Learning to Stand

 From early on in the conception of this trip we discussed getting to the beach for some dedicated time in the waves. Despite my aquatic upbringing I had never had the opportunity to spend a few solid days learning to surf. Boogie boarding? Body surfing? Skim boarding? Sure, those were all worthy endeavors of propulsion in the di-hydrogen monoxide medium. But they all seemed to be incomplete allusions to their more holistic forbearer. To glide your way into the swell, to match speeds with and be carried by it, to stand, able to see it curving its way to impossible shapes, falling in froth at your heels, to surge ahead towards shore, is an experience that one can't easily forget. And for me it happened first at Liwa-Liwa in Zambales.

I'd had a few brief encounters with the sport previously. A trip to Jones Beach here, a weekend in Rhode Island there, some beach break in San Fran. All had been forays into the unknown under mediocre circumstances. When spirits were high, but conditions were less than enticing. I have only stinted memories of donning heavy wetsuits on the cold New York coast, with hoods, mitts, and boots, fighting heavy walls of water, fighting the cold. To garner any enjoyment in such an atmosphere, one must believe the thrill of the ride can be relinquished from the difficult undertaking. But admittedly, it did not take more than a few mouthfuls of the gelid brine before I conceded to the ferocity of the liquid oscillations.

But this time, here, in the Philippines, would be different. With Professor Pips at the head of the class, Maggie and I took notes in the sand as he explained the concepts behind fighting our way through the break. It wouldn't be easy, with waves crashing in our faces over and over again as we would time our efforts to get past the shore break.

But after a few sobering moments of intensity, we found ourselves more or less comfortably handling our long boards and clawing our way into our first waves. On the first nice curve to come my way, I paddled in, stood up, and took a ride. Hooked.

 The next day, Pips' cousin Mara and her boyfriend Martin (both of whom who we'd met earlier in Manila) came out for the surf.

Mojo, seemingly named after the overwhelming desire he has for the lady-canines, only seemed to calm down when by the waves. Watching Mara catch waves, the chocolate lab would sit patiently on the beach, as if he was mentally preparing himself. Then, once Mara had her share of rides, she'd come in, grab the dog, put him on the board and paddle him out. Mojo seemed right at home as she pushed him into a wave. Surfing on all fours, it was quickly apparent he was one of the real pros at Liwa-Liwa.

 Throughout the few days at the beach, the waves were consistently large. There seemed to be no end to the crashing sets, and as we would drift to sleep each night aided by Tanduay rum and settling down after some intense card games, we'd find our rhythm amongst the sounds of the surf. After a morning session, we'd come in for some food at the small thatched roof restaurant. Bagnet, accompanied by choco-banana shakes spiked with Tanduay, seemed to be our snacks of choice. Bagnet is what Maggie was calling "bacon on steroids", which is to say it was the most incredible fried chunks of pork meat and fat. The fried meat was crispy and delicious, and the fat had turned into almost a light bubbly crispified pork rind. A trip to Zambales could probably be justified even if the waves were not hitting- if only for Atta Phoebe's bagnet.

And then it was back out into the waves. Back to shore once hunger struck again. Then back out for a few more rides, and so on. The pattern was only interrupted by sunrises and sunsets.

So went our time at Liwa-Liwa, a magic spot tucked into the Zambales coastline.

Photos from Northern Luzon

Weeks later, here are a few photos from Northern Luzon:

Mountains of Rice, Caves of the Dead

After returning from Matabungkay, Maggie and I decided it was time to pick up the pace a bit. While it was nice to hang out, taking it easy and whatnot, we were feeling the symptoms of simplicity. Restlessness, sleeplessness, and a general desire to run around like palm civet cats (I saw one of these climb a tree in Mata).

In order to quench our desires, we spent our day in Manila prepping for the next leg of the journey, our trip to the North.

We hopped on an overnight bus around 8pm in Manila, settled into some funky upholstery and tossed and turned our way for 9 hours. As the bus creeped to a stop in the earliest light of the morning, we were called to hop off. Everyone else stared over their seats at us as we made our way up from the back of the bus. Apparently no one else was getting off here. Were we in the right place? Interesting, I thought as we slid by the weary faces of the other passengers.

Stepping onto the road, the bus grumbled up and away along the winding road leading along the mountainside, leaving us in a moment of silence too eerie to last.

As the premonition was forming itself, and as can be predicted, we realized the sliding shadows around us were drawing closer. Stepping into the light from the solitary streetlamp of the bus stop, touts began yelling their offers at us. "Need a ride Sir? Mam?" "Reservations Sir?" "Mam, you have hotel?". Offers that might seem helpful, were nothing but dissonance at that hour. Their incessant repetition most unwelcome to my tired and aching self. What we needed what nothing. We needed space and time to figure out a gameplan. We needed a place to sit down, to think, maybe eat. Then we needed to open our guidebook, figure out what the hell we were in Banaue for, and make decisions for the next few days from there.

Avoiding eye contact and offers we found the only open establishment, a bakery. With a couple of pastries and snacks, most costing around 5-10 pesos ($.10-.20).

Wow, this post is getting long, I'll speed things up a bit.

After a breakfast on a terrace overlooking the rice terraces and valleys of Banaue, we decided to start hiking up the road in search of some vistas. We found a few overlooks which gave us a chance to take in the awesomeness of the valleys we were in. Mountains stretched towards the horizon, with deep valleys between. The slopes of the mountains, carved into some of the world's most impressive rice-terraces, form patterns of parallel lines which wind their way into the distance. It seems that nature has been adapted to the needs of people in a way that does not detract from its beauty.

We took a jeepney from there to Bontoc, then transferred to another jeepney to Sagada, where we'd spend the next few days.

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Upon reaching Sagade, we were immediately struck with something. It happened as soon as we got there. What was different here? Yes it's beautiful. But so was everywhere we'd been basically. Then it hit us. No one in Sagada was trying to offer us anything. No offers for rides, for hotels, for souvenirs. We were being left alone, and as we both realized this, we mutually decided this town was really f-ing cool.

Sagada sits high in the mountains. The town is surrounded by terraces which provide for ample gardening and farming space, agriculture being the primary industry.. There are fresh vegetables everywhere. The food here was great, cheap and most importantly fresh.

The town is surrounded by limestone cliffs, which also form all sorts of weird craggy spires in random places. Some are large, the size of a house, and others are small. People have built homes inbetween them, on top of them, or using them as supporting pillars. It's like the people have really made the mountains part of their homes.

There are wild sunflowers everywhere here. They line the sides of the roads, and fill the occasional void in the terraced landscapes. Bursts of yellow dot the varied spectrum of greens.

In the next few days here we took part in the outdoor activities the town offers. We spent two days hiking in the local caves. Lit by kerosene lantern and headlamps, we followed our guides in the the belly of the mountains. Down past large caverns that screamed with the cries of their bat inhabitants, we descended over slippery rocks, guano and mud until reaching the underground river.

The cold water running through the mountain has been depositing calcite and minerals since it began etching its snakelike path. The rock has a rough texture to it, which your feet seem to stick to. Removing our shoes, our guide took us on a 2 hour romp in this underground wonderwold. Squeezing through crevices, climbing up walls with ropes, and walked through chest deep water (bags held aloft), we were like kids in a candyshop. Couldn't believe this existed. It was like a water park, climbing gym, and ghost house, all rolled into one. We had so much fun, we decided to do a longer caving hike a few days later.

Sagada's intrigue also lies above ground. Specifically, on the cliff faces. Well, hanging from them anyways.

The people of this area traditionally bury their dead in hanging coffins, which are coffins that are bolted and suspended from the side of the cliffs. They believe that by keeping them above ground, the spirits of the deceased are able to be free, to move upwards and onwards. In Echo Valley, you can hike down close to one patch of these coffins, suspended overhead. While the coffins are mostly out of view from the main area of town, the entire town seems to take on an eerie vibe. At the mouths of one of the caves we hiked into, stacks of coffins line the walls as well. Passing by these gives one an intense moment of reflection on life and death, just before entering a deep blackness. Not for the feint of heart (or spirit) I should say.

On another day in Sagada, we hiked to the next town, Bangaan, 4km away. We hired a guide who took us through the rice terraces, weaving a trail down to the bottom of the valley where we swam in a waterfall.

It seems there is no shortage of beauty or magic in the North. We loved Sagada, and were sad as our time there came to a close. But our next stop would be the coast and the surf, so we looked downhill and started rolling...

R&R&R&R

OK, thanks for that report from the field Maggie. I'm feeling less pouty and exhausted so I'll take it from here.

We spent a few days in Aninuan, which sort of felt like a few too many. While exceptionally beautiful and calm, it induced too much lethargy for my taste. It was sort of a continuous drawl of eating, reading, and laying in the sun. The only real punctuation seemed to be a hike to the native Mangyan villages in the mountains where we had some nice vistas of the mountains running down to the ocean, and a swim in the pool below a small waterfall.

Up in the mountain villages, there are no roads, and the only way to get around is by small footpaths. I can't help but wonder what would happen in case of an emergency up here, with no vehicles able to access the remote abodes.

In places as removed as this I think of the message runners in ancient Greece, who would run urgent news from town to town on foot, the fastest way to spread the word. Yet today, from many of these huts the chime of a cellphone can be heard. I can hear the ancients wailing. Who needs Facebook when you've got feet? Facebook is for the lazy! How about a running a marathon every time you wanted to "like" someones status?

In the rising tide of modernity, it seems like little has escaped submersion.

However, as we continued upwards, we came to a place that seemed different. No motorbikes could reach up here. Homes were built entirely from gathered materials, thatched roof and bamboo walled abodes.We hiked amongst the sparse homes in the mountains, now and then we'd see one of the Mangyan people. Shoeless, machete-wielding and with weathered faces, they looked at us with a distance in their eyes. It seemed to me we walked in from another world, one they did not care to see. Who were these lowlanders, and for what reason did they walk up into our place of solitude?

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From Aninuan, we took a ferry back to Batangas port which is back on Luzon. After killing some time, (and a chewy purple Ube pastry) we got scooped up by Pips and AB. Here, weeks later than planned, we had finally linked up as the P.A.R.T.Y. group.

After a few days of R&R we headed to Pips' family beach home for some....R&R.

We spent the next 4 days at the house in Matabungkay, including our Thanksgiving. Filling our days with snorkeling, our afternoons cooking, and our evenings building bonfires and playing Hearts (the most frustrating card game imaginable to play as a beginner), we settled into a quiet and simple existence on the shores of the South China Sea.

Thanksgiving dinner consisted of a fish we bought in the market which we stuffed with ginger, garlic, and Kalamansi (small limes native to the Philippines), then roasted over the coals of the bonfire. It was nice to twist the traditions of the holiday a bit, while preserving the most important: the sharing of a meal with friends.

One afternoon, while Pips and AB were busy elsewhere, I taught Maggie a bit about animation as we drew a little sequence in the sand. Once I compile the images into a video I'll try to upload it. As per usual with images/video, stay tuned.

Other things to note: we went night snorkeling and were surrounded by bioluminescent organisms, leaving starlike streaks of light in the water as we moved through it (think Avatar), and while snorkeling one day we saw a rather large sea snake swimming along the bottom, then stretching straight up to surface for a quick breather before descending.

White Beach or Jersey Shore...

Good evening, Comrades. It is I, Maggie. I've staged a coup on the blog. Ian is sitting across the table from me pouting and eating Fita biscuits which are basically sweetened Ritz crackers. He just got through loading thousands of images from the past three weeks and is exhausted from the effort so I've taken over for the time being.

We're in Manila now in between jaunts all over the island of Luzon. We got in last night from a trip north into the Cordillera Mountains and then down to the west coast for some surfing with Pips and friends in Zambales. More about that in a later post. For now, come with me friends back to the isle of Mindoro on a journey to a magical place of Jager bombs, Rihanna remixes and all the Tom Jones videoke you can handle. Come with me back to White Beach....

We caught the local jeepney from Sabang back to Puerta Vallera and then we took a tricycle ride on to White Beach. We got into town after dark and were dropped along the main road set back about 200 yards from the beach. Immediately we were swarmed by touts trying to get us to come back to their guest house, offering boat rides, tricycle rides, snorkeling, jungle trekking, anything and everything for a negotiable price. With no sense of what White Beach had to offer, we agreed to stay one night in a dingy room set back from the beach while we got our bearings.

After settling into our room, Ian and I meandered out to the shoreline on a hunt for dinner. It was soon apparent there were others hunting for our business. As we walked along the boardwalk women and men dressed as women shoved menus in our faces trying to ply us with offers of good deals and good times.

"Mom, want dinner?" They'd ask me. "Wanna get drunnnnnnkkk?" The lady boys would ask my boyfriend.

Each place was blasting what sounded like the same Jersey Shore-style dance mix of Rihanna/Black Eyed Peas/Gaga on repeat. Young Filipinos were playing volleyball in the shadows, and several men were sitting in the sand swinging pulsating laser lights. Little boys with big puppy dog eyes skirted our table singing Christmas carols with the hopes of making a few pesos. It reminded me of the Thai Islands, though maybe with fewer tourists and more locals down from Manila to party.


We quickly tired of White Beach and headed down the shoreline to a quieter stretch of sand called Aninuan Beach. We splurged and got a room from 2,000 pesos a night (about $42) for a room with a view of the sea at a honeymooners beach resort. For the next few days we lived the lives of cats, lying out in the sunshine, getting massages in the sand and dreaming of seafood.

Photos from Manila, Puerta Galera, and Sabang

Here's a few images from our first week in the 'Ppines. Internet issues are limiting the uploading. Anyway, Manila, Puerta Galera and Sabang are all lumped together for your viewing confusion: 

Food stand in a mall in Manila

View of a barrio

Manila Hotel imposters

Horse carriage tour of Intramuros, Manila

Sabang, low tide and cloudy

 Maggie getting PADIfied

Puppies here DO grow on trees

Evidence of MMLC enjoying the company of a canine

 

 

 

 Big La Laguna by night

Small La Laguna sunset