Monday, January 12, 2009

A Boracay Memoir

Today's weather is as perfect as yesterday and its even more pleasant because the moon is at its biggest and brightest full moon glow. Times like these bring back fond memories, it makes me think of Boracay. Every time its nice and windy or so sunny that I could feel so warm to the bone or whenever the moon looks so dashingly handsome... such nights send me back to the island I just need to close my eyes and I know its real and tonight is one of those very nights.

I leave my little hut perched up in the hill, secured my key in my pocket and took my trusty lighter with a built in flashlight --oh what a firefly this is. I turned to face the narrow path that would lead to the main road and it was already illuminated,no need for firefly then, so I just light a cig. It's a pleasant night, I opt to walk the entire way. Its so quiet that I could hear the island in orchestra -the sound of the wind against the leaf blades of the grass and bamboo trees; tricycles and motorbikes slowing down offering a ride, I decline and they go like resonating notes of violas and cellos, the distant videoke singer (probably drunk) reaches for the high notes falters and tries again and it goes on like shreiking violin but distance is a friend, it sounds good; then I hear the cicada's love song --the erotic call for a mate, but the cicada is not alone, everyone is seeking a match. Driven by insatiable lust, crickets, cicadas and God knows even butterflies and fireflies have songs of love --all of them sing in chorus (no shame in sex). I could stay and listen to this exclusive six-legged insect band and learn from them but in fact, my mind has drifted off already about human sexuality and *bang* the cymbals, I hear the crashing of the waves and my side tracking ends. The waves can be predictable at nights like this one, they just crash within a definite time or interval or momentum or pace. The waves make a hushing sound when it withdraws and moans loud when it claws back to shore. The hushes and moans of the sea and shore an incesant erotic love affair.

Someone is playing the didgeridoo, that means the party is about to start and I'm not missing it.
Red Pirates Pub Full Moon Parties are nothing like anything else in the island and for that it has a special charm to backpackers. Its a place where people come barefoot, dressed down, guards off, all-pretentions stripped-off and sometimes just plain stripped off. Its a very secluded nook where people come for chats, drinks, fire dance and live drum jams of Boracay's very own. I come here often for the very same reasons plus mango rhum, a game of poker or two, scrabble and dinners. Joey and Jen (the pub's owners) are very generous with their Friday dinners and I am very grateful.
I love nights like this one.

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