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Published: April 2nd 2008
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With Heather over to visit Sean, I was given the chance to explore another South East Asian country, recommended by a couple of people we had met, but seemingly not visited by many as part of the 'backpacking' circuit. Not only this, but it also gave me 18 days away from the moaning, worrying and general woman-like tendencies that make up Sean....
The Lonely Planet guide bought the day before my flight was the only information I had on the country so I boarded the plane with great expectation coupled with overwhelming mystery.
Although the boarding of the plane didn't exactly go smoothly. After three times of asking, I genuinely insisted I had no liquids in my hand luggage. Soon after, I found myself in the Investigations Room, the contents of my bag shrew across the table. I had stupidly forgotten to put a couple of items in my main luggage. So I boarded the plane minus a bottle of factor 20 suncream, a bottle of factor 8 suncream, a bottle of aftersun, a full bottle of shampoo and some insect repellent, and headed for the capital Manila.
Manila was as expected, a suburban nightmare of endless traffic queues,
pollution (both exhaust and noise) and commercialism that has overtaken a city leading to McDonalds and KFC on every corner. However, having been to Shanghai, Saigon and more so Bangkok, the lack of many tourists and the hassle that goes with being western (the constant scams or invites to get a Tuk Tuk to tour the city) was a welcome relief, and I was able to wander the city and be greeted by what seemed like genuine smiles and friendly "Hello's".
The day I had in the city was spent at the older parts, firstly Intramuros. A fascinating walled part of town, it was constructed by the first Spanish settlers and became a European fortress in the Asian seas. The most interesting part for me was the Fort Santiago which contained some nasty dungeons used to store prisoners for many different reasons over the years. The fort was also the last holding place of Dr José Rizal a, or more aptly, The Philippine national hero, who stood up for his people against the Spanish colonies. He was executed in nearby Rizal Park for inciting revolution against them.
In the evening, I made my way back to the hotel via
the use of a jeepney. These are old US forces vehicles, done up by the locals to resemble road-worthy public transport, plying the streets kamikaze-like on set routes. There doesn't seem to be a limit to how many people that can hang off the sides / sit on top. The journey was an experience I will never forget, and it was the first of many journeys to come in these kings of the Philippine roads.
From here I headed north to a place called Sagada. I between I had to make a stop at a small mountain town called Baguio which, little known to me, was running its annual Panagbenga Flower Festival. As the only westerner in town, I got lost amongst the many thousands of locals and every two minutes was greeted with a 'Wassup man!', high five or a 'Hey, Joe!' (an amicable term coined by the locals to address US troops during occupation after World War II). Even though it was an insult that they were calling me a Yank, it was always friendly and delivered with a smile. It was a really nice day, spoiled only by the first rainfall I had experienced in about
2 months!
Sagada was a peaceful mountain town about the size of a football pitch, with only a couple of hotels and restaurants. For the first time this trip I had the pleasure of just wandering around the quiet trails and countryside on my own, occasionally bumping into local tribes people who offered me all sorts from tours of their huts, to shots of god-knows what alcohol. Further afield, I also came across hanging coffins in which privileged folk are able to have their tombs nailed directly to the mountainside. Eerie, but magical at the same time.
I also had a dab at Spelunking (an overly fancy word for exploring caves) which was an awesome 4 hour venture from one huge cave to another, through the mountain. But maybe the coolest thing about the town was the 9pm curfew, signaled by the town crier with a big bell. Everyone stuck to it and went to bed, leaving only the dogs to bark all night. I say this was the coolest thing, the coldest definitely had to be my shower which I assumed must have been tapped directly off a nearby glacier.....
From there, a couple of local
Monkey Skulls
A random look into a hut while strolling around led me to this scene!! bus rides later, I spent the day in Banaue which is famed for it's 2000 year old rice terraces, designed by the still indigenous Ifugao tribe. These are an ingenious system of rice fields / waterfalls which are world heritage listed and absolutely gobsmacking to see. I spent hours wandering down the mountains on my own, occasionally talking to locals but generally losing myself amid the overwhelming scenery and tranquil aura of isolation.
Two night bus rides later, which had the added bonuses of Neil Diamond's Greatest Hits, and Arctic air-con conditions, I arrived in Legaspi City.
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