My last post left off with me feeling sore from a cave tour, whining about cockroaches, and describing the taste and texture of dog meat. That was two weeks ago. What follows is the first installment of a three-part account of my journey from Sagada deeper into the mountains (and amazing scenery) of Mountain Province and Ifugao Province of the Philippines. I hope you enjoy.
After exploring the caves I met two Israeli women who asked me what my plans were during my remaining time in Sagada. I informed them that my plan was to hike through the Echo Valley the following day. We had small talk about our travels and local restaurants before they left to get situated in the hostel and explore the town. Unbeknownst to me, these two Israelis (Rotem and Lior) met a German couple in town, and, after the Germans asked them of their plans, Rotem and Lior said "We're going hiking tomorrow with an American guy. He doesn't know it yet, but we are going with him." Later that night when I saw Rotem she told me about the Germans and we agreed on a time to meet in the morning. So the next day Rotem, Lior and I met up with Felix and Birgit (the Germans who currently live in Zurich), and headed out of town for some hiking. Rotem mentioned that a third Israeli woman she had met would be joining us, and we waited for Noa outside her hostel. Noa's husband Dotan was ill, so he would stay back, recuperating in bed. The six of us found the start of the trail and headed into the valley. After getting lost a few times we found the famous hanging coffins of Sagada. Local tribes prefer to stuff their dead into small wooden coffins and hang them from cliffs, rather than burying them in the ground. This sort of dehydrated-beef-jerky-style of interment is reserved only for the most revered members of society, and requires the family of the deceased to sacrifice 20 pigs and 60 chickens in order to appease the gods. If one does not possess high status within the tribe, or they don't have the required number of livestock for sacrifice, they are buried in the ground unceremoniously without a coffin. Some coffins hanging from the cliff are nearly 2,000 years old.
Moving on from the coffins, we soon came across a creek that required a shoe-wetting crossing, then found a steep hill with a length of irrigation pipe running along the trail, which looked quite inviting as a rope to pull oneself up the hill with. After going first up the hill, Felix discovered that the irrigation pipe actually was intended to be used a rope, as it was anchored to a rock at the top and too damaged to be used for irrigation. Leave it to the Filipinos to be the ultimate recyclers. A couple hours later our group found the highway, which is were the trail terminates, thereby avoiding a fate warned of in the guidebook which said "some tourists who enter Echo Valley for a leisurely day hike return hours later covered in mud with pine needles and thorns sticking out of their hair." A visit to a nearby waterfall, with a refreshing dip into the cold water, rounded out the day. The following day had us planning to visit a big waterfall a 20 minute jeep ride from town. After catching a jeep to the trail head and guide-hiring center, we were informed that the big waterfall was closed: some kind of local holiday. Now, I have the utmost respect for local cultures and traditions. What I don't have respect for, is when, before departing in the jeepney, we informed the Sagada tourist center that we were headed for the big water fall. No mention of a holiday. Also, when boarding the jeepney we informed the driver that we intended to visit the big waterfall and he mentioned nothing about the falls being closed. Frustrating to say the least. We all managed to salvage the day by visiting the entrance and exit of the caves I had toured (no one in the group was interested in the physically demanding, claustrophobic cave tour). That night we roasted marshmallows and potatoes over a camp fire at the hostel, sharing our fun with a large group of Easter Europeans (mostly Serbs, Bosnians, and Hungarians) who had arrived in Sagada that day.
The next day Dotan, Noa, and I said goodbye to Felix, Birgit, Rotem, and Lior and we hopped on a jeep for a one-hour ride to Bontoc. Bontoc is a slightly bigger town, much busier and crowded than Sagada. Our sole purpose for spending an afternoon in Bontoc was to visit the Bontoc museum, which we had heard was among the best in the Philippines. It was a nice place, with the small display on the local headhunting tradition (complete with grisly photos) being both fascinating and disturbing. After the museum the three of us haggled and bargained with a private van, a jeepney, and a bus for transportation to the final destination of Banaue. The bus won out, not because of price, but because of comfort. We were off to the iconic town of Banaue, with its world famous rice terraces, for some epic trekking and scenery.
Here's my requisite gripe for this post. In the Philippines, not only is personal space non-existent, but carelessly bumping into people is an accepted part of everyday life. It still shocks me when I'll be walking down the sidewalk and people will be nudging and bumping me left and right. When I first experienced this I suspected I was being pick-pocketed. But because I keep nothing in my pockets, and because the offenders run the gamut from young to old and poor to affluent, I realized that it is, in fact, just a normal occurrence. I can handle the bumping when I'm walking, but when I'm sitting down at a restaurant or internet cafe and little children are constantly smacking in to my chair it gets irritating. It's hard to concentrate on writing a blog post when every 10 seconds a small kid comes blasting past my chair with no effort to avoid said chair. The kid's elbows, shoulders, and head will strike me and/or the chair and a small flame of annoyance flairs up inside of me.
While I'm discussing blogging, I'll expound on the complaint to describe the environment of the average internet cafe. Most families in the Philippines simply cannot afford a computer. It's way beyond their daily budget when most people I've met say they earn an average of $10 per day. But the internet cafe fills the technological gap. Every small town has at least one, and big cities like Baguio have one on nearly every block. However, these places are not calm and serene, filled with people doing homework, researching interesting topics, or looking up basketball scores. No, internet cafes are crammed with young boys, aged 5 to 15, playing any number of video games. Most are playing World of Warcraft, others play first-person-shooters. And they're playing online. Each kid is competing against the other kids around him, so the shouting, taunting, gloating is almost always at a fever pitch. Add to this equation about five additional kids standing at each computer, watching the action on screen and voicing their opinions and dissents on strategy and tactics. You get the picture. Here sits a quiet, mild-mannered American guy reading the news, learning about the death of Kim Jong-Il or reading the latest developments in the GOP race, while around him the world is swirling like a hurricane as gaming-obsessed kids are engrossed in fantasy combat with their peers. I'm reminded of the Seinfeld episode where Frank Costanza throws up his hands in exasperation and declares "Serenity now!". That's how I feel sometimes.
That's all for now. I hope everyone is doing well in their parts of the world. And I hope everyone had a very Merry Christmas. Take care!
Pat
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