Sagada

In many of my travels, I have always placed 'getting into the local verve' at the top of my tick list. The company one keeps comes close at second spot. But this trip to Sagada opened up something new. Or maybe it was just there all along, at the back of my mind, and during this trip, it was swelling, ripe enough, perfect for picking. Wookie. Wookie. Before this entry triggers the warning bulb and bursts into an explosion of saccharine proportion, let's get down to the business of budget traveling.



tip no.1: take the roof for the 360 degree view of the Cordillera landscape. And don't forget to hold tight. Real tight. (Sagada-Bontoc Php40.00 one-way)



on foot: passing by St. Mary's Church on the way to the 'hanging coffins'



Echo Valley and Hanging Coffins are a few heartbeats away from here



the log cabin (tucked on a hill, in the fringes of a pine forest, offers a panoramic view of Sagada town) with the two main ingredients for romance ...



fireplace and..



and a warm bed.



i lurrrrve Sagada! AND WILL DEFINITELY KEEP COMING BACK with YOU baby! And if you won't, I'll drag you till you give in. By all means!

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The Philippine version of Shangri-la, Sagada may not be Utopian but it is definitely remote and exotic says Robert Gardner of aenet.org. And I couldn't agree more. This lovely little town of about eleven thousand people is tucked in a valley in Central Cordillera. Aside from spelunking and nature hikes that will lead you to the hanging coffins (hanging coffins was a traditional way of burying people that is not utilized anymore. Not anyone was qualified to be buried this way; one had to, among other things, be married and have grandchildren--wikipedia.com) this town 275 km. North of Manila also offers homey inns and guesthouses with charming owners.

Food destinations include Yoghurt House, Masferre Cafe and Lemon Pie House while places of interest are Sumaguing and Lumiang Caves, Bomod-ok and Bokong Falls, Rice terraces, Echo Valley, Kiltepan Tower, Underground River and Lake Danum

Batad Village, Banaue

UNESCO World Heritage Site
Batad Village, Banaue, The Philippines

The photos and what-not of the Rice Terraces in remote Batad, as many a travel blogs have posted, claimed and raved about, don't really do justice to this little piece of heaven on Earth. The landscape in Batad is in contrast to the levels and levels of tin roof all over the fringes of the one in Banaue.

Meanwhile, I've never been to Tibet but If it squats on a green landscape, this must be how it's tranquility will rub on your senses.

Here now is my futile attempt to capture it's spell in photos.


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GETTING THERE: Banaue, the jump-off point to Batad Village, is an 8-hour bus ride (Florida Bus; Php450.00 one-way) from Manila. From Banaue, you can hire a tricycle (Php150.00 one-way) until Batad Junction. From there, Saddle Point is an hour uphill hike. But if you have enough cash to burn, you can hire the ultimate uphill machine with the stamina of a hummer--the ubiquitous jeepney. The ride will take you until Saddle Point (Php2,500.00; we haggle and got it for Php1,800.00, one-way)

From Saddle Point, Batad Village is an hour downhill hike on a rugged terrain and slippery trail on a rainy day. Unless you have the venturesome spirit, you can find the village yourself. Otherwise, guides are available for Php500.00.

ACCOMMODATION: You have 3 options, or if you want to dip into the local flavor, there are homestay programs available. Just inquire at the Tourist Info and Registration Booth.

The best spot to hole up is Batad Hillside Inn (Maya: 0905.769.9796 for reservations; Php150.00/person). It's a spartan 3-storey affair with windows and terraces that empty into the whole Batad Rice Terraces. If you're coming during a long weekend or the holidays, make sure you book ahead because it's 300 pax capacity may leave you with nothing but the cold mountain air and chilly nights.

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I stopped wishing you were here ...



Batad. One down. Hundreds of UNESCO World Heritage Sites to explore with you...



ahem. X marks this spot.



wicked!

my one last letter, for you, love.

Il Postino (Theme) - Holly Gornik

Dear ________,

By the time this letter empties into your hands (Oh, how I love to run the tips of my fingers in your delicate hands, to your hair, your earlobes while your head rests on my chest), the windswept hills of the island have already welcomed the arrival of monsoon. The surf has washed ashore--in the secret beach where we first made love under stars and cloud-filtered moonlight--dreams from another archipelago. 

The birds, to escape the biting cold of winter--like you always do--could be there by now. You know these migrants well. And we called them by names from our hut by the edge of the lagoon. The rhythm of the waves, at this time, could be rousing the boulders from its stupor. The fragments of corals could already be piling up at the sanctuary shores.  

Let the sunset swallow all the yearnings we own, weighing like the seabed, after that last drop of wine running from your neck to the valleys of your breast to the regions of your soul, and to that one, final kiss--in Rock Point. 

I have kept all the letters you sent. I arranged them by date and stored them in a shoebox where they remain unopened. Burn them and take my boat to the tip of the island and scatter the last of my ashes.  

                                                                                             

                                                                                              Forever with you,

                                                                                              ______________

Apo Island

after much thought, I am finally getting a tattoo..

..tomorrow, at 1PM. Just so you know. Move over king of pain! The design here. Here.

 

King Of Pain - Sting

solo flashpacking in Boracay

dirt cheap. myBoracay trip at less than Php6,999.00 4 days/3 nights


the strip, all 4 kilometers of fine white sand and clear water, all yours.


front row seat to the best beach in the wOrld


this is what rush hour means at white beach, Boracay


paraw




dirt cheap!

At less than Php6,999.00 (4 days & 3 nights) inclusive of airfare, studio unit (studio for its size, mid-range pension house for its amenities) accommodation at station 1, all meals, all fares and whole day island hopping.

But hoy! Hold your horses. Don't get too excited. What gives? Planning and adventuresome spirit.

(I just arrived and my head is spinning from the seemingly endless trip back home. the budget breakdown laters.) UPDATE: expense report now ready here, thru this link:
flashpacking Boracay

Meanwhile, here's the first batch, hot-off-the-grill. A baker's dozen out of 600 photos..

a monastery in the age of touchscreen

the relevance of a monastery in the age of touchscreen, sunscreen, facebook and ipod

Many, I suppose, are afflicted with compulsive facebook and/or multiply syndrome. I mean how many of us grab any chance we can get to check facebook or multiply any given minute? (and now with iphone and its applications, checking these sites can be done heartbeat after hearbeat). Minute after minute to check what one is doing (in the loo) or what one is up to after being dead bored in the last 30 minutes or where one plans to go in an hour. These social networking sites, if one happens to still get his hands on a newspaper and really read the paper (in my generation, who buys newspaper anyway when many a site update news in real time; but if we do, it's either the Saturday paper for weekend party updates at sundown or Sunday paper for job hunting), can make or unmake a techie, build or rebuild friendships, create or break opportunities or worse, in the news not so long ago, these sites become the centerstage for one kiddo who ended his life for the world to see (I'm not sure though if it was a social networking site. i'm too lazy to google it). May his soul rest in peace.

The idea of keeping ourselves updated makes us also vulnerable to keep everything public, therefore easily accessible. Some, if you notice in many youtube anonymous comments, goes beyond propriety and unto the harsh reality of digital mudslinging and washing dirty underpants in public. Who can stand these verbal, rather digital assault? The stress level of this generation was never imagined in our grandparent's time. On the other hand, the demands in workplaces in concrete jungles can be as toxic as it can get. And for the most part, spa, mindless sex and what-not are all but temporary relief.

Though I am not saying the monastery offers one eternal solution in this modern age but in this age of touchscreen and online dating it has become a refuge for the heartbroken, an unwed pregnant woman and many urbanite souls who wish to take a walk away from lala land--and gallivant inside the hundred hectare property where peace and quite and good food (for the body and spirit) are well-prepared. Though not as disconnected from the world as you might think (stop thinking it's warped in medieval period. the monk I know has a cellular phone and email), you will feel transported to a place where peace and quite and good food is enjoyed by all.

You just let silence speak to you, and if, at any rate, it becomes deafening, you can always have someone to speak with--the Benedictine priest, the monks, the kitchen hand, the gardener and if you may, God inside or outside the adoration chapel.

I came there to experience what most people who have visited the place rave about--a very solemn dawn mass with a heavenly choir singing. But in the end, it was not what I was seeking after all. In there, I found my peace and sense of self even for just a couple of days. I surrender myself to a life of prayer in the tradition of the Benedictine monks. I hate to admit it, but the silence that spoke to me from the hills of Bukidnon made tears well up my eyes--and flowed endlessly until I feel a certain feeling of lightness.

What the guidebook didn't warn me is that I'll fall in love with the place the moment its perfect rhythm pumps into my system-- so hopelessly in love I'll be coming here for an annual self-retreat year after year after year.











it's not what you're thinking...(whilst waiting for the pealing of the bell for Misa de Gallo)