Who knew it could be so hard to leave the mountains. I don’t mean emotionally, but physically.
Turns out, the only buses to leave Banaue for Manila leave at night. So you
have to be prepared to ride a bus all night long, trusting the driver to stay
alert on mountain curves, just to arrive in Manila before the sun even gets up.

With no other options, we settled onto the bus with a rather large contingent
of Europeans. The rice terraces are famous, after all. It was too dark to see out, probably a good
thing at the beginning. But Philippine roads being what they are, it was almost
impossible to sleep on the bus. Accelerations and heavy braking was the norm,
as the bus negotiated first the curves in the mountains and then the traffic on
the highways. Once in Manila, we had to transfer to another bus terminal to
catch a ride south for another two hours. In total, we traveled for 13 hours to
reach our new destination, 450 kms away.
We are located in a city this time, in a hotel that feels a
lot like home. With a clean bathroom with toilet seats and toilet paper (things
I used to take for granted), wall-to-wall carpeting, a microwave and a flat
screen TV. Oh, wait. That’s better than
what I have at home. It does get hard to remember that we are in another part
of the world, at least until we step out the door. Then the noise and fumes,
the tricycles and jeepneys, the road side shacks, all combine to remind us.

Now that we are no longer in the farming communities of the
north, there are more beggars confronting us. We had two little girls knocking
on the window of our restaurant one morning, trying to convince us that they
were hungry and needed money for food. It would have been a good ploy, if it
wasn’t for the long earrings and gold rings the one girl was wearing. When I
pointed them out to her, she covered them up with her brand name sweater, and
continued to hold out her hand. The downside of city life, I guess.

For all that this is a big city, there really isn’t a whole
lot to see or do here. We’ve walked to the market and around downtown. There is
a museum here, but it was very difficult to find it or the tourist information
place. Originally we went to the City
Hall, and asked a security guard, who looked blankly at us when we asked where
the tourist information was. So we asked about the museum, and he directed us
down a major street. We didn’t find the museum. A google search showed it by
the capitol buildings, outside of the downtown area. A trip to the capitol
buildings involved a jeepney, only because we weren’t exactly sure how to get
there. Once on foot, we were told that the building we wanted was “over there”
several times, by different people. We did
finally find a tourist information office. For the province, not the city, we
were told when we got inside. The city information office was in the town
hall. Huh? We were there once, already.
But using our google map on our phone (bless the smartphones!) we realized we
were within walking distance and so wandered back to downtown. Back at City
Hall, we asked another security officer – the ones to greet you at the door,
armed and ready – for the tourist information office. “Why?” he asked. Not
wanting to explain the obvious – we are tourists – we just said it was on the
second floor, information that the provincial office actually had. He allowed
us in. Success! The next treasure on our list was the museum. We got specific information,
and headed off to an alley not even a block away. We found the Post Office, which
was well signed, and an unmarked glass door into a darkened room. It was the
only other choice along the alley. Someone was coming out of the door so we
asked if this was the museum. The answer was positive and we entered. A lady on
the phone looked at us and said, “What do you want here?” I answered that I
wanted to visit the museum, although inside I was really starting to doubt the
truth of that. She nodded and went back to her conversation on the phone.
Younger staff directed us to take a seat and turned the lights back on. After a
few minutes, the staff told us that they were closed for the lunch hour. Oh!
There were no hours posted, so we had no idea. We apologized, like good
Canadians, and left. The lady in charge was still on the phone. We never did go back.

We did take a trip to the beach. This was an hour away by
jeepney, which makes it feel longer. There is no maximum seat limit on a
jeepney. I’ve seen the front bench seat fit four, but because the old jeeps
have a stick shift on the floor the driver had to be in the middle with one
lucky passenger beside him against the door. The two benches along the back
officially fit 12 on each side, but anyone else that can be squeezed in will
be. And then once the benches are full, there is a two-by-four that can be laid
across the back entrance for two more people to sit on. Anyone else that wants
a ride after that has to hang off the back or climb on to the roof to sit. We
made it back to the city, but accidentally got dropped off at the wrong corner.
We refused to get on another jeepney, and instead walked the 2 km home. It felt
good to stretch our legs.


Fiesta Day came during the week we were staying. Banks and
schools were closed, vendors came in from outlying communities, and the
population downtown tripled. Thankfully, the police closed the roads for the
morning parade, something not every city does. It was a nice break to get away
from the traffic and diesel fumes, and just deal with the crowds. The whole
city had a party feel to it. There were hawkers with balloons, toys, and baby
chicks for sale. To make the chicks attractive to children, they were painted
bright colours.

There was a parade with bands and majorettes and floats for the
mayor, a nursery school, and the beauty pageant winners. These floats are
wooden platforms built to fit neatly over a small, sturdy old jeep. On top of
the platform would be chairs for the participants, on various levels, and
usually a wall or roof for decoration. I don’t think they calculated
the total heights once everything is fitted onto the car. There are
wires that crisscross the streets in splendid chaos, and many of them are
sagging. In order to navigate these streets, most floats had at least one
fellow standing with a stick to manipulate the wires overhead. Entertainment
was everywhere.
We are heading off to a new destination, now. It will
involve a tricycle, a bus, and then a plane. If we’re lucky, there will not be
a tricycle at the other end, but I’m not holding my breath.
Our life is truly an adventure.
W
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