shot there before. Anger, hopelessness, poverty. The contrast itself was the most unreal aspect of the entire vacation.

Boracay made my heart sing. I tried to remember that my time will come when I can do more for the world other than what I can do in my youth as a current jobless student abroad. Just because I am born in a blessed situation doesn’t mean that I should be giving it all up, just like it doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t help those who weren’t given anything. There is a moderation to life, but when Boracay made my heart sing, it sang in many ways. Those of utter bliss and for more passion. I was not blinded or unaffected from the poverty, nor did I let the pains of  a dual reality distract me from enjoying the weekend. I was sitting in the most astonishing place I have ever seen in my life for many reasons. I was soaking up everything and loving the world with all of my heart.

There need not be more to life in that moment; my heart would have exploded.

Here are photos. I think that they speak for themselves. It was a pleasure taking them, the colors of the world make life so rich!

Click on the photos if you want to enlarge.

Back in Business!

I haven’t written a quality blog entry in quite some time now. There’s no excuse other than sheer apathy. Not the writing, of course, but I hadn’t taken the photos of Green Island to get developed until two days ago. Like an idiot I forgot my baby G10 in Taipei and arrived in Taitung in deep panic with chest pains. The agony. The desolate feeling. The thunder roll. The lightning strike of condemnation. Without a camera and memory card I feel naked. So I whipped out my pencil and notebook and did it the 19th Century way. Here are the pages. If you can’t read the pitiful slop I dare call handwriting, here is a typed text of what I deciphered of my own words.

Picture 1:

11. Wednesday morning 2009. Got into Taitung @ 6:15. Stocked up on rice triangles, waters, a latte @7-11. The air is so smoothe and fresh out here. The sunrise is just now working it’s ways over a massive blue cloud, the last remains of nightfall. The edge of the cloud has a gold pated rim….Getting brighter now.

The stray dogs @ the train station still make me feel like I’m in Homeward Bound.

Alright, alright. So this entry happened as soon as we arrived to Taitung (the boyfriend and I), while we were waiting for a taxi with my name on it to pull into the station and drive us down to the ferry harbor.

So, the ferry….. Here are the Green Island notes I wrote down after the trip, to demonstrate the means of getting to Green Island, take note on the disturbingly entertaining ferry ride.

Green Island Notes.

You know, I think the train part is pretty clear. You all can read that.

Skip to part 2.

2. Ferry:

Take a taxi out of the train station around 8am (you will get there @6:30, take it easy, have a coffee). At 8 go to the harbor and buy a ticket. Board the ferry-make sure you go to the top level. Many people puke because of the ferry motion to the island. If you have a weak stomach, take motion sickness pills. In general, stay on the top level and if you can, bring a sweater and stay outside. It helps. Lasts 1 Hr.

I swear, it was only 9 something in the morning and I saw noodless, peas, unidentifiable meat, corn, and orange chunks all over the ferry floor. Be strong.

The first signs of land will have your stomach lurching but surely squinting out tears of joy. Our first impression of Green Island was, “Wow. I think if we played world hide-and-go-seek we would surely NEVER be found.” It was green, naturally, and excessively remote. Green Island consisted of 1  dense street, and one road that wrapped the island. Off these roads were a few restaurant joints, scattered scooters and temples, an old prison that I hear is still sometimes used, a natural salt water hot spring (euphoric, seriously), a scuba and snorkeling hot spot, and of course, one 7-11, and 1 Family Mart.

Oh, let’s not miss anything. Did you know there is a deer park (no not the water) on this island? And did you also know that I saw deer chained with collars around them for pets? I’m sorry I have to say this but…what the hell? Sigh….Whenever I find something as absurd to my mind like an actual bambi for a pet, I repeat this line, “It’s not weird it’s just different, it’s not weird it’s just different, it’s not weird it’s just…”

Regardless, the island was quaint. Honestly, after snorkeling and hot springs, we just cruised the island. There was a great looking light house, but if you’re someone who needs constant discovery, plan this trip for two nights max. I really enjoyed the feeling of simplicity there. It cleared the mind of pesky thoughts and insignificant daily ish. Take a couple days off, reflect, and see where your head is afterwards. In Taipei I feel like an ant in the middle of a sand dune, but here I feel like an elephant in a DC Adams Morgan zoo cage… You know what I mean. The island is large enough in size but the options run thin after the first night. And, I think that since I went on the off season, this is why most places shut down at 19:30.

BUT SHASHHHHIMI. Holy Jesus Mary and Joseph if it’s one thing I’ll remember, it was the fish. They had the most glorious tasting shashimi I have ever laid taste buds upon. Tender, juicy, cold, fresh, packed with flavor. And so cheap! 150NTD for a feast of shashimi, what? Delicious. Do not turn down.

The snorkeling was also an impeccable experience. The rainbow whirls and shines of sea life were unsurpassable. The coral was all worlds of magnificent.I swear to you, underwater life is fascinating and sublime.  For an hour I was engulfed in hundreds of species, shapes and colors. It was the epitome of understanding why we should follow our curiosity to seek new places. In this I mean we must not forget that the depths of the ocean are also worlds we cannot go through life without discovering!

Green Island was a serene success. With good company and like minds, Green Island is a place that forgives you of a city hustle and comforts you with a breeze and ocean.

Here are some other notes I wrote about the place we stayed, a juice joint I loved (particularly the owner, she was so hospitable and curious about us), some restaurants, etc. It’s rough writing but rewriting it might be a waste of time and space. If you have further questions about my chicken scratch you can always ask.

Below these are more Green Island photos I thankfully got to CD so I could upload them here. The quality is realllllly Bush league considering it was a disposable, but at least you have some visuals.