My Foray into the Philippines, Pt. 17c

As a final adventure for the students, we decided that after our mission trip, we would make a short detour on the return trip to two very famous places in the Philippines—Banaue and Sagada—that few Filipinos ever visit. It is surprising how close most Filipinos remain to their hometowns throughout their lives. I would say that 90 % of the students saw more things in these last nine months than they have seen in their past however many years. It was exciting to see them experience these new sights, and I learned to put their desires and their excitement ahead of my own. It was liberating to travel with such a large group of people and to just be okay doing whatever we had the time to do.

This event was much different from anything else I have ever experienced in that I was the chaperon but also the tourist. I embraced my role and appreciated some nuances about sightseeing I had never considered beforehand. For instance, usually I am a voracious traveler in that I go every which way I fancy and take in the sights with a particular vigor that most people find difficult to appreciate. Maybe that is why I travel alone more often than not! Anyway, I took a step back this time. I determined that I don’t hate group travel; I just don’t really enjoy sticking out any more than a lost traveler tends to do naturally. Since I was traveling in the Philippines with a bunch of Filipinos, I thought we looked a little more organic than a bunch of white people talking loudly and taking a certain sight by storm. Then I realized that sometimes, you just have to appreciate what you do see and avoid thinking about what you haven’t seen. I always have a long list of things I “need” to see on a trip and I get kind of disappointed when I am unable to check them off the proverbial 10-Step Plan to Tourist Happiness. As soon as I accepted that you will never be able to see it all and won’t likely even remember all that you have seen, I became a lot more willing to just sit benignly and wait for whatever special encounters would come my way. Finally, instead of being at the front of the group, leading the way and challenging myself to do it better, faster, quicker, I took a huge step back and decided to help one of the weaker students when we went spelunking. It is always better to give than to receive. When we got out of that cave in two pieces—you know, one for each of us—I had never felt more success because I myself had not only survived, but also the other girl had survived and had an enormous smile on her face. That was memorable!

Banaue, the Filipino 8th Wonder of the World

After seeing the title “8th Wonder of the World” Banaue definitely rose to the top of my list of things to see before leaving the Philippines. I was curious, though, about the title. Going to my good old friend, Wikipedia, I looked up the phrase “8th Wonder of the World” and found that it was a rather arbitrarily assigned title given to extraordinary places without a proper designation of grandeur. Apparently, now there are some guidelines as of 1900, and according to Wiki, Banaue doesn’t actually fit under those guidelines. The Filipinos obviously do not care for the formal considerations, as they persist in giving it this telling slogan. Regardless of official seals, I thoroughly enjoyed this UNESCO World Heritage Site. The beautiful rice escarpments were truly the most perfect background for our picnic.

We only stayed for an hour or so, which was a little disappointing. I would have loved to hike around the fields. There are mud rims that prevent the rice paddy waters from escaping where people can walk, and there are paths that lead from one field to the next. Essentially, all the paddies are connected in one way or another. It took me a while to realize this, and by the time I began climbing down, gingerly and with great care to avoid toppling over into the baby rice shoots, it was time for lunch. In the Philippines, when it is time to eat, that takes all precedence for whatever activity you might have going on. (I had images of myself falling headlong into the rice, completely ruining the local economy. Knowing my problem in balancing my bulk, it was a real possibility, but thankfully, I took my time and enjoyed the small area on which I walked.)

Our picnic consisted of boiled barako coffee—the strong coffee of Benguet that is only palatable when mixed with a lot of sugar—rice, and coconut milk sauce mixed with small fish and tubers and this other strange vegetable. It might sound disgusting, but it was quite delicious, especially the tuber portion. I love all the vegetables in the Philippines. They are so diverse and different from the ones I eat in the States. I am continually in awe with God’s creation, how he created so many edible species for us to consume, so uniquely suited to their respective environments. After consuming a healthy portion of rice and vegetable and fish mix, we had a quick look-see at the souvenir shop, and we were off on our way to Sagada.

Sagada, I see dead people everywhere!

I seriously saw dead “people” everywhere I looked, as in there were graves and coffins and places advertising burial sites all over Sagada. We saw two places where you could see hanging coffins, which is a local phenomenon, and is actually still practiced. One of our guides said that only last year someone’s coffin was hung on the side of the cliff. The coffins are actually suspending by strong cords and lay horizontally against the cliffs, which are characteristic of the region. We saw one burial cave, a cemetery, two hanging coffin sites, and one place where there were some piled coffins. Death is a part of the Sagada tourism. At least the dead are useful for something. I wouldn’t mind getting hung on the side of a cliff for all to see. That sure beats having a six-foot plot in some average cemetery in some average place in the U.S. Maybe I will become a Filipino citizen right before I die and have my coffin suspended against one of the grandiose cliffs of Sagada. Joking!

When we arrived in the Poblacion barangay of Sagada, we discovered that the guesthouse where we had planned to stay had beds for us, but not enough water for us to cook, which was our plan from the beginning. We waited around for a while; some of us got halo-halo and started to wander around the area, which didn’t have much in the way of sightseeing, but there was a nice church to visit and some incipient vistas that entertained us for the 45 minutes of waiting. Good thing we arrived around 2 pm. We were settled in our new guesthouse—two huge houses a little outside of town—by 4 pm. The people who lodged us were a really great husband and wife team, and the husband doubled as one of our guides for the next-day’s adventure in the Sagada Cave. Everyone had comfortable rooms, a nice CR with toilet paper and a great little backyard area for outdoor cooking. It was perfect for a group of 20 people like us.
While the rest of the group went to a small nearby waterfall, I went with our beloved cook to the market to buy vegetables for the evening and the next day. We settled on veggies for ratatouille and cabbage, carrots and beans. I was so excited about the ratatouille, but when dinner came around, I think I was the only one who was salivating. There was no meat and it was a foreign dish; two things Filipinos hate. They love their native dishes, cooked the way their people in a respective region cook the food, and they almost require that some meat or fish be present to make it a complete meal. Well, they dutifully ate since that was the only thing available, and I had enough leftovers to eat the ratatouille for breakfast and lunch the next day!

Awaking early, we were out the door a little after 7 am, or in other words, later than we had planned, which is normal for a group our size. I had to exercise a lot of patience since I was ready on the dot of when we were supposed to leave. Ah, groups! We drove into town to pick up our four guides; they require one guide per five people because the guide is the one who has the lantern necessary for sight and safety in the dank cave. After a short drive out of town, we had arrived at the eponymous cave, which is the most approachable and shortest sojourn of the various spelunking packages in the area. I am not sure how long we were down in the belly of the proverbial whale because my watch snapped off about 10 minutes into the descent. It was probably for the best. I concentrated on the experience rather than on the time, always a better choice when possible.

It is called a descent cave because you must descend as you enter and ascend when you exit. There was no light past a certain early point, which is why the lanterns were so necessary, especially in guiding such a large group. We walked with great care, and I doubled back and walked slowly in order to care for my charge. I took the job most seriously, in an almost fiercely protective manner. One of the guys near me was also helping people, but I always made sure that he didn’t help my charge since she was my responsibility and not his. I even resisted his help when he offered it to me. I am more than a little stubborn when it comes to admitting my physical deficiencies to guys my own age. I suppose I am out to prove my modern sense of independence and capability. I did accept his help once or twice, but the rest I did on my own, grunting and sweating out my own effort to propel my charge and me onward up and down the slimy rock formations.

Parts of the cave were quite wet. There were avoidable pools of water at first, meaning you could choose to wade in them or you could choose to escape their liquidy depths. I chose to avoid all water until I could not evade any longer their placement on the path we were taking. Once we reached the point of no return in respect to the water situation, I quite lovingly embraced the chilling water, and had a spectacular time moving my bulk across the slippery walls with the provided ropes and sloshing through the waist-high water. My body was weighed down by water, but the freedom I felt in throwing all my cares to the stalagmites and stalactites that surrounded me made up for all excess weight I was bearing. My whole upper body felt as if it had been through a torture machine for the next three or four days because I was required to use my upper body strength to pull my charge and myself up the various crags. The physical memory of being in the cave lasted for many days following the actual experience.

When we had ascended back to daylight and had greeted one another with a “Good morning!” we went into town where I went on a small search for mountain tea with another girl from the group. Mountain tea smells a little like marijuana when it is boiled, but it is really cleansing and refreshing and so cheap. I bought a whole bag that makes about 20 liters of tea for about 40 cents. Amazing! Once I had procured my tea and some of the students had purchased their souvenirs, we went to our final sightseeing destination—Echo Valley.

I must say that the name is much more impressive than the actual phenomenon it should have invoked, but there were some more hanging coffins in varying sizes and colors, which made the trip worthwhile. We all had fun making our own echoes, which added to the faint natural ones that resulted from our shouts. It is good to be imaginative, and when something does not fit the image you had assigned, make it work for you. Do what you must to make it enjoyable and memorable. No matter where you go, when you are on an adventure, there is always something redeeming and exciting that you can take to go with you when you leave.

I had a great time with the students. It was a fabulous time to be able to fellowship with them and learn more about their antics and how they deal with certain situations. It was great to know that I had become a part of one of the most memorable two days in their lives. What a great trip!