I’ve discovered that I’m not the type of person who will head out to a bar alone, no matter how friendless I am and no matter how much I want to. I spent the first three days on Boracay as a big, fat friendless loser. Not because I was too shy to meet anyone but because there was nobody in my hostel to meet. Well there were, allegedly, but I was shacked up in a room on my own and didn’t see any of these phantom guests. I could have hit the bars on my own but I’m too chicken so opted instead to be a nerd and take advantage of the wifi connection to do some work and have a quiet beer with the owner of the place.
But then a couple of Norwegian girls arrived and things got a bit more interesting. With my new bar buddies in tow we hit the strip and were in fine form hopping from bar to bar then jumping into the sea and finishing the night off at 7am with a greasy breakfast before passing out.
Everyone here is up for a party and there are places all the way along the huge beach to indulge. I repeated my efforts on my last night and it was a struggle scraping myself out of bed and onto a boat then bus. Not the best day to have a hangover.
It’s one of those places where you party your face off by night and sleep on the beach by day. I’m happy to have escaped though because that’s the sort of place that lots of money can be spent, lots of liver damage can be accomplished and lots of tops layers of skin can be burned off.
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