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Published: February 2nd 2006
This last week has pretty much been a brief, round trip of North Luzon, with the eventual destination of the famous Batad Rice Terraces. However, the adventure on this trip has definitely been in the journey as much as the final destination. Some of the individual jaunts have been epic to say the least, making Batad feel that slightly bit more special.
Jaunt 1: Starting smooth was an overnight bus trip to Baguio, arriving at the awkward hour of 3am and hanging around in an internet cafe waiting for it to get light. I managed to knab a 2-seater to myself, admittedly, I think, because I stank quite bad. It might just be my paranoia (so I kept telling myself) as I'm not sure what the lady I was sitting next to said, but between her and the driver some disgusted-style facial expressions were made in my direction before I was chucked to the back of the bus on my own. Ha! In my defence, I'd been walking round Manila all day and had no opportunity for a shower - some more deodorant has since been bought. But hey, I got a comfortable night's sleep, which on any S.E.Asian night bus is a rarity. The moral? "Don't travel sad, smell bad."
Jaunt 2: Next was a similar bus journey to Sagada, one of Philippine's most picturesque towns, and at 7 hours, the most intense, bumpy, bus journey I've been on yet, pushing KL to Cameron Highlands into 2nd place. Think of it as preparing me for the next few jaunts, not just with regards to comfort, but the astonishing views all the way that were to stay all week. Views of steeply rising vegetated mountains, dotted by clouds and a scattering of Filipino settlements.
Jaunt 3: From Sagada I caught my first jeepney to Bontoc, capital of the Provinces. Although another bumpy ride, with 28 people on board, we were squashed so tight together, we became our own suspension machine. Seriously, it was hilarious - when the jeepney would appear full, we would then stop for others - "how?!" went through our minds as people went on to the roof, or dangled themselves from the backdoors.
Jaunt 4: The craziest jaunt of all was the second jeepney to Banaue, which I actually have war-wounds from. The jeepney wasn't full this time, which meant we got bumped and bashed about like the letters in a game of Boggle - against the windows and backdoors, and dents on the ceiling from interactions with my skull. An experience, that's for sure. The road was worse than terrible, with the cliff straight up on one side, and straight down on the other, and a track precariously balanced between the two. More than once I would look out the back window and see a rockslide, formed by our vibrations, land on the road - big daddy rocks too! And should I mention how some of the road-side fences were visible 100 metres down the cliff-face, or would that be worrying my Mum too much? But like the rest of the jaunts, the views had been awesome, seeing the 'road' wiggle its way along mountainside jungle, the beginnings of the rice terraces, and small villages everywhere.
Jaunt 5: The penultimate leg was a 40-minute motorised tricycle ride I took with two awesome Americans, John and Karina, that I've been travelling with all week, them in the side car and me on the back of the bike. This time, even the word 'track' would be a compliment; I would describe it more as a Glastonbury mud field from last year's festival, and on the back of a tricycle, waving hello or playing shoot-em-up with the passing kids, that was actually great fun! Although, it has probably accelerated my getting arthritis by 10 years. So, to the hardcore soundtrack of AC/DC, we rode on into Batad...well, nearly. One final step to go.
Jaunt 6: The final 90-minute walk to Batad consisted of the word 'guide' being mentioned countless times. An understandable question in a region that now sees most of its income through tourism, but can get quite funny when the 30th person you meet starts off with 'hello' and through a 5-minute conversations, steers it to the inevitable question of whether you want a companion. Even the young children were at it for some extra pocket money. But, that aside, there's something fitting about not being able to get any sort of vehicle into Batad, besides the old classic of one's feet.
As soon as you arrive, you are treated to a full-fronted view of the Amphitheatre-layout of the spectacular rice terraces. They're everywhere and look so abstract, free-flowing out of the mountains, and to think that they're over 2000 years old, and still used with full-working irrigation. There isn't much that can boast that. Over the course of the day I must've taken nearly 50 photos: the terraces, the terraces again 10metres later from a 1 degree angle change, reflections in the water of the terraces, the workers, the village, terraces from the village, the best view I've ever had from my bedroom window, more terraces etc - you get the idea.
Karina, John and I spent a day and a half exploring these structures, the village and getting lost along the way (maybe a guide wouldn't been handy? hmm..), relaxing in the evening at the great hostel name, if I do say so myself, of Simon's Guesthouse, complete with huge open-covered terrace and dining area with panoramic views over the terraces. Batad itself, is a surreal little village - with no roads, or even a pathway, getting from one place to the other involves basically walking through yards and over fences, dodging chickens and pigs. very cosy, and everyone welcomes you with a smile, most asking if we wanted a guide, a belt, a drink, a knife etc. But alas, wanting to stay longer, we had to leave the Machu Picchu-style landscape behind to make our way back to the crazyness of Manila.
I should also wish everyone a Happy Chinese New Year, year of the dog as became known to me during a parade in Baguio, complete with dragons, bands, MacDonald's promotions, screaming kids clamouring at thrown sweets, and lots and lots of dogs. I realise I haven't really mentioned anything about what I've done this last week, as the journeys themselves were so interesting, but it's been fascinating experiencing Filipino mountain life: the wonderful, colourful market in Baguio that ebbs of Fes' medina in Morocco, the amazing food and ornate clothing, and the strange but infamous hanging coffins and rock pinnacles around Sagada, which we spent a day exploring. It's a lovely, calmer pace of life up in the mountains, and everything is so cheap! Travellers have often remarked to me how I have done this trip the right way round - starting with expensive NZ, cheaper Borneo, then cheaper Philippines, then even cheaper Thailand/Cambodia, before one even thinks of India or Africa. I can predict spending sprees beginning soon and lots of trips to the Post Office...
Tomorrow I fly out of Manila to Cebu City in the central Philippines, having spent today leisurely going south on a day trip to the picturesque Lake Taal and Taal Volcano, described in one book as an "island inside a crater-lake, on an island inside a crater-lake, on an island". Then came back this evening for some random exploring of little bustling side-streets, with a classic S.E.Asian feel to them - the sort of feeling that makes you feel alive, and loving Asia...
Thanks for reading once again - it means a lot.
Simon x
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Cazd_83
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Countless expressions
I think that has to be some kind of first. As far as I'm aware, nobody has ever likened an experience to being "like the letters in a game of Boggle". Why do I fear you might be telling peopl more than you want to let on here? And the International Council for Word Usage has penalised you for over-use of the word "jaunt"... Loved reading it hun!! =0P