Bumming around Boracay

After a few tantrums, several wardrobe compressions and a strategic redistribution of backpack weight, we finally made it to Manila Airport for our 11:55am flight. The hotel shuttle dropped us off and we proceeded to check-in. There were only about half a dozen people lined up. I was sweating like Whitney Houston going through customs thinking that I’d have to toss things out of my bag to meet the 20kg limit. Jason popped his bag onto the scales. Almost 20kg. Shit! That didn’t leave any room for me to commandeer some of his allocation. I popped my bag on the scales and it was 22 kg. It had gained weight from the hotel. I just batted my eyes and tried to be charming hoping that might work. It seemed to do the trick. The airline staff member didn’t say anything and placed the tags on the bag. Then she asked to weigh our carry-on bags. Mine weighed 9 kg but the women said “7 kg”. Phew! Made it through that Amazing Race challenge.

Security was a breeze. We went straight through and had almost three hours to spare. So, we decided to grab a drink and food. I swear the mango smoothie I ordered took longer than the check-in and security processes.

The short 45-minute journey started with a weird sound coming from the landing gear. “That sound doesn’t seem normal” was uttered from my mouth. We took off without a hitch and the sound disappeared.

We were flying AirAsia, so there was little space for our legs. Fortunately we had a row of three seats to ourselves. The six-foot-five British guy sitting diagonally behind us had even more trouble and asked if there were any spare exit seats. It looked like there were some exit seats available, as two other guys moved from their assigned seats to the exit row. The British guy thought he’d dob on them, presumably so he could take their seats. It didn’t work. The flight attendant spoke to the self-appointed seat upgraders, but they remained in the exit row. The British guy also remained in his allocated seat, crammed in his seat with one leg protruding into the aisle.

The cabin crew were under the pump to serve our meal of Thai Chicken Basil with rice before the plane had to land. It felt like we had only taken off, served our meals and then we were ready to land again.

Once we landed and collected our bags from the solo baggage carousel, we were on our way. Getting to Boracay from Manila is a planes-trains-and-automobiles adventure, but substitute the train for a boat. We got a mini van to the Caticlan jetty, a boat to Boracay Island and then another mini van to our hotel. At least the hotel staff carried our bags throughout the journey. I felt sorry for the young guys. The bags were nearly as heavy as them. I did offer to take my bags but they refused.

We checked in and dragged our bags through a maze of hotel rooms until we finally found ours. We had a view of the pool with a sliver of an ocean view. We did cop an eyeful of a woman wearing a thong bikini who had obviously forgotten to put sunscreen on her arse cheeks. Her arse was as red as a beetroot. No sitting for her for a while.

We threw our bags in the room and took off to explore the white sandy beaches of Boracay. We wandered along the beachfront avoiding hawkers trying to sell us their wares or restaurants trying to coax us in. It’s like a bogan Asian version of Aussies in Bali. A sea of braids and henna tattoos for as far as you could see. It felt like a Thai island getaway but a Catholic Temu version. So Catholic that every power pole on the main street has a sign citing a Bible passage about Jesus being the only one to have the power to save. I’m sure it’s meant to be a pun.

It didn’t take long for Jason to be overwhelmed by the heat. We were already dodging the sun like vampire creatures of the night. Jason’s portable fan did nothing to stop him sweating his arse off. He says it’s because of his “long” hair. I mean he’s a veritable Rapunzel with this two centimetre “ponytail”. I think he might be going through the change of life. You know, the manopause. Or perhaps the pause/paws 🐾. We walked and walked trying to find a food outlet that had air conditioning. I was starving and fading to a shadow, but eventually, we found somewhere that ticked all the boxes.

For this Amazing Race around the World, we were prepared for all climates. For the heat of the Philippines, we had brought hats that made us look like we’re beekeepers. We’re only missing the bee smoker to prevent the street hawkers from attacking us. They were certainly like bees buzzing around us.

Then on the third day, it had to happen. The cross-over episode of the Lost World and the Amazing Race around the World collided. Jason’s room key was gone. There were Buckley’s chances of getting it back. It was somewhere between 7-11 and Aqua Fresh, the Chicken and Seafood restaurant where we had dinner the night before. But Jason told the hotel he left it by the pool. Turns out it was actually in a pair of my shorts and it wasn’t lost at all. Crisis averted. Jason immediately updated the Lost World leaderboard: Ricky 1, Jason 0. But was it really lost?

The routine soon became: get up go to the gym, have breakfast, wander the streets like itinerants, hide from the midday heatwave and return when we’re not going to be fried crispy chicken.

At breakfast, a woman struck up a conversation with Jason. After a bit of banter, she asked if he was Belgian. That’s a new one. Usually it’s German.

After our midday retreat, we went in search of a bite to eat. Another popular theme of our Amazing Race. We ended up at a popular Filipino roast chicken chain called Andok. We ordered a whole chicken, because the birds looked about the size of pigeons. A quarter chicken wasn’t going to fill the empty hole.

When we ordered, I pulled out my wallet and the cashier said “your wallet is very cute”. It’s basically a wallet made from an old shirt pocket with a zip that I picked up from Thailand. We demolished the chicken and the Bicol Express, a Filipino stew made with chili coconut cream, shrimp paste, onion, pork, ginger, garlic and beans.

Before sunset, we made our way to the beach, had a quick dip in the sea and tried to fight off the street hawkers. No, we don’t want a scuba-diving day trip or a ticket to the party boat. Their response was generally “Maybe tomorrow”. Maybe never.

Dinner was spent at the D’Mall, where we had a yiros from a Greek restaurant owned by two Filipino guys. It didn’t quite satisfy the hunger, so we had to try the popular Coco Mama. Their speciality is coconut and pandan ice-cream, which has gone viral on social media, despite existing for 10 years. They have become so popular that they have opened sister stores, Ube Mama and Mango Mama. It was nice ice-cream, but I feel like it's mostly about the hype.

Our final day was spent wandering, relaxing and trying to stay out of the scorching sun. Around lunchtime the skies opened up and pissed down. We sought refuge in a small cafe and slurped on coconut and banana shakes. The footpaths and roads started to flood quickly. But as quick as the rain came, the waters subsided and the sun poked its head out again with a vengeance. But not for long. It continued to rain into the late afternoon and evening.

When there was a break in the weather, we headed to the Balabag wetlands for an appetizer of street food before stumbling upon an Indian restaurant. The joint was filled with Indians, so we thought the food mustn’t be too bad. Full as a goog, we walked back to our hotel avoiding the street hawkers still trying to get us to go to a seafood restaurant or get a massage.

The final challenge was repacking and hoping our bags had somehow lost weight. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said about their owners.

Next stop clue: Conquistadors built the walls. Jeepneys took over the streets.

Filipino Phrases:

Magandang umaga (mah-gah-NDAHNG oo-MAH-gah) = Good morning

Magandang hapon (mah-gah-NDAHNG hah-PON) = Good afternoon.

Magandang gabi (mah-gah-NDAHNG gah-BEE) = Good evening.

Pakiusap (pah-kee-OO-sap) = Please

Oo = yes

Hindi = No

Paalam = goodbyeRead more