Ottsworld Travel Experiences » Philippines

Manila – Glazed or Filled?

admin — Fri, 17 Apr 2009 08:34:43 +0000

Mmmmmmmm...

View snapshots of the softball tournament

Manila offered something that was totally unexpected; a western diet. When I left NYC last August to head to Vietnam, I left behind McDonalds, Chipotle, Starbucks, Burger King, Dunkin Donuts, and Dairy Queen. None of this exists in Ho Chi Minh City which is probably why I have lost weight since living in Vietnam! However when I arrived in Manila, there it all was again and I felt like my gluttony sin was awakened from a deep winter sleep ready to be bad again.

Bethany making a play from outfield

I actually went to Manila for my oldest niece’s softball tournament. It was my chance to explore a new country and to see my family, so I split my time equally between travel in the Northern Philippines and relaxing with family. AFter my trekking adventure, I arrived in Manilla looking forward to a few creature comforts such as a hot shower and some sinful food.

I didn’t spend any time sight seeing in Manilla, instead I did non-touristy things and watched lots of great softball. As I spent time in the city I kept seeing the same things over and over in Manila; malls and donuts. It seemed that on every street Filipinos were strolling into malls. In fact, I learned that 2nd largest mall in the world is actually in Manila – 4.2 million sq. feet of shoppable area. This was one of many many malls in Manila. Of course, our hotel was connected to a large mall, so there was no shortage of shopping. I’m convinced that people go to the mall there to simply have a place to go to get out of the oppressive heat; and they go there to eat donuts. These malls possesses every western donut chain that I knew; Dunkin Donuts, Mister Donut and Krispy Kreme to name a few. All I needed was some Duff beer and I was in Homer Simpson heaven.

Megan and Cyndi pick up our daily dozen of donuts

I have never seen people so crazed about donuts. In addition to these western chains, there were a bunch of Asian chains too. Unfortunately every day I tried one. They even sold donuts at the ball park during the tournament. Screw the hotdogs and cracker jacks, bring on Mister Donut for the 7th inning stretch.

My time in Manila wasn’t about touring or vacationing; it was about family time. It was a great 4 days to spend with my sister, brother-in-law and nieces. And it was a great time to eat donuts, drink Starbucks, feast on a Big Mac and have Dairy Queen ice cream before heading back to untouched Vietnam!

Ups and Downs – Trekking to Batad

admin — Wed, 15 Apr 2009 05:06:17 +0000

Batad Rice Terraces

View Philippine Rice Terrace Photography

View snapshots of my trek to Batad - native chicken, trail shots, guest houses, and more!

Nora had been teaching me many things along our hike; what berries to eat, how to catch dragon flies and save them for dinner, and roots to chew on to soothe a sore throat or cough. However one thing that still baffled me was when she would talk about native chicken. She talked about how it was used in various village rituals, the smell of it, how it was slaughtered, how good it tasted – you get the idea. Of course the obvious question that I kept wondering was ‘is there a difference between native chicken and regular chicken?’ Nora looked at me as if I was an idiot and said “Yes, one’s native and one’s not!”
“Oh, I see” I said.

Working the Batad Terraces

Actually I didn’t see…but sometimes it’s just easier that way; I knew I’d get down to the bottom of it sooner or later. It was actually sooner…we had a special meal of native chicken and rice for breakfast the next morning. Finally this was my chance to really try to understand native chicken. We had seen tons of chickens in the rice fields, out on the trails, and wandering around the villages. I eventually learned that a non-native chicken was white in color and purchased at the local market, while a native chicken was one that was bred at someone’s home and feeds on rice. Basically, I suppose you could think of it as free range, and not free range. Regardless, it was on our table…for breakfast. I was hoping for pancakes, but we had chicken instead. The native chicken was actually very good, it did have a different flavor and the meat was a deep red color which was a bit baffling to me. Native chicken mystery solved! It was bound to be a great day of hiking when we started out with this good ‘fuel’!

We took off from Cambulo with one additional person in tow. Our all girl team had picked up a male! That’s what happens when you are an all girl team apparently; the men want to tag along! We had met another solo backpacker at our guest house in Cambulo, Rowan from Australia. He was going the same direction we were so we were happy to have some additional company. Little did I know that Rowan would provide a massive amount of entertainment on a grueling hiking day! And, little did I know that his favorite comment to make was “Are we there yet?”

A real live 'game boy'

We climbed up out of Cambulo using all the native chicken energy we could muster up. The ‘lower’ trail that we wanted to take was closed due to dynamite blasting occurring high above the trail where a new road was being built. Therefore we had to hike up to the new road and follow that for a bit and then come back down. This seemed to be a hard way to start out a long day, and my legs were already screaming and my heart pounding after an hour of hiking. The climb to the road was entertaining as usual. We passed a guy who was working with dynamite and drinking a beer…seemed to me that there were a number of things wrong with that picture considering it was also 10AM. We also followed a young brother and sister team age 11 and 9 . They were carrying a case of heavy bottles each on their backs. Yes, of course this made me feel wimpy considering their sack of bottles weighed more than my backpack and probably half of their body weight. The young 11 year old boy was carrying them effortlessly while toting a huge knife, called a bolo. Nora informed me that all men carry bolos in this area, they never leave home without them. Men vs. 11 yr. old boy….hmmm…I would have to let that settle a bit in my brain. Rowan took one look at the young knife-wielding boy and said, “Damn, my parents wouldn’t even let me have a Gameboy.”

The good thing about the climb was that the views were spectacular as we looked down on our disappearing tiny village of Cambulo. However what goes up must come down (as a side note – this turned out to the be theme of the day). I looked at the scrappy, hand-written sign that said “This Waw Batad” with an arrow pointing down and let out a big sigh. The ‘waw’ down was steep and ominous looking, so I let Karina and Rowan go first and I slowly followed them careful of every step on the loose dirt.

The trekking gang - Rowan, Karina, Nora, and Joy

The next 2 hours were spent winding through jungle, and rice terraces amidst the unforgiving sun as Rowan kept asking “How much further?” I will admit, besides this question, he was one of the most upbeat travelers I’ve ever met. He was extremely well traveled. What impressed me most is that he’s definitely enjoying his time on this earth; taking everything in stride with a smile. He reminded me how much fun travel can be when you really open yourself up to the locals and interact.

After another grueling climb we reached a peak with a little resting place where we took lunch. As we walked around the corner, there it was the stunning amphitheater terraces of Batad. Once again, it was another breathtaking view that I really wasn’t prepared for. The terraces went on forever with the little village of Batad poised down at the bottom of the amphitheatre like the orchestra pit. The Batad terraces were planted and green, which made even more of an impact. Rowan and I went picture crazy for a bit and took a bunch of photos as Nora pointed out where we were going next; all the way to the bottom of the ravine to the picturesque Batad waterfall. I couldn’t even see the bottom of the ravine…it was a long ‘waw’ down no doubt.

The Beauty of Batad

I must admit, I was skeptical about the Tappia waterfall; I’ve seen many waterfalls and have been rarely impressed. Maybe my skepticism also came from the fact that the hike was a yet another long hike down steep rocks…it better be good I kept thinking. I was pleasantly surprised as the waterfall was this little paradise of white spray enclosed by a rocky cliff. It actually looked unreal it was so peaceful. I dipped my toes in and enjoyed the clear cool water up to my knees while Rowan took the opportunity to dive in and take a swim.

After the waterfall, we started climbing again. Karina actually ran up the stairs pleasantly reminding me of what it was to be young with no fear. We arrived in the small village of Batad and class was in session. No, not primary school, I’m talking about rice school. Nora talked to some villagers and they provided a demonstration for me on just how freakin’ hard it is to prepare rice. I’m sure they don’t think it’s hard, however my only experience in making rice is to go to the grocery store, buy a bag of rice, put it in a rice cooker and presto…rice for dinner. The Ifugao way differed a bit.

First, you have to ‘shuck’ the rice off of the stalk – this requires calluses on your hands…if you have lily white soft girlie hands, this process hurts; spoken from experience. Next, you put the rice in a large mortar and pestle and pound it very carefully with great force separating the husk from the grain. This isn’t as easy as it looks, if you don’t hit it in the center – rice goes everywhere and the villagers look at you as if you as a stupid foreigner; spoken from experience. After that you go through a complex process of throwing the rice and husks in the air separating them (this part is really hard to explain…but I do know that little 12 year old Karina is an expert at this); they didn’t let the stupid foreigner do this step…thank God. Finally you put it back in the large mortar and pestle and go through the process one more time and finally you have a bag of rice that you can cook for dinner. Oiy.

Click to enlarge the photos of Rice preparation:

Shucking rice

Karina and Joy pounding riceKarina separating rice

Karina separating rice

We had one last big climb up to the top of the amphitheatre of terraces where the guesthouses were located. I’m not real sure why they didn’t have lodging in the actual village of Batad, maybe it was to torture the tourists into walking up to the top. However it was all worth it as clearly it had the best views! The evening was spent at Rita’s Guest House where we were treated to pancakes, a cold bucket ‘shower’ and beer…what more can you ask for after 7 ½ hours of hiking up and down. It was a great feeling to get that kind of exercise and to experience some of the best rice terraces in the world with new friends. Mission accomplished!

Me at the Batad Terraces

Girl Power – Trekking in the Philippines

admin — Fri, 10 Apr 2009 19:34:25 +0000

A splash of pink...

View Rice Terrace Photography

View snapshots of trekking in Pula, Cambulo, and Batad

My lunch was packed, my sunscreen was on, my backpack was prepared, and my chariot tricycle pulled up outside my hotel. When the trike pulled up, it appeared to be already full making me slightly confused. Nora greeted me and introduced Joy, my porter. Nora explained that she hired Joy to be the porter and asked me if it was ok that my porter was a female. I’m all for girl power, so I had no issues with Joy being the porter; in fact, I was actually quite impressed and proud to be trekking with an all girl team! However the all-girl team didn’t end there, a young girl also got off the trike and Nora introduced her as Karina, Joy’s 12 year old niece. She said that Karina didn’t have school this week and wanted to know if it was ok to tag along with us. Hell, when I arrived here I was a bit worried about being a solo traveler – but now I had an instant entourage – I welcomed the company!

The 5 of us, including our driver Yazzer, squeezed into the tricycle meant for 2 and took off. Our first early morning stop was the world famous Banaue Rice Terraces. There are terraces all over this area of the Philippines, however the Banaue and the Batad terraces seem to be the highlights of the area. We climbed up a bumpy dirt road and had to try to counterbalance our weight and sit forward so that the whole bike wouldn’t tip over backwards…which actually happened once already! The trike front wheel went airborne and Karina and Joy fell off the back! The two didn’t seem too phased by it. They got up, dusted themselves off, and hopped back on; they passed my test on toughness. In fact it was then that I realized that I was probably the wimpiest chick in this group!

Banaue Viewpoint

The Banaue Terrace viewpoint was one of those few places in the world that really took my breath away. That overwhelming rush of excitement that you get when you see something truly incredible came sweeping over me and left me rather speechless. I personally have seen many famous sites, Taj Mahal, Great Pyramids, Roman Coliseum, Eiffel Tower, Grand Canyon to name a few, but I think the effect of seeing those places was less since I had been exposed to all of them before in magazines, television, books, movies, etc. When you come across something that you’ve never actually seen before, it has a more profound effect; that was the Banaue Terraces for me. They were stunning. They had actually terraced a complete mountain – the top of the mountain was even a terrace as opposed to a ‘peak’.

After my rice terrace photoshoot we continued up the bumpy mountain road to the beginning of our trail for trekking. We bid Yazzer goodbye as we would be on foot for the next 3 days going from village to village. Joy strapped on my backpack, Karina took the lead, and Nora and I brought up the rear. The trail was great, not very traveled, but good enough to easily find your way.

Pula kids swimming on their lunch hour

This was the main way for many of the villagers to transport things in and out of the village of Pula, which was to be the destination for our lunch break. I learned that Joy and Karina travel this trail often as they have relatives in these villages that they visit quite often. However, they normally transport bags of sweet potatoes when they visit. All of a sudden my little backpack that Joy was carrying seemed rather luxurious.

The trail, mountains, terraces, and general agriculture lifestyle reminded me of Peru. Views into the valley of green with mountains surrounding you; a great escape. As we hiked I learned about the women’s daily lives; boyfriends, schools, husbands, and children. A fascinating look into a changing culture. We took a snack break after a few hours; we were high on a ridge with a lovely view of the valley. Nora pointed to a village down in the valley surrounded by terraces; that was Pula. My knees ached thinking about it – but down we went. As we arrived in the village you could hear a water fall and bunches of screaming kids. It was lunch time and all of the kids came running out of their school yard, down steep terraced steps (there was nothing flat about Pula), stripped off their clothes and jumped in the cold water. Oh to be a kid again! Some splashed around and played while the brave young boys climbed up the waterfall and would take a running jump off the top into the blue, cool water below.

Pula Children...and a dog

Pula was a typical Ifugao village whose life seemed to center around the terraces and other agriculture. Kids were running around everywhere as there was no sign of adults. The adults go out and work in the terraces or woodworking during the day while the kids are in school. We stopped for a lunch break and ate the food we had been carrying with us. As I sat in the dusty little village hut in Pula with no electricity or plumbing, half naked kids running around among the roosters and pigs; I couldn’t help but have my mind wander back to Puma, Nepal where I lived for a few weeks doing volunteer work. I knew that it would happen – I knew that one day I would look back on that Nepal experience and yearn for it again. Even though it was one of my greatest challenges, I found myself wanting to go back; see my old students, and families that I came to know high in the mountains of Nepal. Pula, Puma…so many similarities.

Our trail - a bit narrow!

We took off for the 2nd part of the hike from Pula to Cambulo. My little rolling shady mountain trail disappeared as we trekked up and out of Pula and it turned into tactical trekking for the next 3 hours. We hiked on the actual terraces; poised on the little narrow strip of wall terrace teetering between the rice on my left and a what I imagined to be a deathly fall on my right. Memories of my childhood gymnastics lessons came flooding back; reminding me that I quit those lessons because I sucked. As an adult I have developed a slight fear of heights – so I simply tried to focus on the back of Nora’s shoes as I concentrated on every step of the foot wide terrace wall. Unfortunately at this point I wasn’t doing much looking around at scenery since it would invoke my dizziness and panic.

My all Female team of Trekkers!

After a total of 7 ½ hours of trekking up the valley and back down we arrived in Cambulo. We checked into one of a handful of guest houses and happily dropped our bags and I treated the ‘of age’ girls to a beer and a coke for Karina. The girls laughed at the blister on my thumb. They thought it was hilarious that my hands could be so wimpy that I would get a blister from a walking stick….yes – even I think that sounds pathetic. My entourage of girls was really a unique experience for me in my travels. I loved the fact that these women were out working in professions that were normally dominated by men. This probably has something to do with the fact that I grew up in the Charlie’s Angels era. We had a great day trekking and we even turned a few heads in the process! Good work Angels!

Picture of the Week – April 10, 2009

admin — Fri, 10 Apr 2009 03:58:17 +0000

Paradise?

After trekking for 6 hours, I finally arrived here…paradise. This waterfall near the rice terraces of Batad, Philippines was worth the harrowing trek down a steep cliff. Normally waterfalls are a big disappointment to me, but this one was worth it. The water was cool and the place secluded. I felt as if I had wandered into the Land of the Lost.

You may view and purchase my photography from trekking in the Philippines at – Global Photography by Sherry Ott

Rice Culture – Travel in the Philippines

admin — Mon, 06 Apr 2009 11:11:48 +0000

Fields of Green

View Philippine Rice Terrace Photography

View snapshots of Hapao Travel

I love rice. Rice pudding, fried rice, red beans and rice, rice krispies, wild rice, sticky rice, and even young rice ice cream (there really is such a flavor in Saigon!). I even applied to be on the show Survivor once; that’s how much I like rice. However my passion for rice pales in comparison to Filipino’s passion for rice. The Philippines is all about rice. They eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. This is probably why there are thousands and thousands of rice terraces dotting the landscape up north. As I traveled through the north, I learned how their lives and traditions revolved around rice; 2,000 years of rice culture.

I had hired Nora, my female trekking guide to join me for 4 days and 3 nights while in the Banaue region. She put together the most sensible itinerary and helped me find some lodging in Banaue at the Fairview Inn Guesthouse. It was a modest little guesthouse outside of the town proper with a lovely terrace and view of the town/mountains and rice terraces. I was able to negotiate a double room for the price of single room ($10US) since I seemed to be the only person there! The hotel had all of the necessities; hot water, electricity, a café, and it was run by a lovely couple, Benedict and Raquel, who spoke great English, and were a joy to talk to. What I liked the most about the room was the view and the fact that it was quiet. The only noise I could hear was the roosters which seemed acceptable after living in Asia now for 6 months.

Jeepney

Nora and a driver arrived to pick me up at Fairview Inn. There are basically two main forms of transportation in this area – Jeepney and Tricycle. I really didn’t know what either was until I arrived in the Philippines and saw the old beat up vehicles. Jeepneys are old, long jeeps which transport many people (sort of like a bus). They were originally made from US military jeeps left over from WWII; they have now turned into an artistic expression of sorts – colorful and flamboyant. Tricycles are a motorcycle and side car that is enclosed a bit like a passenger cabin. Since I was a solo traveler with a guide, the best and cheapest way for me to get around was via tricycle.

Tricycle

Before my tricycle pulled up, I had visions of my first childhood tricycle; it was yellow with big, fat wheels. I loved that bike and rode it like a terror until I finally graduated to the Barbie pink, 2 wheel, banana seat version in kindergarten. The tricycle that picked me up to go to Hapao was nothing like my little yellow trike, except it had the obligatory 3 wheels. This trike was dusty and beat up; kind of resembling something out of a Mad Max movie…I felt as if I were going to war when I climbed in my little beat up side car.

Nora warned me to hold on so I wouldn’t hit my head as we would surely get jostled around on the unpaved mountain roads. She sat on the back of the motorcycle side saddle and I had the little side car to myself. Yazzer, our driver, handled the dirt roads with ease as I bounced around like a bobble head doll for an hour thinking to myself – these terraces better be worth it! I came to the Northern Philippines in order to get some fresh air and exercise. However, somehow I found myself sucking in noxious fumes while sitting in the little side-buggy, climbing up a bumpy, dusty mountainside. My lungs were burning, and my ass hurt…this definitely wasn’t relaxing!

Rice Terrace Fish Trap

Hapao was a lush, green valley of terraces with a lovely church in the middle of the valley and a river running down the valley separating it into two halves. Nora was from the town of Hapao so it was fun to trek around the terraces with her and meet various people and hear some of her childhood stories. Most of the traditional Ifugao houses have been replaced by newer homes made of sheet metal and bricks, however the village life was still rather simple and revolved around the rice terraces.

Terraces are handed down through generations; however, there are rules when it comes to ‘gifting’ the terraces; no they don’t fall under complex gifting tax laws, it’s just some simple rules. The eldest child in the family typically inherits all of the terraces…yes….all of the terraces. The youngest child inherits the family house. The middle children…are apparently screwed! Sure, it doesn’t seem very fair, but it’s hard to judge 2,000 years of tradition. (in case you were wondering, yes, I am the youngest in my family)

The work in the terraces is split between the men and women. The men do all of the repair and preparation of the terraces; fixing walls, draining, irrigation, etc. The women are responsible for the planting, harvesting, and upkeep of crops. The kids also have responsibilities from an early age and are expected to carry their ‘load’ helping their parents and relatives. All of the rice grown in this area of the Philippines is for family consumption. As you look around the vast terraces, you would think that a family would have more than enough rice; however, after seeing that that Filipinos eat rice for every meal, you start to realize that there’s never enough rice; it’s a bottomless pit.

Woman planting the terraces

Trekking through the Hapao terraces was hot and challenging, but the views were worth it. We moved from the various levels of terraces via little stones built into the walls that stuck out about 6 inches. These were your ‘steps’ up to the next level. These little stones weren’t built for size 9 feet, so it was challenging as I teetered to get my balance before I fell 15 feet into the muddy rice paddies; all the while with my camera equipment slung around my neck. The trekking wasn’t particularly hard, instead it was technical and required good balance. As Nora watched me and my big clown feet lumber up and down the levels of terraces she asked me if I wanted to get a porter the next day. I was dripping with sweat and decided that a porter sounded like a good idea for a cheap price. Sure, there was a part of me that didn’t want to be a wimp; however, I also know that having a porter would allow me to focus more on photography – so I agreed to splurge $10 on a porter for our remaining 3 days of trekking.

We stopped at some of her relative’s houses/huts and had wild berries off of tree branches and a hot coke…a much needed refreshment before we descended back down into the valley for a quick dip in the cold river. The river was heavenly allowing me to cool off a bit and relax before we got back into the Mad Max tricycle for our bumpy ride back to Banaue.

That evening I was exhausted. I went to the town center and had the traditional Filipino dish, Adobo, and a beer. Adobo is a meat dish cooked with garlic, soy sauce, and vinegar served with rice of course; a must try while visiting the Philippines. It was a long day since I had stepped off the overnight bus this morning at 8AM, determined an itinerary, commuted 2 hours via trike, and hiked for 3 hours. I collapsed into bed early with my belly full of rice and happy with my decision to hire a porter the next day. Sweet dreams.

Travel Information:

Banaue Lodging – Fairview Inn Guesthouse – +63 74 3864002

Philippine Travel Destinations: My Itinerary

admin — Wed, 01 Apr 2009 06:53:08 +0000

Banaue Rice Terraces

I had been hearing about the amazing beaches in the Philippines for years now, so I always had it on my list as a ‘must see’. I had the perfect opportunity to travel to the Philippines for my niece’s softball tournament so I thought this would be my chance to finally experience the Philippine beach hype. I researched it all on the internet, found flights out of Manila to Boracay, searched for cheap hostels and then something happened; a friend mentioned trekking.

He said that there was a UNESCO World Heritage Site in the northern Philippines which highlighted rice terraces in the mountains created 2,000 years ago. Yup, you read that number right…ancient rice terraces built high into the lush green mountains. Right before I booked my beach plans, I decided to research these ancient rice terraces a bit and googled images of ‘rice terraces Philippines’. The first picture displayed and that’s all it took. My heart yearned for green mountains and fresh air; my heart yearned for come cardiovascular exercise; and my heart yearned for photography and culture. The beach sunset was a fading fast in my head and my heart took over.

The Banaue terraces are part of the Rice Terraces of the Philippine Cordilleras, ancient sprawling man-made structures from 2,000 to 6,000 years old. I arrived in the small northern town of Banaue with no plan. I thought I would try ‘real’ backpacking on this trip and arrive at my destination and figure it all out from there. These still doesn’t come very easy for a type A personality like mine, but I resisted the urge to pre-book a tour, guide, or lodging and threw caution to the wind.

One of the unusual things about the Philippines is that everyone speaks and understands English in addition to Filipino and various ethnic languages. All schools are required to teach their classes in English, therefore everyone has some exposure to it. It was bizarre for me to be traveling through a country where I could communicate so easily, yet my surrounding culture was so very different. Akin to going to the Midwest in America and hearing a Boston or East Cost accent – it’s just out of place.

I was bombarded by guides and hotel owners when I got off the bus, but I fought the urge to accept any of their offers or yell at them until I had some coffee and became a bit more familiar with my surroundings and options. I had been emailing with a guy named Marcial prior to arriving about costs of guides and itineraries I could do, but didn’t want to book it since I was being a ‘real’ spontaneous backpacker. Plus I was skeptical of getting overcharged. However as I researched my options and prices at the small local tourist office, I realized that the prices quoted to me originally were the ‘going’ prices. Luckily Marcial found me that morning…not hard to do in a town of 2,000 people and very few tourists! Plus, he knew what day I was arriving and he ran the Florida bus station in Banaue where I arrived. Marcel was very helpful and I felt more comfortable with him than anyone else I had met by this point so I agreed to have him organize my trekking guide.

Nora and I

He introduced me to Nora, my trekking guide. Yes, that’s right…Nora…a female. It dawned on me that in all of my trekking travels around the world (many, many, many) – I had never had a female guide before. This was quite unique! She was about half my size, and I wondered if she could do mountain rescue if I needed it – but the mountains were more like hills, so I wasn’t too worried. Plus – I saw her biceps, and was impressed and jealous at the same time! Move over Michelle Obama! I learned later that these biceps were formed by pounding rice for years and years as a child and adult.

We planned the following itinerary:
Trekking in Hapao Rice Terraces, overnight in Banaue
Trekking from Banaue terraces to Pula village/terraces to Cambulo village/terrace. Overnight in Cambulo village
Trekking from Cambulo village to Batad terraces and waterfall. Overnight in Batad guest house.
Trekking to Bangaan terraces/village, overnight bus back to Manila

Certified guides cost about 1,200 pesos a day (aprox $24 US) and village lodging costs about 200 pesos (aprox $4).

Let the trekking begin!

Travel Information:
Trekking Guide – Nora Atolba – email: nora_atolba@yahoo.com
Florida Bus Booking Office/Travel services – Marcial Cuison – email: m_dcuison@yahoo.com Phone: +639185225049

I found a lot of good info on this wiki travel site – http://wikitravel.org/en/Banaue

Getting To Your Destination

admin — Mon, 30 Mar 2009 17:04:46 +0000

I’m out of practice. I forgot what it was like to have a long travel day; planes, buses, taxis, negotiating the unknown on your own. Getting to your desired travel destination can be like running in a travel obstacle course! Granted, I think I am pretty skilled at this, but it’s been about 6 months since I put myself through this kind of travel obstacle course. I’ve been safely living in Vietnam taking little side trips to Singapore and southern Vietnam. However, I was now leaving on an unplanned adventure in the Philippines; I had to dust off my travel skills again.

I left HCMC this morning with the standard crazy ride to the airport in my little taxi surrounded by motorbikes, bicycles, walkers, vendors; the general craziness of a semi-developed country’s transportation. My flight to the Philippines went rather smoothly and I was excited to get yet another new stamp on my passport. I love coming into new countries, you never really know what to expect and everything is new. I was surprised that such a huge airport had so few people working in immigration and even less people working in baggage! I waited about 40 minutes for my bag to arrive on the belt. When I stepped outside the terminal I was hit with a blast of hot, sticky air welcoming me to this island nation.

After a shuttle ride to the wrong terminal, an unsuccessful quest to find an ATM that wouldn’t spit out my Debit Mastercard (ultimately I had to solve this at the money exchange), and finally a taxi ride into Manilla, I completed my first leg. My family from Singapore were in Manilla for a week for a softball tournament. (yeah, I used to think it was a big deal to travel outside of Peoria for a softball tournament when I was a kid – my nieces were crossing international borders!) I had a small reprieve for about 6 hours while I saw my family and repacked my bag for my trekking in the northern Philippines After a shower and proper dinner of pizza and donuts, I was off for leg #2 – a 10 hour overnight bus ride to Banaue.

The not-so-scary bus station

The next obstacle is getting to the bus station and hoping that they have me down for a seat based on the phone reservation I made a couple of weeks ago. As with most countries, bus terminals are never located in good parts of town. Then again, I’m unsure where the good parts of town are in Manilla as it’s a good idea to be on your guard the whole time as with any big city. I paid more to take a car from the hotel that night at 9PM to the bus terminal in fear of being lost in a bad part of town, or being taken advantage of by a unscrupulous taxi driver.

The one thing I hate about arriving in a country for the first time is the fear that envelopes me. Prior to your trip, there is no shortage of people/things trying to warn you. All of the pre-reading you do, all of the people you meet will always remind you of how much peril you are in when you arrive at a city like Manilla….or Bangkok, or Saigon, or Rio, or Lima, or New York City, or PLACE NAME OF LARGE, DIVERSE CITY HERE. I am aware that they are trying to simply warn you, trying to ensure that you don’t get taken advantage of, or have items stolen, or be kidnapped, or PLACE NAME OF SCARY THEFT SITUATION HERE. However, I hate these warnings, mainly because they tend to make me over-worry about things that I really don’t need to worry about. In short, when I hear about the story of someone being taken to a far off destination by their taxi driver and had all of their items stolen and left in the middle of nowhere, I’m freaked out. Who wouldn’t be; especially when you are a female traveling solo. This causes me to enter a new location with so much trepidation that I smell like fear. I make decisions that aren’t necessarily economical, instead they are expensive but safe. This continues until I settle into a place and get to know the ‘lay of the land’, the culture and what I, Sherry, really need to worry about. Then I relax and start actually enjoying the place.

After realizing that the bus station wasn’t the scary ghetto that I had imagined in my mind, I settled into my seat on the bus and prepared for my 10 hour journey with a few Dramamine, a blanket, pillow, and my ipod. Within a bout 10 minutes I was asleep. It was restless, wake-up-every-hour sleep, but it was sleep. I arrived at my destination, Banuae 5 minutes after I woke up at 8AM. Being ushered of the bus as I was wiping sleep out of my eyes was quite a wake up call.

The tinytown of Banuae

The moment I stepped off the bus I was bombarded by men asking me questions, “Are you alone?”, “Do you want to see the rice terraces”, “Where you go?”, “What’s your name?”, “Where do you stay?”….this was one question too many for me in the morning right after waking up from an unfitful sleep. I gave them all a mean stare and walked away so that I could have a second of peace and try to figure out where I could go get a cup of coffee. Questions in the morning are bad…really bad…they make me angry….I need time to wake up and I certainly don’t need to be asked if I’m alone the first thing after I wake up; living in Asia as a single female is the epitome of being alone.

After I got my cup of instant coffee (yuk – but I’ll take what I can get) and had some eggs and greasy ham, I was feeling a bit more in the mood to talk and answer questions about my solo travel. I had my trip to plan after all, so I had to get moving. I had come to Banuae, small mountain town of 2,000 people and an Unesco World Heritage Site, for 4 days with absolutely no plans, no place to stay, and no idea of an itinerary. All I knew is that I wanted fresh air, green mountains, and trekking. It was a long journey here, but now the fun was about to begin!

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