Batad Rice Terraces, Luzon

As soon as Aaron and I started out descent to Manila airport, things got interesting. 300 feet off the ground, the pilot suddenly threw the throttle forward and pulled up sharply. We didn't get an explanation until a few confused minutes later: the runway was full and we had to circle around. Once we pulled up to the terminal, we waited another 20 minutes for the previous airplane to pull out of our gate. Combined with the delays in our plane coming to Tacloban to pick us up, we were an hour and a half behind schedule. This should be a good challenge. 

We got to the taxi stand which was understandably back logged due to the evening rush hour. Touts all around us offered four times the going rate, but locals (and we) knew better than to take them up. We befriended a Frenchwoman at the front of the line heading to the same bus terminal bound for Banaue. Skipping a half hour or more of waiting would be critical if we wanted to get out there ourselves. 

The Frenchwoman had her ticket already squared away, but Aaron had for four days been trying to secure a bus trip for us. Ohayami bus didn't have any openings. Florida bus never picked up on any of the four business phones.  So arriving at the terminals, we were simply hoping for any cancellations. 

Though they never responded, Florida was truly fully booked. Their ticket office was closed and a friendly security guard pointed us back towards Ohayami. As we were only 45 minutes from the 10PM departure, it was either Banaue via Ohayami or we would have to change plans to hike Mt. Pinatubo. 

As luck would have it, we grabbed two last tickets at their posted price and were soon on our way in well-padded and reclining though disproportionate seats. The trip would last 14 hours, so we had scarfed a couple hot dogs and pork skewers and bought Chinese apples and an unidenified white fruit at the terminal. It was small and needed peeling like a lychee. The color and texture of the skin and flesh were also same. Differences started when we found six sections that split like an orange, and a flavor like a grapefruit's. The seeds were horrendously bitter and became disguised in the sections, as Aaron and I each found.

Upon our arrival the next morning in Banaue, we secured a return bus to Manila and found a guide and tricycle to get us to the famous rice terraces. 

At an overlook above Banaue, a plaque from the Philippine Institute & American Society of Civil Engineers celebrated the terrace's engineering marvel and estimated their construction at 1000 BC--crazy. 

After this we took the tricycle over to a saddle in the mountains before hiking through forest to Batad, home of the amphitheater-shaped rice terraces on the the money. Might be the $200, don't know because I don't have any. 

As soon as we dropped off our packs, our guide Graham took us on a day hike to the Tappia waterfall across the terraces. The water was chilly but the mist made intricate patterns in the sunlight. While we were resting in the shade--and unbeknownst to us--Graham dove into the spray to save a kid that had been pulled under by the currents. 

After cooling off, we hiked to the highest point in the terraces before cutting back horizontally towards our hotel on the hill. 

 We got back at 3 and ate our well-deserved lunch with San Miguel beer. Relaxed the rest of the afternoon and watched from the veranda as rainstorms blew through. At night after dinner with a pair of French exchange students on spring break from school in Taiwan, we heard drumming and singing down the hill. After a little local rice wine passed around, we turned in early.