New Year’s Eve on Boracay

I’m glad to have good people around me at the turn of the year. New Year’s Eve on Boracay is an absolute madhouse. Being alone in the desert is okay, but in places like this it’s deadly. We meet up in a small restaurant. My thanks for the company is a large bottle of rum. It’s quickly empty and the beach is packed. For three and a half kilometres, tens of thousands of people celebrate to a gigantic fireworks display.

Filipinos only live in the now. Except on New Year’s Eve. The fireworks start long before midnight, and the crowds make that necessary. Night is day, smoking is forbidden on the beach and the sound is the same everywhere. We walk back and forth for a long time until we arrive at a good spot. Everything is good and nothing is perfect. Then I open my ears and listen to a story.

His father died of a brain tumour. His brother too. Recently, his own inoperable brain tumour came back. Now he is looking ahead. It must be very difficult for a Filipino. He smiles all the time, neither the Thai “fuck you” smile nor the Filipino “all is well” smile. He just smiles. At first I thought he was gay. Then he tells me his story. Of hope and ruin. Of best friends who are lost for words.

I feel like I should be able to say something. But I remain silent for a long time. New Year’s Eve on Boracay. To a new one? He looks at me questioningly without me saying anything. I tell him about great authors who have lived with the same tumour for years. He tells me about the experimental therapy he will soon be starting in the USA. His smile fades briefly.

The music gets louder, the crowds dance. Light streams through the dark night. He gets tired and goes home with his smile. My last question was: “Where are you travelling to next?”. I’m amazed when he tells me about very near destinations.