Banaue Rice Terraces by Brent Hannon

The soul of Europe can be found in its great cities, in Rome, Paris, and London, but in Asia, it’s the other way around. The cities are crowded and hectic, while the provinces are quiet and beautiful. Most of the continent’s magic occurs in the remote countrysides.

Consider the Philippines. Few people love Manila, but everyone raves about the Cordillera, the steep mountain range that runs down the spine of northern Luzon. Banaue is the most famous destination in the mountains, and just three hours from Banaue is Sagada, less well known but equally enchanting.

The mountains insulate the two villages from the noise and clutter of the 21st Century — Banaue has no five-star hotels, and Sagada doesn’t even have telephones. City-weary travellers can soak up the serenity of the Cordillera, or they can take a more active approach and plunge into caves and waterfalls, hike in forests of virgin pine, shop for native textiles and carvings, eat local food and drink local wine, and observe the Igarots, who built the terraces thousands of years ago and still grow rice and vegetables there.

The Igarots are no beleaguered ethnic tribe. The mountains are their stronghold, and they demand respect. They have a devilish sense of humour: for fun, the young rowdies set fire to the surrounding hills, ambush migrating birds and tie them to strings (“helicopters”), eat magic mushrooms and drink home-made wine, and, until recently, were enthusiastic participants in the anti-government NPA guerilla movement. The Igarots still have plenty of autonomy. The mountains are high, as the saying goes, and the emperor is far away.

It’s not easy to get into the Cordillera. We rented a jeep and driver in Manila, but like everything in the Philippines — hotel checkouts, plane tickets, travel and business arrangements of any sort — it took a long time. Nothing in this country is done promptly, and nobody apologizes for being late. Our driver picked us up two hours behind schedule.

From Manila to Banaue is an all-day, 10-hour drive, with one or two stops. The dramatic mountain road from Banaue to Sagada takes another three hours, not counting a stop in Bontoc village to eat lunch and check out the Museum of Igarot Culture. Don’t miss the head-hunting display. One unforgettable photo shows a headless, mutilated body, with an unintentionally amusing caption: “To lose one’s head is considered a terrible disgrace.”

It’s possible to fly from Manila to Baguio, but flights are often booked for weeks in advance, and it’s still four dusty hours to Banaue, and six to Baguio. Short of a helicopter, there’s no way to avoid 10 or 12 hours on a mountain road that looks and feels like a coiled brown snake lost in the endless green hills.

Visitors shouldn’t arrive in Banaue or Sagada after about 8:00 pm, because everything shuts down, hotels and restaurants included. There is little to do after dark anyway. We strolled forth after dinner our first night in Banaue, in search of a lively pub or a little nightlife, but found only a full moon rising over the mountains and a few locals playing cards in the town square. Then again, a can of cold beer and a full moon is pleasant enough — call it mountain nightlife.

In the morning, a sight for road-weary eyes: fields of rice in the warm Philippine sun, a mountain stream, and hill upon hill, one atop the other, ending at last with distant Mt. Pulog, highest point in Luzon. Banaue is 1,400 metres above sea level, and the weather is a mild 20° year-round.

There are two ways to see the terraces: driving and walking. The most famous drive, Sunrise Viewpoint, is on the 1,000-peso note and was the posing site for Miss Universe ‘93, Dianarra Torres. Dianarra is long gone, alas, but the terraces are flat-out spectacular: high earthen walls, water trickling from pool to pool, and hundreds of circular scalloped lagoons, green and shining in the sun. Bright red chongla plants mark the boundaries between paddies.

Much has been made of the crumbling of the rice terraces. They require constant attention, and the young Ifugaos are not interested in farming. In 1995, Banaue’s terraces were put on the United Nations World Heritage List, joining the Grand Canyon, the Great Wall of China, the Taj Mahal, and the old walled city of Jerusalem. Still, the terraces look much the same as they did when I first visited 20 years ago, except there are more buildings on the roadside.

The second way to see the terraces is on foot. Numerous trails criss-cross the area, all of them steep, but some longer than others. The village of Bangaan is a short walk down steep stairs, while another trail winds straight up through the rice paddies to Sunrise Viewpoint. I opt for Batad, a remote village filled with terraces and featuring a dramatic waterfall with a fine natural swimming pool.

It’s an all-day hike — two steep hours to Batad, and another 90 minutes or so to the waterfall. I hire a guide, Jocelyn, who points to the amphitheatre of terraces that cradle the village of Batad. “Number eight in the world,” she announces. She’s a serious girl, Jocelyn, but anyone around here will tell you the same thing. They have a point — the terraces are as old as Seven Wonders of the World, and what’s more, they’ve survived. Of the other seven wonders, only the Pyramids can make the same boast.

The other village girls are jealous of Jocelyn’s temporary employment. “How much you pay her?” they ask. “Twenty pesos is already enough.” I have inadvertently made Jocelyn the richest 12-year-old in Batad. But it’s worth a hundred pesos, because Jocelyn keeps me from getting lost in the confusing maze of paddies, dwellings, hostels, farms, and steps (lots of these). The terrace stones are firm and the paths are solid: after 2,500 years, the Ifugao terrace-builders know what they’re doing.

Batad is tourism in balance. The long trip and the two-hour hike keep out all but the hardiest travellers, while the trickle of tourism boosts the village economy. I reach the waterfall, swim in the cold water, drink a warm beer, and return to Banaue after dark, with just enough time for a serving of fried chicken and San Miguel beer.

Three hours from Banaue is the enchanting town of Sagada. The road from Banaue winds down the mountains into Bontoc valley, then steeply back up into Sagada, a gem of a place, a mile-high village of some 10,000 people, home to the Kankanay Igarots, the most intractable of the Cordillera tribes.

The Igarot lifestyle is colorful. Sagada is filled with terraced farms, fields of corn and cabbage, patches of tomato, potato, and banana, women weaving, children washing clothes and old men smoking pipes, all framed by an unforgettable backdrop of pine forests and limestone cliffs.

An extensive cave network honeycombs the limestone beneath Sagada. None of the caves are paved and lighted for tourists — the floors are rocky and the darkness is absolute. Cave trips range from easy two-hour explorations to expert-only excursions that require scuba tanks, rock climbing gear and a total lack of fear. The main tourist cave, Sumaging, is scary but manageable, with some steep drops and a few tight watery squeezes. The cavern is eerie and compelling, the limestone formations are intriguing, and at the bottom is a pool of pitch-black water, where I peel off and swim in the inky blackness of the subterranean chamber. It is one of the creepiest but most exhilirating experiences of my life.

Another guided trip is to Lumiang cave, the mouth of which is festooned with coffins. The Igarots believe the spirits of the dead fly forth at night to gather in revelry and merry-making. Thus they don’t bury their dead — they wedge the coffins high in the cliffs and in the mouths of caves. The Igarot guides like to open the coffins and stir the dusty bones, for the benefit of tourists.

Aside from a lack of nightlife — effectively terminated by a 9:00 o’clock curfew — Sagada boasts an unparalleled variety of activities. Visitors can treks through the pine forests, jump into waterfalls with the local kids, explore the village and the valleys, watch the sun rise over the mountains, drink the local wine and eat the native corn, red rice and smoked meat.

Most visitors stay in the Cordillera as long as possible, delaying the inevitable trip home and making plans to return. Asia’s crowded capitals will still be there, but when was the last time anyone raved about Manila?