Paintings in the Sky
Shangri-La’s Boracay Resort & Spa
Like fire in the sky, the sunset blazed across the bay and we watched it intently until twilight finally arrived, putting out the flames with its sapphire blue veil. Only a few wispy clouds stained with orange remained, and just metres from where we lay on the beach, the ocean rumbled affectionately like a sleepy cat at our feet. Indeed, everything was perfect and we did not know of a reason to leave until we heard the faintest growl from our stomachs, telling us that it was time to return to the hotel.
The lobby was particularly pleasing to the soul. A rustic yet captivating collection of artwork was on display with no boastfulness to speak of. In a pond, sculpted globes of iron were afloat and aglow; and bronze statues of a girl and her buffalo, frozen in time, quietened our minds and evoked in us a humbling appreciation of the more simple beauties in life.
The pool appeared to go on forever stretching out as far as the ocean and eventually meeting up with the lighter powder blue hue of the sky. We spent the afternoon lazing in the perfect quietude of our Loft Villa, nestled high in the treetops like some sort of luxurious tree house. Up there, the air shimmered with stillness, and time seemed to have lost its meaning, simplified only to warm carefree days and cool intimate nights.
When we returned that night, the villa was not as we left it. Everything had been put back in place, every bed made to crisp perfection and on the balcony table, fluttering from a cool breeze off the ocean, there was a handwritten note. It was from our butler, who had felt compelled to leave us his personal phone number in case, his note stated, "we needed anything at all during our stay."
That night, perched on top of the cliff at Sirena, the sky glittered furiously with stars as if a diamond had just exploded, spraying a billion shattered pieces over a black tarpaulin. The waves rolling on to the beach below created the most befitting music for the restaurant and mature hillside trees rustled in the breeze like real life pieces of art. Our poached lobster appetiser was extraordinarily succulent, as if fit for the gods, and the whole atmosphere so agreeable we felt a genuine merriment that stayed with us well into the night.
The next night, we found ourselves dining at a most romantic and secluded hideaway, high in the treetops, at a charming little restaurant called Rima. There, we savoured impeccably grilled beef tenderloins that had been tucked into delightfully fluffy beds of rosemary infused mashed potatoes — exquisitely simple yet exceptionally flavourful. The entire night, in fact, had been one moment of perfection after the other, but what pleased us the most was the intimacy we felt, as if it was just the two of us, possibly on another planet, on the other side of the moon.
The ambrosial scents of pomelo and calamansi greeted us along a rocky pathway leading to a small village known on the island as CHI, The Spa. In this village, an exquisite tranquility hung in the air, which seemed to be a little thinner than usual, and with every breath we took in a blissful serenity that had the effect of calming us to a depth we had not experienced before.
Sweet pomegranate oil swirling in rose-scented water warmed our feet, permeating a deep relaxation that radiated upwards like a sunset on the horizon. In the ethereal light of the village, overlooking the clear waters of the bay, our therapists scrubbed and massaged our weary feet with a touch so magical that when we closed our eyes we felt as if we were possibly adrift somewhere beyond the earth.
