Up above the world so high (North Philippines)
The rice terraces of Banaue.
At the bus station in Manila , there were posters featuring Arroyo (the Filipino president). A boy was busy painting a mustache over Arroyo's face. He looked at me, smiled and offered me a chalk, pointing at the poster next to me. I thanked him and refused, not very keen on creating a diplomatic incident. I took the night bus to Banaue. The driver looked at me and asked me if I had a jacket, he said it would get very cold up in the hills. I shrugged it off, saying I am used to cold. He just smiled. At around 2 AM the bus started climbing up the hills. Soon, I was shivering. I pullet out a shirt and wore it over my t-shirt.
Around 5 in the morning, we reached Banaue. It was dark. I had to take another jeepeny to Bontoc, the town where Nick was. I stepped out of the bus and it was very cold. The driver said I could sleep in the bus. He said the jeepeny service to Bontoc only starts at around 7:30 . I went back inside the bus and fell asleep. I woke at 6:30 ; the sun was just coming up. Another bus stopped nearby. Most of the passengers were locals. A few tourists stepped out. Some of them started walking towards the town. I knew where they were heading. I joined them.
I had heard about it, it is one of the most wondrous sights in the world - The Banaue Rice terraces - carved over last 2000 years by the ifuguo tribe people. We reached the edge of the town. We could make out a deep drop, it was covered with mist. The mist cleared slowly as the sun rose, revealing the mountain slopes and the terraces. The terraces started at the top and threaded around the slopes right down to the valley. I had seen pictures of it. But standing over there at the top and watching the green terraces was really something.
I reached Bontoc by noon . It was good to see Nick; I was meeting him after six months. We decided to celebrate the reunion with a short trek. It was perfect; we would be back in four hours, just in time for the Valentine's party in the town. We got up all right, in good time. On the way back, we took a wrong turn. We got lost. Soon, it was dark. The path was very narrow, one wrong step and we would just slide down the slope. After walking (or rather wading) for about an hour we found a flat surface. We decided to lie down there. It started getting cold. Then it started raining. In a distance we saw some moving lights. It seemed like people walking with lanterns in their hand. We tried to attract them with our camera flash. No luck. We gave up. The rain stopped and the sky cleared. We could see the stars and some satellites pass by. It got colder and colder. We got up once in a while and jumped about to keep warm.
Next morning we spotted a stream. We figured we could reach a village if we followed it. Halfway the stream turned into a waterfall. After contemplating harebrained schemes like building a rope from roots, we just jumped down. Some hours later we reached a village. A kind lady gave us food. It was our first meal in 18 hours. The villagers said that the next jeepeny to Bontoc (the place where we had started from) was at 5 in the evening. We started walking, hoping some vehicle would pass by. We walked for about 12 kilometers. We were on our last kilometer when a construction truck slowed down. They dropped us to our hotel in Bontoc.
We just went back and fell asleep. The next morning we went for another trek, this time with a guide. We climbed the whole day. At night, we reached a village on top of the mountain. We stayed at the chief's house. We ate dinner with his family, rice and beans. The chief's father told us his war stories. The surrounding mountains were where the tribes engaged the Japanese during WWII. Later in the 60s and 70s the mountain people fought a guerilla war with Marcos's soldiers.
They laughed when they heard about us getting lost up in the hills. They offered us some traditional "herbs" and rice wine. The wine had some berries floating in it. They talked about some of their customs. I mentioned some of ours (in Mangalore, the part of India I come from). There were a lot of similarities, like spirit worship and animal sacrifices before the planting season. Up there in the mountains, I felt at home, some strange kinship, I guess all tribal cultures share some subconscious. Or, was it the "herb"?
Panoromic view of the mountains in Luzon, North Philippines.
(move the mouse over the picture)