In a dramatic and unprecedented move, The Phillippines’ president, Rodrigo Duterte, has shut the entire island of Boracay to tourists for six months from April 2018. It is therefore more than high time I reported on my June 2017 trip there – a blog entry I have been putting off for a long time.
I had heard amazing things about Boracay, winner of the best island in the world, from other like-minded party-favouring travellers I had met in Gili T and Thailand. It therefore seemed logical to abandon the cheap flights to Cambodia from Kuala Lumpur that I had booked for a week’s trip to break up the winter, and book connecting flights to Boracay instead.
In my usual fashion I spent hours researching in advance. I had to ensure the guesthouse I booked was close walking distance from the famed Mad Monkey hostel (Google Maps’ Street View delivered the goods). And hours were spent analysing the complicated connecting flight, airport and transfer situation to ensure I got to Boracay as early as possible on Friday night; research which culminated in me having two flights booked, so I could take whichever was not delayed.
Despite my Cebu Pacific flight to Caticlan actually boarding on time (unlike the significantly delayed Air Asia flight to Kalibo I had abandoned following lengthy interrogation of the FlightAware flight stats-tracking app), my plane sat on the tarmac at Manila airport for about an hour before taking off due to the apparently normal congestion… but we got there eventually.
However, despite all my prior research, I had trusted that the situation upon arrival would be like in Thailand, where I could just jump in a waiting shared vehicle and get to where I needed to go without having pre-booked a transfer. Conversely, the transfer via minibus and then a small boat to Boracay was not very easy, and we all ended up waiting a long time with a lot of other confused people, unsure when the transfer was going to come and take us to our accommodation.
Eventually a small motorised tricycle did come, only for it (and every other tricycle in a long line of vehicles coming from the port) to be stopped in its tracks (with us in it) by a fallen power line!
After some hesitation and uncertainty about how long we would be waiting there, I jumped out of the vehicle, preferring to walk the half an hour than wait an unknown time in an unmoving vehicle. Just as I started to walk the vehicles all started to move, so I quickly jumped back into mine: a moment more and I would have missed my ride!
After checking into my great value room a mere 24 hours after I had left Australia, I was definitely ready for a cocktail. I walked over to the famous Mad Monkey hostel, which seems to have nothing but five-star reviews on Tripadvisor and Hostelworld (more on that later). While sipping a suitably cheap and strong cocktail at the hostel’s funky and lively outdoor bar, I soon learned that 24 hours from Australia was not that bad: some other travellers had spent 36 hours just to get to Boracay from another part of the Philippines!
I joined the hostel’s guests on their trek through the muddy paths down to the beach bars, impressed with how close my good value guesthouse indeed was; but bemused by the drunkenness of many of the guests who seemed to be narrowly avoiding the motorised tricycles on the shared roads/paths. We started at Exit Bar, where I would soon learn everyone started every night. While inside mingling, I noticed a good-looking man loitering outside.
The crowd moved on to Epic Club (where I would learn everyone ended every night). Here, I mingled with a few people including a tall German who had been DJing at Mad Monkey; before noticing the same good-looking guy from the previous bar. As I asked him if he was French (no: Swiss-Italian), it didn’t occur to me for a second that I might spend the next six days with him.
The next day I was ready for the famous Mad Monkey boat trip, on which I had been so eager to go that I had been contacting the hostel in advance to make sure I’d be able to get a ticket. Well, it was cancelled due to “boat issues”, so people at that hostel just started to drink in the middle of the day by the pool.
Exhausted, I decided instead to have a nap before returning later; however, when I did, I was not too enthused with most of the crowd who were there (especially after many of them had been drinking all day just at the pool); and instead decided to meet up with the handsome Swiss-Italian, Robi, and his friends for dinner at a very good restaurant nearby. Robi was on holiday for a couple of weeks visiting his good friend from Switzerland, Matthias, who was a DJ on the island; and they had been hanging out with Sune, a friendly Dane who had been there on an extended holiday.
When the guys went back to their accommodation to get ready I returned to Mad Monkey and gossiped with a very friendly Filipina I had met there; before re-joining Robi, Matthias, Sune and Matthias’ expat friends at a popular bar to which you could bring drinks and snacks purchased at the attached convenience store. The expat group provided a pleasant contrast to the rather intense ‘lad’-type travellers I had met so far at Mad Monkey – as well as enabling me to experience places to which I don’t think the backpacker crowd would have taken me. Of course, we all then headed to Exit Bar!
The next day the Mad Monkey boat trip did take place, and I did go on it. However, it was the worst boat party on which I’d ever been.
I’ll spare you all the details, but it included an aggressive person slapping my water bottle away because I kept drinking it in my left hand (not allowed), and another throwing my beloved travel hat into the sea despite my pleas (a local had to go in and fish it out). I was actually brought to tears by the horrible behaviour of the other guests, and the hosts were not too bothered.
My frame of mind was not assisted by having to walk through pitch black, waist-high water and through sea urchins to get back to shore; resulting in one foot being penetrated by sea urchin spikes that took about two weeks to come out. For the rest of my trip I would put my makeup on while standing one foot in a saucepan of vinegar (luckily, my cheap guesthouse was actually a serviced apartment with a balcony and a full kitchen and crockery).
Upset, back in my room I took an uneasy nap. To make matters worse, Robi and his friends had been out all day feasting on a beach and I was unable to contact him due to his phone being off. Despite total exhaustion, I decided to set my alarm and wander over to Mad Monkey at about 10pm; only to miraculously find Robi and his friends there! Robi had run out of phone battery and figured they might meet me there – which they did, but only by the stroke of fortune. Relief washed over me as we prepared to head out to the beach bars, only briefly delayed by a drunk person trying to start a fight with Robi (I had definitely made my mind up about this hostel’s clientele). We grabbed some delicious pizza at a beachside Italian bar/restaurant before heading to Exit and, of course, Epic Bar.
The next day my luck had clearly turned and we began a blissful pattern that we continued for the next few days: Robi and I would meet Matthias at Club Paraw in ‘Station 1’ of White Beach (owned by a fellow Siwss) at about 3 or 4pm and hang out with them, Sune and sometimes others while Matthias DJd for a few hours, until and during the absolutely incredible sunsets.
We would swim in the beautiful aqua water and sip cheap and delicious cocktails, and admire the very quiet beach. This was June and the presumed beginning of rainy season, but the weather was almost perfect and the beaches clear.
My friend Stephen conversely went a few months later in November and was unimpressed by how very packed the beaches were. I therefore definitely recommend early June for a trip to Boracay – but no later, as the locals had already started to put up the large bamboo windbreak walls to protect against the winds of the habagat and which spoil the outlook somewhat (although not yet where we spent most of our time in ‘Station 1’).
On that same first Monday evening, Matthias and Robi were invited to dinner with their bar-owner friend; so I went by myself to Mad Monkey where I happened to meet a couple of other expats, who of course knew Matthias. I went with them down to one of their expat Italian restaurant/bars (the same one at which we had had pizza the night before). I hung with them there until I finally heard from Robi and strolled up White Beach to meet him and Matthias back at Club Paraw, where Matthias was doing the night-time rather than the sunset DJ set. We briefly witnessed the Boracay Pub Crawl come careering in in their bright yellow tops before we left at midnight to go to Epic Club with the addition of a new Italian friend we had collected.
However, this was to be Robi’s last party night, so we eventually wanted to go to a club on the other side of the island. It was early morning by the time we got there and all but empty, but still packed with staff – much like Club Paraw had been. I was a bit disturbed by this, as it must have been a testament to how little the staff were paid that there could be basically no patrons and still so many staff rostered on. Nonetheless the few of us danced around by ourselves on the stage before taking a dip in the sea and eating hotdogs and burgers for breakfast as the sun rose back on White Beach.
Following another blissful afternoon/sunset session at Club Paraw, Tuesday evening was to be more chilled. Matthias, his girlfriend, Sune, Robi and I shared a tasty Japanese meal in the quiet, southward Station 3 before heading to a bar nearby that was popular with expats. We enjoyed a couple of people playing accoustic gar and singing, and tried some different cocktails. This was when the rain hit, but not too heavily: it cleared except for a fine mist, and we walked back to Exit Bar for a couple of drinks before turning in.
I said goodbye to Robi the next morning morning and settled in to catch up on some daytime sleep, only to wake later to a very unexpected message: he was still on the island! He had gotten the date of his return flight wrong and had missed it by a day!
Poor Robi was out a fair amount of money in re-booked flights, but this meant another day together in paradise. We grabbed burgers by the beach (the main tourist food on Boracay is not exactly exotic, but great if you don’t mind a short stint of pretty tasty burgers and hotdogs) and strolled along towards Paraw to meet Matthias and the others once more.
Now, Robi (and me) would be able to join that evening’s birthday celebrations of the partner of an Italian expat who owned or worked at the same beachfront Italian restaurant. The party was at that same restaurant, and it was indeed a merry expat affair – complete with costumes. The night continued at Exit as usual, and we all mingled on the sand and enjoyed some beachside snacks.
Alone once more the next evening, I headed to Mad Monkey, my expectations low. But I fortuitously struck up conversation with two guys (at least one of whom was French Canadian) who told me they had booked onto another boat trip the next day with Frendz Hostel. I had heard of Frendz Hostel, as it had been highly recommended in older blogs about Boracay before the advent of Mad Monkey.
I immediately rushed to Frendz and was greeted very welcomingly by a Filipino manager who happily sold me a ticket and immediately introduced me to a whole group of guests who would be attending – and much more my kind of laid-back crowd. They were all, in fact, about to head to Mad Monkey; so we all walked back – and ended up dominating Mad Monkey’s dancefloor in our collegiate merriment, before heading down to Exit Bar with everyone else.
The next day’s boat party could not have served as more of a contrast with Mad Monkey’s. Despite being significantly cheaper, our boat included an amplified musician singing and playing Filipino music on his guitar, as well as a drummer! And when we got to the same cliff-jumping location as the Mad Monkey tour, they set up a whole DJ set – and there were all kinds of drinks and free water.
At our last stop, as the sun set, we had an esky full of drinks on the sand. And our boat cruised right to shore so we could alight onto the soft sand in the midst of another incredible Boracay sunset.
That night I joined everyone from the boat trip at their hostel, which was actually right near the beach – unlike Mad Monkey and my guesthouse, which had proved a rather unpleasant walk through dusty (and sometimes muddy and traffic-filled) streets to get to the beach. Exit and Epic were of course next on that night’s the agenda; and on the beach outside I ran into a Filipino local who I had met through Robi and enjoyed a final gossip. There was also a large group doing choreographed dancing on the beach for some reason.
Food poisoning must have been instilled by my final late-night hotdog, and hit me the very next morning; just in time for my minibus, ferry ride, two-hour big bus ride and flight to Kuala Lumpur. Blessedly, I never actually threw up – although I constantly feared this fate. Also fortunate was my decision to take the Southwest Tours transfer this time; the whole process for which was much smoother and even included a bigger, better boat.
I ended up quite impressed with my ability to make it through all that transit in my state, as I did not wish to follow in Robi’s footsteps and miss my international flight home. And I ended up really enjoying buying some delicious airport pasta and watching a movie in KLIA2’s Tune Hotel, quickly abandoning my original plan to head to a party hostel in KL and chilling out and chatting to Robi via WhatsApp instead. I was also actually grateful that I was sick during transit rather than during my holiday.
Ultimately, Boracay was a wonderful experience, mostly due to the people I met there and the specific experience I had with them. I am immediately transported back when I listen to my ‘trip playlist’; perhaps moreso than for other trips. White Beach is also so far the most beautiful beach and island I have ever been to, worthy of its accolades (but I can see why it might become unpleasantly crowded in high season).
And yet – it isn’t somewhere I’m drawn to return to, despite eventually discovering the much-more-my-style Frendz Hostel. I didn’t get the impression that I would be guaranteed to meet great people and have a great time upon each visit – and heading to the same two bars each night did get repetitive. That was the last of Boracay I will see for a while – notwithstanding its current closure.
But as it turned out, it was not the last I would see of Robi.