Boracay and the Sands of Time

Feb 21, 2011 by

While unpacking my bags today, I found it odd that the bottom part of the backpack had white Boracay sand enough to fill a spoon. The sand accumulated from my 3 days’ respite on the island. Boracay sand is perhaps one of the most precious natural elements in the world. To some extent the sand is an intimate representation of the island among Boracay dwellers – it completes the outdoor experience, a witness to the tides of time. Friends barefoot sharing moments. The most photographed part of the island. I always thought that Boracay is Boracay because of its sand.

Sunset in Boracay is like no other. It is enchanting and promises for a better night ahead.

Along with the sand that came home with me are memories of this extraordinary Boracay trip. Cliche on an annual basis, I always say in my blogs that each year is special. What makes this year extra special (think Batchoy, where special comes in levels, like additional eggs, or additional innards – there’s always something on top of something) is the fact that friends stuck together not just like friends but a bunch of lovers. Minus the “something on top of something” of course.

There was just too much loving that moments flew faster than the usual. We planned on meeting one day, the next thing we knew we were bidding each other goodbye. Short but sweet. Fancy but real.

Our group was composed of a fun mix of personalities. I have defined them in my own terms and by Jones I hope I won’t get Ampatuaned the next time I visit Manila. Hahaha! What I loved about the C-Crew (history of name to be given by Karen or Jae on the comments box below) is that they are not mere skins. They have substance. And although I can stand a tolerable amount of silly-talks, they sure can beat the rounds in any quiz show. C-Crew rocked the summer. Our afternoons were filled with all sorts of memorable conversations. Fearless humour that sent everyone into explosive laughter was led by Jovert, of course. Jae was our hostess extraordinaire. She’s like this huge superhighway that can handle speeds of people in several lanes! Queenie and Karen are my first-loves because they are simply charming and they embody the true-blue Chill Gang of Boracay. My newly-met acquaintances were equally fabulous and sweet. Ria, Jason, JP, the towering model girls and guys (several of them) were just a wonderful bunch of people. The kind that you’d like to meet again and just spend sundown over afternoon drinks – ohh the mojitos!

On separate occasions, I was also with couple friends, Mylene and JP who are both from Bacolod City. Although I was intruding their private time, the lovely (and hot) pair generously accommodated my unusual stint with joints (an occasional gig I allow myself to do as long as I am not going to work the next day). Miguel, you missed a big deal of your life.

My Boracay C-Crew! Wootwoot!

Aside from the sand, Boracay would not be complete if not for all the world-class parties put up by giant companies that promote delirium, seizures or worse, death in a glamorous, consummerist way. This year, the two biggest parties stood side by side, literally. Only a thin wall separating each. In both parties, I was privileged to get unadulterated VIP access – thanks to Jovert (the connection mogul) for the Slinky 3D party and for the Marlboro event. The queue for the event gates was unbelievably long. And since I was on the VIP list in Slinky 3D, I went in there ahead of the line annoying everyone else who awaits entrance. The set up was the classic Slinky motif the way they do it every year. Bright colors, black lights, VIP sections, very high stage for the featured DJ, single LED screen and lots of strobes and disco balls. What I didn’t like though, was the system for drinks purchase. There were only two bars, one for beers and one for mixed drinks. One had to do something outrageous to get the attention of the stressed-out bartenders (who naturally look annoyed), shoving your way through and getting bad stares from people whom you elbow along the way. So after about 30 minutes, I left.

Hey Jude! Slinky party!

Daniel, a doctor friend from Iloilo City who was on duty in a Boracay clinic, was willing to queue up with me at the Marlboro party, I decided to make the ultimate ADHD sacrifice: lining up. But kind as fate was, I saw my former students, Mia, TJ et al and used gentle force to get me a spot on the line ahead. Nasty, yes. So what. Who says life is fair?

Once we got inside Marlboro party, I gasped. This blog makes it my official 3rd blog about a Marlboro party that screams WOW. In all caps. The security system was just awesome, the branding was completely consistent, the audio-visuals were obviously cutting edge, friendlier bartenders, and most of all, free overflowing drinks! Dan and I decided to stay onstage as I was already growing my calves twice bigger due to too much walking, so dancing on sand wasn’t really a fabulous idea. While onstage, I had a good view of the mosh pit where bodies rubbed against one another, people kissing, people smoking, people staring at each other with lustful eyes, drugged people forming their own bubble under the biggest speakers I have ever seen, people who danced well, people who sucked at dancing, people who could memorize the song’s lyrics, people taking pictures.

It was a universe coming together simulating the big bang theory. And it was fun. Then I saw Resy together with her friends. We danced to. She took photos of me. Photos that shouldn’t be published. Then more friends came. The C-Crew who are at this point in their party element. No talk, just dance and drink. Put your hands up in the air. Sway your hips. Bum it beside anybody and who-knows-what-luck has in store for you. People started taking off their clothes. For them, this was it. All the training and hard work, and the deprivation of good food. There’s got to be a good amount of flaunting sans getting hooked. But then, why not?

The Hot, Hot, Hot Marlboro Party!

The revelry went on ‘til sun up and quietly, we advanced for what we thought would be good panacea after the wild ride: food. We went to Ole Cafe and much as I’d want to waste time describing how bad the place and the food was, I’ll just say it simply. Ole Cafe is a horrible place with baaaaad food. Took them 30 minutes to prepare tapsilog. Jovert was kind enough to send them written feedback in caps locked and ellipses exclamation points.

I’m keeping this spoonful of sand because each grain has a story to tell. Just like the countless people who were in the mosh pit exchanging fluids with those around them. They have stories. Heck, some of them may even have blogs exactly like mine. Some stories are said flamboyantly, while some are stories told in hush tones; just as sand got itself into my bag without me noticing it.

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