Boracay in My Mind

There have been efforts on the part of my colleagues of holding trainings/seminars right in the island of Boracay. The regional league even managed of having catered the delegates to an "eco-tour" there after our hectic three-day National Executive Meeting cum seminar in Roxas City last March. I could not fault them for their resolved. It is open season in Boracay and typically since it had been "declared" as the national tourist destination, all roads lead to that sugar-fine white beach. All roads, except mine.

I used to love beachcombing along the 2-point-something km beach front from Manoc-manoc to Yapak. That was when one seldom sees alien structures along its shoreline. Yonder, as the sun sets, one would only see a few fishermen's sailboats afloat in silence before the reddening horizon. It was a time when bats dominated its sky at dusk leaving one filled with wonder as she/he reclined quietly on its immaculate sand. The quiet of the day was broken only by the shrill cries of the cricket, the howling of monkeys and the hooting of some night birds.

As I while the time, my host would light my hut with a fisherman's lamp, set it up on the bamboo beam as she readied my mosquito net over my banig (mat). Behind the hut, the host's husband prepared his catch of the day and grilled it on a coconut charcoal. From my backpack, I produced a lapad of Tanduay and the two of us feasted on his fresh catch--a grilled spotted scat, still steaming with fats, seducing me innocently with its whiff and richness.