[PANGLAO] Some Boracay Kind of Vibe

For someone who has been traveling for years now, how I plan for my trips remains to be a good source of embarrassment. What is so wrong with research? Nothing. But we want spontaneity! Well, spontaneity would cost you some of your hard-earned cash in the long run. Perhaps I was too smitten with Camiguin that I forgot planning for Bohol altogether. Before I knew it, I was on a ferry to Jagna with no clear itinerary in mind. I did reserve a dorm bed for two nights, though, located at Dauis on Panglao Island. Off to Tagbilaran I go.

Lesson learned the hard way: Panglao is NOT walking distance from Tagbilaran. My naivete told me that I would just be crossing a bridge once I get off a bus in Tagbilaran to get to Panglao. Wrong answer. It took a 250-peso tricycle ride and 45 minutes to go to the resort from Island City Mall. And there I thought the motorcycle driver was just being a jerk for demanding such high a fare. Research is your friend indeed, but not mine, apparently so.

I was thinking that I could go and see the tarsiers after depositing my stuff at the resort. Again, wrong answer. There seemed to be no abundance of public transportation on this island, and even if that was not the case, the travel time to get back to Tagbilaran is already discouraging on its own. Plan B? Go to Alona beach and spend the whole afternoon there. Looks like a legit plan to me. Fair enough. I was torn between renting a motorcycle for 400 a day and driving it on my own or succumbing to the 100 peso one-way ride courtesy of the resort van. The resort van won. Given my stellar reputation when it comes to carelessness, I might end up paying for that motorbike after losing it somewhere.

We passed by a school called Tinago Elementary School, by the way. I think that title summarizes this island best. I wish it were more accessible to mere mortals who do not fancy special tricycle rides. But now that it is done, there is no use for whining. Let us just savor the moment since we are already here. After the ten-minute van ride (10 pesos per minute!) we arrived at Alona beach, which immediately gave off some Boracay sort of vibe. True enough, they look quite similar.

Boracay wins in the aesthetics department, hands down, but Alona is not so bad. The bold star name is supposed to give you the impression that there would be something alluring in here. Well, the beach is alluring. The overpriced food is alluring. The sun, the sand, the water. They are all alluring, but I am just not interested. And so here I am typing this blog entry on my phone, pausing for short breaks to watch some of the activities unfolding around me.

There is an old Caucasian guy to my right who should not be wearing swimming trunks. There are two scantily clad women to my left who, if they are what I think they are, are on the prowl for some prospective, uhm, let me cut this sentence here. MTRCB warning. Moving on, there is a Korean couple having a good time in the water in front of me. I would like to use the term frolicking, but that would be a lie because they are obviously just having fun. Besides, the guy looks gay. He squeals more than an attention deficient dolphin on steroids would. To the extreme left are four teenagers playing improvised volleyball. They have no net. That is sad. To the back are four ladies and a man all garbed in white, waiting for customers to massage.

The waves would not stop bitch slapping the sand, while the setting sun creates a mirage of different shades of blue as its dying rays hit the sea. The white boats dancing to the waves jive well with the ménage-a-trois of azure, blue-green, and turquoise. The wind is blowing gently on my face and it is one of the best parts of lying catatonic at the beach that I truly enjoy, and so does the dog deprived of any breed as it scratches its ears with its hind leg, around a hundred meters away from my kingdom of sand.

I am getting bored, which is just proper because the beach is the most conducive venue to get bored. I could lie here all night and just wake up early tomorrow morning to meet the tarsiers. Oh wow, someone built their own version of Chocolate Hills on the sand. Oh, wow, I think my right leg of doom just caused its destruction. That kayak is blue. That woman is not really reading a book; she is sound asleep. Do I eat a burger for dinner or those grilled yummies that sell for less than a hundred? Panglao is not bad. Not at all. But I am bound to remember it as that beach where boredom got the best of me. And there is nothing wrong with that, as long as you are catatonic on the sand, stalking the waves.

[PANGLAO] Some Boracay Kind of Vibe

[CORELLA] Three Tarsiers for Wednesday

[CARMEN] Our Hills Are Chocolate

[BOHOL] Budget and Itinerary