My First Christmas In Boracay

It used to be that only intrepid Westerners recognised Boracay's potential as a holiday island.

After all, it had no electricity, the journey was at its worst, arduous and at its easiest, expensive.

But oh the white sand. And the fresh air. And the sunsets.

These kids were playing with some toys they'd made themselves on the beach. They told us these were helicopters. They had never seen a car since there were no cars on the island, but helicopters sometimes visited the island.

The first time I spent Christmas in Boracay, we stayed at the Pearl of the Pacific, in one of a small cluster of huts made of bamboo and nipa, with a large clamshell sink, a bed, and slatted floors. There was no airconditioning and no electric fan, there being no electricity.

Here we are on the beach on Christmas day being observed by curious islanders.

We had barbecued chicken with every meal and went to the Coco Loco Hut for shakes laced with peanuts.
You were pretty much cut off from the rest of the world as there were no telephones, though you could go to a station where someone had a satellite phone.

In the sky, the stars swirled in clouds.

You felt like a pioneer, like you were standing on the very edge, at the very beginning of the rest of this island's life.

And how true that was.