Desert island dream in remotest Philippines
AS the plane rumbles along from Manila to Busuanga in the Palawan peninsula in the Philippines, the smiling stewardess at the front starts playing a game of “Show and Tell” to an enraptured audience, in the absence of TVs to divert us. First person to hold up a… pen, wins a thermos flask. Next person to hold up a… passport gets a cool bag with a natty airline design on. Half the passengers shoot their arms up waving them furiously. I ask my next-door neighbour if this is normal? “Why, what do you do in England when you fly?” she says, as though I am completely mad. I join in with gusto.
I then take one look below at the endless clear blue sea punctuated with perfect islands, white sands glinting and coral reefs abundant, and the jet lag from the epic journey (three flights, and more journeying to come) disappears. As we come to touch down over the islands, the sun casting a glint across the turquoise waters, Bing Crosby starts crooning on the sound system “I’m dreaming of a White Christmas”. This is surely the most surreal flight of my life.
Busuanga airport is a tiny cement building, cows grazing alongside, waxy palms shooting into the sky. From here it is a jolly van ride to the jetty, the young drivers merrily singing along to Beach Boys and Hotel California, the oldies are clear favourites here.
I don’t look much of an adventurer; crumpled shirt and mucky white jeans, but I certainly feel like one, as I step onto the graceful hull of the KJ. The boat, a local Banka (fishing boat with outriggers), is the last stop before we finally reach our paradise isle. We change into our bikinis and sarongs and tuck into an unbelievable lunch of kilawin na tanigue, a sort of ceviche using Spanish mackerel (not as nasty as it sounds, it’s rather like tuna), marinated in coconut milk and chili, washed down with a sweet mango smoothie.
The final destination is the private island of Ariara, available only for exclusive rental by one party at a time. Owned by English couple Charles and Carrie McCulloch, if you are looking for a secluded Robinson Crusoe getaway – with manicures, jet skis and gourmet food thrown in – it doesn’t get better than this. Bought in 2005 and opened last year, Ariara sleeps up to 17 in seven villas and cottages, and comes fully staffed. The island is based around the philosophy of feeling like it is your own home- which, for the time your party lays claim to it, it is- but with all the comforts of a hotel. There is all you expect such as air-con, clothes are washed and pressed daily, the staff are wonderful; the only downside is that not all rooms have wifi, which is annoying, though all communal areas do. Yet unlike most other private islands, it is (relatively) affordable. A week at full capacity works out at an exceptionally reasonable £195 per person per day, which includes all meals (minus booze, petrol and massages), and watersports.
After feasting, we set off, stopping at a breathtaking James Bond-esque lagoon, flanked with towering volcanic shards. After 24 hours of travel (although it’s possible to significantly shorten travel time with private planes), a swim has never felt so good. A four-hour gentle ride on the KJ (owned by the McCullochs for use on the island) or hour-long zippy speed boat ride then takes you to Ariara.
The property is built on the western side of the island. A long jetty invites you into the main villa, built on the traditional “anyhow” roofing design, with a round table that would turn King Arthur green with envy. Dinners are communal and taken here, the cool breeze coming through the open doors; vases of purple orchids adding colour. I was staying in a raised jungle villa, an outdoor lounging area below, living accommodation upstairs. The four-poster bed was huge with triple-aspect views across the garden to the sea. My bathroom had a Romblon marble bath built outside, behind a glass screen and is effectively in the jungle, which means during my evening soak I am serenaded by cicadas and other jungly fauna. It is a delicious return to nature, minus the dreadlocks and Om-ing.
Breakfasts are made to order from a menu at your leisure; lunches and dinners are communal and organised in advance with the chef. The McCullochs managed to poach Jonnel Sotto, the excellent chef from the nearby Amanpulo resort; after cooking for the likes of Sylvester Stallone and Colonel Gaddafi’s son (who allegedly took refuge at the Aman last year), he cooks up the most incredible dishes, a mixture of Philippine and western, using abundant local fish, fruits and herbs. Dinner on the first night is a yummy beef curry, washed down with a very good Chablis (the wines here are all delicious, sourced by the executive chef from small European producers and often organic).
The next day I am up with the larks (or the Ashy-Headed babblers more precisely) to explore the extremities of the island.
I am guided through the hanging vines, past parasitical orchids, through medicinal trees and over militant leafcutter ant colonies making haste on a new home. A steep hike up to the top is well-rewarded with views of neighbouring islands, the grass underfoot dotted with bright green pitcher plants with little wells of water inside. The waves on the north side are fierce and crashing and in stark contrast to the stillness of the inhabited side.
The McCullochs have worked hard at restoring the surrounding coral reef that was devastated due to over-fishing. With two dive instructors in house, you can not only dive every day but take your Padi certificate if you wish (at extra cost). During my dives there the sea is teeming, including trumpet fish, batfish and giant cuttlefish. Then it is back to poolside lounging, flanked by white oleander, starring into the middle distance, wondering where it all went wrong.
We spend the next days adventuring and discovering the area underwater, on jetskis and on boats. One afternoon we explore another (inhabited) island, Linacapan. We sail past Chinese pearl factories and onto a beach and a short walk takes us to a crumbling old Spanish fort. Another day, we visit San Miguel, a pretty village where shy children dart behind trees on our arrival.
Each villa or cottage at Ariara has its own loungers in front, as well as hammocks. The beach is lined with majestic Moreton Bay fig trees and it is here every night I sit with a G&T (there are staff always available when you need, although never in your face), to watch the sunset.
One night I put myself into the firm but capable hands of Marlene, the in-house masseuse, as she applied coconut and chamomile oils to my scuba-weary limbs. This was followed by torch-lit drinks on the beach (every night dinner is set up in another magical, fabulous location) followed by delicious succulent suckling pig that had been roasting all day.
For a five-star Robinson Crusoe fantasy, it really doesn’t get better than this.
Dive in Style (www.diveinstyle.com; 0207 979 0505) offers a week on Ariara Island from £2,100 per person (based on a party of 15-17 guests) including exclusive private use of the entire island and its staff plus all meals & activities, international flights from London to Manila with Cathay Pacific, domestic flights onto Busuanga and boat transfer to the island.
EN ROUTE | HONG KONG
STAY
Four Seasons: This is the goliath of super slick 24-hour hotel operations. Service is unparalleled: even in a hotel of this size they greet you at breakfast by name. The two three-Michelin starred restaurants are both worth splashing out on – try and nab a place in the cheese room at the Caprice. Work it off with some laps in the fabulous open–air pool, surrounded by the bright lights of Honkers. The spa is also excellent.
www.fourseasons.com/hongkong
EAT
Try and beg, steal or blag an invite to China Club – still the place to be seen and a members only dining club. Otherwise, some of the best food in the city is to be found in private dining rooms – tiny operations often located in an anonymous apartment block, with set or no menus. Worth getting your hotel to book for you. Yin Yang has the wonderful Margaret at the helm, cooking up the best suckling pig you may ever eat, and delicious ice-creams. www.yinyang.hk For gourmet international food, TBLS is hard to get a table at, but well worth it. Chef QueVinh Dang bases his menu around themes – so you never quite know what you are getting. Entrance is by a secret door code http://tbls-kitchenstudio.com. Xi Yan has excellent food and the chef Jacky Yu has become something of a celeb www.xiyan.com.hk/hk/
For excellent Sechuan, Da Ping Hau is your place +852 2559 1317
DRINK
For fun secret drinking holes, try Feather Boa, the Pawn and 001, all very relaxed. If you want to glam up a bit, the MO bar at the Landmark Mandarin Oriental has a brilliant bartender who will make great cocktails off menu. For a dance, head to Tasmanian Ballroom or Dragon I.