Early in the morning, we high-tailed it out of Batad. While the jeepney at the end of the road technically departs at 8 am, the driver often just leaves as soon as he's got a full load of passengers... and it's the only public transport the whole day. Sweat pouring off of us, we made it just in time. Eyeing two locals still clutching their bags of unrefrigerated carabao meat, Rich and I squeezed into the last spots on the roof of the jeepney. We escaped the carcass smell only to realize we were sitting next to something worse - a tourist with a selfie stick. With the roof was already so crowded with luggage and backpackers that each of us only had about half a bottom to sit on, the Frenchman with the selfie stick was just plain obnoxious. He proceeded to film himself for the entirety of the hour-long ride! Every time he angled to get a better shot of himself, I wanted to throw a sharp elbow. Since I found bruises later from all his shifting, I felt justified in secretly hoping that a palm leaf would catch him unawares with a smack to the head.
The second part of our ride to Sagada was a semi-private affair in an air-conditioned van. Most of our lot knocked themselves out with Dramamine for the 2 hours of twisting mountain roads, but Rich and I were awake for the driver blaring a heavy rotation of hair bands and country western music!?! ...the 80's music, ok, even my folks are huge Journey fans now that the lead singer is Pinoy. But country!? Where were we? This love for the American West also manifested itself in the landscape. It was strange enough for me to see pine trees in the tropics, but actual log cabins - Whoa, now! Later we learned this affiliation was due to the Americans. The colonizing Spaniards never fully infiltrated the rough Cordilleras terrain - as 2 different guides noted admiringly - but I guess the good ol' USA was embraced in the forms of country music and Episcopalian missionaries.
Sagada is a quiet retreat of a mountain village. There's even a late night curfew to enforce the peace. The streets are pleasant to walk around - strangely absent of the crazy drivers and random traffic jams elsewhere in the country - offering another possible reason Sagada has been a popular getaway for urban Filipinos. At a shop selling the traditional weaving, you can go out back to watch women work the looms. A local belief is that the patterns must come to the weaver in a dream. Unfortunately, the pickings for purchase were slim (we suspect they export most items). However, seeing the sign for "thongs on sale" sent us all into fits of giggles, "Hmm, that seems like an unusual product choice... rather than something with more mass appeal... say, tea towels." It was only much later we realized they were probably referring to the traditional long-draped loincloth the men of the local Igorot tribes wear.
The most famous sight in Sagada are the hanging coffins. These are part of traditional Igorot burial practices. Instead of a death bed, they have a death chair, and the bodies are smoked and tied in a fetal position. On the way to the burial site, many people touch or carry the corpse, as it's considered good luck to get some of the, er, bodily juices on you. It is the tribal elders who are placed in the coffins on the cliff face. Originally, the coffins were secured in the climbing vines of a local plant, but now they are hung with more modern techniques. The important thing, the local guide told us, is for sunlight to hit the coffins so that the spirits can be free. This is why the coffins of the Igorot who are not elders are still stacked very near the opening of shallow caves... and since they have followed these practices for hundreds of years, as the wooden coffins have deteriorated, it's not unusual for a casual glance to land on some skeletons peeking out!
Another draw of Sagada are the caves themselves. The extensive networks in the limestone can be visited from a couple spots which were walking distance from town center. We got to see both in 4 hours. Entering the Lumiang Caves, mind the stack of coffins piled on the side! A local guide is required to navigate the treacherous dark. Nevermind that he is rocking only flipflops and a kerosene lamp. Trust him when he says things like, "Left foot on the rock there, right foot on my knee, then sit on my shoulder, and pull yourself up with the rope." Because this isn't Ammurica so we don't need no stinking headlamps or safety harnesses. It adds some spice to the spelunking! As do the sections where you use barely visible handholds to hug round an overhang because the vast, unknown drop behind you is terrifying... or when the passage is so small that for a moment, you actually get trapped, cursing yourself for being a woman with wide hips. The guide shouts, "Don't worry, the rock is flexible!" Pretty sure it was the grinding on my internal organs that got me out of that one with nothing worse than a severe wedgie. It became a joke that whenever we came to an apparent dead end, we'd point at the smallest crevice we could see as the correct route, and more often than not, it was. Wading waist-deep through a wide pool was easy by comparison, and where it was just easier to slide wholesale on your bottom than try to negotiate the slick rock face was such fun. Wheeee!
While we had had the Lumiang Caves entirely and spookily to ourselves, in the narrow connector section we could already start to hear the echoes and see the flashbulbs emanating from the Sumaguing Caves. It was jarring. Much less technical (and in Rich's mind especially, much less fun), the rock formations were more photogenic and bigger in bigger spaces. Combined, these aspects make Sumaguing far more popular for large groups of casual visitors. The racket they were making was enough for us to speed toward the exit and back into the sunlight. Many of the Filipino tourists, it should be noted, were also caving in flipflops. Silly Westerners, with your water bottles and dry-fit shirts and Keen sandals!
The most famous sight in Sagada are the hanging coffins. These are part of traditional Igorot burial practices. Instead of a death bed, they have a death chair, and the bodies are smoked and tied in a fetal position. On the way to the burial site, many people touch or carry the corpse, as it's considered good luck to get some of the, er, bodily juices on you. It is the tribal elders who are placed in the coffins on the cliff face. Originally, the coffins were secured in the climbing vines of a local plant, but now they are hung with more modern techniques. The important thing, the local guide told us, is for sunlight to hit the coffins so that the spirits can be free. This is why the coffins of the Igorot who are not elders are still stacked very near the opening of shallow caves... and since they have followed these practices for hundreds of years, as the wooden coffins have deteriorated, it's not unusual for a casual glance to land on some skeletons peeking out!
Another draw of Sagada are the caves themselves. The extensive networks in the limestone can be visited from a couple spots which were walking distance from town center. We got to see both in 4 hours. Entering the Lumiang Caves, mind the stack of coffins piled on the side! A local guide is required to navigate the treacherous dark. Nevermind that he is rocking only flipflops and a kerosene lamp. Trust him when he says things like, "Left foot on the rock there, right foot on my knee, then sit on my shoulder, and pull yourself up with the rope." Because this isn't Ammurica so we don't need no stinking headlamps or safety harnesses. It adds some spice to the spelunking! As do the sections where you use barely visible handholds to hug round an overhang because the vast, unknown drop behind you is terrifying... or when the passage is so small that for a moment, you actually get trapped, cursing yourself for being a woman with wide hips. The guide shouts, "Don't worry, the rock is flexible!" Pretty sure it was the grinding on my internal organs that got me out of that one with nothing worse than a severe wedgie. It became a joke that whenever we came to an apparent dead end, we'd point at the smallest crevice we could see as the correct route, and more often than not, it was. Wading waist-deep through a wide pool was easy by comparison, and where it was just easier to slide wholesale on your bottom than try to negotiate the slick rock face was such fun. Wheeee!
While we had had the Lumiang Caves entirely and spookily to ourselves, in the narrow connector section we could already start to hear the echoes and see the flashbulbs emanating from the Sumaguing Caves. It was jarring. Much less technical (and in Rich's mind especially, much less fun), the rock formations were more photogenic and bigger in bigger spaces. Combined, these aspects make Sumaguing far more popular for large groups of casual visitors. The racket they were making was enough for us to speed toward the exit and back into the sunlight. Many of the Filipino tourists, it should be noted, were also caving in flipflops. Silly Westerners, with your water bottles and dry-fit shirts and Keen sandals!
Click on the picture to see the whole album.
 |
| Philippines |
No comments:
Post a Comment