Wherein I tell you about my little jaunt to the rice terraces…
I went to Batad, Ifugao over the weekend. Yes, Batad, that quaint little village up in the mountains. The trip was in line with my, uh, quest to live a little (bit more). The ostensible purpose was to see more of what the Philippines had to offer. The actual goal was, of course, bragging rights to having conquered such a tough trek (if I may say so myself).
The trip up north took almost ten hours as, midway, the bus broke down. At the middle of the road, straddling both lanes of the highway, with not even the faintest hint of light, we contemplated the possibility of a speeding ten-wheeler truck crashing into us and turning us (the people in the first two rows) to corned beef. I then invite Pau to consider that people coming to help us might also be the cause of our demise, as I recalled to him the case we had in law school about an overturned bus that burst into flames after well-meaning, if a wee bit stupid, group of farmers approached the bus with lighted sulos. After some tinkering, and random banging of tools to the innards of the bus, the bus crew get the bus started. At 9am, we finally get to Banaue and the much-desired breakfast.
Because of the delay, Guido, our guide (how apropos, di ba?), tell us we’ll have to flip our sked. He says we’ll start with the visit to Banaue Museum. Cheryl gets to meet the granddaughter of H. Otley Beyer, the American anthropologist who, if Wikipedia is to be believed, is the Father of Philippine Anthropology. We learn that Beyer ends up marrying Lingayu Gambuk, the 16-year-old daughter of an Ifugao village chief. Having been presented with the unique opportunity to probe the mind of one of Beyer’s progeny, Cheryl asks, “Ano naman ho ang pakiramdam na inasawa ni H. Otley Beyer ang ninuno niyo?”
After a bumpy jeepney ride of a little over an hour, we get to the saddle point. Guido tells us that this is the start of our 45 mins to one hour trek to our quarters for the weekend.
(To be continued when I find the time.)