Oh, money. Why, oh why, can’t you just grow on trees? I don’t have much of a green thumb — in fact, my houseplants are probably hurting right now — but you can rest assured I’d figure it out… or at least hire someone who can. The time I could save is immeasurable, I tell you. Immeasurable.
I headed North to Banaue and Batad for two words: rice terraces. Not just any terraces, mind you. No, these are the crème de la crème of the rice world. Seeing as how Banaue is the gateway to the country’s most prized possession, one would think they’d have an ATM. They don’t.
After getting warmed up (my Patagonia jacket came in handy after all) and getting our accommodations worked out, there was no time to waste. The first day was spent wandering the hill sides surrounding the town. We opted not to hire a guide for this stretch, as we just wanted to meander at a leisurely pace.
We spent hours exploring paths while making wrong turns — getting lost is half the fun, anyway — telling stories and attempting to avoid the village dogs in the process. I’m sure their bark is worse than their bite, but I’d prefer not to find out, as these guys know how to put on a show.
The next day we wanted to hit the ground running, with our sites set on Batad, but we had one little problem: pesos. The closest ATM was located in Lagawa, an hour away. With few options, the trip was inevitable, so we crossed our fingers and hopped in a Jeepney.
Jeepneys are funny things. The U.S. military left hundreds, if not thousands of utility vehicles behind after WWII, most of which are now used for public transportation — not quite a bus, but not quite a taxi. For a small fee, you can catch a ride on one of these colorful and crowded wagons. And even though each has a final destination, you can ask to be dropped off at any point; all you have to do is tap on the roof or shout to the driver. Not the quickest means of transport, but certainly the cheapest.
The first bank denied our cards and the second — there were only two — would only accept mine, so I opted to cover the bill until returning to Manila, where there are plenty of options.
I always find these types of situations interesting. I think that you can tell a lot about a person simply by how they approach money. How they talk about it, spend it, borrow it, and of course, lend it. I’m always a little taken back by those who won’t part with $20 when someone’s in a pinch, out of fear that it won’t be returned… but they are still willing to share a room with that very same person and trust them around their valuables. How does that make aaaany sense at all? It doesn’t. I didn’t run into it this trip, but I’ve seen it happen several times, and anyone who’s traveled at length will tell you that at some point, you’ll find yourself on both sides of the fence… so act accordingly. Just saying.
After nearly three hours we were back in Banaue preparing to head out, but our window for making the trip was dwindling. Not only did we have limited hours of daylight, but there was also an overnight bus to catch.
Batad isn’t easily accessible, as you need to arrange transportation via tricycle to “The Saddle” where you can begin hiking in. The drive takes 45 minutes and it’s not smooth sailing. You have stretches of clear winding road, followed by rocky terrain, and then what resembled a mudslide. That pattern repeated itself the entire way, and at times I thought our bike was going to breakdown — that or I’d go flying out of the sidecar. I did manage to smack my head against the cover which left me with a lovely little knot on my forehead. I suppose it could be worse.
Once we reached the trailhead the descent took us 45 minutes to an hour. The scenery along the way was absolutely stunning. The terraces are estimated to be 2,000 years old and were carved into the mountains of Ifugao by ancestors of the indigenous people. The area is commonly referred to by the Filipino people as the “Eighth Wonder of the World.” I can easily see why.
After staring off into oblivion and taking countless photos it was time to head back. Climbing in — easy. Climbing out — eh, not so much. We’re talking steep-steep-steep. By the time we reached the top everyone had been introduced to my grumpy face. I was tired, I was thirsty, I was muddy. Not a good combination… Especially on me.
It was back to the sidecar, then back on a bus. Same horrible music, same uncomfortable seats. This time, with little life left in us, we opted for Ambien.
And just like that, I was back to wandering the streets of Manila… only this time, at 4:00 a.m., and in a not-so-good neighborhood.
Taxi, anyone?
