For more than a couple of months, my friends & I have been waiting for that day to come. June 6, 2007 was especially marked on our calendars since March of this year because it was the day when our dream of traveling to some distant land as a group would come to life.

When Sandy drew out the itinerary early in April, it had seemed like an Amazing Race trip. I had to wonder if we could ever have the time to really enjoy the places we would be visiting because the schedules were really tight. But when the moment finally arrived, we had such a helluva experience. Never mind if we were drained physically & financially afterwards. It was a fantastic trip. An experience that will have to be reminisced over and over again.

Gaga, Sandy, & I (known as the Davao delegation) boarded Cebu Pacific at around 6:30pm. We were the last party to arrive Manila. Delegates from Bicol (Reynald & his sister Lisa) arrived the night before. While delegates from Gensan who left at around 3 pm that same day (which consisted of Adrian, Boboy, Vince, & Lelibeth) touched down at Manila Domestic Airport five hours before we did.

Sandy had to take Gaga’s first solo picture inside the airport twice because she accidentally deleted the first take. Both she and Gaga endured the looks of curious passengers. Inside the plane, we took lots of pictures of ourselves. The steward was really cute and we would have loved to take his photo as a souvenir but nobody ever had the courage to do so. We diverted our energies to the aircraft’s SMILE magazines which were placed right infront of our seats. Surely, nobody would notice if they go missing so we decided to take the copies to Sagada---to the indignation of Lelibeth and Vince who named us thieves for taking things that belong to the airline.

Dusk had already fallen when we arrived in Manila. We hailed a taxicab from the airport to KFC – España where the rest was waiting for us. It was one hell of a ride. Sandy wasn’t that familiar with the fastfood’s location so we relied on the driver’s sense of direction. However, aside from being quite old, the driver was also deaf so that there were some misunderstandings and we had to go around in circles before we finally decided to ride off his cab and walk up the flyover leading to the fastfood chain.

The bus for Banaue was to leave at 10PM. It was 9:45PM and we barely had 15 minutes to get to the terminal. Instead of dining in, we decided to take out our dinner just to catch the bus.

The ride to Banaue was cold, dark, & loud… Loud because we couldn’t stop talking right after we settled ourselves on our seats. We were confident that there was nobody who could understand us because aside from speaking our native Filipino dialect combined with our very own lingo, the other passengers were mostly foreigners, some of them Americans and Koreans. At the first stop, some got off the bus and ate hotdogs. Though I adored hotdogs, I didn’t risk eating one along the way. Boboy got a good laugh when I told him why. I was afraid the hotdogs contain dog meat as what my officemate warned me. ;-)

June 7, 2007. At around 4am, the bus stopped over at Nueva Viscaya. This time, I got off along with the others, to ease my bladders’ discomfort and to stretch out my legs as well. After awhile, the trip moved on. I got to sleep again. Only to be awakened with Boboy’s camera lens zoomed on my face. It wasn’t a good shot, believe me. J

The sun was starting to stretch his golden rays down the green mountains of the hilly province when the bus halted. An elderly stout lady got inside and announced in English (which was surprisingly with an American twang) that we had to get off the bus and ride a jeepney to the Poblacion. She said the road was bad and the bus couldn’t get through because of the landslide a couple of days before. It was a free ride she said. The jeepney would take us to the municipality’s public terminal where we would have to wait for another PUJ that would take us to Sagada. The thirteen-hour ride was now down to three. We were now stepping on Banaue soil. Home to the Ifugao Tribe who built the World Famous Banaue Rice Terraces with their own hands more than a hundred years ago.

The group decided to hire a jeepney at P3,000+ to take us to Sagada instead of waiting for the next trip. After Adrian negotiated with the driver, we were driven to the Hidden Valley Food House where a nice woman welcomed and served us hearty breakfast meals of egg, bread with jams, coffee, and many more. We spent a good 30 minutes inside the restaurant-cum-souvenir shop eating our meals and going over hand-woven bags, pouches, coin purses, shawls, bonnets, and carved woods. The prices were amazingly low such that I got to buy a green sling bag at P80.00 and the green bonnet at P35.00. The coin purse cost P10 each while pen holders were at P5.00. In short, I spent around P700.00 on that first souvenir shop-stop. J

The jeepney took us to the view point of Banaue Rice Terraces. The road was lined with small souvenir shops filled with Ifugao crafts. We followed a path that led us behind them. Then, there it was…. The Banaue Rice Terraces. Green, grand, & simply appalling.

After several minutes of picture taking, we finally got the hang out of the majestic terraces. We bade goodbye to the two elderly Ifugao garbed in their native costume sitting at one side of the viewpoint---well, that was after we took pictures of them.

And so the three hour ride began. The road to Sagada was narrow, rugged, cliffy, & dusty. Although the mountain wind provided a cool refreshing feeling, the sun’s golden rays were antagonizing. They seemed to penetrate through the metal casing of the jeep so that sweat trickled down on our dust-infested hair and skin. The green bonnet I bought from the Hidden Valley Restaurant was a savior. Every now and then, someone would crack a joke to break the silence brought by exhaustion, exhilaration, & anxiety. Anxiety because the road was unimaginably treacherous. One wrong move and we would be helplessly falling down the cliff. Vince would later say that if we have fallen down that high cliff, we still would be able to say the whole rosary. However, the prayer shouldn’t be said because we still want to live, but instead, it was to be said so that our souls would rest in peace. He said, there was no way we could have survive the fall. It sounded funny after the trip. But if he had cracked it up along the way, he could have earned stern looks & admonitions from all of us. J

The jeepney stopped in a place where a large statue of Mama Mary was erected. Although it was so hot, we got off the jeep to marvel at the large sculpture.

The stiff climb continued. It was an uncomfortable ride, I must say. But we passed through several nice scenes. Sceneries that are too hard to find in Davao, Manila,& even in Gensan. There were big rivers with clear waters & big rocks. Old hanging bridges that were like mini-replica of the San Francisco Bridge. Everyone agreed when someone assume it was where Robin Padilla & Angel Locsin shoot one episode of the Asian Treasure TV Series.

When the jeepney turned right and we saw the billboard that says: Welcome to Sagada, excitement washed over the entire group. The breeze was colder and although the sun was almost at its peak, the heat of its golden rays was lost amidst the cold air that blanketed us. The trees were taller and rooftops were already visible from the jeepney’s window. The cemented road was a complete relief. The Pine trees that lined the sidewalk at the entrance of the municipality provided a much solicited refuge from the sun’s penetrating rays. A cold shiver ran through my bare arms as the vehicle eased up towards St. Joseph’s Inn where we were booked for two nights.
St. Joseph’s Inn was built on higher elevation. It’s small balcony provided a spectacular view of the community below. The rooms were simple without any furnishings except for the curtains that veil the windows and the made up beds which rose up no higher than one foot from the wooden floor. The lobby is made up of a sofa, counter & dividers that hold souvenir items such as hand painted shirts & pouches, bottles of home brewed wine, jars of home made blueberry jams, & handcrafted necklaces, bracelets, earrings, & anklets. The living room, which was just beside one of the rooms we rented, had a fireplace & a set of sofas. One side of the walls bore a photo collection of Sagada’s famous photographer, Masferre.

After changing our clothes (some took their first bath at Sagada & experienced firsthand how cold the water could be up there) and freshening up, we started for the Municipal Hall to register at the Tourist Info Center. All tourists coming in are required to register & pay the registration fee of P10.00 per head. The personnel at the Info Center gave us the list of activities and made us choose how we would spend the remainder of the day. Since it was almost afternoon, we decided to go trekking and visit the Echo Valley, the famous Hanging Coffins, Underground river, & Bokong Falls. After registering & booking for a guide, we agreed to take our lunch first and to have it at the Yogurt House located downhill from the Municipal Hall.

The Yogurt House is a small restaurant with large wooden doors and French windows. Tables were good for four so that we had to connect three tables for our group. Our first dose of Sagada Menu was a shock. A plate of carbonara cost P90.00 while a plate of chicken with pasta was priced at P180.00. We were astonished at the prices even though Sandy and the articles that we’ve read about Sagada warned us about it. The main shock came when the food were served. The servings were huge such that each was good for two or three individuals. I personally would say I love the food there. They were not commercialized (the way they were prepared) like those served in the city. The ingredients were proportioned and the taste was heavenly. The carbonara I ordered seemed too huge a serving for me but I think that the lady who took my order was right. Indeed, it was good for me coz I didn’t have a hard time gobbling it all up! J

After a full lunch, we went back to the Municipal Hall to hire a tour guide. Our guide’s name was Jack—who was not at all very friendly. The whole time we hike through the jungle of cogon grass, hills, rocky steps, and small rivers he was at a fast pace so that most of us were panting like horses after a race (but not Gaga. She was right at Jack’s heel for the whole duration of the Death March..hehehe…). He didn’t say much so it was more like of a torture march than leisure hiking around Sagada’s Nature Wonders. Am I being too hard on Jack? Perhaps, I must be. After all, he was just concern about the impending rain that was hovering above Sagada’s vast skies. He must be concerned about not being able to finish the trekking before darkness falls. But he should have been friendlier towards us. Anyway, though our very own tour guide spoiled the fun for us, we were still amazed at the sight of coffins placed along the side of a cliff way up above the reach of humans. The coffins were made of wood. There were no accessories like gold handles and carvings. Nor was there any paint and lacquer to make it look glossy and smooth. But the Igorots treat the coffins with much respect such that they went to much trouble just to give their dead the peace they have always wanted. Jack said most of the bodies inside the coffins were remains of tribal chieftains and some of them were very, very old.

Jack led us to the mouth of a cave, which he said was close to exploration. Boulders guard the cave like intimidating club-bouncers. The sound of clear water rushing forth the cave was refreshing to the ears. We were granted a few minutes rest on top of the biggest boulder before we proceeded to the underground river. Again, we went through thickets and bushes before we reached a clearing which was planted with vegetables. We climbed a number of steps up to the cemented highway leading to another and last destination for the day: Bokong Small Falls. The road towards the falls was quite a relief from the previous trail we went through. The path was cleared from itchy grasses and thorny bushes. However, it was steep. Plus, the ominous rain was starting to drizzle making the pathway slippery. The scenery along the road was breathtaking though. The yellow-green palay leaves reflected calmness and serenity. However, only Gaga, Adrian, Reynald, Boboy, Lisa, & I were able to see the spectacular view and made it to Bokong Falls. The rest called it off and sought shelter at one of the stores along the road. Climbing up the steep pathway from the falls proved to be more challenging than the trip down. I could barely breathe by the time I got to the top. It was only sheer willpower that pushed me to continue the climb else I’ll be left all alone at the falls.


I think exhaustion got the better of me so that I decided not to go caving the next day, as what we’d agreed earlier. I said I was not gonna risk my life if it was gonna be the same experience again--- to which Reynald replied, “ We’ve traveled thirteen hours and we will just stay here for what? Five hours? I’m going caving tomorrow.” Those were the famous lines and it still could generate giggles from us everytime someone quips it on occasions. J

Nights in Sagada were cold. That particular night was by far one of my coldest nights. We had to wear our jackets, pajamas, & bonnets during dinner at the St. Joe’s Café a few steps down the inn. Although the lady in charge wasn’t as friendly as that one at the Hidden Valley Restraurant, the food was really great. And the servings… HUGE! J

June 8, 2007. Call time was set at 7am because we wanted to reach the cave early (on the contrary, I decided to go caving..hehe)… But somehow, it took us long to finish breakfast so that it was about 9am when we started out for Sumaguing Cave with our two Tour Guides. This time, Jack was not one of them and these two were friendlier and seemed like experts in playing their role. It took us 30 minutes by foot to reach the entry to the cave. It was not a difficult walk because the road was cemented and although the sun was shining brightly, the shadows cast by the trees that lined the sidewalk was a relief.

To reach the cave’s mouth, we had to go down a 200+ steps made of rough gravel & cement. The steps were quite slippery and the boulders and rocks down below were sharp and intimidating. Our guides lit up their lamps and we were requested to form one line. A group of tourist emerged out of the cave just before we started inside. They passed on the red helmets they were wearing provided by their guides to us---protection from sharp rocks, they said. The amazement in their faces was enough source of strength to stand my ground of entering the dark, deep cave.

The sound of bats and the smell of bat dung (which was like brewed coffee) welcomed us the moment we entered the cave. The descend was steep, difficult and slippery. Our bare hands held on to somewhat muddy rocks for dear life knowing that one wrong small step would lead us to our doom. When we asked our guides why the rocks were filled with mud, they said it wasn’t mud…it was bat dung! Several “ewws” and “yuck” were heard but it was replaced by “wow” when the guide said a sack of bat dung cost 200 US dollars. J

We went deeper into the 460+ feet below the ground cave amazed at how cold it was down there. We were blowing out mist from our noses and mouth as we exhaled. (By this time, Vince was almost ready to die of exhaustion.) The trail inside was nothing I have ever seen in televisions and magazines. The water that ran through the rocks was clear and iced cold. The rocks were a golden mass. Some rock formations were funny. There was one which looked like a vagina (they call it Juliet) and then one that looked like a penis (they call it Romeo). There was also a black abstract at the cave’s rock ceiling which looked like an image of the Holy Family.

Trekking inside the cave was a memorable experience because it was something one could not do anytime & anywhere, for that matter. It involved a lot of things too. Climbing up, climbing down, rappel, crawling, going through chest-deep dark waters without knowing what it was you’d step on (and of course, losing a pantyliner! Haha!). It also involved getting a peek at the bikini clad Europeans who were incidentally right behind us to the delight of the boys (spelled: Boboy & Vince). Although it left us tired & hungry, the caving experience was definitely a memory worth keeping for the rest of our lives.

To reward ourselves, we had lunch at Masferre’s Restaurant. It was a sumptuous lunch of chopsuey, beefsteak, & sinigang na baboy. Because the food was glorious and the place was just a stone’s throw away from the public terminal, we decided to have our breakfast there the following day before we would leave for Baguio City.

Right after we had our late lunch at Masferre’s Restaurant, the others went back to the inn to rest, while Boboy, Gaga, & I went browsing through souvenir shops across the restaurant to buy souvenir shirts. The sky was beginning to darken as if to warn us that we should hurry. But there were just too many choices and we didn’t have much money to spend so we had a difficult time deciding on what shirt to buy. By the time we have bought what we really liked, the rain was already pouring in heavy torrents. There was no way we could stay inside the shop because it was late and they were about to close. The three of us decided to brave it. We asked for plastic bags from the friendly salesgirl, wrapped our cellphones, wallets, newly bought shirts, watches, & camera in them & went out into the rain. It was the coldest rainwater I have ever experienced. It was like water from the fridge. We were instantly drenched and halfway through our run towards the inn, our jaws began to chatter uncontrollably. My legs were beginning to numb due to the cold & it slowed me down. Boboy had to drag me at some point because it seemed like I was ready to just stand there to freeze myself to death. The fact that St. Joseph’s Inn was located on top of the hill county wasn’t a relief. The uphill climb amidst the heavy rain was not only freezing. It almost knocked the air out of us.

Being rain-drenched in Sagada is a “freezing” experience. But it was unforgettable. I think that I will never ever be rain-drenched without remembering our last afternoon at Sagada, Mt. Province.

In the morning, we had everything packed for we were leaving for Baguio City then. It was June 9, 2007. We had breakfast at Masferre’s and right after that; we boarded the 9AM bus for the Summer Capital of the country. Thus was the end of our Sagada Exploration.

Visiting Sagada opened my eyes to many things. One, I don’t have to be anywhere else outside of this country to experience great adventures and see beautiful sceneries. The Philippines can already offer that for me. Two, young people like me should really travel and experience different places and meet people. After all, life is short and we better make the best out of it. Third, one doesn’t have to be rich to be able to travel places. And fourth, nothing beats the company of people whom you have grown old and have been through so many things with. It’s just too incomparable. As an adage says: It’s not the place; but it’s the company that counts…

As for Baguio City, well, that’s another story I will have to narrate soon enough. ;)