Leaving Sagada

Sunday, March 13th, 2011 in: News, Travel

The El Lizardo bus wagged it way through the most gorgeous agricultural mountain landscape I’d ever seen, thousands of vertical meters of mountainside covered in terraced farmland, with visibility stretching out for eternity until the clouds we drove through obscured our vision. This is where the heavens meet the earth. I gaped out the window, wishing I could be reincarnated as a bird here. I made a silent addition to my bucket list to come back someday and ride this highway on a motorcycle. I gingerly touched my leg; the gash on my calf had stopped bleeding finally. Janet and I led the Aussies on a morning hike to see the famous hanging coffins, and the second half of the trail which was supposed to lead back to the road was an overgrown bramble patch through mud and thorny vines, leaving us cursing the guidebook with it’s pathetic explanations and misleading map. We emerged through a local backyard, bruised and battered and filled with the exhilaration of accomplishment and survival. We rewarded ourselves first with a delicious breakfast at the yoghurt house, then lemon pie at the pie house down the road. As a bonus, there were adorable kittens there to pet. The group of call center workers and the band were on the same bus back to Baguio. Janet and I sat in the back of the bus and slid from side to side as our driver confidently negotiated the thousands of hairpin turns that hugged dizzying cliff faces. “we’re going to La Union too, you should come have dinner with us!” having no local friends there, it was as if the universe once again saw our need and filled it or us. “we’d love to.”

The girls and Miggie were coworkers and good friends, often traveling together to various parts of the Philippines, rediscovering their country together. We got back to the house in Tubao, a suburb of San Fernando, and had a real home-cooked Filipino meal with them. After dinner, we all sat around the table, passing around a shot glass of Tanduay Filipino style and laughing into the night. We were pretty beat, and they ushered us upstairs to bed while they carried the party on for us.

The next day, Janet realized she was missing her money pouch, with all her money and ATM card. Well practiced in non-attachment, she kind of shrugged it off with an almost glazed-over expression. Although I was impressed by her ability to let go, it almost came off as what’s been described to me as being “dreamy,” detached and unaffected by reality. Although fretting about spilt beans doesn’t do any good, I noticed in myself a slight annoyance at her nonchalance about not just the loss, but the inconvenience and delay it was causing everyone. I think that mindfulness should extend to seeing how your decisions and behavior affect those around you, and perhaps even the outward appearance of earnestness is as important as not overreacting. It was an interesting opportunity for me to observe in myself the reaction to how she acted, and weighing it against what I imagined I would have done in her shoes. Oh well, we continued to move forward after she ran off to cancel her credit card. When we got off the bus at Urbitztondo, the girls were heading further north on the bus, and they ushered us before I could pull my wallet out. We realized too late to thank them that they had paid for our bus tickets, although I got an opportunity on the way out to tell them what had been on my mind the past day: it’s meeting people like them that makes travel worthwhile.

We stepped off the bus and walked across the street. Within 5 minutes we were sipping beer on the beach, ready for the next adventure.

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