North Luzon on Two Wheels: Scam City Banaue and Batad

I made a survey of the travellers we met to know where they've been or where they are going in the Philippines; and though some of them would say Taal, Boracay or El Nido, the most common place on their to-do list was Banaue.

But hu-whyyy??? I went there 15 years ago. It was overdone then and it's a soulless husk now, so why do busloads of tourists still come? There are lots of other rice terraces in the Mountain Province; cleaner, more natural, the people more charming... but it boiled down to overseas tour operators pushing the rice terraces in Banaue because it's the most famous one, and in most cases it's the only place in the Philippines they know. I mean, it's the only picture on our posters overseas; but those pictures are not even from Banaue-- the best of them were taken in Batad.

I mean, sure, 30 years ago it might have been impressive. We had illustrations of it in our textbooks. We were taught to be proud of it. And I am. The mere idea of it blows the mind.

In case you were wondering how they could build concrete houses between mountains.

But after the long ride from Sagada, through the foggy and muddy highway where amused townsfolk would occasionally wave "hi" when they spot us emerging from the soup -- I sensed something unpleasant hovering over Banaue as we made our approach. Later, Henri would tell me he felt the same. There was something wrong here. And it wasn't because of the dirty rivers or the grimy buildings with the shiny steel roofs.

We cropped the dirty buildings out. At the time we were trying to focus on the positive.

But we wanted to go to Batad, and there was no way except through Banaue, so we decided to stay and give the place a chance.

Henri found replacement slippers at the public market.

Even with a guidebook and online advice, it was hard to find a place that was clean and dry (I can imagine their struggle with humidity) but we settled on an inn which was a little cleaner because they had allegedly just repainted.

But, you know, clean is relative. We found out that there was a sewer just outside our tiny window. And by sewer I mean the river.

And imagine our horror when we realized that our separate bathroom was only separated by a thin wall from the public toilet-- and the vent was our bathroom! So even if we didn't want to, we knew who had the runs. (Talking about you, Israeli guy. Hope you're all better now.)

We're not fussy people, but imagine if the people in this inn really cared about what they were doing.

They said it was repainted, but maybe someone came back to put some stains
for the sake of authenticity.

But the worst was yet to come.

The road to Batad is still under repair, and only tricycles and jeepneys would dare make the trip. According to our research, local jeeps are P50 per passenger only; and there are two trips going both ways daily. So that was our plan, get up early and catch the passenger jeep.

The next morning, we waited at the jeepney junction for Batad. While we stood there, we kept getting offers from touts to get us to the "saddle" (the drop-off point where you start the hike) for P1000 or P800 depending on how much they think we can afford. We said we'll wait for the public jeepney. But the touts started to be condescending, then insulting, the got downright angry at us, saying there is no public jeep, only the tourist "service." And when we tried to go inside one public jeep the touts talked to the driver and he suddenly said he was not going anymore.

While we don't mind paying more, what we objected to was the way they were allowed to do this by the Department of Tourism, whose booth was within sight of us. We complained that the touts were bullying us, but they did not care. They said it's those jeeps or nothing. More fun in the Philippines my ass. Welcome to Scam City: Banaue.

Now, the point was not to get there on the cheap, but to interact with the locals and see things from their eyes. Henri and I consider ourselves travelers, not tourists. While tourists follow tour guides, travelers follow their instincts. For us, this was no sightseeing trip. We wanted to be immersed in their culture, we wanted to come out with an understanding of who they are and how they live... but all the organized mafia of touts wanted from us was money, and if they cannot get it from us then they would find a way to rob us of any positive experience.

Henri confronted the touts and almost got physical with the alpha gorilla. Honestly, how can the farmers go there if it costs P1000 for one person? When they all left, we found a driver who could take us for a hundred, and some locals rode the jeep with us too. I am sure we got treated this way because Henri is "white." The mafia of touts must have felt we were holding out on them, and by virtue of being a foreigner Henri is obliged to pay ten times more than anybody else.

A house teetering at the edge of destruction on the road to Batad.

We got there though, and we found out there really is a jeep going there and back when one of the store owners I talked to slipped up and told me the truth. (One was just leaving, full of people inside and on top, they did not look like they would pay P500 to go down.) But when one tout who recognized me from Banaue came by, the store owner changed his story. Why were they so afraid of these thugs?

But the main thing was, there really is a jeep going back to town in the afternoon and we can catch it at a certain hour, so we tried our best to see the most that we could within that window of opportunity.

Our jaws dropped when we joined the trail. Batad really is worth going to, it's just too bad that the scammers in Banaue hold the reins. I told one of the residents here that one day, when the road is finished, we will try to take a 4x4 up to the saddle and visit Batad again. The man told me if we did that, we'll come back to a car skeleton. He'd seen it happen. So this trip is definitely our first and last.

We had breakfast in one of the traditional huts that also double as BnBs.

And if it weren't for the situation with the jeepneys, we would have considered staying here for a night.

We saw him playing with a knife, then his sister came...

and BOOM!

Batad is famous for its amphitheater-like construction. All the steps converge to the center like seats in a huge coliseum. 

And the only way to get anywhere is through the rice paddies.

Me in the morning.

Me in the afternoon. Kidding. Granny was amazing on the steps. Certainly better than me.

As you could guess, the terraces stretched vastly on all directions.

And the steps were sometimes frighteningly high or end up in a bush.

And it was extremely hot, so we stopped as much as possible to buy water from the little stores and talk to the people minding them.

 Even though there was a lot of water around.

But we had a date with an elusive jeep, so we took the shortcut back up to the saddle.

But if you think this has a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention.

When we got back up to get the jeepney, the touts were at it again. The gorilla said there is no jeep and if we want he can offer, but this time it is now 500 for each of us just to go back to Banaue. Henri said fuck off, and I made a deal with another jeepney driver who said okay. I called Henri over and when he did, the gorilla came with him and scared off the jeepney driver. I don't know what he said but no one wanted to talk to us after. So absolutely no one wanted to take us anymore.

So Henri and I held hands and walked back down. It was nothing compared to all the walking we did in Nepal, what really hurt was the greed and selfishness of these people. And we love the people of the mountains because most of those we met were generous and kind. Years of tourism has ruined these men, because they know that tomorrow busloads of fresh victims will come to town and we won't matter. We never did. We just annoyed them with our subversive idea of taking the public jeep with the rest of the people of Batad. The realization really weighed us down.

When we were 25% down the road, we met the engineers and construction workers of the road to Batad. One of them said the road will be finished by 2014 and maybe the scams will be finished by then too. For the sake of future travelers and the people of Batad who are starting to rely on tourism, I hope so.

The hut of the sweet granny who sells souvenirs on the road,
but no one ever stopped there except for us.

One of the locals felt sorry for us and called a neighbor who has a tricycle that can drive us back to Banaue. His tricycle was falling apart. Henri rode at the back of the driver and I rode in the sidecar. I saw rocks and the drying slush whiz by through a big rusty hole under my feet. We passed by his house before going all the way down, it was interesting to see these people suddenly, they were invisible when we were going up by jeepney. We gave him a nice tip before he left, not because he asked for it but because we know he needs it.

We got back late, the touts gave us a smug smile and we saw some betel nut spittle on the bike cover. How petty. It was a good thing we were getting out of there in the morning.