Boracay. Close to being Earth’s surrogate to paradise. Where the quality of sand is stuff weaved into legendary tales. The waves sweep the shores like a gentle caress, and the waters sparkle like a luminescence that bore deep into where thy feet gradually sink down like a frolicky fondle.
I will always have tender memories of this island; recollections with my dad who I dearly miss in the midst of all this Christmas revelry and holiday frenzy.
I distinctly recall when I accompanied Sergio, my Argentine friend, to Boracay. As our pump boat sailed closer to the island, he tugged my shoulder, and in a hushed voice of awe and bewilderment, his eyes glistened and he half-whispered in Spanish, “My heart is beating so fast!” Before then, I have regarded Boracay with an insider’s unflappability. But you see, Sergio is a world-weary guy who has seen most of the beauty that the world has to offer. I have since stepped into Bora's dominion more than a dozen times, enough for me to be cloaked with a jaded demeanor.
Last November, while I was braving the streets of Old Dhaka (Bangladesh) with my Swiss friend Karin, a surgeon and adventurer from Interleukin, she suddenly dropped the name, “Boracay…” – that she’s heard about it from other travelers – passing around this urban legend of an island paradise with sand as fine as powder, and as white as snow. Like Sergio, I have seen a lot of the world’s natural wonders. Indeed, in terms of the quality of sand, it is incomparable even to the more famous Bali in Indonesia. This island, located at the fringes of Aklan province – is still one of the best kept secrets that, despite local perception, is yet to be discovered by the horde of backpacking crowd.
And boy, I havent’ even mentioned Palawan.