Final Thoughts on the Philippines

I hadn't been to the Philippines in years, and anxious that Rich should enjoy his first visit, I filled his ears with warnings and forebodings. Other than the ever horrendous Manila traffic, it was a pleasant surprise to discover that most of these dire predictions didn't come true. The shakedowns of petty corruption didn't occur, or at least, not so overtly as I recalled in the past. Most food was served actually hot in restaurants, not merely lukewarm (a pet peeve of Rich's). Squatters, beggars, and all manner of folks living in abject poverty, which before, down every alley and along every railway line, seemed as rampant as in some parts of India, were a far less common sight. Doubtless, we were staying at times in more affluent areas, but perhaps, some of the recent economic gains the country had made that my uncle described had improved their situations as well?

Rich found the the travelling around the Philippines pretty comfortable and relatively easy. The roads were in good condition, transport was easy to hail or organize, and communicating with people was simple. One difficulty, he cited, was in getting commitment out of folks. Since there is a strong cultural reluctance for telling someone, "No," he found the indirect methods - e.g., saying "Yes" to your face, but making you feel uncomfortable for your request and making it feel like a giant inconvenience - a bit annoying. He disliked the over-the-top Las Vegas-style flash, tackiness, and cheesy schtick of a few of the local tourist hotspots. But he loved that going a tiny bit of out of the way from them would land you in pristine, beautiful surroundings.

I was happy to get some of my favorite treats: warm pandesal buns with butter in the morning from the corner store; gorging on ripe Philippine mangoes, hands down the best in the world; and fresh ensaymada (brioche-like bread sprinkled with cheese and sugar on top). One of the highlights of staying at Apulit Island was the daily halo-halo bar. This concoction of candied tropical fruits (jackfruit, young coconut, sweet potato, plantain, etc.), sweet beans, and corn mixed into shaved ice with a shot of evaporated milk, topped with leche flan (Pinoy version of a rich egg custard) and purple yam ice cream, is heavenly and perfect for those hot and humid days. One slight disappointment was our limited seafood. There was one day where we picked out all the shellfish and fish we could wish at the market, but the restaurant we chose to cook them for us ignored our request. Instead of simple preparations (just grilled or steamed, maybe lemon or garlic), the cooks hammered most of it, suffocating them with cheeses, bacon, and overpowering sauce. Culinary crimes! We had better luck elsewhere with traditional dried fish (daeng) and requesting whole fried sweet-and-sour fish.

My palate has come a long way since our last visit so I tried to embrace the bizarre foods of Philippine culture. Woodworm went down. But we had to gird our loins for that most famous of Philippine delicacies. Balut is a half-hatched duck egg. Sold everywhere on street corners, my mom admitted to having a 2 baluts and a Coca-Cola daily habit as a kid. My dad picked up our specimens at the 7/11. The egg looks normal on the outside. I took one bite of the beige egg white inside, and it was oddly tough and chewy. Rich took a slurp of the grayish liquid and recalls it as "probably not disgusting." But we balked when we hit the fetus - and it is recognizably so. With tiny wings and a tiny beak. Defeated, I take great comfort that our other taste tester - Chinese and proudly proclaiming, "We eat everything!" - also didn't finish. My dad said it was a waste of perfectly good food and laughed at all of our turned up noses.

Click on the picture to see the whole album.

Philippines

Apulit Island, El Nido, and Manila (Philippines)

We left Apulit Island as we had arrived - to the dulcet tones of the staff serenade and waving. Our transfer this time was through the airport in El Nido, allowing us to get a glimpse of the town proper. With more options for accommodation and dining, it still didn't look terribly overdeveloped, though popular with backpackers, not unlike Ko Tao in Thailand. The airport, on the other hand, was awesome.

We drove down a dirt track, passed a military outpost with fierce-looking firepower, and rolled up to a single strip airfield. It totally looked like we were on location for a movie about drug running and smuggling operations. The terminal was an open thatched-roofed hut on the left. Check-in was a bar top with a few guys looking into your bags. Our boarding passes were tiny wooden boards with the seat numbers carved into them. While we waited, we opened up the sandwiches the resort had packed for us - roast chicken - and helped ourselves to the free refreshments in the hut. There was tea, coffee, fresh squeezed juice, fruit, and suman (sticky rice steamed inside palm leaves and drizzled with coco jam). Periodically, a tricked out bus would rock up unloading passengers, presumably from another one of the El Nido Resorts. Since they do weigh each passenger, we were a little nervous about what kind of plane we would be taking. These fears were unfounded though, as evidently, Palawan's popularity has meant an upgrade in aircraft in recent years. Instead of some kind of Cessna where you're practically sitting in the pilot's lap, ITI now operates a twin turbine 50-seater plane. No worries! To top it off, upon arrival in Manila, we were shown to a comfortable lounge where we were plied with more food and drinks until an airline agent told us, "Sir, ma'am, your bags are ready now. Please come this way."  I could get used to this kinda travel!

Back in Manila, we met up with family again at a restaurant that specializes in a sort of cosplay cabaret experience. To his mortification, Rich was hauled onstage to shake his groove thang with Spiderman, Freddie Kreuger, and V from V for Vendetta. He was a good sport about it, and there were plenty of embarrassing photos to prove it. The schedule streaming on the big screens indicated a different show every half hour - Star Wars, anyone? - and though we watched a tribute to an anime show we'd never heard of, we escaped any more invitations for table top dancing.

We wrapped up our trip, killing time before our flights home wandering around the Mall of Asia. This behemoth is one of the largest in the world, sporting an Olympic-sized ice skating rink, IMAX theaters, science museum, basketball arena, convention center, and Ferris wheel. Filipinos love to shop, as attested by the presence of every global apparel brand we could think of, and the fact that since the mall opened in 2006, it has been eclipsed in size by 2 others in Metro Manila alone! Probably the strangest sight for me - besides hosting an amateur boxing match in the middle of the mall - was the popularity of Cinnabon and North Carolina's own Krispy Kreme Donuts. Why, oh, why?!? The Philippine brands Goldilocks Bakeshop, and Red Ribbon are far, far superior!

Click on the picture to see the whole album.

Philippines

El Nido Resorts Apulit Island (Philippines)

The Philippines has over 7000 islands to its name so when it comes to finding paradise, it just becomes more of the question: "Which one?" On our last visit, the family was well-pleased with the white sand beaches of Boracay - not to mention the fabulous experience we had at the spa there - but rumor has it that the island had become, as one person described it, "Spring Break... but with Australians." The tiny islands off the northern end of Palawan, most of which fall in the municipality of El Nido, however, had not experienced quite that level of development yet. Unfortunately, this means there are limited options for accommodation. You pretty much have to stay in one of the locations of a resort. I know, I know, you must be thinking, "What a rough life!"

[Note: While we usually avoid name-checking specific accommodations, when we were researching options, we found it difficult to get a real feel for how the place we chose compared to other resorts. In addition to Rich and me, the rest of our party was also a well-traveled lot, and having stayed in a full range of swanky establishments, our discussions with them may have veered this post more toward a traditional review.]

We picked El Nido Resorts' Apulit Island. Despite organizing transfers from Puerto Princesa through the resort, it didn't click for most of us until we were actually on our way that this location wasn't in actual El Nido. Apparently, Apulit belonged to a different company and only recently taken over by El Nido Resorts. The trip involved a 2.5 hours in a private van plus a short bangka ride from the fishing port of Taytay. The entire staff turned out at the dock on Apulit, greeting us with a song and dance number, offering cool drinks and puto (sweet, steamed rice flour cakes), and draping handwoven necklaces on our necks.  

All of the rooms were private, thatch-roofed huts over the water, but we decided to splash out for the option with private stairs down to the reef below à la French Polynesia... and what reefs they were! Even around such a tiny island, there were several reefs to choose from so we never felt crowded, and the reefs were so close and waves so calm that even timid swimmers could feel comfortable. The guide even offered to take my nervous folks out, each on their own private snorkeling lessons. Should such gentle handling still cause panic, the water is clear to such depths that just looking off the balcony or dock gives you an excellent view of sea life. We were so fascinated watching 2 small squids moving in and out of hiding, working their camouflage magic, and spraying ink at each other that we nearly missed the gorgeous sunset behind us. The diversity of fish and corals was astounding in what is known as the El Nido-Taytay Managed Resource Protected Area. It was certainly on par with our trips to the Great Barrier Reef and the Galapagos. Rainbow-colored parrotfish. Blacktip reef shark. Giant clam. What felt like the entire cast of Finding Nemo. To say you're snorkeling through an aquarium is not far from the truth, as NatGeo estimates that the Philippines, along with Indonesia, accounts for 86 percent of aquarium fish sold in the U.S. Rich even followed a super highway of silver fishes to find them all trailing behind a barracuda, sneakily hoping he wouldn't look behind!

Besides sunbathing and relaxing in the infinity pool, there were plenty of adventure sports and activities included to keep one occupied. We went a little crazy and actually had trouble fitting in everything. There were island-hopping tours, sunrise/sunset boat excursions, and more caving. Rich zoomed up the rock face like the pro-climber he is while I predictably waffled and stumbled below. A 60-meter high limestone cliff made for a challenging hike in the blistering sun and an even more exciting rappel down. We ferried my folks around in double kayaks, and Rich decided to solo around the entire island on a whim. I was concerned, as it wasn't until later that we learned that the resort security mans discrete lookouts and would've mounted a rescue should he have run into trouble on the other side of the island. Learning to paddleboard was fun although my attempts at yoga on it were more comical than successful. Luckily, this was also the case with Rich's private windsurfing lesson. One of the best workouts - and most fun - we had was playing beach volleyball with the staff. Filipinos may be short, but we're agile! Predictably, the adventure guides were the May-Walsh tag team of the island with beautiful sets and fierce spikes, but even the tubby guy behind the desk could serve. It was a strange feeling calling balls and lines in tagalog... and even more hilarious listening to the trash talk!

There were some downsides to the resort. It is an island after all... with all that entails. You're stuck there. Some people may find it difficult to live without a TV, but the wi-fi was surprisingly good. Everything needs to be brought in from Taytay, and we're pretty sure our party ate our way through the week's supply of ripe mangoes in a few days. The food was a good buffet with build-your-own whatever station, grilled-to-order flat top, and an abundance of fresh salads and veggies (a real rarity in the Philippines). But it wasn't fine dining, and there aren't other options if it's not to your taste. We liked that the resort is engaged in many kinds of conservation efforts, but some of our party balked when they realized sustainable fishing impacts what seafood shows up at the table. The resort lacked a certain amount of finesse and could use a little more upkeep. Rich was disappointed the Hobie cat was long in need of repair, and there weren't enough life jackets for all the passengers on the trip from Taytay. The only spa treatment on offer was a massage, room service was only available if you were sick, and it could be difficult to catch waitstaff for drinks refills or clean towels. Luxuries, to be sure, but what you would expect for what it costs. At the end of the day though, we felt that the reefs and the personal attention of the guides was what really made the Apulit Island resort special.

Click on the picture to see the whole album.

Philippines

Puerto Princesa and Sabang (Philippines)

Rich firmly believes in being a polite and cooperative passenger so when the flight attendant on Cebu Pacific Airlines turned on the PA system, he was attentive. Thus, he was the only one making eye contact when they announced a prize giveaway. He became alarmed when the flight attendant approached him and demanded he say something like, "Quick kiss quicker kiss." To this day, we have no idea what the tongue twister was, but as the only contestant, Rich took home the "prize" of a Cebu Pacific pencil bag. Woo bloody hoo. Not to be outdone, all passengers exiting the aircraft received a complimentary bag filled with a variety of name brand toiletries. A closer inspection revealed nearly every product included was the whitening formula... and not for teeth.... for skin. Vaseline "Healthy White" lotion. Pond's "White Beauty" for that "translucent pinkish white glow." Facial scrub that color away! Because - in the Philippines, as in many other cultures - lighter, high yellow, mestizo, whatever you call it, is considered more desirable. Sigh.

We arrived on Palawan, a long, thin strip of land west of the Visayas region and north of Malaysian Borneo. Gaining popularity with Philippine tourists for years, Palawan was named the "Best Island in the World" by Condé Nast Traveler readers in 2014. The capital of Puerto Princesa is a nice, compact town, and the most developed part of an island known for its rugged beauty. Having been go go go on the trip so far, the ladies were starved for the things we look forward to on any trip to SE Asia - bargains at the spa and shopping! It's a little hard to turn down 3 hours of foot bath and full-body massage when it's less than $25. Jewelry, wood carvings, and other handicrafts were the earthly delights we descended upon in the market. The Philippines is also known as the "Pearl of the Orient," and its namesake is for sale in abundance - South Sea pearls or cultured, in all shapes and sizes and colors. The wooden handicrafts ranged from small figures to handsomely-carved furniture. Heady with haggling for an hour, my sister only belatedly realized her new, gorgeous inlaid table would require a creative arrangement for shipping. 

The big draw to Puerto Princesa is actually located in Sabang, about 2 hours away. The Puerto Princesa Subterranean River National Park is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and was named one of the New 7 Wonders of Nature. It is immediately evident by the masses waiting at the dock that word has got around. We managed the long wait in the scorching sun, partly soothed by frequent trips to the tropical fruit shake vendors and stands selling banana cue, a delectable Filipino snack of deep-fried bananas caramelized with brown sugar on a stick.

Our group's number was finally called, and we loaded onto traditional bangka boats with colorful streamers to get to the actual park (accessible only with permit). We enjoyed spotting turtles in the clear waters on the way there. Palawan monkeys and big monitor lizards wander freely in the mangrove and beach forests of the park. The guide warned us to be careful of the monkeys, which had been known to scamper off with bags, but we discovered the real danger to tourists was the river itself. While waiting (again) to board canoes, we saw the hungry river claim electronics from 6 different people! Smartphones, tablets, cameras - none of these were safe... and using a selfie stick might as well have been a kiss of death for a watery grave.   

I got my own electronics as the canoe's nominee for holding the spotlight. The local in the boat was both guide and ferryman, directing us to the different formations within the subterranean river cave system. There are sections that look like fruits and vegetables, human body parts, and religious figures. Until 2007, the Puerto Princesa Subterranean River was known as the world's longest, at around 24 km long. It's possible to apply for the permit which allows access some 3-4 hours deep into the river, but most folks opt for the 45 minute tour. There are swiftlets by the hundreds darting in and out of the entrance, and the species in Palawan are the ones that create the delicacy known as bird's nest soup highly sought after by the Chinese. Further into the cave, the aroma of guano assailing your nostrils signals the huge bat populations in residence. This place is definitely not for those uncomfortable with the things that go bump - or squeak or whoosh - in the night. In case that isn't enough to give you the willies, you can also try the local Palawan delicacy: raw tamilok. Described as a mollusk, it is more akin to a very long worm, having been pulled out of its burrow in mangroves or water-soaked timber. Even dipping it in hot chilies and calamansi citrus juice, this entomologist and seafood lover had a hard time choking it down!

Click on the picture to see the whole album.

Philippines

Sagada, Bontoc, and Banaue (Philippines)

We had contracted the country music van to pick us up a couple of days later. With no sign of the driver, and several hours of trying to frantically reach him on his cell, our guide decided we should just jump on the public jeepney before it left Sagada, rather than miss our chain of connections that culminated in a flight. We'd been enjoying another roof top ride for about a half hour when the jeepney stopped to drop off some folks. A man approached the vehicle, calling out and looking up and down at the passengers. Wait, is that the van driver? Sure enough, it was. He made some half-hearted excuses about the traffic - none of which we had noticed on the road - and a bad cell battery. After leaving us hanging, our guide and we were more than a little annoyed with his unreliability. But he had our deposit, was exchanging money with the jeepney driver for our fares, and was delaying everyone with his protestations, so we reluctantly re-joined him in country musicland.

We made a pit stop in Bontoc. The capital of the Mountain Province has a small museum on the indigenous people of the Cordilleras. There were rice god statues, pictures of the various tribes and colonial officials throughout history, and examples of traditional tools and textiles on display. Outside, there were replicas of typical structures of Cordilleras villages, including single sex dormitory houses, a pig pen with a native pig (more like a boar), and a stone circle where tribal elders would meet. The gift shop, which doubled tripled as a library and art gallery, was manned by a nun in a habit. This ticked the box for one of Rich's all-time favorite sights: nuns doing normal things!

Back on the road toward Banaue, the heavens opened and unleashed monsoon rains. Though I was a little worried for the road conditions, it didn't actually seem to be that bad, and we were puttering along nicely... until our genius driver decided he wanted to aggressively overtake a vehicle by plowing through a flooded section of road on a mountain turn. Then came the inevitable sputtering, and the engine died. There was a moment as we were coasting speedily and steeply downhill that I thought, "Oh, God, I hope the brakes still work." But we came to a stop. The driver kept trying to re-start, but no dice, the ignition would have to dry out. We were only about 30 minutes drive outside Banaue. Too far to walk with our packs and still make it to the overnight bus on time. The driver tried his miraculously now working cell phone but couldn't raise any one. Our guide tried his contacts in town, but the other drivers he knew were out. The only option was hitchhiking. A few trucks were interested enough to stop, but wouldn't take us on. Finally, our guide convinced a couple of guys driving in what could be charitably described as a mini-Jeep, or more realistically, an all-terrain golf cart!? The four of us and our packs crammed in the back with the spare tire, spool of rope, and sharp metal tools there. Our poor guide was stuck on the fabric roof in the rain with each bump convincing Rich it would rip and land the guy on our heads. I could just about read a short prayer painted on the passenger side, appealing to God for a safe trip home. As we knocked about into each other, hunched over and losing all feeling in our tangled legs, I couldn't help but appreciate the sentiment. We made it to Banaue, but what an adventure!  

Click on the picture to see the whole album.

Philippines

Batad and Sagada (Philippines)

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!

Click on the picture to see the whole album.

Philippines

Batad (Philippines)

After the carnage of the celebration, we headed out for a hike. Before coming, I had debated about packing hiking boots and trekking poles for this portion of our trip. Ultimately, I decided against it due to the weight in our packs and the protestations of Rich and our other companions, "Seriously, it's just a walk. How bad can it be?" Famous last words.

There is a reason the Batad terraces are the grandest and most majestic - maybe we should have expected steep terrain? While we did some traversing, almost all of the hike was stairs. Stairs too numerous to count. Stairs of all shapes and sizes and heights, which actually made it challenging to get a good rhythm going. We went all downhill, then all uphill, then all downhill. Comparisons were made to the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu, even. The knees were not pleased... or the thighs or calves or ankles. Rich and I chalked it up to being out of shape, but the runners in our group were also suffering days later. A few sections you had to edge sideways carefully along a muddy ridge, like some high-wire act. My sister had a full-blown freak out. We had to negotiate between slipping into the unknown muddy depths of a field or pitching over the edge of a 20 foot drop off behind us, with nary a hand hold in sight. Luckily, most of paths were, in fact, paved in stone or concrete. The really fun parts were akin to rock climbing, using tiny stone projections to pull yourself up to the next terrace. Narrow stone bridges in the irrigation channels - a few of which had a long fall into rushing water - reminded me of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.

The rice terraces are all different fields belonging to different farmers. When you walk in them, you are effectively walking along a farmer's fence line or irrigation canal. I gathered that many tourists just trespass and potentially disturb or damage their crops. One benefit of having our guide was that he had obtained permission to cross their lands and also knew where to go when the routes were blocked off. Since the terraces are like an amphitheater, we actually could watch the perils of a French couple in the distance, who had to keep zigzagging and back tracking, trying to find an alternate route from one of the road blocks.

Our destination was Tappiya Falls. The water comes thundering down 70 meters into a pool where visitors can take a dip. On our way to it, the pounding afternoon rains of the start of the monsoon season caught us just as we were leaving the last houses, and our guide asked for shelter on a farmer's porch to wait out the worst of it. As a consequence, the falls themselves were turbulent and brownish with all of the sediment from rain. Rich, a stronger swimmer, went for a paddle, but I stuck to wading in a little, well beyond the reach of the current. I had to keep my strength up for the hike back!

Click on the picture to see the whole album.

Philippines

Banaue and Batad (Philippines)

Not far outside of town, we stopped for a better view of the landscape. Archaeological research indicates that it took the native Ifugao people over 1000 years to carve out the rice terraces from the steep slopes and construct the stone walls. To this day, the sheer amount of time and manual labor required means that only one planting of rice per year is possible though other places, e.g. in the lowlands, can get in as many as three! One of the greatest challenges to sustainability of the rice terraces is that young people these days are more interested in seeking their fortunes elsewhere rather than following in the footsteps of their ancestors and maintaining the traditional lifestyle... confirming that brain drain is the story everywhere. We were lucky that we got to meet some of the tribal elders in our roadside break. Many still hold onto a belief that photos can steal a part of someone's soul, but we were able to get permission for a couple of snaps in their traditional dress.

There was also a typical Ifugao hut to visit. It's an efficiency raised on stilts. Nearly half of the interior was devoted to grain storage, and the posts supporting it had wide discs to stop rats and other pests from coming up and inside it. For protection sought in a more spiritual sense, a family may have rice gods ("bulol," or human figurines carved of narra wood and bathed in special ceremonies with pig's blood) installed as guardians of the granary/house. The exterior of the hut seemed a tad menacing with its wall-to-wall decor of dead animal skulls - even more unnerving when you remember they practiced head hunting only way back in the 1970s!?! - but our guide told us the skulls were a signalling of wealth. It makes sense when you think killing a water buffalo (or "carabao") means you're getting rid of what is essentially your dairy and your tractor... but more, much more, on that later. 

Clambering back onto the roof of the jeepney, it wasn't that long before we hit the literal end of the road. A construction site because it's not finished. The only way to Batad is on foot so it was time to haul our packs off and get walking. It was downhill all the way, a relatively easy hike, maybe 45 minutes to an hour, and a fair amount paved. The Batad rice terraces are part of the official UNESCO World Heritage Site and were actually the first property included in the cultural landscape category. The view from Batad was certainly impressive. The tiny village sits about a third of the way up the mountain with rice terraces extending around like a vast amphitheater. It has quite a restive feel - ideal for a quiet morning cup of coffee or watching the afternoon rains of the summer monsoon across the mountains - well, at least we discovered it could be so later.

When we arrived, it was actually a cacophony. The patriarch of the family who owned the homestay had had an illness so serious that no one expected him to return from the hospital. It was now the  anniversary of his miraculous recovery and were they going to celebrate! The entirety of Batad was invited. We were lucky that they still honored our reservations as the rest of the rooms were full up with out-of-town relatives and friends for the big occasion. In addition to the personalized vinyl banner - even in the remote Cordilleras! - honoring the patriarch and praising Jesus, there was music and traditional dancing. But the pièce de résistance was the slaughtering of 2 - count'em, 2! - carabao. It took about 30 men, heavy duty ropes, and giant bamboo poles to pull, push, and hold down the first water buffalo. The appointed man wielded an intimidating machete and proceeded to slit the carabao's throat and hack the body into pieces. It was an incredible sight, although decidedly not a humane one. The stench when he cut into the stomach was overpowering but did not seem to deter the packed crowds. They had a vested interest though. Rather than cook it whole like some kind of pig pickin', much of the beast was divided into portions for people to take home with them. Hours passed, and the butchering was still going on, interrupted occasionally by the calling of a name. That person would rush up to pick up their plastic grocery bag of still warm meat. The blood was scooped into large buckets, and our guide told us this would likely not be eaten and instead used in ceremonies. He also told us the extravagance was a cultural signifier and display of the family's thanksgiving and largesse to the village and guests, which, even as a first generation Filipino-American was not at all a surprise... er, our wedding, anyone? Guilty as charged.

Click on the picture to see the whole album.
WARNING: Contains animal carnage.

Philippines

Banaue (Philippines)

When you've spent days sweating profusely the instant you step outside, and taking a walk longer than 15 minutes brings real concern about heat stroke and dehydration, the concept of wrapping up warm almost just doesn't compute. Yet we had heard dire warnings from multiple sources - practically comical in their repetition - about how cold the overnight bus from Manila to Banaue would be. Well... it ain't no joke. Even with a hat and five layers, I would awaken with a jolt every time an icy draft from the bus's relentless air conditioning penetrated. Honestly, we were convinced it blasted harder every time the driver revved the engine up the mountain inclines. But if you want to see the famed rice terraces of the Cordilleras, short of hiring a private driver, this 8 hour ride in the freezer section is pretty much the only game in town.

Banaue is the place that springs to mind for visiting the rice terraces, although this portion is not part of the official UNESCO World Heritage Site. The town is more of a jumping off point for visiting the surrounding areas in the Cordilleras mountain region in northern Luzon. Our first glimpse of the rice terraces was over breakfast at a local homestay. A Filipino breakfast favorite is silog. This is a portmanteau: your cured protein of choice + "sinangag" (leftover rice fried, usually heavy on the garlic) + "itlog" (a fried or sunny side egg)... So with tapa (thinly sliced beef), it becomes tapsilog; with longganisa (pork sausages), it's longsilog; with tocino (sweetened pork belly), it's tosilog; etc. There's even spamsilog because, yes, Filipinos love Spam! A little harder to find in the States, I went for bangsilog, which is with salted and dried milkfish, or bangus. Yum!

Fuller and greasier, we walked into town to catch transport to our next stop. This was Rich's first ride on a jeepney. When we got offered a chance to ride on top, we climbed aboard. It was a good decision. Sure, the seating options were either a spare tire or a piece of cardboard on the rails (hint: go for the tire every time), but the views are incredible! The road is an endless string of switchbacks overlooking drop offs with lush forests. Brilliant bougainvilleas were in bloom, and we were surprised to see towering tree ferns like those in New Zealand. Scarlet dongla plants (possibly cabbage palm?), sacred to the indigenous Ifugao people, line roads and mark territories. The ride itself is a bit of excitement as well. You have to keep your wits about you for dodging and ducking power lines and palms. The knuckles may get a little white as the jeepney plows down the center of the road and careens around blind corners because the drive takes long enough as it is, right, so why slow down? You'd never be allowed to do this in the States. But as the wind rushes by, one can't help but think, a la Mad Max: Fury Road, "Oh, what a day! What a lovely day!"

Click on the picture to see the whole album.

Philippines

Manila and San Pablo City (Philippines)

Previous visits to Manila with its ridiculously snarled traffic, e.g. 2 hours to move 100 meters, have not left us with the greatest of impressions so this trip to the capital was strictly limited to visiting family. The size of our group meant staying in other accommodations. Our hotel was in Makati, the financial district and home to what appeared to be a branch for every major global luxury brand imaginable. With an Hermes, Prada, and Peninsula hotel, it's hard to remember the Philippines - at least the rest of it - is still very much a developing country.

Outside Makati and other affluent parts of the capital, this is more obvious. The drive to San Pablo City in Laguna province (~ 100 km south of the capital) could be reminiscent of many other places in Southeast Asia, Latin America, or the Caribbean - tin roofs, brightly painted concrete buildings, roadside fruit stands, roaming dogs, and crowing roosters. The most distinctly Pinoy (slang for Filipino) characters in the scenes are the jeepneys and tricycles.

The Philippines spent nearly 50 years under the Americans following the Spanish-American War, and jeepneys are a remnant of that past. Old U.S. military jeeps were refurbished with Filipino ingenuity and repurposed into what has become the main transport of choice. Privately owned and operated, each one is tricked out with stylized lettering - usually referencing a romantic sentiment, family, God, or all three - and all manner of bling whether that be highly polished chrome, colorful streamers, or elaborate tunes when the horn honks. The back has bench seats facing each other, and people hop on and off along the route written on the outside, e.g. Rosario to San Pablo.

Tricycles, on the other hand, are modified motorbikes with a sidecar. A roof and windscreen extends to cover both the driver and passenger side. Besides the driver, we fit 4 adults comfortably into one. My mom fondly recalled getting 10 people plus baggage into one, a testament to the tricycle's abilities as a clown car.

Another common sight in San Pablo (and later in other towns) were vinyl banners. The combination of photo printing and Filipinos' love of celebrations seems to have taken the country by storm. Personalized banners decorated nearly every block, announcing everything from who was having their second birthday to who graduated cum laude in nursing from the local college. When your academic success has been announced to the town at large, talk about pressure!

San Pablo is known for its seven volcanic crater lakes, and we started a stroll around the largest one, Lake Sampaloc. Before the heat of the day finally beat us down into submission, we got to see quite a few interesting sights. On the lake itself, fish pens cluster next to huts built on stilts for the people raising tilapia in the waters. Along the shore, teams were lashing together sturdy bamboo stalks and coating the edges in heavy crimson, turquoise, and fuchsia lacquers in preparation for a raft race in the upcoming town fiesta. Spaced every few meters, proud roosters were tied up to individual A-frames, which my dad pointed out meant that they were for the popular sport of cock-fighting. Another beloved sport - despite the height challenge of most Filipinos - is basketball so it shouldn't have been surprising to see a full-sized DIY backboard and goal in the middle of the path. This gave Rich a great opportunity to represent Tarheels and try out his best Michael Jordan impression.

Click on the picture to see the whole album.

Philippines

Qatar Airways (somewhere between the U.S. and the Philippines)

Flying to the Philippines from the States is no picnic. The flight paths for most U.S.-based carriers involve connecting flights to hubs in the Midwest or West Coast to a long layover in Japan and finally Manila, the capital. We hoped going the other direction on Qatar Airways would offer a modicum of comfort for the 30 hour journey, like say on Emirates to Australia. Sadly, this was not the case.

What we did get was an aging plane, an unnavigable menu, an unintelligible crew, and not one, but two crying babies (!) like some natal rendition of dueling banjos on repeat for the duration of the 16 hour leg. Relief - if you can call it that - came in the form of babies quieting to the dulcet tones of "Wheels on the Bus" blaring from an iPad.

In our exhausted states, we could only laugh at a still questionable exchange with the cabin crew.

Chinese (?) flight attendant: Something to eat? Sandwich cheese or cereal?
Rich: Cereal, please.
[Result: A granola bar.]
Flight attendant:  Sandwich cheese or cereal?
Arabic seatmate and me: Cheese sandwich.
Flight attendant: No cheese. Here is sandwich. Sandwich tuna. TU-NA.
Arabic guy and me: Ok.
[Me opening package, careful examination of sandwich.]
[Arabic guy opening and carefully examining sandwich.]
Arabic guy to me: This is not tuna.
Me: No, it's not. I think it's eggplant.
Arabic guy: Yes, I think so. Eggplant.
[Careful munching of eggplant - no cheese or tuna - sandwiches.]