Workation in Paradise: How to Balance Business and Beach Life in Boracay

The foundation of a successful workation lies in choosing accommodations that serve both your professional and personal needs—a principle not unlike establishing proper jurisdiction in legal proceedings.

Boracay's geography divides naturally into stations, each with distinct advantages for the working traveler. Station 1 offers premium accommodations with reliable infrastructure but commands higher rates. Station 2 provides the ideal middle ground—proximity to amenities while maintaining reasonable rates and sufficient quiet spaces. Station 3, my personal preference, offers a more authentic experience with local interactions that informed my understanding of the island's ecological challenges.

During my stay, I opted for a boutique hotel in Station 3 that offered dedicated workspace areas, reliable fiber-optic internet (a non-negotiable for virtual court proceedings), and proximity to less-frequented beach areas where I could conduct research on coral reef protection initiatives. The property featured a dedicated co-working space with ergonomic seating—essential for long days reviewing case precedents.

My portable monitor proved invaluable, transforming my modest desk into a functional workstation that rivaled my chambers back in Richmond. When selecting accommodations, don't hesitate to request internet speed tests from potential properties—connectivity remains inconsistent across the island despite significant improvements since 2018.

The juxtaposition of paradise against productivity creates an interesting tension that requires intentional structure. On Boracay, I quickly established what I call my 'bifurcated day' approach—a practice that maximizes both work efficiency and island exploration.

My routine began at dawn with a mindfulness session on the eastern side of the island, where fewer tourists venture. This practice, informed by my Scottish grandmother's emphasis on morning reflection, provided mental clarity before tackling complex legal research. I would then work intensively from 7 AM until 2 PM, capitalizing on both optimal brain function and time zone alignment with clients and colleagues in North America.

The afternoon hours I dedicated to field research, cultural immersion, or simply recharging—swimming among the recovering coral reefs or visiting local markets to document traditional fishing practices. This schedule allowed me to maintain professional momentum while still experiencing Boracay's cultural and natural offerings.

I found that maintaining this split schedule required robust time management tools. My digital planning system proved essential for maintaining this discipline, allowing me to digitize handwritten notes from beach interviews while keeping my calendar meticulously organized across time zones.

Particularly valuable was identifying the optimal work locations for different tasks. Complex legal writing I reserved for my hotel workspace, while correspondence and lighter reading I would complete at specific cafés with reliable WiFi and minimal distractions—Real Coffee & Tea Café in Station 2 became my unofficial afternoon office, offering both excellent connectivity and locally-sourced beverages.

Reliable internet connectivity—the lifeblood of remote work—presents perhaps the most significant challenge on Boracay. The island's infrastructure, while vastly improved following its rehabilitation closure, still experiences fluctuations that would test the patience of even the most seasoned appellate judge.

I approached this challenge methodically, establishing a three-tier connectivity system that ensured I was never without options during critical work periods. My primary connection came through my accommodation's fiber internet. For backup, I maintained a local SIM card from Globe Telecom, which provided surprisingly robust 4G coverage across most of the island. As a final contingency, I carried a portable WiFi hotspot with a prepaid international data plan.

This redundancy proved invaluable during a virtual mediation I conducted between environmental stakeholders regarding coral reef preservation initiatives. When a brief power outage affected my hotel's WiFi, I transitioned seamlessly to my mobile data without disrupting the proceedings.

Strategic mapping of reliable connectivity points became part of my island orientation. I identified and tested multiple locations with dependable internet—from dedicated co-working spaces like Starbucks in D'Mall (offering business-grade WiFi) to smaller establishments like Sunny Side Café, whose owner had invested in commercial-grade internet infrastructure.

Perhaps most valuable was developing relationships with local business owners who understood the digital nomad's needs. At Hue Hotel's coworking space, the staff would proactively inform me about scheduled maintenance that might affect connectivity, allowing me to plan accordingly—a courtesy that reflects the growing recognition of workation travelers as valuable long-term guests rather than transient tourists.

The true value of a workation extends beyond simply changing your office view—it lies in how new cultural contexts can reshape your professional perspective. As both a judge with environmental expertise and someone exploring my mixed heritage, I approached Boracay as a case study in cultural and environmental resilience.

I dedicated time to understanding the island's environmental rehabilitation journey, drawing parallels to cases I've adjudicated involving ecological restoration and sustainable tourism. Conversations with local environmental officers provided insights into the practical application of environmental law in a developing nation context—perspectives that would be impossible to gain from academic papers alone.

My genealogical research interests led me to connect with local historians who shared insights about the indigenous Ati people and the complex colonial history that shaped the Philippines. These conversations enriched my understanding of how cultural heritage intersects with environmental protection—a theme increasingly relevant in my judicial work.

To facilitate these cultural exchanges, I found my compact field recorder indispensable for documenting oral histories and interviews, allowing me to be fully present in conversations rather than frantically taking notes.

Particularly valuable was participating in a community-led coral restoration project, where I worked alongside marine biologists and local fishermen to transplant coral fragments. This hands-on experience provided tangible context for the environmental protection cases I frequently adjudicate, offering perspectives on community-based conservation that will inform my future rulings.

I recommend identifying specific aspects of your professional work that might benefit from cross-cultural perspectives and intentionally seeking out local experts in those areas. The insights gained often transcend what conventional professional development might offer.

The most challenging aspect of a workation isn't productivity or connectivity—it's the psychological boundary between professional focus and island indulgence. The temptation to check email during a sunset cruise or mentally draft arguments while snorkeling is ever-present.

I developed specific transition rituals that helped maintain clear boundaries between work and leisure states. After completing work sessions, I would perform a brief mindfulness exercise inherited from my Scottish ancestors—a moment of stillness with focused breathing that signaled to my brain that court was adjourned for the day.

Physical transitions proved equally important. Changing from my 'work attire' (still casual by Virginia standards, but distinctly different from beach wear) into leisure clothing created a tangible shift. Similarly, physically packing away my laptop privacy screen at day's end served as a ceremonial conclusion to professional obligations.

I designated specific areas for work and relaxation, never allowing my primary workspace to become a dining or entertainment area. This spatial separation reinforced mental boundaries and prevented the workation from becoming an endless series of half-work, half-leisure moments that would ultimately satisfy neither objective.

Perhaps most crucially, I maintained transparency with colleagues about my availability windows. Setting clear expectations prevented the anxiety of constantly checking messages during leisure time. My out-of-office message specified precise hours when I would be reachable, along with emergency contact protocols—bringing judicial clarity to communication expectations.

These boundaries aren't self-indulgent—they're essential for both professional effectiveness and genuine rejuvenation. Without them, you risk returning from your workation more depleted than when you departed, having neither fully worked nor fully relaxed.

A workation presents unique ethical considerations regarding your economic impact as both tourist and temporary resident. As someone who regularly adjudicates cases involving social justice, I approached my stay in Boracay with particular attention to equitable economic engagement.

Rather than limiting myself to tourist enclaves, I intentionally distributed my spending across local businesses. This meant frequenting family-owned restaurants like Smoke Resto for authentic Filipino cuisine rather than international chains, and purchasing necessities from local vendors at D'Talipapa market rather than convenience stores.

For accommodations, I researched ownership structures, prioritizing Filipino-owned properties that demonstrate commitment to environmental sustainability and fair labor practices. This often required looking beyond major booking platforms to find truly local options.

When seeking workspace alternatives, I divided my time between established co-working venues and smaller cafés, recognizing that my purchase of a single coffee could provide valuable income to local entrepreneurs while still providing the workspace I needed for a few hours.

I applied similar principles when engaging service providers for experiences. Rather than booking through international tour aggregators, I connected directly with local guides for snorkeling expeditions to learn about coral restoration. This not only provided more authentic experiences but ensured fair compensation reached those actually providing the services.

Perhaps most valuable was engaging local expertise for specialized knowledge. I compensated local environmental advocates and cultural historians fairly for their time when discussing island conservation efforts, recognizing that their insights constituted professional consultation rather than casual conversation.

This approach requires more effort than the convenience of all-inclusive packages or major booking platforms, but it aligns with the principles of responsible tourism that should guide our global interactions—particularly for those of us who, in our professional lives, are tasked with ensuring equity and justice.