Boracay, Philippines
Boracay is a microcosm of what we see happening in places all over the world: both too much and not enough love from tourists as well as from those sanctioned to protect it. This island is known for its beautiful white sand beaches and turquoise water. I can only imagine what Boracay used to look like many years before human development, but also right before the island shut down to tourists April-October 2018 for a massive environmental cleanup. The Filipino president, Rodrigo Duterte, (yeah, the one also connected to the killings of over 1,000 drug dealers, petty criminals, and street children in the Philippine “War on Drugs”) declared Boracay a “cesspool.” Many of the island’s resorts were channeling untreated sewage directly into the ocean, and other resorts were built on protected wetlands. Beachgoers came from China, Korea, Europe, and Australia to party hard, drink on the beach, and throw their trash directly onto the ground. The beaches became so polluted that algae grew exponentially, muddying the once-clear water. People weren’t allowed to walk barefoot on the beach due to all the broken glass. The 7km long/1km wide (a little less than 4 sq miles) island had over 2 million visitors over the course of a year at its peak. The dirt streets were filled with ruts from the many motorcycles and trikes shunting tourists and locals to and fro. Even now, the pervasive smell of trash still permeates some parts of the island.
And on top of all of this, Typhoon Ursula reared her watery head on Christmas Day, 2019, causing major damage to many of the homes, businesses, and resorts all over the island. Even still, corrugated metal has been ripped from the rooftops and lays crumpled on the ground tangled power lines litter the sides of the streets and are caught in trees, , causing danger for trucks passing by, which can snag and pull the power lines down.
And that is to mention nothing of the terrestrial wildlife here. The most common animals I have seen include the Eurasian tree sparrow and feral dogs and cats. Handfuls of bats fly out from the palm trees at dusk. But that is roughly it for wildlife. The permanent population of humans is nearly 40,000. The Associated Press reported that a limit of 6,000 tourists are allowed on the island daily, while The Thaiger, a southeast Asian newspaper, claims that guests are limited to 19,200 at any given time. That means that, assuming the number of visitors is at a low estimate (it’s presumed peak of 19,200), that is roughly 59,000 people in 4 square miles. Regardless, multiple local business owners have told me that the number of tourists has not changed before and after the shutdown. When the island opened again in late 2018, a series of regulations were put in place for tourists. The AP article also mentions that officials said, “Visitors [...] will be asked to sign an oath to follow the new rules, including proper waste disposal.” Did I have to sign an oath? No. Do I know what proper waste disposal is? I mean, I don’t place my discarded things on the ground and run away, but there is no separate option for recycling in my hotel room trash. Do I think the housekeepers go through trash to bring out recyclables? Maybe, but probably not.
One silver lining: if regulations were strictly followed, I would probably not have been allowed in due to the amount of public vomiting I have been known to emit.
Most blatantly, single use plastics are NOT banned on the island. Some resorts, like the Henann Crystal Sands, have removed plastic water bottles from their hotel rooms in lieu of refillable pitchers (with freshwater filtration systems in each hallway). Though the tap water is labelled unsafe to drink, the resort owner mentions in Hennan’s magazine Sands that he always drinks the tap water with no problems. Yet still, single-use wrap is pervasive: the hotel slippers come wrapped in it, as do the saran wrap over the room service meals (instead of a plate cover, for example). And that’s just at the resort. Supermarkets and convenience still sell single-use plastics. Restaurants right on the beach serve bottled water.
On the trike ride into town (a common way of getting around Boracay), a guide told me that one of the resorts (I think he was referencing just one, although he could have meant all resorts combined) exports a total of 50 tons of trash per day, which he attributed to mainly Chinese tourists.
Speaking of which, this is an oddly excellent time to be on this island, if ever. I acknowledge completely that my existence here contributes directly to many of the issues that this island faces. However, over 20,000 locals rely on jobs related to tourism, and with the advent of the coronavirus, revenue has declined. Many restaurants have closed indefinitely due to the decline in tourism from coronavirus. 70% of the tourism here (according to a local hostel owner) comes from Chinese and Korean tourists. People from both countries are currently barred from entering Boracay, so many of the resorts and restaurants have far fewer customers than usual and are offering major discounts (hence staying at Hennan Crystal Sands!! Yesterday I got a 90-minute long body/foot massage and facial for the equivalent of $26!!!).
Perhaps in part because of staying in a resort, or part because of the essential character of Boracay, I have felt much more removed from nature/the natural environment than anywhere else on this trip so far. Yes, the beaches are beautiful, but nothing is left untouched by a human hand. The only birdsong are those of sparrows, the mice of the bird world. What is this place? What has been here for so long was destroyed in an instant, with beautiful remnants still. I don’t know what I am missing, and neither do most of the people who venture to this paradise. Here I see, as with many places in which top notch amenities for tourists juxtapose the local poverty next door (think: Cancun, India, Jamaica), people trying to survive as best as they can, and by doing so, inviting tourists that (in the absence of environmental protection) inadvertently destroy the very thing that they come to seek: the beauty and tranquility of the ocean. It is one of the oldest stories in the book, repeated ad infinitum. But it doesn’t HAVE to work like this. The mayor and 16 other government employees were suspended for ignoring important environmental regulations before the island shut down. A claim of reformation and the lazy facade of change (beach signs that aren’t followed) - politicians must be held accountable, as do the business owners, officials, and most importantly, the tourists themselves.