The Philippines Revisited

One Country Down...


We survived the first country of our trip and had an absolute blast. For me this was the perfect way to ease our way into the trip of a lifetime. We were able to meet a lot of amazing people and we were able to be there as one of my best friends was married to a beautiful and amazing woman. There are many great stories and memories from this part of the trip. Some that were shared for everyone to read and others that will just hide inside my head and keep me laughing and smiling every single day.

As far as the Philippines, I highly recommend that anyone goes there to see the country. I personally was not too keen on Manila itself but once outside the city everyone was amazing the places were beautiful and the memories lasting. Keep in mind that the Philippines is not like Thailand and the infrastructure for travel for tourists is not nearly as good but if you know that going in you will be fine.

I definitely will go back to the Philippines to swim with the whale sharks, do some diving, check out the Chocolate Hills of Bohol, check out the surf spot of Cloud 9 and whatever else I can find. Again I want to thank everyone that we met in the Philippines as all of you made it special and exciting and I would do it all again tomorrow.

Next up is Bangkok!

Brian
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Philippines in a Nutshell

Song for this post:

In the Middle by Jimmy Eat World

            When you arrive in Southeast Asia – at least for myself – one of the first things that strikes you is the glaring distinction between the “haves” and the “have nots”.  It occurred to me at some point – possibly right at the beginning of our trip in Banaue when I was showering with freezing cold water from a bucket – that my experience with Southeast Asia prior to this has been – for the most part – first class.  When I lived in Indonesia as a teenager and would travel back to Jakarta from the states or wherever we might have had occasion to go, it usually involved a stop over in Singapore where my family and I would spend a number of hours in the first class lounge and I would get wasted on the free booze.  We’d make the short flight home back to Indo where we’d zip through the diplomat line at the customs counter and our driver would be waiting for us with our big air conditioned car.  Every night before bed I would brush my teeth with the fresh bottled water that my maid would always make sure I had and every day when the driver would bring me home from school, we’d pull into the garage where our servants congregated throughout the day to find our maid, Rani, smiling and waving at me with a pair of my underwear in her hand which she was in the process of ironing.

            I’ve only been back to Southeast Asia a handful of times since moving back to the States about 17 years ago (shit!  Am I really THAT old!?!) and those times it was only to Indonesia, the most recent trip being last year when B and I went to Bali – actually, we arrived a year ago today – and each of those times it was in the usual fashion I was accustomed to, the only difference being that since I no longer drink and last year at this time I was 2 and ½ months pregnant, I was partaking of as much free food as I could in the 1^st class lounge in lieu of liquor.  Oh how times have changed yet again!!!  Aside from our little respite at The Ascott in Manila, this trip has been way more along the lines of the have-nots than I’ve ever known before.  Between the harrowing night buses and vomit-inducing van rides, the pooping in the woods, and having to make sure that Brian remembers to get water for us to brush our teeth at night, I’ve started to see a side of Southeast Asia that I have never quite known before.

            Dear reader, I don’t mention any of this in hopes of garnering any pity from you or to parlay this into some sort of soapbox rant about the atrocities of 3^rd world living, quite the contrary.  It is rather my hope to express what a deep-seeded admiration and affection I have for this part of the world, its people, and its often-misconceived charm.  So, back to the “haves” and “have-nots”…

            Dear reader, it is my recommendation that should you ever choose to travel to this nape of the neck, you will so plan your trip as to arrive here at night.  If you’re coming from the States and traveling for at least 20 hours – if not more – it is too much to take when you first step off that plane or out of that airport and the sun and smell and chaos just bitch slap you in the face.  Should you arrive during the daylight hours I guarantee that you’ll most likely step off the plane and the first words out of your mouth or your internal monologue will be, “What the fuck have I done!?!” and your first inclination will be to run back onto the plane and curl up in the fetal position at your seat, start sucking your thumb, and pull the blanket over your head until the crappy in-flight movie (that is probably some monumental piece of shit blockbuster starring Nicholas Cage but at this point you don’t care, you’re glad for it even) starts playing and you’re on your way back to terra firma.  Save yourself the agony (of the Nicholas Cage movie more so than the long flight back) and plan your arrival for sometime after dusk.  (Round here down by the equator that’s pretty much 6p.m. across the board).

            I’m not saying any of this to freak you out and it may seem contrary to any inclination of affection that I mentioned, but really it’s to do you and Southeast Asia a big favor, lest the two of you should get off on the wrong foot.  Arriving during the day is like a slap, a tickle, a reach around and then before you know it, you’re all squealy on the Sealy before you’ve even exchanged names.  Arrive at night, have a nice long shower, get all did up, let her buy you dinner, get to know each other a bit, get in bed and talk gently and sweetly to each other, start to reveal your secrets to each other, start to build some trust, and then maybe after a little heavy petting – possibly some dry humping if you’re comfortable with that - just spoon each other and drift to sleep with satisfaction in your smile and possibility bursting your heart.  In the morning, wake up refreshed and new, fill your belly with the magnificent fruits of your new love (I meant papaya you perves!), and get to wooing your girl!!!                      

     

            Wow – that was a freakin tangent!!!  I don’t even know how to BEGIN to segue that back into what I really wanted to talk about… I guess I’ll just keep bobbing and weaving and keep you guessing…

            I guess my point is that there are two types of people who travel this way – those who look at Southeast Asia like a phone sex operator – you have no idea who or what is on the other end of the line but you hope to God it’s everything you imagine, dream of, hope for (those are usually the people who are hugely disappointed by this part of the world) and then there are those people who are like teenagers full of longing and loving angst whose hope and fantasies are still possible realities instead of improbable dreams whose potential fruition have come and gone and are now bitter, silly squanderings of the mind.   And somewhere in the middle, is me.

            There are – in this world – the “haves” and the “have-nots” and nowhere is this more palpable than in Southeast Asia.  It is not exclusive just to the Philippines, it’s everywhere, I just use this place as a jumping off point because it is where we started and where I was reminded so vividly of this distinction between what my life is now as compared to what it was a few weeks, months, years ago back home.  For – I imagine – most westerners, it would be horrifying to come here and see the conditions in which most of the people live here.  If we saw anything akin to what appears to be the most abject poverty as the majority of people live in here in the States or whatever western country we might hail from, there would be riots.  There would be protesters and angry letters to editors and congressman and bumper stickers and Bono and Jay-Z would throw a benefit concert for it in a heartbeat.  At first glance, we would be irate and unsettled and disgusted as our senses are assaulted by the sights and smells and sounds that are so uniquely Southeast Asia.

            But look closer dear reader.  This is not fantastical, lustful phone sex, nor is it impulsive, consuming love at first sight.  This is a blind date with a person you’d never in a million years think you would have anything to do with but it was just easier to go on the date and shut your friend up than keep politely insisting you’re not interested.  Be patient, let these places, tucked so far away in the world from us unfold and reveal their true beauty.

            When I was an angry, ungrateful teenager living in Indonesia who knew nothing about myself or life or where it might take me and there was nothing I loved more than indulging in my own melancholy, I remember sitting in my big, air conditioned car, being chauffeured by my driver to my fancy private school or the American Club, or The Hilton Pool, or some such place, I remember sitting at a stoplight.  I remember soak and sulking in my own teenage misery.  I remember being by a kampung (the clusters of shabby shacks that the middle class Indonesians lived in) which was located by one of the many canals that ran throughout the city.  At one point there were women washing clothes in the canal, a few yards down kids were playing it and a few yards beyond that, someone was pissing in it.  At the kampung there was a group of people – mothers, fathers, kids, grandparents, neighbors – all congregated outside someone’s shack, all talking, all laughing, all smiling the biggest, most genuine smiles.  I sat there in my big car and watched them and thought, “They look like what I’m supposed to feel like.”  My insides matched their surroundings and vice versa.  That’s what being in the Philippines was like.

            I mean that it was like that in the sense that I was reminded so strongly of that feeling, that what is the norm for them would seem dismal and unbearable to us.  But being a more mature woman I was able to see a step beyond what I recognized as a teenager and couldn’t make sense of really so it just made me more frustrated and turned off by the world around me.  What I saw was this, that these people who live in conditions and circumstances that we westerners would and do balk at and admonish, have their basic needs met.  They have clothes on their back, a roof over their head, and food in their stomachs.  Sometimes it’s a little less than that and rarely is it much more, but when all is said and done, their basic needs are met and for the rest, they make do.  No frills, not many luxuries, but they are grateful for what they have and the one thing that there seems to have always been present in abundance throughout our travels in the Philippines was pure, genuine, heartfelt joy.  They’re just fucking happy!

            So it was fitting that all of this came right up in my face, considering my mental state at the beginning of our trip.  The entire time we were in the Philippines I was questioning my happiness and what that meant and wondering what the hell we’re doing and what do I want and what do I need to fulfill that want.  The entire time I’ve been hemming and hawing over what I have and what I don’t have when all around me, right in front of my face were all these people…aaaaahhhhh fuck!  I totally lost my train of thought – oh well.

            Anyhoo – on the exciting van ride from El Nido to Puerta Princessa we started talking to the two Filipina girls that we were sharing a shoe box’s worth of space with in the trunk of the van.  One (Rawna) was a news reporter for a Filipino TV station and the other (Kath) was attending university in Australia and was just back for a visit.  We started talking about all sorts of things including our travels and Kath told us how all of her Australian mates were always asking her about the Philippines and that she really enjoyed being able to tell them about her home.  I asked her what one thing she’d like people to know about her country.  She just said that she’d like people to know that Filipinos are very happy people.  And I told her that I’d noticed that pretty much everywhere I went there was usually a Filipino walking down the road or working in a market or standing at a security check point in their guard uniform, observing people as they passed through the metal detectors and they’d be singing.  Just out of the blue, no music around anywhere and they’d be smiling and singing.  I asked the girls why Filipinos were always singing and they just smiled and laughed and said they thought it was just because they’re happy people and that back in the day – and still in some of the tinier villages – that there wasn’t a whole lot of forms of entertainment so, they sang.

            

          This part of our conversation – I would like to emphasize – preceded a discussion we’d had about the recent massacre in the southern part of the country right around Christmas.  It happened to be where the girls had grown up and Kath’s cousin was an innocent victim killed on his way to work.  Brian and I had also been kind of griping that we thought it completely unfair that Americans are very rarely afforded the opportunity to work in other countries in any sort of middle of the road capacity – you pretty much either have to be sponsored by a huge corporation, start your own business, be a teacher, or do some sort of volunteer work.  (I know, self-entitled, whiny Americans.)  Kath – in a very sweet and optimistic, look on the bright side kind of way quickly pointed out that though that may be the case, at least as Americans, we are free to go pretty much anywhere in the world we want without having to jump through lots of hoops like people of many other nationalities in the world.  I wanted to illustrate this point for you because it was all spoken so casually and lightheartedly and the girls then continued – without a single shred of malice – to talk about what happy people they and their fellow countrymen and women are.  That despite political massacres occurring in their backyard and not being easily accepted in many parts of the world, life is good and there’s always a silver lining.  Their basic needs are met, so why despair?

          

         Point is, dear reader, that – all things considered – between my experience in Indonesia and our stay in the Philippines, my ideas of “haves” and “have-nots” is being turned on it’s ass.  Up is down, black is white, have is have-not – which is really what the point of this trip has been for Brian and I anyway.  But it’s a long, painful road from here to there.  They say when one door closes, another one opens but the hallway is a bitch.  If I can explain at all what I’ve been going trough thus far on the trip, it’s that I’m in the hallway.  I don’t know if it’s because of what I’ve been through the past year or if this is indeed the road I’ve always been heading down but I’ve begun to question why it is exactly I want the things that I want.  Is it because I truly want them, or is it because I’ve been taught to want them?  And how do you know which is true?  And how do you let go of the beliefs that have been so strongly bred in you, defined you, been a part of you, when they no longer serve you and start to go against what is in you at the core?

            

           The Philippines has shown me, has reminded me that we are taught to want and with want, with desire, comes expectation and inevitable, with expectation comes disappointment and almost always ensures failure.  These people want nothing; expect nothing, and for that, they seem to have everything – everything that matters anyway.  Southeast Asia is very much like falling love – you’re either running from it or running to it.  You’re either trying to hide or be found.  You’re either trying to escape the most loathsome parts of yourself or bring forth the very best in you.  You are either consumed by ego or revel in abundant selflessness.  You are either holding on for dear life or letting go with joyful surrender.  Somewhere in the middle of all that, standing in the hallway, being pulled by each side, I’m waiting…

xoxoM

Song for going to Bagkok:

Jump Rope by Blue October

The First Adventure...

In Search of the Rattail

We finally arrived in Manila after a slight delay leaving Los Angeles. Andy met Mavis, Summer, Mitra and me at the airport and we headed to get some lunch at Greenbelt, which is a gigantic mall in Manila. We had a few beers and a little food and got caught up. After we were sufficiently refueled and getting a second wind that we all needed we set off for the hotel we would be staying at in Manila. They were kind enough to let us store our packs so that we could just take daypacks with us to the rice terraces in Banaue.

Once that was situated and we had our reservations for an overnight bus we went to dinner and finally got to meet Peewee (who Andy was a week away from marrying)! We had a great dinner with Chicken Adobo, garlic rice and of course a few San Miguel beers. It definitely helped having the local with us, as she was able to order for everyone and pick some great things off the menu. When dinner was finished it was time to head over to the bus station for our first overnight bus experience in Asia.

Now the buses in the Philippines are not the most modern but they are heavily used. Almost as soon as we got to the bus station we all started to question our decision to take the Autobus line over the Florida line. The bus was pretty decrepit, had cracked window and didn’t really look to safe. However, the real adventure was about to begin once we boarded the bus for our 8-hour ride. This bus had the typical two seats on the left and two on the right…the bonus was the fifth seat, which folded out into the aisle so we had to climb over people to get to our reserved seats in the last row of the bus. The last row was raised up a step or two above the other seats and I sat next to the window which was about waist high and cracked and spidered. Normally that might not be the worst thing but since the bus went through the mountains every time the bus went around a turn I leaned into the window and thought I was going to crash through it and land on the road. Needless to say there was very little sleep happening on the bus ride and led to a pretty harrowing experience since we were all still jet lagged. It was a quick introduction to Filipino driving as they pass going uphill around a blind curve in the dark into oncoming traffic. It made for a long and restless night to say the least.

We did make it to Banaue at about 7am and took a Jeepney into town to get our hotel squared away and setup our hikes through the rice terraces with a guide. We set up two hikes to do while in Banaue. The first we did at 11am the first day, which was a hike to the hot springs in Hapao. This hike is one of the easier in the area and we were able to ease into the hiking since we all were still jetlagged and didn’t really know what day it was or where we were. Our driver and guide picked us up and we started the bone-jarring ride up to Hapao to start the hike. The guide for our hikes was a local named John John. We were all very intrigued by John John from the get go as he had a well kept and braided rat tail that ran down the middle of his back. I tend to believe that the rattail is a status symbol up in the rice terraces as I hadn’t seen that many of them since the mid 80’s. As for the hike at Hapao these are some of the older rice terraces and it’s pretty amazing to see what they were able to build 2000 years ago and carve into the hillsides. The rice terraces are complete with a full irrigation system using fresh water from the river. John John was filling us in on some of the information about how the terraces work. First off all of the rice is for personal consumption and a small terrace maybe 10’x10’ will feed a family of four for two months. Also, the terraces are passed down through the families and unfortunately for Mavis he can’t buy himself a rice terrace. The walk itself was pretty easy but you had to pay attention the entire time, as the walkways are very narrow as I was soon to find out. We all got to the hot springs without any problems but this hot spring was more of a bacteria infested cesspool. Just beyond the hot springs are some freshwater pools created by the river that the locals use to bathe which we used to cool off before heading back. One of the things the four of us had been discussing was falling into the rice terraces. All of the terraces are filled with a few inches of water and there is thick mud underneath the water and it did not look like anything you wanted to fall into. So on the walk back I am following John John and I step on a rock and it wobbles to the right and left and while trying to catch my balance my left foot goes right into the thick nasty mud. Everyone got a good laugh and I was able to wash my shoe off in the irrigation system but I had to complete the hike with a soaking wet foot and a bruised ego. We finished the hike and made our way back to the town for an early dinner and all four of us were asleep by 6:30 that evening and got about 12 hours of sleep to get over the jetlag and be ready for the tough hike the next day.

The next morning we left at 8am for the Batad Rice Terraces. Now you might assume that all rice terraces are created equal but Batad is a big amphitheatre built into the hillside and the views are spectacular. This was definitely the tougher of the two hikes and it was not made any easier by the rain that greeted us in the morning. Again we had to take the Jeepney up to the Saddle to start our hike. We were all advised to get walking sticks, as the trail was wet and “slippy”. So 20 pesos later we each had our own walking sticks and set off on the 45-minute hike to the start of the real trail. As we started I knew that John John was right and it was going to be a more difficult hike than the previous day. We had to hike down into the amphitheatre and it was pretty steep at times but they also did not build the steps for Americans with size 11 feet. Mavis and I had to spend most of the day going down sideways so as not to tumble down the terraces. Some of the views through the valley were amazing on this hike and as the rain stopped and the fog began to lift you could really see the beauty of what had been built. The goal of this hike was to make it to the Batad waterfall and back. After a long and arduous climb down into one of the valleys we finally make it to a stunning waterfall where we relaxed while preparing ourselves mentally to make the climb back up to the viewpoint and out. The hike out was much quicker but all of us were pouring sweat, as it was all stairs. I should have counted how many but I really had to concentrate on each step. We all made it out unscathed and had a nice cold San Mig awaiting us with our lunch and a coffee for Mitra.

The last day in Banaue we decided not to hike but to just hang around town look for some souvenirs and relax. We did to up to the Banaue overlook and took some pictures looking down into the valley and the town. Personally I was also preparing myself for the bus ride back to Manila. We decided to back on the Florida bus instead of the Autobus. This was definitely the nicer looking of the two buses but there was one major flaw that we didn’t know about…it was ice cold and they wouldn’t change the temperature onboard. Looking around the bus was quite comical as people were wearing every piece of clothing they had in their bags to try and keep warm. Mitra had on jeans a fleece her rain jacket and my rain jacket was wrapped around her legs and she was still freezing cold. Needless to say it was a long and cold ride back to Manila. We did manage to survive and made it back to Ascott Makati around 7am and were able to check in and get our first hot showers in five days.

The view from Banaue overlook

The rice terraces were an amazing experience and we were there as they start the planting so our pictures are very different from what one would see when they are in full bloom or being picked. It was definitely worth the trip but just know that the bus ride is not an easy one but the payoff is grand.

Brian

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Are We There Yet?

Theme song for this post:

Animal by Miike Snow

So before we get down and dirty on this adventure, you should know that Brian is a planner, I am not. It’s not so much that I’m not a planner, I’m just not much of a thinker-througher. For those of you who were privy to any of my earlier trips you know that if it were up to me on this trip, I’d have a backpack full of nothing but high-heeled shoes, bikinis, cigarettes and underwear. It simply would not occur to me to pack things like rain gear, head lamps, or aloe. That’s all Brian and that’s why I keep him around. Well that and the fact that I ran out of space in my backpack so he’s carrying my make-up – which is always a mistake to bring because I get so dark that I never have the right shades and aloe is always a mistake not to bring because I take for granted the fact that I’m usually only degrees away from the equator and usually burn before I tan. This fact may have no relevance at this time, but just for future reference, I thought you should know. And with that, let’s begin. Okey-dokey, here we go…

I have to admit that at first I was a bit nervous meeting Mavis and Summer. Of course Mavis (Matt) and Brian have been friends since their Gamecock days (insert lewd jokes here), but it was the first time for Brian meeting Summer and my first time meeting them both. What with still having that hope for approval from the people that mean the most to your significant other and my lack of socialization in the past year due to being sick, I was a little intimidated. But we quickly bonded over our mutual passion-slash-mortification of The Jersey Shore - even giving each other Filipino Shore names for the trip – and when my internal monologue failed to do it’s job and I let slip a crack (no pun intended) about anal bleaching and when me and Summer discovered we were both Libras and decidedly fabulous and when Mavis and Brian discovered we were both Libras and therefore decidedly handfuls, we became fast friends.

So Brian, Summer, Matt and I get on the plane in LAX. We were suppose to take off at 12:05a.m. on January first but someone decided to get off the plane and were delayed an hour. Finally we started to taxi and I popped half a Xanax and would be blissfully asleep and drooling for the next 8 hours with my Carpel Tunnel wrist guards on both hands – or so I thought. Apparently when the food service came around I managed to get my tray table down and ask for the pasta dinner. They were out of pasta so I somewhat coherently asked for the beef and then proceeded to eat the entire meal in my sleep – though I got more of it on myself than in my mouth.

When we arrived in Hong Kong for our layover after 15 hours of flying, we learned that Summer and Matt had had a more eventful flight. Sitting next to them was a young man who I had seen pacing up and down by the gate in LAX talking to himself. He informed Summer at some point in the flight that he had Tourettes and eventually revealed he had 3 personalities – a Brit, an American, and a Gihad terrorist. Fourtunately, Summer never saw him trying to light his crotch on fire, but she had decided to pull her blanket over her head and hoped to not be woken by the smell of burning sneakers.

We got to Hong Kong and had enough time for everyone to brush their teeth and get coffee – except me. I smoked one and a half cigarettes (priorities) and then we got on the plane and about two hours later were landing in Manila. Andy met us all at the airport and we jumped in a car, off to Makati – the ritzy part of Manila where almost everyone was staying for the wedding. We had a nice Filipino lunch in the mall at a place called The Good Earth located next to Bubba Gump’s. With the jet-lag, the lack of sleep and the heat it was hard to tell if we’d even left America – except that I could smoke just about everywhere.

We went back to The Ascott – the hotel where we would be staying for the wedding – and we dropped off our big luggage and downsized for our three day excursion up to Banaue. Now when you’re just arriving in a third world, tropical country and haven’t really had time to orient yourself to the climate and weather and had been in three feet of snow in the Colorado mountains only days before and landing in the smog drenched city of Manila and heading to the rice terraces of said third world country and have only slept about 10 hours of the last 36 and you want to know what essentials to pack for the next three days and you’re a girl who can rough it to a point, don’t ask the guy who was in the Peace Corps for 3 years who lives in board shorts and who’s nickname in college was “Dirty” what you should bring to wear. Use caution – bring EVERYTHING!!!! Andy had been up in Banaue (Bah-now-eh) days prior to this and said he just wore shorts and a light, long-sleeved shirt at night and that it had rained when he was there so somehow miraculously, it should be clear for our trip.

With the meagerest of necessities (I left my make-up in Manila), the original Filipino shore four - after dinner with Pee-Wee and Andy – headed to the bus station to catch our transport to the north. (At least I think it was north. From here on please refer to Brian’s posts for accuracy of location, prices, exchange rates, and names of people, places, and things…and days of the week.) The four of us got four out of the five seats in the very back with Brian against one window that looked like it’d been through Kuwait and back, the girls were in the middle and Mavis got stuck on the other end with a local sitting next to him who immediately took off his shoes and rested them up in Mavis’s face. It would actually take at least three more paragraphs to capture the tragic comedy that was our bus, so I’ll spare you except to say that out of the four of us, I found it the least god-awful since I opted for a whole Xanax as the bus left for the station, through on my wrist guards and my IPod and was drooling on Summer and Brian’s shoulders for almost the entire ride.

We arrived in Banaue around 7am and got to a hostel. While they were making up our rooms, we decided to check out the town (which was about a New York city block long) and look into some hiking tours. We went to the tourist information center right in the middle of town and they were very helpful and we made our plan of attack – three day trips to different terraces, varying in length of hike. On very little sleep, a whole lot of traveling, and no showers for three days we decided there was no time like the present so we decided to start that day. We went and had breakfast, went back to our hostel to get our packs for the hike and then hopped in a Jeepny for an hour and a half ride up to wherever we went that day. All I know is that when they were telling us about this hike at the tourist center they mentioned hot springs being at the end of the hike and I was imaging something like Pagosa Hot Springs near where I lived in Colorado and imagined a soothing spa experience to restore our travel-weary bones. Ha!

We get in the Jeepney which is common transportation in the Philippines – a Jeep Wrangler front with basically a long, covered truck bed in back. Very often on our rides, as the Jeepny was moving, people would jump on and climb up top for the ride or just hang on the back and then jump off. Mostly it was kids deftly hanging off the back. Brian would stick his hand through the window and give them candy (Summer and Mavis had brought a big bag of Jolly Ranchers and Starburst from the States as they had read handing out candy is a hit with the kids in the terraces and it was. But it was an even bigger hit with our tour guide, John John who only ever stopped chewing Beetle Nut – called Moma in Banaue – to eat a Starburst or two), the only thing the kids wanted from me – cigarettes. Yeah – I did it, I gave the kids cigarettes, I’m an enabler!!!

The Jeepny ride was about as comfortable and smooth as being hit in the back of the head with a metal baseball bat while riding a mechanical bull while navigating up and downhill around curves with 100 plus ft. drops. Man was I ready for those hot springs by the time we got out of the car and started our hike! And then the hike began…It was absolutely stunning and breath taking to see the rice terraces and think about what a spectacular creation the people of that land had – what I can only imagine to be painstakingly – carved out of the earth thousands of years ago. Even thinking of it now I’m amazed. And I won’t even do it the dishonor of trying to describe it, you just have to see it for yourself.

Mitra over the valley in Hapao

After a semi-treacherous hike, we made it to the hot springs. I like to keep myself open to new experiences (except for eating weird shit and many sexual fetishes) and try to appreciate how other people live, but there wasn’t a chance in hell I was getting in that spring. It was basically a community bath and surprisingly nothing like the springs back home. We hung out for a bit by the river and cooled off as much as we could before the hike back. On the way back to the Jeepny, Brian had a little miss-step and landed his foot right in a rice thingy and was basically soaked on his left leg in mud that smelled like poop. But that was far better than the alternative which would have been falling the other way and taking a 15 ft. header into rocks and mud. Other than that, the hike back was pretty uneventful and we got back in the Jeepney for the ride home.

We got back to town and were cold, famished and exhausted. I think that night we ate at Las Vegas – the only restaurant in town that offers late night dining staying open until 9 p.m. – went back to the hostel, took freezing cold showers, and were all passed out by about 6:30. We got up relatively early the next day and did it all again, this time to Batad and an amazing waterfall. This hike was pretty strenuous as the trail is frightening at best and we did it in the rain. Thankfully we hadn’t listened to Andy and had brought our rain gear. The terraces of Batad are just as impressive as all the rest but mostly what I remember the most of the next few days is how nuts my mind was and I just couldn’t turn it off.

It was great to have the girl time with Summer since I haven’t had a whole lot of it this past year with the exception of my mom and Janis, the all too few but precious and cherished phone calls with my dearest girlfriends, Tereza, NeNe and Jing, the phone calls when Jill would kick my ass – in the most loving way possible, the wonderful outings with Danielle and Cass, getting o spend time with Kristin and Amanda, and the torrid e-mail love affair with my long-lost childhood friend, Ellie – they saved me this year. And I expect that I won’t be having a lot of girl time in the months to come, so I really enjoyed connecting with Summer – she helped me out so much by us being able to share and get to know each other and be able to have someone to bitch about the cold, cold showers with. I mean the crazy didn’t fully subside (I know what a lot of you who know me are thinking!!!) but it was a little relieved.

On the third day Summer was coming down with a cold and we were all pretty ragged out so we decided to take it easy. The boys treated us girls to the $6 massages that were being advertised at our hostel. In the morning we got up and had breakfast and then the boys left to run errands in town and Summer and I waited somewhat skeptically as two Filipina ladies arrived at our hostel and came to our rooms. It was kind of a strange experience, almost like the start of some really bad and really twisted porn as I saw the horror on Summer’s face when she was being shuffled into her room and asked repeatedly if she wants wet massage. We had come up with “smooshing” as our safety word but thankfully neither of us needed it and the massages were fantastic and that woman bent and stretched my body into shapes I didn’t know the human body could make! (OK – that did sound a little pornish but that’s not what I meant perverts!)

View from Banaue Overlook

Girl time in Banaue

Before we headed out of town we went to the hotel we were originally meant to stay at and to be honest it looked like The Shining, Filipino style. We had a nice dinner though and were very optimistic as we had decided to return to Manila on a different bus line (Florida Bus) than the one we had taken up (Auto Bus). The Florida Bus was pink and looked clean and most of the windows seemed intact and it had a toilet – we were high rolling for only 50 cents more per ticket. We got on and though the bus was substantially nicer, the AC was set to some arctic level of coolness that made me want to pee on myself just to keep warm. And thanks to heeding Andy’s sage advice, none of us had anything warmer than our thin rain coats. It was nine hours of freezing hell. The only saving grace was that we were heading for Manila and four star accommodations…and hot showers!!!

So what I learned from this portion of our travels is this: layer, layer, layer!!! Just because you’re in the tropics, you’re not immune from hypothermia! If you’re relatively new to tropical travel, research – don’t take advice from a guy who got through college with only a handful of showers (seriously), no matter how much you love him! If you go to Banaue, don’t be afraid to eat at Sanafe restaurant – even if someone has left their underwear out to dry on one of the dining tables. You can be nuttier than squirrel shit even in paradise and Xanax may help you sleep but it does nothing for your sanity. But most importantly I’ve come to terms with the fact that after Manila, hot showers and high-heels will be a thing of the past for me and I’m wondering now – who will I be? Marinate on that! Until Manila…

xoxoM