The Road to Sagada
Just getting to the bus terminal can be as exciting as the journey itself. Apparently there are the right and wrong terminals. Like the right and wrong side of the tracks. Some terminals only leave in the morning while others in the afternoon. Being utterly at a loss with all the helpful advice I did the only thing I could and drug a local with me. We were Bonnie and Clyde, ready to wreak havoc and take names; ok more like Benny and June.
Anyway I digress, we had two options in heading into the mountains to Sagada. We could go the scenic ocean route through Banaue, which according to the Lonely Planet, holds the famous rice terraces, reported to be the Eight wonder of the world or the inland uneventful ride to Baguio. Now I thought the Banaue option was the best, 10-hour scenic ocean and mountain trek north of Manila with a 2 hour jeepney ride to a city called Bantoc and another two hours or so to Sagada. If you’ve never seen a jeepney, imagine the bench on the flat bed of a truck that has a shell and dropped low to the group. It’s just high enough to walk in and out bent over. Take a look at the picture and you’ll see what I mean. the other to Baguio.
To say my friend was not particularly thrilled with the idea of sitting on a bus for 10 hours, is an understatement. To protect the names of the guilty we shall just call him Bob. I was unceremoniously conscripted onto the Baguio bus and away we went. Now when you read in your travel magazine that the bus to Baguio is only 6 hours. It is, once you get out of Manila. Of courses you could spend 2 hours trying to leave the city of soot and pollution. The bus ride was around $6 US. Even the Philippines have toll highways, albeit a short one.
The bus ride was tenacious but the seats were comfortable enough. We had two rest stops along the way with pay toilets, or comfort rooms as you say in the Philippines. Two tips for any women reading this article. Always bring tissue and hand sanitizer and expect to squat. The other tip, always keep on eye on your watch and the bus. No one will tell you how long the bus is going to be there. While the bus stops usually last for ten minutes – you have just enough time to stretch and take a picture or two and nothing else. There’s no whistle, no announcement the bus is leaving. And while I came close, no I was never left behind.
On the 7th hour I was longing for anything resembling open space. Arriving in Baguio around 9 p.m., the first thing that greeted me was the chilly mountain air. Of course I was prepared for the cold weather with my two pairs of shorts and light t-shirts, not. (And yes I should have known better considering it was the end of December and I was going into the mountains. But in my defense it was the Philippines.) The second were “helpful” natives who insisted that they had the perfect place for me to stay at or that they were more than willing to be my guide. At least I assume that’s what they said, as they spoke more to Bob than me in Tagalog (the national language). Shivering and hungry I watch thunderstruck as worthless Bob politely declined all offers of help. You know men, never asking for directions. Bob said that while Baguio was no Manila by any stretch of the imagination, it was very modern. So finding affordable and clean accommodations would be easy enough. As a side note, we did eventually hire someone to drive us around to find a place to stay. But as we found out it wasn’t really necessary.
We stayed at the Banaue Lodge where a private room with its own bathroom and breakfast cost less than $15 a night. Sadly it had no blankets, but the temperature was comfortable enough. As we were on a budget we kept our costs to a minimum but there were a full complement of hotels ranging from $20 to $60 and higher a night depending on your luxury threshold.
The next morning, we at the crack of 9 am we ate a leisurely breakfast and headed out for the Dangwa Bus line. Now these small buses with air-conditioning. We thought we were smart arriving just in time for the bus to leave. Indeed. We ended up squeezed on the back row unless we wanted to wait an hour for another bus to be full enough to leave. (A note on buses: In the mountain the buses don’t follow a particular time table. When the bus is full it leaves. If it’s getting late and the bus isn’t full you may be waiting until the next morning. So if the last bus is 1:00 p.m. take an earlier bus to be safe.)
Sagada, is about 100 kilometers from Baguio (275 km north of Manila), a glorious 6 hour bus ride through narrow tracks traversing the Cordilleras mountain range. The picturesque mountainside and farmlands were amazing to see and the rice terrace were still in the planting stages, looking like stone boxes of mud. (I’m told April is the time to see the rice terraces at their best.) You will truly never run out of things to film on this journey. But bring a book or your ipod just in case. When we finally arrived in Sagada, it wasn’t at all what I was expecting. I wasn’t sure what I expected but this definitely wasn’t it.
Sagada is not for the urban dweller. There’s no television, no internet access, no phone signal – nothing to link you to the modern world. There are only a number of restaurants and most of them resemble homemade cooking. There was also the hoity toity restaurant that only took order until 2 p.m. for dinner. Once the number of order the chef was willing to cook was in, the kitchen was closed for the rest of the day. There were no traditional bars although some stores sold alcohol. There was a pub of sorts, that looked more like a beatnik coffee house, where you could order a few appetizers and San Miguel. And of course there was a curfew which everyone abided by. At nine o’clock, everything closed and the outside doors to the hotels were locked. No Sagada doesn’t have any fire codes. And there is absolutely no nightclub. But then again, why would you travel all the way to such a secluded place to go clubbing anyway?
The good news was that the food was decent enough once we found where to look, the same day we were leaving. The room were clean and very affordable. A single or double ran about $10 at our hotel. Make sure your room has hot water. You’re going to need it because of the freezing climate.
Sagada is famous for both its caves and hanging coffins. Yes, hanging coffins. The ancient Sagadans practiced the unusual aerial burial rites of hanging and stacking coffins in the limestone cliffs and caves nearby. This tradition is still practiced today. In fact our guide told showed us the coffin of a man hung the same week we came. I know you’re wondering how some end up with a hanging coffin. Only an elder can have a hanging coffin. This is a person who has led a full life, with a full family of children and grandchildren. To have your coffin hung is a great honor in the Sagada culture. Another interesting fact is that in Sagada is both the mixture of culture and religion. The Sagada people practice a form of spirituality known as animae that is similar to Shamanism, though an Sagadan would correct you. They have a special connection with the mountains and the animals. In fact in old times it was a closed community where rituals would be practiced where the entire village would be closed for 30 days. No one could leave or enter. As the modern world stretched into the mountains and more people left for school and job as jobs in an isolated provincial village can be scarce some ways were lost. However some still remain.
As for the caves, Sagada boasts several that can be explored by even the most inexperienced tourists. With the aid of a local guide, I explored an underground river and saw a number of hanging coffins. I love discovering these wild, exotic discoveries with their almost mythical quality. Unfortunately Bob didn’t have the same feeling. In our first cave Bob said he felt a little claustrophobic and decided to stay where he was, in the middle of the cave. The guide whipped out a little candle, lit it and we were off. When we climbed our way back to Bob he was in a mood, ranting that I had left him. Apparently I feel claustrophobic is code for I AM claustrophobic. Lesson learned, make sure whoever you’re with when going spelunking really isn’t claustrophobic.
What I loved most about Sagada was the connection I felt with the mountains – an intimacy I only thought possible between lovers. The tranquil little town nestled in the mountains was so small that you could leisurely cover it on foot in twenty minutes. Still, this town was like a sweet kiss from heaven – a magical world of nature and serenity. No one here bothered me about buying any wares, which I found charmingly refreshing. They gave me a genuine smile and left me alone to absorb and appreciate their world – a world which they had known all their lives. Even Bob couldn’t keep a hold of his ill temper in the beauty and charm of Sagada.
