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ur trip started in the north on the island of Luzon, home to Manila and the famed rice terraces in the mountains. These terraces and the people who farm them proved to be our favorite highlight. We traveled through a few small villages before arriving in Banaue on New Year's Eve. This area, historically known for its headhunting tribes, now celebrated the last hours of 1998 with a long Catholic mass. No room inside, we stood outside with many others to enjoy the spirit of the night. An older woman turned to us, raised her eyebrows and smiled, (the customary way of saying hello), and said, "There are two days that no church is big enough in the Philippines, New Year's Eve and Easter." So, we sat outside singing along to "Mary's Boy Child" and other Christmas carols while guns, M-80's and other small-time fireworks exploded around us to welcome in the new year. The contradiction of these two sounds gave us visions of the final scene from "The Mission", a classic movie from the 80's.
he next morning we set out to hike to Batad, a small rice farming community about two hours walk outside Banaue. An isolate place nestled among 2000-year-old terraces, it is also a simple place without all the modern amenities of life. There were four of us in our group - ourselves, our friend Val, and a French man, Victor, who'd joined us just that morning. We were dropped off at the Batad junction, where the trail met the road, and began our hike over the mountain pass to our destination on the other side. It was raining intermittently, leaving the trail slippery and washed out in spots. As we crested the pass and started downhill, we were all looking forward to dry clothes and a hot meal.
hat's when we saw him. He entered the trail in front of us. An older man, barefoot, loincloth, spear, feathers, wild pig teeth, shoulder bag, big knife! We turned and smiled at each other as we pointed toward this person in front of us. (Disney couldn't have planned it any better.) He saw us soon enough and turned to engage us in conversation. As he faced us we couldn't help but chuckle a bit. From the front, we saw that his tribal outfit also included a Nike tank top and aviator sunglasses! His name was Maurice and he "showed us the way" to Batad. It seemed a fitting end to our hike, arriving at a sweeping viewpoint of the terraced valley below, led by a native man who could navigate the muddy trails with no shoes on . WOW! Overall, Batad in its peaceful setting with open and friendly people remains one of our favorite spots on this journey.
he terraces that climb steep mountainsides are so impressive we can see why the guidebooks call them "the eighth wonder of the world". But even wonders can change. A road is currently being blasted through to connect Batad to everything else. The time to visit Batad is now.
ur trip started in the north on the island of Luzon, home to Manila and the famed rice terraces in the mountains. These terraces and the people who farm them proved to be our favorite highlight. We traveled through a few small villages before arriving in Banaue on New Year's Eve. This area, historically known for its headhunting tribes, now celebrated the last hours of 1998 with a long Catholic mass. No room inside, we stood outside with many others to enjoy the spirit of the night. An older woman turned to us, raised her eyebrows and smiled, (the customary way of saying hello), and said, "There are two days that no church is big enough in the Philippines, New Year's Eve and Easter." So, we sat outside singing along to "Mary's Boy Child" and other Christmas carols while guns, M-80's and other small-time fireworks exploded around us to welcome in the new year. The contradiction of these two sounds gave us visions of the final scene from "The Mission", a classic movie from the 80's.
he next morning we set out to hike to Batad, a small rice farming community about two hours walk outside Banaue. An isolate place nestled among 2000-year-old terraces, it is also a simple place without all the modern amenities of life. There were four of us in our group - ourselves, our friend Val, and a French man, Victor, who'd joined us just that morning. We were dropped off at the Batad junction, where the trail met the road, and began our hike over the mountain pass to our destination on the other side. It was raining intermittently, leaving the trail slippery and washed out in spots. As we crested the pass and started downhill, we were all looking forward to dry clothes and a hot meal.
