Gaas Falls, Balamban

This has nothing to do with seeing a world in a grain of sand—you know, this whole thing of taking big delight in small stuff. Like you, I just don’t see a waterfall each day. Mountains are as familiar to me as the taste of a three-in-one coffee. But waterfalls, how many of them are here in Cebu? If there were at least a hundred, I would never make such a big fuss about them.

Yesterday I went to Gaas, Balamban to accompany my cousin in search of his relatives. He is from Bukidnon, like me, and he is here in Cebu for a chill. As a Filipino custom, you are supposed to seek out your relatives even if they live so far out in the mountains. We were walking to where his relatives are supposed to be when his uncle (we didn’t know yet that he is THE uncle) asked us if we were going to the falls. This whole story goes with us looking for an uncle and finding a waterfall. My cousin did get acquainted with his relatives while I had a fun time with the falls. Special thanks to the Boss for the Convergys backpack.






I usually don’t give directions and I’d prefer that you figure it out on your own if you want to go somewhere. But I’m feeling like Mr. Helpful today so here it goes. Go to Ayala Terminal, ride a Tuburan V-hire, and get off near the Barangay Hall of Gaas. Fare is 110 pesos. You also have the option of riding a habal from JY but I can give you a bunch of reaons why you should not. Once at Gaas Barangay Hall, ask where the “linaw” is. You will get there in twenty minutes.

Check out 33 more pics on my Facebook account. Blogger takes too much work.

The Hanging Coffins of Sagada

Sagada is a town frequented so many tourists. In fact, I believe that it is one of the top tourist destinations in the Philippines. But it is amazing how it never acquires that touristy feel. It seems that the “aura” of tourists is tamed down by the quiet landscape of a small town that is nearly crammed with houses, restos, and stores.

Go to Baguio or Magellan’s Cross, you feel that the spots are really for tourists. But in Sagada, even Koreans yoking DSLRs around their neck do not make you feel that you are in tourist country. The town’s atmosphere is so imposing and permeating that you get cheesy when you blog about it. The Hanging Coffins, being an anthropological and cultural uniqueness, is Sagada’s top sell point. Yet the town only has to present itself as it is.

In Sagada, the passage from this life to the next (which we dryly call “dying”) is a celebrated occasion. By “celebrated,” I did not mean there is some sort of Mardi Gras involved in. The death of a local can bring hoards of people together in solemn (yet not sad) unity. If someone dies, you can see a house filled with people conversing in a calm almost chantic episode.

I did not just make that up. There was actually a wake just few houses from where we stayed. There were really lots of people. The place we lodged in is called Grandma’s House and you will miss the sayote of your life if you do not check in there.

Only chieftains are allowed a hanging burial. They have so much respect for their leaders that they look up to them even if they have already gone to, well, their coffins. The chieftains in smaller coffins are fetal curled so they return in the same position they got to this world. On the other hand (I really hate using transitional phrases), chieftains in regular coffins, being in regular coffins, are lain the regular way.

Most of the chieftains in regular coffins also have regular names (that is, the first-name-last-name combination). Meanwhile, chieftains in the small coffins only bear one name. In the past, Sagada was just like a big household where everybody calls everybody with only one name. Cher, Madonna, and Sting all just have one name but they do not qualify for this kind of burial. You have to be Igorot.

These coffins are hoisted through a scaffold. Two pine trees and you have enough to send Chief into his high place. You will also see some chairs because chieftains are seated during the wake.

Baguio-Sagada Bus Ride

Somehow, I find it difficult to blog about our trip to Sagada. There are tons of photos waiting to be upload, tons of explanation to images that arouse curiosity (such as why their waiting sheds have stairs on the side or why the coffins are hung at Echo Valley). I have all the time in the world to come up with lousy jokes or just some simple high-school-precision paragraph writing.

I'll settle for a photo entry for now. The trip was great, aside from the fact that it was six hours long and there were only two bus stops and we were three rows from the front seat. After my trips down to Mindanao and up in Luzon, I concluded it is only in Cebu where "near" is really near and "far" is just far. Everywhere else, near is hours of walking/riding and far is really, really far.

The Baguio-Sagada trip is the best bus ride you will have in your life so better get the one beside the driver. It's like riding a roller coaster, only that the risks are real. En route, you will pass by the Philippine Pali, the highest elevation in the Philippine Highway system. It is 7,400 feet high and just one kilometer from the first bus stop. The Piattos we brought nearly popped off because of the pressure.

There are jeeps and other vehicles you will see at the ravines--fallen vehicles nobody bothered to bring up nor steal the metal. Those places are just so deep and ragged and steep that they just let those stuff rot. If you want to have the best seat, be early at Dangwa Terminal. It is near Baguio Public Market.

Dangwa is a once-huge bus liner. They still operate buses in the Mountain Province but they share their terminal now with other passes, like the GL bus we rode. Fare is 240 pesos. Seats are assigned so be there early, like an hour before the departure. The bus we rode left nine minutes before schedule.

There are times when you think you'd nearly fall off a cliff but after a few hours you'd realize it's normal. Bus drivers take that six-hour route twice a day so don't worry--just enjoy your window seat.

Credits to Chy for the food photos and for bringing a great camera. There was more food trip than road trip so I did not exactly leave up to my previous blog post. It's difficult to be on the road with someone who is very willing to try everything edible she sees.

Update: Just remembered our guide's story about a French guy who biked this whole route from Baguio. He visited Sagada years ago and when he was about to leave for the airport, his bag was stolen in Baguio. All he had left was the bike he rented. So he pedalled the six-hour bus ride back to Sagada. He now works there as a cook and plans to stay in the place for good.

Ronda Pilipinas - Baguio

I wonder how anyone with bionic legs could endure so much pain. The finish line is a contrast of relief and apprehension. “The race would end in a while, just don’t let numbness of your legs make you forget that you have to pedal.” But then again, someone at the tail might be more eager than you to win. “Don’t look back, it slows you down.” I would just hope that nobody would pull out some bloody sprint. Hope. There is no will anymore. Will has faded at the first strike of pain, obliterated by exhaustion. Pump up music only work few hours before the race. At the starting line, it’s all about jitters—and twenty urinations before it.

At the final climb, I could only close my eyes. The forty yards remaining is just too ugly to see. I never had the knack for sprinting. Slow start, consistent high-tempo climbs: my formula for clinching a win. The stronger ones burst at the starting line. Clicking their clipless pedals in, they are air unleashed from a pressurized can. Some get dropped then fire up again. They lack mercy. They slow down and give you hope than you can catch up, only for them to speed up after showing the radish at the end of the stick. The stronger ones are better in that respect. They drop you for good so you would not have to worry about catching up.

Like a habitual gambler, I had my occasional chance of winning, too. But always at the lower category—the category for beginners. Many of these “beginners” have been racing for at least four years. It’s the athletic version of academic retention. Stay at the same place for a while, you can eventually bully everyone.

October 7, Baguio, Stage 9 of Ronda Pilipinas. I saw the fiercest legs ever to be attached to the human body. My mind found a U-turn slot and I was suddenly brought back to those times I was still competing. A year ago, that was my last race in cross-country. It was a second-place finish. After that, I joined downhill in beginner’s Cat (beginner, as always) and got third. I miss the competition, but I do not miss the pain. I will settle to taking photos of greater cyclists.

The route was from Agoo, Ilocos Sur to Baguio City. It is a 56-kilometer stretch of leg-cramping uphills and suicidal descents. The cyclists reached a speed of 85kph on a moody weather. At some point, the visibility was nearly reduced to zero by the fog. A race organizer described it as the best stage of the tour.

Two minutes ahead of the trail. Man, you have the right to feel handsome.

Fierce battle for second place. Kung pwede pa lang magka-sabunotan...

A chill finish at a chilly Burnham Park.

The super first place finish goes to The Boss, who has been bossy as ever.

Cebu's team vehicle, sponsored by Oz Racing, among others. That's my boss planning her next assault to me

7/11 clutches first and second place.