BOracay is one of the most beautiful of the Philippines’ 7,641 islands and for a long time one of the least known, its four square miles a closely guarded secret. Sequestered in the center of the archipelago, the island’s pristine beaches and crystal clear waters were home to a handful of Ati’s native inhabitants, until the rest of the world found out.

too late hero, a 1970 American war film shot in Boracay with major stars Michael Caine and Henry Fonda, is credited with sparking international interest in this stunning location. The trickle of curious backpackers that followed became a flood in 1979, after a German travel writer, Jens Peters, published his latest Philippines travel guide and proclaimed Boracay a “paradise”. A little over a decade later, the Handbook of tropical beaches– a Michelin style compendium sponsored by automaker BMW – hailed Boracay’s beach as the best in the world.

Of course, such recognition comes at a price. From a community that didn’t even have electricity until 1992, Boracay quickly transformed into an international party hub, its shoreline teeming with bars and clubs from dusk ’til dawn.

In 2019, the year before the pandemic halted travel, some two million tourists visited Boracay, pumping around $1 billion into the tiny island. But over the years, tourism has also generated huge problems, especially with garbage and sewage disposal. Raw sewage was pumped into the sea and broken glasses, bottles and plastic cups littered the shore. Things got so bad that President Rodrigo Duterte called the island a “sinkhole” and banned tourists for six months in 2018 so a cleanup could take place.

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Today, due to the pandemic, the island is again mostly free of foreigners. According to local government figures, less than 5,000 of Boracay’s 200,000 visitors in May were from abroad. Their absence has completely changed the nature of the island. The bars close as early as 9pm and the money changers don’t even bother to open because almost everyone you see in Boracay these days is from the Philippines.

Some, like Cedrick Ungab, are enjoying their country’s most popular island for the first time. The Manila tourist had heard of Boracay’s infamous nightlife before his visit six months ago. But when he arrived, he realized he liked the quiet. “There was more of a family vacation vibe,” Ungab told TIME.

Local and Boracay tourists

What is happening in Boracay is being replicated in many other Asian tourism hotspots still emerging from the pandemic. Inbound long-haul travel is gradually resuming, but it is a costly business, involving multiple PCR tests, varying degrees of quarantine, costlier flights with reduced schedules, and a complex and ever-changing web of regulations and of documents. To travel to Boracay, vacationers must present proof of COVID-19 vaccination and a hotel reservation three days before their trip. They are then assigned a QR code, without which they will be refused entry.

When COVID-19 hit, the island found itself looking for visitors. International travel agencies and restaurants have closed, and islanders working in the tourism sector have had to look for other jobs, many relying on pandemic help from the local government. A travel assistant says he started working in construction and fishing to make ends meet. Mary Grace Malolos, who runs a wholesale seafood business, says her business hasn’t made a profit for the past year and a half.

Due to strict COVID regulations, it was not until October last year that the island again saw a steady flow of visitors. The dearth of partying foreigners left a void that domestic holidaymakers were only too eager to fill.

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Filipino vacationer Natalia Chan tells TIME she was hesitant to vacation overseas due to the risks and hassles associated with cross-border travel during the pandemic — so she went to Boracay in March. What she saw was refreshing and relaxed. The island was free of crowds, with most attractions within walking distance. There was room in the streets and small alleys to explore the shops and restaurants without rushing. The usual touts on the beach were there, offering kayak rides, hair braiding or temporary tattoos, but they advertised their services in the local language instead of English.

Many of the island’s 4,000 licensed businesses have ably adapted to the changing clientele. Cris Cahilig runs a hole-in-the-wall burger joint called Two Brown Boys, which once served international travelers. Today, more than 95% of its clientele is local. “We had to pivot to stay in business,” she says. “We added rice bowls to the menu and started offering breakfast.” She also brought in a Filipino DJ, who knew what tracks new customers wanted to hear.

Chan loved the island so much that she stayed there for a month and wishes Boracay could stay as it is right now. While acknowledging the economic need to bring foreign visitors back, she says, “Honestly, I would love for it to be our [island] because it is ours.

Kitesurfers at Bulabog Town in Boracay, Aklan, Philippines, Wednesday, March 23, 2022.

Veejay Villafranca/Bloomberg via Getty Images

Foreign Tourism in the Philippines

Foreign tourists were only allowed in Boracay from February this year, and they are returning in slowly increasing numbers, but visitors from the two biggest markets, South Korea and China, are rare, especially the latter. . China’s zero-COVID policy discourages residents from traveling abroad due to the onerous re-entry requirements they face upon returning.

Before the pandemic, the island struggled to attract the 1.9 million South Koreans and 1.7 million Chinese who visited the Philippines each year. Hotel signage and menus are usually written in Chinese and Korean characters. There are hopes for a revival in the South Korean market with the resumption this month of direct flights from Seoul’s Incheon airport to Kalibo airport, the main transport hub for Boracay, about 75 kilometers from the south. ‘island. But for now, the Chinese seafood restaurants and Korean barbecues that line the main streets and alleys are still empty.

Backpacker hostel owner Janice Bindolo tells TIME that the only Chinese and Koreans she sees are restaurant owners or other hotel and hostel owners. Most of his guests are locals or from Europe.

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MJ Salme, marketing manager of family business Pig Out Bistro, says although international tourists are still rare, the few people who visit the restaurant keep her “inspired and hopeful” for the full return of the island. . “We are optimistic that after a few months we will expect more international tourists to arrive,” she told TIME. “We cannot afford another lockdown since we have all already endured so much during the pandemic.”

It’s clear, however, that many domestic vacationers would be happy if Boracay didn’t return to the overcrowded, trash-strewn, creepy commercial tourist trap it once was.

Says Chan, the vacationer who stayed for a month: “I’m glad Filipinos can enjoy it more [and] can travel there and enjoy the island as Filipinos.”

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