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Experiencing the Solitude of the Sky and the Self
Happy faces with permanent blushes, a crossing mother hen with her brood of chicks holding up the traf fi c and trail ways that kiss the clouds: these are the images I take with me as the twitch on my sore calves slowly becomes a memory. And as I remember the feel of the sun on my cheeks while the chilly air brushed against my skin, I think to myself that Banaue is a place of such beautiful contradictions that anyone who wishes to claim that he has truly lived must experience it. Banaue is home to the rice terraces, ancient sprawl ing structures and true testaments to God's greatness and man's ingenuity. The Banaue Rice Terraces remains a secret to many of us, city folk, who prefer the luxury of white sand and cocktail drinks or the artifi cial chill of a freezing mall. Up in the Cordilleras breathes a quiet place that is barely touched by commercialism; a place undiscovered by many – a secret to most Filipinos. Located in the northern region of the Philippines, the 2000-year-old Banaue Rice Terraces is a dream destination, the eight wonder of the world for many foreign tourists. Long cold road to the sky The nine-hour bus ride to Banaue is more than enough reason for many to opt taking the short and comfortable plane ride to kiss the pristine sands of our beaches instead. Taking the evening bus trip to far-off places like Banaue is the practical thing to do since you can sleep most of the way. By the time you arrive, you've had your eight hours of solid sleep and will be raring to go for a day of trekking. At least that's the ideal scenario, assuming you can sleep like a log through all the stops and the freezing air conditioning. That wasn't the case for me, especially with a snoring seatmate who only wakes up at the rustle of a bag of potato chips being opened. When we got there, we discovered that getting around was relatively easy. Although the province's major industries are rice production, vegetable farming and wood carving, it seems that tourism is another prevalent industry in Banaue. According to many, it is the tourism industry that's been helping keep the terraces alive. Jeeps and tricycles wait outside the hotel and the bus station to take guests around. At ten pesos per passenger, short trips are quick and cheap. But jeepney tours can cost you anywhere from 300 to 3,000, depending on where you're going, so it's always best to travel in groups. The local life After we've deposited our bags, we took an hour's drive to Bangaan Village. The ride was a treat in itself, albeit bumpy. Jeepneys can be hired for the tours. It would be a shame to travel in an air conditioned car with the windows closed. The best way to experience Banaue is to inhale the sweet air and soak in the gentle sun. The ride gave us a peek into the local life. Small houses, hanging precariously on the edge of the mountain, lined the narrow dusty road. Most doors were wide open, revealing locals weaving baskets or watching the sluggish parade of tourists making their way up to the different viewing points. Halfway to our destination, our driver pointed out the view below. Right at the very base, surrounded by mountains on all sides, sat a tiny village. "Bangaan Village," our driver said smiling, revealing red-stained teeth. He spat out the betel nut he had been masticating, leaving bright crimson spatters on the ground, and explained that the village was named after a banga or a jar because the little community is enclosed by mountains. The valley village is a thirty-minute hike from the road. For city slickers like us, who consider shopping a good workout, thirty minutes is forty five minutes. Halfway through stone-carved steps, steep trails and rice paddy borders, our knees started to shake. Kids running home from school kept us going. The public school was at the foot of the trail. After a few minutes, they were near the entrance of the village, looking back at us with gleeful faces while we bent over trying to catch our breaths, counting the terraced paddies we had to conquer before we reached the village. Of culture and commerce A makeshift sign made out of a slab of wood, welcomed us to Bangaan Village where it is said that Ifugaos lived with their indigenous culture strongly intact. A woman transplanting seedlings, chickens clucking around under Ifugao huts and clay-colored spatters on the stone ground displayed the Village's pride. However, a closer look contradicted the claim that Banaue is the only part of Luzon that has completely resisted commercialism. Upon entry, we were greeted by a hearty "good morning" by locals who seemed to have the art of tourism down to a pat. "Welcome," they said in English with nary an accent. My suspicion grew as we found tiny souvenir stalls on every corner and a couple of refreshment stands serving cold soft drinks. It was a stark contrast against a little old lady squatting under a hut. Her almond eyes squinting against the light of the camera lens, her wrinkly fingers toying with the dry ground. If you happen to wander to that secret place, you will find Virginia and her Ifugao hut (bale) which was handed down to her by her ancestors. On a sunny day you would find her under the hut weaving a table runner. It was from Virginia where we also found place mats made of wood bark. "My mother used to make our dresses out of these," she said in perfect measured English and a motherly voice. "They were very hard to wear, but after several washings, they became very uncomfortable." We foraged through all the souvenir shops in the town center and could not find the same place mats that Virginia made with her own hands. Delicious stopover After conquering Bangaan, we had second thoughts about taking the whole day trip to the Batad Rice Terraces. The locals assured us that it would be an easier trek on flat ground. Although it was a two-hour hike one way, we fooled ourselves to believe that it would be easier because we didn't have to go through steep steps and sloping trails. And so with sore legs and renewed spirits, we laced up our hiking shoes and set out for Batad. City folk can be so naïve. Karlo, the travel photographer, was right. "Once you get there, you wouldn't want to leave," he said, not because the panoramic view is so overwhelming that you will want to stay longer to soak it all in, but because no amount of will power can push you to take the six-kilometer climb back up. Gravity never cooperates. After hurdling four kilometers, hikers can opt to stay and rest on the viewing deck. Local authentic cuisine can be sampled in the few restaurants. Don't get the wrong idea; I'm talking about restaurants with Monobloc chairs and linoleum-topped tables. They serve the freshest vegetables and red rice mixed with an assortment of greens. Oddly enough, the dish to try in this part of the mountains is pizza. Served on thin dough, crisp on some parts, soft on others, Batad pizza is an interesting plate of tomatoes, onions, garlic and cheese sans the usual tomato or pizza sauce. Love aff air with the self During our trek to Batad, we were too busy trying to catch our breaths and looking for stable footholds to notice the splendor of the silver paddies slowly unfolding before us. At the view deck, the terraces looked like an elaborately designed maze, a patchwork of brown, green and silver. The high sun bounced off on the surface of the water-fi lled paddies, mirroring the sky. If we had come a few months later, we would have been greeted by an emerald cascade. At the foot of this amphitheater-shaped terraces, it was a whole different experience. Up close, we could see the cleverly-stacked stones forming the terraces. At the edges were makeshift steps, rocks jutting out of the sides. As we sat among ourselves, each of us perched on one of the tiers of the countless terraces, we contemplated the meaning of this trip in front of the Creator's master piece. Here lay another contradiction – amidst the splen dor of the mountains lies the simplicity of life, the peace of existence. In a place of romance, supposedly a haven for intimate escapes, Banaue is the best place to romance one's self. To hold not a lover's hand, but to embrace that part of yourself you have never acknowledged before. Away from the blare of horns and the ruckus of a travel group, here is where you acquaint yourself with an inner strength that you never knew existed. In the solitude of these steps, products of the brown callused hands of the ancient Ifugaos, you discover a physical strength, an iron will and a stubborn pride, to put one foot in front of the other, ignoring screaming tendons and groaning muscles, to reach your destination. It is a place where you are also forced to listen. In the quiet of the gaping valley, in the serenity of beauty, in the voice of the mountains' silent but powerful whispers, you are forced to listen to the echoes of silence. Faced with the grandeur of the terraces, one contemplates both the smallness and the signifi cance of one's existence. Kissing the clouds On our last day in Banaue, we visited Hiwang, a na tive village inn where Ifugao huts are available for lodg ing at 800 pesos per night. The bales, some of them 250 years old, can accommodate up to four people. Electric ity is available, but don't expect fi ve-star hotel treatment. Immersing in the Ifugao way of life means the barest es sentials. That means no hot water, no TV and a bamboo ladder you hang by the door before going to sleep. The view and experience however, are more than enough to compensate for the lack of room service and fl uffy towels. Three kilometers from the bus station, Hi wang offers a panoramic view of the rice terraces. The view you will see from that point is the exact picture that you see on your 1,000 peso bill, except for one big differ ence - this view breathes. This point also allows you to kiss the clouds. At 8000 feet above sea level, this is probably the closest you can get to heaven, at least in the Philippines. Hiwang also boasts of an interesting collection of antique carvings and artifacts like the solibao, a Japanese canyon that was converted into a musical instrument, or carved stone seats where the Ifugao leaders and elders met or danced around severed heads. Scattered around beautifully landscaped gardens are sculpted giant ferns that display the people's artistry. The Banaue museum, a nice leisurely walk away from the market, is also home to many antiques and artifacts. Before heading home, we walked back to the town center to shop for baubles and bibelots. Everybody knows souvenirs are always cheaper at the market. It's the best place to fi nd bargain hand-carved trinkets with basket trims that will soon gather dust on our shelves as the memory of this trip becomes as hazy as the fog-lined road that led us back home. |
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