Yesterday was an off day. The morning started off on a stupid argument. It doesn’t matter what caused it, but all you need to know is that I was seriously PMS’ing and D was seriously hungry/under-caffeinated, so that’s never a good combination. We managed to make it out the door and into the seats at one of our favorite cafes, before we decided that we didn’t want to be in each others’ company.
So I walked away, and found an empty beach chair and curled up with my thoughts. I watched the row of little white boats gently floating atop the turquoise sea. A little bit later, D found me after he’s finished up his meal.
“Hey, this is crazy,” he said, handing me his leftover iced coffee. “Look, we’re in paradise.”
It’s true. Boracay is the picture of paradise (well, I may have a few disputes, but that is another post for another time), and we’re living in it. I’ve always dreamed of living the island girl life, simple and uncomplicated and surrounded by blue. The island is my idea of the ultimate paradise. Not only is it beautiful, but I imagine that it’s a place where your worries are washed away with each gentle wave as it recedes back into the ocean, where you are free to be yourself, and where stuff like clothes and gadgets and needing to “keep up” just don’t matter. I imagine that the island is where life is pure.
Our first day in Boracay, we ate dinner on the beach with our toes tucked in the sand. The setting sun painted the entire sky a fiery orange. I felt so happy I could cry. I get to call this island home for the next month! Is this really real life?! Like, we did it (!!). This is the kind of place that people dream of visiting and here we are, living it!
So, what’s island life like? Island life is stepping out the door and having this as your front yard:
Island life is living in two bikinis and one dress because those are the only items of clothing you need for pretty much all occassions. It’s showering four times a day because you’ve either been swimming or your feet are covered in sand or you’re drenched in head-to-toe sweat anytime you go out or cook. It’s using your freezer as the trash because leaving any food scraps out will attract all sorts of bugs. Island life is having the ocean as your playground and dining with your feet in the sand and being treated to the most incredible sunsets.
But ultimately, island life is still the same as any other life. We still do all the normal things we would do anywhere. We cook, we wash clothes, we clean house. We go shopping for groceries, though that’s now a long hot walk to the local wet market and instead of to an air-conned grocery store. We still spend way too many hours with our eyes on our laptop screens. D works and I write and we both curse at the flakey connection. We watch movies and snuggle and are so in sync that it’s crazy. And then we fight and yell and get so angry that we can’t stand to be near each other, the difference now is that there’s the entire ocean to escape to. Some days, we spend the afternoon on the beach, alternatively swimming and lounging on sun chairs. And some days we spend the entire day inside the dank apartment, preferring to be on our laptops and watching mindless TV, oblivious to the sun rising and setting.
We talk about future plans and feel excited and scared and uncertain. We still lay in bed at night, our heads clouded with individual worries. D’s phone still beeps with too many messages and my brain still buzzes with too many unwritten words. Island life, as it is, is just life as usual.
And paradise, maybe, is simply wherever you are happy and loved.
Where is your paradise?
Linking up with Travel Tuesday.