Philippines: Was it Boracay? Or was it me?

Tourists started discovering Boracay (pronounced Bora-Kai) in the ‘70s, but its popularity has grown like mad the last 10 years. The 4-square-mile-island is an easy hour flight from Manila. After spending time in the capital, I was ready for something easy.   (Tia Lai / Los Angeles Times)

The prop plane was full of people who were eager to shed their business suits for swim suits. So were my friend Jan and I. We couldn’t wait to set eyes on this world-famous destination, but first, we had to take a couple of more modes of transportation to get us from Boracay airport (actually Caticlan) to the island.  (Catharine M. Hamm / Los Angeles Times)

A shuttle bus took us from the airport to the jetty, where porters carried our luggage. It might have been a little heavier than they were used to. We learned, too late, that the weight limit for the flight was 15 kilos, or about 33 pounds. Oops. Big overage charges. I wondered later whether it was some kind of an omen about things that don’t work out quite as you hope.  (Catharine M. Hamm / Los Angeles Times)

The captain of our boat must have been as eager as I to get to that little piece of paradise because he drove this vessel like a cigarette boat straight out of “Miami Vice.” (Alas, this wasn’t a cigarette boat.) We bounced along the waves and were at Boracay town in no time. Another shuttle bus took us through the town, where water from recent rains still stood. It was, after all, rainy season.  (Catharine M. Hamm / Los Angeles Times)

A shuttle bus took us on the last leg to the Regency Boracay, where we would stay the first night of our 48-hour respite. The room had plenty of space to sprawl, so there was no issue with that. But what I discovered next did give me pause.  (Catharine M. Hamm / Los Angeles Times)

I found this placard on the bedside table. Clearly there were some linens that were doing very odd things, and, according to the hotel, they’d be charged for it. But what? And more to the point, what is it that I could be/shouldn’t be doing that was so prevalent I’d ruin the sheets? I would soon find out.  (Catharine M. Hamm / Los Angeles Times)

We puzzled over the henna/oil/hair dye thing at Christina’s, the hotel’s restaurant where we were seated outdoors. It was so humid I checked to see if I had slipped into something a little less comfortable--like a wet wool blanket. I hadn’t. From our restaurant seats, we saw a parade of people strolling along the equivalent of a boardwalk. Where were they all going?  (Catharine M. Hamm / Los Angeles Times)

They were going shopping for all manner of items.   (Catharine M. Hamm / Los Angeles Times)

Or they were trolling for adult beverages at what appears to be the world’s longest happy hour. At 165 pesos, about $4, those Vodka Moscow Mules were starting to seem pretty appealing.  (Catharine M. Hamm / Los Angeles Times)

Or for a fresh seafood dinner from booths where the entrees were on ice. (Why was the ice not melting when I was?) If that didn’t suit, there was a Shakey’s nearby.  (Catharine M. Hamm / Los Angeles Times)

That, I learned, was the character of what’s called Station 2, one of three stations on White Beach. (Station 1 is ritzier and quieter; Station 3 is for budget vacationers.) I did not need to shop or to have a drink or to have more seafood. I didn’t need a henna tattoo or a coconut oil massage, both offered by eager entrepreneurs. (I never solved the hair dye question.) What I really needed was an anti-inflammatory and a good night’s sleep, so we retreated to the cool and quiet of the room.   (Catharine M. Hamm / Los Angeles Times)

Sleep did help, and I was out on the beach by 7 the next morning. It was already populated with swimmers and dog walkers. Maybe they weren’t party people either.  (Catharine M. Hamm / Los Angeles Times)

It wasn’t too early to make a buck, even in Boracay. This food vendor was ready to feed hungry vacationers.  (Catharine M. Hamm / Los Angeles Times)

And this vendor was trying to sell a variety of pearls--gray, white or pink.   (Catharine M. Hamm / Los Angeles Times)

As the pearl man worked the crowds, the cleanup crew began clearing the detritus from the previous night.   (Catharine M. Hamm / Los Angeles Times)

Others were working at playing. Superman had a grand time as the surf rolled in.  (Catharine M. Hamm / Los Angeles Times)

Nearby, the boy on the left wanted to learn the fine points of skimboarding, so his “teacher” was giving him some lessons.  (Catharine M. Hamm / Los Angeles Times)

Maybe I needed a little playtime too. Vendors on the beach were also selling boat trips, parasailing and sunset cruises. I went, instead, to the desk at the Boracay Regency. It arranged a private four-hour boat tour. I braced myself for the cost and then breathed a sigh of relief: $50 for our trip on the Kevin 2.  (Catharine M. Hamm / Los Angeles Times)

We headed toward Crocodile Island, which did sort of look like a croc. Not far from there, we jumped in and snorkeled. It was warm and beautiful, but I also knew that the coral around Boracay has been damaged. After a few minutes, guilt drove me out of the water.  (Catharine M. Hamm / Los Angeles Times)

Crystal Cove Island was our next stop, where visitors checked out the sea caves...  (Catharine M. Hamm / Los Angeles Times)

Some of the attractions included birds (Philippine hawks and eagles, the placards said) which looked as bedraggled as we were bored.   (Catharine M. Hamm / Los Angeles Times)

We voted ourselves off the island and headed back to Boracay. I was hopeful that our destination for the night--Discovery Shores Boracay Island--would turn the tide of my opinion.   (Catharine M. Hamm / Los Angeles Times)

A minivan picked us up and took us to the resort. Everywhere on the island, motorbikes are the preferred form of transportation. And seemingly everywhere on the ever-developing island, something was under construction.   (Catharine M. Hamm / Los Angeles Times)

Travel & Leisure voted Discovery Shores the fourth-best hotel in the world. A spacious sitting room made our accommodations feel more like a villa than a hotel room.   (Catharine M. Hamm / Los Angeles Times)

The bedroom was plain, but the beds were super comfortable.   (Catharine M. Hamm / Los Angeles Times)

Little yellow flowers were dotted around the living room, bedroom and even the bathroom.  (Catharine M. Hamm / Los Angeles Times)

A welcome treat awaited at Discovery Shores, including pandan water, which tasted to me a little bit like sweet tea, which isn’t my cup of tea. By morning, insect critters helped themselves to the leftovers.  (Catharine M. Hamm / Los Angeles Times)

When we checked in, the bellman told us a masseuse would be by to attend to our aching feet. “This will perk me up,” I thought. But the masseuse was MIA, and we didn’t want to miss the last rays of light. After about 45 minutes, we decamped to the beach.  (Catharine M. Hamm / Los Angeles Times)

This skimboarder was trying to get in his last licks before he lost the light. After a drink at the Sandbar lounge and an undistinguished dinner at its Indigo restaurant, I decided to call it a day and get ready to return to Manila.  (Catharine M. Hamm / Los Angeles Times)

Discovery Shores has its own little lounge at the Caticlan airport. As we waited for our flight back to Manila, we had to smile at these visitors who looked as though they’d had a much better time than I.  (Catharine M. Hamm / Los Angeles Times)

Back in Manila that night, I shot this photo from my Makati hotel room. As I contemplated its almost painterly quality, I wondered: Which watercolor did I prefer? This one?   (Catharine M. Hamm / Los Angeles Times)

Or this one? I know which one I wanted it to be. Perhaps 20 years ago, before Boracay and I were overdeveloped, it might have been the right place for me. It is beautiful, and the people are a delight. But as a Californian who lives amid paradise spoiled, I had hoped that Boracay had escaped the same fate. I didn’t hate it, but it wasn’t a love match, which gives me the latitude to continue the quest--for clean, for quiet, for real.  (Catharine M. Hamm / Los Angeles Times)