Ketchup

One of the most amazing highlights of any Philippine vacation is Northern Luzon. Josh and I clamor onto an eight-hour bus for a quite uncomfortable teeth chattering ride to the Mountain Province and the little town of Sagada. What a small town it is. There is one street light, one Catholic church (a Filipino staple in every town thanks to those crusading Spaniards) and multitudes more chickens than people. Aside from the easily broken 9pm curfew on the town it was a wonderful place. The mountains gave a cool reprieve from the often moist and stodgy Manila air. We spend many days exploring the limestone and sandstone caves, journeyed through an underground river and joyfully played in a natural pool created by a waterfall just outside of town. It felt good to get back on the beaten path and swap stories with all the wonderful travelers we met (The Dutch Girls, Peace Corp Peeps, Jesus Jeremy, Eccentric Quinton and the ever-stoned guy from Austria, just to name a few).

After a series of Jeepney rides and backwater towns we arrive in Banaue - home to the eight man made wonder of the world - rice terraces. Insert cool link Here. The flat spot where this pic was taken, we had a run-in with a not too happy carabao (Philippine version of a water buffalo). These wonders of ancient engineering are over 2000 years old and provide sole livelihood for the many people of these lands. Specific tracts of terrace are passed on through families to first and second born children and have been held in the same names for many generations. We opt for our first long distance hike and sign up for a three day trek across the Il-Fugao region. Our trusty guide Roberto and porter Alfredo take us through a tour of five mountain towns and deep into a culture that is rich with history. Days are spent traipsing over hill and dale, hundreds of stairs have been climbed and descended. As darkness falls each night, we settle into sleepy villages with names like Cambulo and Batad. Places where even the mightiest of forces: electricity, has yet to penetrate. After a couple of rain-filled days playing Texas Holdem it's time to return. Another nine-hour bus ride back to Manila (as all roads lead to Manila) and with a fond farewell we head for the first beach of our adventure.

Boracay is what one might call a world class, Western-style resort. It was also the first place outside of McD's that we found real tomato ketchup. Most restaurants in the Philippines usually serve a "banana ketchup" variety - which I must say is a poor substitute. This place was a vacation from our vacation and a welcome reprieve from the hectic demands of international travel (wink-wink). We book ourselves into a wonderful resort called the Peninsula and immediately embark onto a remarkably soft white-sand beach. The music is pumping, bikinis are showing, sun is shining, food is tasty, one-hour Swedish massages are going for the bargain price of 350 Pesos ($7), and with a single huck of the Frisbee and a diving catch into crystal blue waters we both know we've found home for the next eight days.

Nothing Clever

I think I may have committed myself to a task I cannot complete. This blog. I just realized that I haven't posted an update in almost two weeks. It seems like so much has happened yet it's impossible to get it all on paper. Apologies to those awaiting an update.

Show Us Your Cock

It is early Saturday morning in Metro Manila. Sampoloc district to be exact. The sun is shining brightly and the street kids have long been up playing basketball since the very crack of dawn. Josh and I, led by our Filipino host JJ make way through a rather roughshod neighborhood to a rickety food stand and take a morning meal of rice and goat meat. Actually, quite tasty. But the owner of this ramshackle establishment knows the real reason we've purveyed his food twice this week and it isn't his fantastic cooking. We've come to fight and this guy knows the chicks that are willing to do it. After our meal, we settle up and he leads us down a back alley to a vacant lot covered in blue tarpaulin and bustling with commotion. He taps the grizzled gentleman at the gate on the shoulder and we each pay our 10 Peso to get in. We are now at our first cock fight!

Never before on this trip has such a grand entrance been made. As soon as we cross the threshold all eyes are on us. When I say "all eyes" we're talking like 40 pair for starters and then the other 100 or so turning in succession as we are promptly ushered around the pit to half court by our fantastic host. All thinking, "what are those white guys doing here?" I gotta say that I asked myself that same question. The man who brought us here is a promoter and champion breeder himself, he quickly uses that status to brush a few people aside and plant me in the front row. Josh stands just one row behind me. What a crazy spectacle. The next fight is just about to begin and EVERYONE starts shouting in Filipino across the ring at each other, waving money and placing bets. Just like a prizefighter, each bird is being "warmed up" with "training birds" pecking at their backs and getting the main contestants all riled up. Each fighter is equipped with a 6cm razor blade where his left-back talon should be. After a kiss of the gloves (beaks), each is taken to his corner and comes out fighting. What an aerial display some of these birds put on. They would jump and swing, block and jab. Each fighting with unshakeable courage.

The energy at a cock fight in unbelievable and overwhelming at times. But what I thought was going to be an inhumane exhibition actually wasn't that terrible and at times quite entertaining. These Filipinos really do love their birds. They breed them on every street corner and wear T-shirts proclaiming their love of the sport. None of the birds died to my knowledge. The organizers took the time to sterilize each blade with alcohol just before the roosters were dropped. We even saw surgery being performed after a few of the more spectacular battles. So while this is certainly not an evening at the theatre, I recommend a cockfight as something worth seeing.

My record? I bet on 5 matches. Won 4, Lost 1. Took home 450 Peso's for my guesswork. Good or bad, the experience will live with me forever.