After an eight hour bus ride, I arrived in the small town of Banaue in the Ifugao province in Northern Luzon of the Philippines. Basically, it’s just half an inch north of Manila on a map. This area is known for its delicate hand-carvings, remote tribal villages, and above all else, its majestic rice terraces- a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
Although it was early in the morning, I arrived at the Banaue View in, quickly freshened up and took my continental breakfast. Then, with no moments to spare, I hired a guide and we were off to explore these tributes to the town’s ancestors. My guide and I hopped onto a tricycle (a little carriage attached to the side of a motorcycle) and we went as far as the road could go. Eventually, the road came to an end and my guide informed me that the rest of the journey would have to be made on foot.
We took a shortcut over the first mountain and reached the summit within thirty minutes. Drenched in sweat, we took this respite in good measure to admire a most spectacular view. Imagine taking the green of Ireland and infusing it into the mountains of Machu Picchu- that might do some justice in depicting the image before us. The mountains looked like the wood carvings on sale in the town of Banaue, enough that one could be led to believe that even God is a woodcarver himself.
But with a full day of hiking ahead of us, the view was briefly enjoyed before we were back on the trail. On our way down the mountain, into the village of Batad, I learned quite a bit about the village and the region. One thing that was rather obvious was that this was a difficult climb and no roads connected the village of Batad to the rest of the world. In fact, I learned, in order for the villagers of Batad to reach Banaue, they have to trek on foot for about one to two hours until they reach the lone jeepney that shuttles back and forth between Banaue and some middle point along the road.
During the hike, we ran into men and boys carrying goods like sugar, beer, and other items down along the path. At one point, two young boys who had since joined us, my guide and I came across a red horse on the path. My guide and I passed by nonchalantly just as the horse let out an angry grunt. The two boys, in a display of panic, threw the beer onto the trail and ran away screaming. Noticing that my guide was laughing, I asked him what just happened. Apparently, the two boys were teasing that horse the other day and got it fiery mad. When it started kicking its hind legs, the boys knew they were no longer in favor with this temperamental steed. So now, even the smallest snort, like the one we witnessed that day, was enough to send these boys running for the hills, literally.
We arrived at Batad and saw what many people come here to see- the glorious amphitheater rice terraces. Built about 2,000 years ago, these structures are easily the oldest and most impressive structures if have ever witnessed. Held up with stone, they house hundreds of individual rice terraces still cultivated and harvested today. The engineering marvel that is the rice terraces is obvious upon first glance. No matter what pre-conceived idea you have of them, I guarantee, they do not disappoint.
We hiked down a number of steps through the ancient village of Batad. Most people still lived in traditional houses with grass roofs and Tiki-style huts designed to house both people and rice. We passed by children on their way to school, old women harvesting the crops, young boys pounding and preparing the rice, and , of course, the countless numbers of obligatory clucking and screaming roosters and chickens.
Upon reaching the other side of the village, we descended into a gulley where a river had carved a deep and powerful gorge. A few hundred meters down and we were face to face with Tappia Waterfall- a magnificent fall that descends into a crystal pool fit for a swim. After such a long and arduous hike, this swim a refreshing addition to an otherwise relentlessly steamy afternoon.
However, the pain of the hike had not reached its climax because instead of climbing up to reach our destinations the entire time, we were descending into the village and waterfall. With the sites behind us, we then had to climb back up under the heat of the baking Asian sun. And I hate to report, but the Philippines is no different from Taiwan in their trail construction as they, too, just build stairs straight up instead of pursuing a zig-zagging pattern along the mountainside. Honestly, I am a bit surprised the heart-attack rate is not higher in Asia.
We returned back to Banaue, utterly exhausted, ate dinner, and ordered cheap foot massages at 300 pesos a piece- a very good investment after an arduous day of hiking and climbing. It also prepared me for a second day of equally exhausting and energy consuming trekking around the terraces of Banaue the following morning.
I arose early in the morning for my breakfast again and met my same tour guide for another glorious “stroll”. We took a tricycle up to what’s called “The Viewpoint” for it’s commanding views of the rice terraces. The view is so beautiful that the Filipino Government even decided to put its image on the 1,000 pesos bill. We began our trek up and down the terraces, sometimes even over very narrow ledges. Now, for someone who is prone to accidents while hiking, I am happing to tell you I fell off the terrace ledges into the rice paddies only twice. Wet, and a little scraped and bruised, I avoided major injuries each time.
But while in these rice terraces, we were given our first treat by a small patch of women working in the fields. Since they were right up close to us, and were not there for show, I asked if I could take their photograph. They agreed, I took a couple of shots, admired how they cultivated the rice, and said, “munhana” or “thank you”. To harvest the rice, they pull of one strand of rice at a time ann hold it in their hands. Eventually, the strands build up until a bundle, too large for their hands, is formed. That bundle is then tied together, placed on the pathway, and they continue to harvest more rice. I could have stayed there all day to watch these farmers work, but alas, we still had a ways to cover.
Climbing both terraces and mountain ledges, we traversed over this exhausting terrain. As we descended into another village called Bocos, we noticed two men carrying a boar up the trail, tied by its feet on a long wooden pole. I was very surprised to discover that, as they passed us, the boar snorted at me indicating it was still alive. And thus, being no more than twenty meters outside the village when the two men arrived, we certainly heared the boar let out a deafening scream as the village people slaughtered it. The noise an animal makes as it faces death is a sound that will stay with you for the rest of your life.
Lunch time! After lunch, I said goodbye to my tour guide in Banaue and opted to explore a bit on my own. I traversed this path to another village called Tam-an where I was invited in by a local family into their house. We began talking, and I discovered that this town has a special burial ritual unique only to them. When their ancestors die, they take them up to the mountain and bury them. The body lies there for two years before the skeletal remains are exhumed and brought back to the village where they are celebrated and wrapped in a ceremonial cloth. This family extended the honor of taking out their ancestral bones and showing them to me. The body they took out was that of their Great-Grandfather who died in 1945 during the Japanese occupation of the Philippines. Wrapped in the ancestral cloth, the bones were remarkable well kept.
The father of this particular family is a well-known woodcarver. Perusing some of his work, I picked up a special little item for a very close member of my family. I hope she knows just what lengths I went through to pick this up for her. After thanking the family and paying them for the priceless item I was now carrying with me, I continued on to explore the rice terraces on my own, being sure to watch out for snakes and water buffalo. I passed by several people hiking the trail between Tam-an and Poitan, two remote villages, and I always made sure I was heading the right way.
I returned back to the town of Banaue and had a little bit more time to kill. I got some limited work down at a make-shift internet cafe, had a great dinner and chat with this woman who owns a restaurant called "Las Vegas Cafe" and got front row seats to Banaue's edition of Street Olympics.
Eventually, I arrived in Poitan, which is noted for the huts built on top of a rock cliff. It was done so to protect its villagers from warring neighbors (such as those from Batad or Tam-an) in years gone by. Today, the villages a very peaceful and the only warring is done over tourism business.
The beauty of the Rice Terraces is in the landscape itself, but you can’t help but admire their age as well. Massive terraces built right into the sides of mountains over 2,000 years ago is one thing, but to see them still maintained and harvested today is another. However, their majesty is threatened as more farmers turn to the more lucrative and less backbreaking work of tourism. While the funds from UNESCO certainly help what is understandably called the eight wonder of the world, I can’t predict what will become of them in the future. That’s why I say, take the word of a man who has traveled around the world, that these rice terraces is one thing you don’t want to miss.
From your rice trekking, terrace eating, no wait, strike that, reverse it, adventurer of the Ifugao Province in the Philippines, Michael.
Taipei lives in a fishbowl; a valley surr- ounded by marauding mountain-scapes. This poses a difficult orientation dillema: to venture north on Yangmingshan's classic path or explore the dying adventurelands of Taipei's fading south? Each direction proffers unique snipits of Taipei lifestyle and stunning scenery, making, of course, either decision a good one. This entry into Taiwanablog will reveal some hidden and delightful scense from the Rose Compass Class Struggle- a presentation of both up and down.
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