Alex In Wanderland

Photo of the Week 101

Alex — Tue, 21 May 2013 14:00:00 +0000

This post marks the final week in this particular chapter of my travels. After five months and four countries, I am headed back to New York for some much-needed family and friend time, as well a bit of work and health business to take care of.

At the moment I’m dying to write a big, verbose post about all the emotions that are spilling out of me at this most significant moment — but I have none. Either it hasn’t sunk in yet, or I’ve gotten so used to the slithering between my life on the road and my life at home that it doesn’t really phase me anymore. Let’s see how I feel when that plane door closes.

Meanwhile, here are the Photo of the Week candidates from the final week of my trip. It was spent blissing out in Bali, doing some hotel reviews, relaxing after a hectic month of coursework, celebrating the completion of my divemaster, and spending a little extra time with someone I didn’t want to say goodbye to. After three days exploring Ubud, Bali’s cultural heart, we went directly to the beach to indulge in an all-inclusive resort in Nusa Dua. As always I can’t wait to share more. But for now….

Photo A
Balinese temples are beautiful, unique, and around absolutely every corner of the island, it seems.

Photo B
You can never have too many photos of monkeys, right? Hence a visit to The Monkey Temple Forest in Ubud.

Photo C
Ubud is infamous for its spas and I can see why — a massage, body scrub, manicure and pedicure cost less than thirty dollars!

Photo D
And finally, four days of absolute relaxation and bliss at The Grand Mirage.

Which photo is your favorite?

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This is the Philippines? A Mountain Retreat in Sagada

Alex — Mon, 20 May 2013 14:00:00 +0000

I left Banaue and Batad feeling physically exhausted after three days of intense trekking through the Cordillera rice terraces. But as I boarded the public Jeepney that would take me three hours to Bontoc where I would transfer for another three-hour public Jeepney to Sagada, all for less than five dollars, I was filled with excitement. I was on my way to meet Heather, who has become one of my favorite world travel buddies. Long term readers will know Heather as my photography mentor in Grand Cayman, where I worked as her assistant for a summer, my wedding date in Philadelphia, where we met up to celebrate our island friends’ marriage, and Oahu and The Big Island, where we terrorized Hawaii together for two weeks before I went off on my own.

This had been a very last-minute trip on Heather’s part. We frequently chat on Whatsapp, and before I left Thailand I was going through my upcoming Philippines itinerary while she was lamenting island fever — she still lives and works on Grand Cayman. I think I jokingly responded, “Why not come to the Philippines?” A few days later she had booked a ticket.

I love having friends as crazy as I am.

Lonely Planet Philippines describes Sagada as “the closest thing the Philippines has to a backpacker mecca,” warning that it can at times be “packed by travelers” and even mentions the “wide consumption of cheap local pot.” The latter of which I have no interest in, by the way, but it does point to a certain, er, traveler culture.

This was not the first nor the last time that my usually trusty guidebook brand left me scratching my head on this trip. Sagada was a tranquil mountain town indeed, that part they had right, and it had loads of appeal — cool air, quaint atmosphere, one major quirky attraction, and one major adventure activity (to be revealed!). But a backpacker mecca it was not — the entire town was fast asleep at 8pm (in fact our guesthouse locked us in at 9pm!), the usual barrage of internet shops, comfy cafes and travel agencies was non-existent, and there was nary a dreadlocked or singlet-wearing or backpack-toting vagabond in sight. The only other white faces we noticed at all in our few days there were the Irish couple and the Israeli couple that had been crammed into my Jeepney on the way in.

But we didn’t mind — we’ve both had heavy doses of backpacker culture in our travels — and it was quite nice to have the place to ourselves. We checked into the sweet and homey Residential Lodge and set off to explore.

Photo on left by Heather Holt Photography

Photo by Heather Holt Photography

Our first stop — and soon to be daily addiction — was the one nod to the backpacker atmosphere that Lonely Planet had promised. Yoghurt House became our home base in Sagada thanks to an inviting balcony and a menu of delicious homemade yoghurts. Had there been wifi, we might have moved in.

Photo on right by Heather Holt Photography

Post fuel stop, we set off to explore the town. With just two roads making up the heart of Sagada, we didn’t have to go far. But we did enjoy seeing the provincial staples of village life anywhere in the world — a fire station, local transport, a school, a house of worship.

Photo by Heather Holt Photography

One of the things I love about traveling with Heather is our shared love of photography and being able to indulge in long photo walks and shoots together that might leave less artistically inclined travelers tapping their feet. However, we end up with a lot of shots like this. Here’s my version:

And here’s Heather’s. Love it.

Photo by Heather Holt Photography

One thing that we were really tickled by in the Philippines was the proliferation of silly signs, many of them instructing you not to do things that, well, you’d think might be common sense. However, based on the amount of public urination that I witnessed in my three weeks there (hint: it was a lot), I guess they really are necessary.

Photo by Heather Holt Photography

And of course, almost any city in the Philippines will hold a fleet of colorful, overcrowded Jeepneys and tiny, brightly painted trikes.

Photo by Heather Holt Photography

We skipped the motorized transport in favor of our own two feet. Sagada is on a mountain slope, meaning a serious glute workout is required even for a short walk up or down the street. Heading down the road, literally, we soon left buildings and exhaust fumes behind in exchange for lush rural rice paddies.

While I wouldn’t say these compared to the rice terraces I saw in Banaue or Batad, they were beautiful in their own way — gently sloping, verdant green, and backed by untamed mountains.

Photo by Heather Holt Photography

In the opposite direction, towards the highest point of town, we set off on another adventure. Following vague directions we climbed a set of stairs behind the church, cut through a graveyard, and then looked in vain for paths down into the overgrown valley below. We had a few false starts at first and I had visions of us emerging covered in sweat, dirt and blood after hours of crawling through the thorny brush in vain, but eventually we heard voices and followed them to a clearing in the base of the valley.

And that’s where we found the hanging coffins that have made Sagada famous.

Photo by Heather Holt Photography

Rather than bury their dead underground, the people of Sagada have traditionally chosen a rarer path — suspending the coffins up on the area’s famous limestone cliffs, or stacking them at the entrances to the region’s many caves. Today, most people are buried in the nearby cemetery, but there have been coffins added to the wall as recently as the last decade. Locals believe the suspension provides an easier path for the spirits to reach their eternal resting places, as well as a more practical reason — it kept the wild animals away.

Either way, they do make for a surreal afternoon in the heart of a pine forest valley in the middle of the largest island of the Philippines.

Photo by Heather Holt Photography

Hanging coffins and all, what I’ve detailed here might not be enough to justify the incredibly uncomfortable twelve-hour bus ride from Manila to Sagada for some people. But my next post? Adrenaline junkies, hold onto your screens. Things are about to get wild up in Sagada — stay tuned!

Hiking the Rice Terraces of Batad: Part II

Alex — Sat, 18 May 2013 14:32:00 +0000

On the morning of my third day in the Cordilleras, I jolted awake and rolled over to look out the window. Had I dreamed how beautiful it was? The view that answered me back assured me it was very much reality. Despite, or perhaps even partly because of, the total isolation from the outside world, I was sad to be leaving that day. But I had solid plans to meet my friend Heather in Sagada the next afternoon and with no internet and incredibly spotty phone service, I wouldn’t have been able to contact her even if I wanted to. So I had to make the most of the little time I had left.

After breakfast (130 php/3.20 usd), the guide that G.I. Joe and I hired the day before, Frankie, came by to see if we were still interested in going to “Best Viewpoint.” Tourism is in its most rudimentary form here and there are no maps or brochures to go along with these offers — just a name and a price and whatever supplementary information you can pry out using interrogation methods gleaned from a decade of watching Law and Order reruns. From ~~my investigation~~ our conversation, I understood that it would take about an hour to stroll up to this spectacular viewpoint — what a nice morning stroll! We determined that from there we would cross over the mountain ridge toward Bagaan, where the path meets up with a road and we could catch a Jeepney back to Banaue. It meant we had to carry all of our stuff with us, but it was the most direct route back to where we needed to be.

We set off at 8:30am in order to try to beat the heat. I requested that before we set off we take a small detour back into the village, as it had been raining the day before when we reached it. Frankie didn’t look thrilled but trotted down ahead of us anyway. I was beside myself with happiness. The sky was blue, the clouds were fluffy, the rice fields were a lush green and I was getting to see and photograph it all. There were tiny provincial churches…

Native houses and structures that I marveled were built so far from any kind of road….

And a small menagerie of dogs and roosters patrolling the village…

When the boys finally insisted camera time was over, I said a silent goodbye the beautiful rice terraces that had made me feel inspired in a way I hadn’t experienced in a long time.

And then the true hiking began. Well. I guess it’s a good thing Frankie didn’t give us a more accurate description of what we’d be doing — climbing the freaking Filipino Ben Nevis, a 1,300km MOUNTAIN! — because I would not have signed on. I don’t know what happened to that easy hour stroll to a nice viewpoint, but I spent the next two and a half hours on a hard vertical ascent. I was actually crying toward the end, though luckily no one was the wiser because I was sweating so profusely that a few tears just blended right in. I normally consider myself a fairly tough chick but in this situation I think I was more frustrated than anything — I was totally mentally unprepared for such a strenuous climb, and on top of it my back was breaking from the weight of my overnight bag.

So yeah, some tears happened.

At the top of the mountain I learned a tough lesson — in the Philippines, one should simply just accept that they will never have even the tiniest inkling about what is going on, ever, and one should just learn to go with the flow and deal with it. Despite the extensive conversation the night before, from the top of this mountain that I hadn’t realized I was climbing, I also realized we were not taking the route I thought we were taking — rather than passing over the ridge we were going back down the way we came, which meant we had unnecessarily carried all our gear up a mountain, and had tacked a few hours onto our day.

I put in my iPod for ten minutes and just let myself fume before shaking it off and remembering that while the guides have excellent English they are still bamboozled by our Western desire for frivolous information regarding time, distance and route when signing on for a day of hiking. And okay, the view — peeking down into the bowl of terraces from high in the mountains above – had been pretty damn amazing after all.

The new plan — as far as I understood it, and I had learned to put very little stock in that — was to head more or less back to where we started in the village. From there, Frankie would leave us (we didn’t have him take up all the way due to budget reasons), draw us a map, and we would follow the mostly level route to a random spot in the road, where Frankie would arrange for a trike driver to pick us up and bring us the rest of the way to Banaue. Brilliant!

Now comes the part of the post where I almost died.

One moment I was stepping down the terrace stairs — basically stones jutting out the side of the wall in a diagonal line — and the next I was suspended at an 80 degree angle above a 100 foot ravine, being held up by a few strong stalks of bamboo. Somehow I kept totally calm as the bamboo started to creak, and yelled out to the Frankie and Joe for help (I was bringing up the rear of this particular hiking party). I could tell the branch I was holding with my left hand was keeping me the most stable, so I made the terrifying decision to swing my right hand up and allow the two guys to completely pull me back up to safety while trying to find footing on the rocks. Amazingly, I didn’t have a scratch or even lose the waterbottle out of the pocket of my backpack — it did take me a good 20 minutes to get my heartrate back to normal though. Hiking on the rice terraces is sometimes terrifying — you’re basically stepping along a 6″ wide wall of mud and if you fall in one direction you’re going to drown in shallow rice muck and if you fall in the other you’re going to plummet to your death. There were moments where the wall was so steep and deep that I more or less crawled on all fours. I tried to ask Frankie about the frequency of injuries for tourists hiking here but he brushed me off. After my experience I was even more curious, but also weighing the fact that I frequently trip over my own feet, so coordination isn’t exactly my forte.

Eventually it was time for Frankie to leave us, and so while I Steri-pened some drinking water from a stream he drew us a rudimentary map. I casually asked how far we were — at the top of the mountain he told us we were two hours from the road so it should have been about 45 minutes. “One hour. Two hour maybe” he said. UM OKAY I’LL JUST LET THAT ONE GO SINCE I’M BEING SO ZEN AND LAID BACK NOW. It was in fact about two hours, and involved lots of asking each other “do you think we are really going the right way?” and one major fork that was not included whatsoever on our map — I’ll just go ahead and say that I don’t think my guide has a future in cartography. Still, he did end up carrying my bag down from the mountain and so in addition to my share of his guide fee (400 php/9.84 usd), I did throw him a tip (100 php/2.46 usd).

On the plus side, the scenery was jaw-dropping — endless green mountain ranges punctuated by remote villages and flashes of terracing. Finally we reached the road, where a trike was meant to be waiting for us. Shockingly it did not materialize and so after a deep breath and a self-administered dose of Toughen Up, we started the walk to the next village. Then something magical happened. Within a mile a truck stopped and let us hop on the back for a free ride back to Banaue — an amazing bonus in light of my budget crunch. Bouncing along in the bed of the truck I turned on my iPhone to look at the time. We had been in non stop motion since 8:30am — and it was then 4:00pm.

What an adventure it was! On the negative side, my calves felt like someone had been ripping them open with pliers and I was quite certain I wouldn’t be able to walk the next day. Another downside, G.I. Joe and I had spent the last two hours of hiking butting heads — but I tried to remind myself that he had after all saved my life. As a final indignity, it started raining for the last ten minutes of the drive and then I was forced to shower with cold water upon my return to Banaue.

On the plus side, Batad might just be the most beautiful place I’ve ever been. I left feeling inspired, awed, and a smidge proud of myself for taking it all on. It was on of the highlights of all my adventures in Southeast Asia. And one of the cheapest! After dinner (150 php/3.69 usd), hot chocolate (35 php/0.86 usd) and accommodation for the night (300 php/7.38 usd), my grand total for day three in the Cordilleras was 1115 pesos, or $27.43 dollars. In three days I had spent 3,408 pesos, or just $83.83 dollars — I had more than enough out of my original $100 to get me to Sagada, considering public transport via Jeepney worked out to just $5.

There’s no doubt, it was worth every penny — at twice the price.

Now This is Travel: Hiking The Rice Terraces of Batad

Alex — Thu, 16 May 2013 14:00:00 +0000

Getting to Batad is not for the faint-hearted. This remote village, famed for having arguably the most beautiful rice terraces in the world, is not accessible by motorized vehicle. First, you go as far as the road will take you. If you hire a trike — a little motorcycle with a sidecar attached — they can take you as far as the Batad Junction, and it will set you back about 350 pesos. A jeepney can go the additional steep 4km up to the Batad Saddle, but that will 1000 pesos to charter. Then, from there it’s as steep hike down a dirt path on the hillside into Batad, where you’ll be off the grid entirely — far from phone or internet access. Those that make the journey are greatly rewarded with stunning rice terraces and a village relatively unaffected by the outside world.

Batad was one of the places I was most excited about while planning my trip to the Philippines, but my excitement had been tempered by apprehension. Information about the area was confusing in the guidebook and scarce online. As a woman traveling alone, I was also anxious about finding another traveler to partner up with. I was surprised by how few fellow backpackers I found in the Philippines, and after reading a horrific cautionary tale of a woman being murdered while hiking the same trail solo in 2007, I decided it wouldn’t be wise to hike alone. Luckily by the morning of my departure I had partnered up with my travel buddy from the day before, the appropriately nicknamed G.I. Joe, and while we were both equally confused about logistics, at least there was safety in numbers.

I was still watching my budget closely, but after a hearty breakfast (70 php/1.72 usd) and buying snacks for the journey ahead (128 php/3.15 usd) I had no choice really but to fork over the money for a trike to the Batad Junction. No way were we splurging for a jeepney to the saddle, but with a good negotiating face on I was able to get a trike for less than what the tourism office had quoted me (150 php/3.69 each). Of course this meant that both G.I. Joe and I had to share a space that he alone would have been slightly cramped in, but hey — budget win!

During the 12km trike ride, it started to drizzle, and I wondered about the wisdom in making absolutely zero effort to waterproof my bags. Suddenly, the trike stopped in what seemed to be the middle of the road — then I followed the driver’s gaze to a nearly fully vertical path leading up the mountain range on the left. The road was desolate and abandoned, and I once again wondered how we would find our way back to Banaue the next day with little to no cell phone service in Batad (and our driver didn’t have a phone number anyway — I did ask, just in case).

I took a deep breath, made my peace with the rain and the uncertainty, and off we went. In spite of the rain and the vertical incline, it wasn’t that bad — getting to the saddle only took an hour. I long ago learned to ignore guidebook estimates for things like this, which told me it would take two. Our hour included a stop to rest when we saw three little kids huddled under a shelter. As we dolled out our sticky bun bakery rations, they told us about their lives. These kids, ranging from 7-10, go to school in Banaue but return home to Batad every weekend. All that way twice a week — and to think some parents in the US debate whether or not to allow their ten year olds to walk unsupervised to the bus stop down the block.

At the saddle, which is meant to hold stunning views over the terraces, we found a blanket of fog wrapped around a few shacks selling pineapples, walking sticks and coffee, and a bunch of jeepney drivers waiting for their charges. Once we forged on and were hiking down into the terraces, the rain lightened and we caught occasional glimpses of the terraces themselves, and I was much more motivated. After nearly an hour of passing no one on the trail, we encountered what I can only describe as a walking ambulance — a large group of men carrying a thick bamboo pole with a hammock drooping from it, and a sickly old man hanging out the side. Two thoughts ran in parallel through my mind — an excitement filled where am I?, and a cautious warning of better be careful down there.

I love this photo because it looks like I’m posing but really I’m grasping at my cramping abdominal muscles

Then, suddenly, we turned a corner and we were in Batad, and my mind was shuffling through all the phenomenal and stunningly beautiful sites I’ve seen in my life and trying to find something that matched up to this — and it was coming up empty. I couldn’t help but feel like I was in a scene from a movie as we entered the small village — dogs chased chickens across the dirt roads, kids sang on mud bleachers outside the one room schoolhouse, and hunched-over old ladies turned slowly to see the white faces walking by. Cinematic undertones aside, one thought overwhelmed me — this is travel.

This tiny town of 800 — which bloats to 1,300 in the holidays when people head home from the cities — relies completely on subsistence rice farming and tourism. For those who live here, life is strikingly similar to the way it was lived one hundred years ago. Sure, Batad got electricity in 2008, but there’s certainly no internet, and barely any phone signal — though I first thought that someone was joking when they told me this, I soon saw it with my own two eyes – in order to communicate with the outside world, locals hang their phones from trees or clotheslines and wait for a signal to pass through.

A wooden lean-to served as the village’s welcome office, where we paid a fee (50 php/1.23 usd) towards protecting the rice terraces, and were guided to a sweet and simple guesthouse where a cheerful private room overlooking the terraces was an absolute bargain (200 php/4.92 usd).

Though I was entering the first stages of internet withdrawal (oh, how I would have loved to Instagram this!), I was already regretting only staying one night.

I loved my guesthouse — minus their poor pet monkey

After settling into the guest house, a guide — with a laminated license to prove it — appeared and offered his services to take us across the terraces and to the nearby waterfall for a small fee. I hesitated because of my dwindling peso reserves (250 php/6.15 usd), but G.I. Joe agreed before I had the chance to object. I was momentarily annoyed, though I’d soon be grateful. My trainers were soaking wet and muddy from the rain so against everyone’s objections I set off in flip flops. And we were off!

The path to the waterfall brought us directly through the heart of the rice terraces at the perfect golden light hour. I was having one of those moments — I felt like an over-caffeinated child, unable to stop jumping around, flailing my arms and exclaiming to no one how beautiful it all was. I actually felt like I was high — it’s the only sensation my mood could be compared to.

I couldn’t believe we were able to clamber over the rice terraces — ones that have been in existence for over 2,000 years — as we pleased. I remembered the medical evacuation I’d seen earlier in the day and tried to step gingerly, though there was no keeping up with our guide, who had spent his entire life traversing the terraces and seemed to float above them.

A not so graceful foreshadowing of a scary moment the next day…

After passing over top the opposite side of the rice terrace “bowl,” we descended into a deep river valley that would wind around to a massive waterfall. It was quite the sight, but this was a clear case of the journey being the destination.

Also, it started raining as soon as we arrived, leaving us to huddle under cover and take turns speculating on whether the weather was getting better or worse.

See tiny little G.I. Joe on the banks of the waterfall? It was huge!

While the hike to the waterfall had been unbelievable, while trekking back in the rain once again the hours of hiking began to take a toll. My calves we started to kill me — like, close-my-eyes-and-try-not-to-cry-while-wincing-with-each-step kind of kill me. It made me a bit nervous for the next day, when my only way back to civilization was my own two feet.

When we made it back to the guesthouse, it was already dark and thanks to rolling blackouts we had a simple dinner by candlelight (200 php/4.92 usd). I was sleeping soundly by 9pm — and I noted that even in this remote village, the beds in the Philippines are more comfortable than any I ever stayed in in Thailand. Perhaps one silver lining of the US occupation of the country was that we were able to pass on the blessing of non-cement bedding.

In the second day of my Cordillera trip, I had spent a total of 1108 pesos, or $27.26 dollars. I had the equivalent of less than $40 to get me from Batad to Banaue to Sagada, where hopefully the local ATMs would have cash and accept my card.

But I could barely bother to worry about money. I was in one of the most amazing places I had ever been — I truly felt awed by Batad and so incredibly lucky to be there. I couldn’t wait to wake up again and explore more.

Have you ever been somewhere that felt so much like a different world it took your breath away? Tell me about it in the comments below!

Photo of the Week 100

Alex — Mon, 13 May 2013 22:55:00 +0000

One hundred weeks. Seven hundred days. Nearly two full years. That’s how long I’ve been doing this Photo of the Week project. It started as a creative project inspired by the Photo of the Day project that my mentor at the time, Heather Holt, was taking on. Over time it’s morphed into more of a visual diary, a week-by-week photographic record of how I’m spending my life. My blog is often a month or two behind chronological time, so this series has become a way to check in in real time with you guys, say hi and give you a preview of what’s to come.

When I’m feeling dejected or frustrated, one of my go-to pick me ups is to flip through the Photo of the Week folder on my desktop and remember what a full life I am living; how unbelievably lucky I am.

Obviously, I wanted to do something big for one hundred weeks. I had grand plans — a “Best Of” roundup, an e-book retrospective, something big. But of course, life got in the way and this week happened to correspond with the very week that I packed up my temporary home of Gili Trawangan, finished my Divemaster course (Oh, so did I mention that now I’m a divemaster?), and wrestled with the decision not to say goodbye to a holiday romance gone right (Oh, so did I mention that I’m seeing someone? Astute Instagram followers picked up on it anyway. More later.) So those things kind of stood in the way of creative genius and photographic greatness.

But that’s okay. I’m giving myself a pass. When I look at these photos, I’m going to smile and remember how happy I was on the 100th week of my travels. There’s always week two hundred for something really grand.

Photo A
Sunset spent sipping cocktails and making big plans – to be revealed soon!

Photo B
I’ve been getting more abstract with my underwater photography and really enjoying this new direction.

Photo C
My last dive of my Divemaster course on Gili Trawangan

Photo D
This is me, one hundred weeks after making the best decision of my life.

Dear readers, your comments and thoughts are what has made this series one of my favorite parts of the week. Thank you so much for making my day and participating! So, as usual… which photo is your favorite?

Banaue Rice Terraces on a Budget

Alex — Sun, 12 May 2013 14:00:00 +0000

I have an air-tight plan for money management on the road. Two credit cards, two debit cards, all thoroughly vetted for ease of use overseas and stored in separate location so I always have a backup. I track my daily expenses with an iPhone app and each month do a full accounting analysis of my spending and earning to keep on track. I inform myself about the availability of ATMs and am always sure to have enough cash to get me from one place to the other.

Or at least I used to.

I can think of at least three times in my travels when I listened to distraught travelers come to the realization that they were on a speedboat/bus/ferry to an island/town/beach with no ATM and were severely under-supplied with cash. On each occasion I took the opportunity to feel smugly superior and full of pity for those who clearly hadn’t read their guidebook cover to cover before butting in to the situation to see how I could help.

So imagine my horror when on an overnight bus deep into the heart of The Philippine’s Cordillera mountain range, my seatmate began to discuss the difficulty he had had getting enough cash out of various ATMs in Manila to cover his time in Northern Luzon. Because there were no ATMs in Banaue or Batad, the two towns I was planning on spending the next four days in. After a few moments of getting over the shock of becoming on of the people I used to roll my eyes internally at, and a frantic flip through my guidebook to confirm, I took silent stock of my funds. Earlier in the day I happened to take out 4,000 Philippine Pesos, or around 100 US dollars. After buying some snacks and a taking a taxi to the bus station and buying the overnight bus ticket to Banaue (500 php/12.30 usd), I was left with the equivalent of around $80 dollars. It was going to be an interesting few days. Normally under these circumstances I might find another backpacker, befriend them and explain the situation, and run to an internet cafe to make a transfer to their account in exchange for a loan. I’ve done it for others before. But this was the Philippines — other backpackers and internet cafes were almost as scarce as the fickle ATMs themselves, and so even if I found someone they’d likely be precariously low on cash themselves. It would be good blog fodder born of necessity, I told myself: could I see the Philippine’s world famous, UNESCO-praised rice terraces on the cheap?

Arriving in the tiny mountain town of Banaue the next morning, I joined forces with that seatmate, the one other backpacker on the bus, who’s travel plans luckily aligned with mine for the next few days. Normally I wouldn’t consider giving up my privacy and a healthy dose of alone time to share a hotel room with a stranger, but desperate times call for ~~normal frugal traveler~~ extraordinary measures. So we found a room in a clean lodge (250 php/6.15 usd each) and split it. After breakfast (75 php/1.84 usd) we walked the entire length of the town in about ten minutes, and then checked in at the visitor’s center. Here, we gathered information about the journey to our final destination of Batad and our current destination of Banaue, and paid the mandatory environmental fee and bought a map (75 php/1.84 usd) so that we could explore the area relatively independently. Banue is more of a jumping off point than a destination in and of itself — most visitors are there on their way in and out of the idyllic getaway of Batad. But G.I. Joe (the nickname I gave my British military contractor travel companion) and I agreed — there was no way we were taking on that journey straight after an overnight bus ride, so we had a day to explore Banaue. Guides were asking 200 php to drive up to the top of the viewpoint, but our own two feet were free and even with my current delicate money situation aside, I was itching for some exercise. After using the Steripen to prepare a decent amount of water (bottled water was actually quite pricey in the area, making me glad once again for my investment in the Steripen) and grabbing a quick snack from a bakery (just 5 php/.12 usd!) we set off.

It was a decent hike — a windy paved road curving sharply upward the entire 800 meters. I was glad we weren’t being whisked up in a quick ten minute drive. Instead, our stroll gave us a peek into life in the Cordilleras. We passed many small provincial churches, evidence of the vast and devout Christianity that more than 85% of Filipinos identify with.

We also met many eager guard dogs, who were the first of many dogs in the Philippines who would absolutely break my heart. I was much worse in other areas, but I first noticed it in Banaue. Dogs tethered on impossibly short chains, wincing with fear whenever humans came near them. I desperately wanted to put each one in my backpack and nurse it back to happiness.

Sadly, like I said, I would soon see that these dogs were actually fairly lucky compared to others.

And of course, there were plenty signs of ingenuity that come from being in a place where the nearest Target or Tesco is…. uh, in another country. One that made me smile was the prevalent use of sawed-off tin and plastic containers as planters.

But really? We were there for the rice terraces. Banaue’s rice fields were sculpted more than two thousand years ago, and have retained their (admittedly fairly organic) shape despite being made of mud, rather than stone. These being the first true rice terraces I had ever laid eyes on, I was very impressed. Coming back through Banaue after Batad they seemed a little more “meh,” so I’d recommend following my order.

The various viewpoints became more beautiful as the road climbed higher, and become a more welcome respite as our legs grew tireder.

One thing I really loved about Banaue was the locals who sat at the viewpoint in traditional dress, posing for photos for a small fee. I admit that at first this made me feel slightly uncomfortable and some might roll their eyes at how “un-authentic” it was. But with further reflection, I reasoned — what else are elderly people going to do for money in a society built on physical activity (being a tour guide) or manual labor (tending the rice fields)? This provides them with a modest income and helps keep evidence of their traditional culture alive.

Plus, duh, I like taking pictures! Be sure to bring small change if you plan to take portraits along this route — I was pretty unprepared with small bills and went through my change (40 php/.98 usd) pretty quickly.

I was quite pleased when we made it to the top, all on our own two feet! The rice terraces were stunning and had me itching with excitement to reach their even more lauded cousins in Batad the next day.

Feeling accomplished and much in need of a nap, we headed back into town. There, I counted my pesos carefully and decided that even after dinner (180 php/4.43 usd) I had enough left over for a small indulgence of a candy bar (60 php/1.48 usd). There was no temptation to spend the money on nightlife, as the entire town is shuttered by nine in the evening — no problem for those of us getting up at dawn to hike into Batad.

I felt pretty proud of my budgeting! It was the end of day one and I had spent a total of 1,185 pesos (around $29 usd), almost half of that being my overnight bus ticket to Banaue. Thanks to splitting a hotel room, making a pastry from the super cheap bakery into lunch, and forgoing a driver for the rice terraces, I was in pretty good shape for my stupidity-imposed budget challenge.

Have you ever found yourself on an unexpected tight budget on the road? How did you handle it?

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Warning: I do not recommend the People’s Lodge in Banaue. You will notice that I rarely write negative reviews of a place. This is both because I rarely have experiences negative enough to feel that I need to warn others and because I try to keep a positive attitude. But People’s Lodge left a bad taste in my mouth after my first night there and an even worse one of my return through town after Batad. Rooms were double the price stated in my very recently released guidebook, there was a fee for hot water, there were no electrical outlets in the room meaning all electronics had to be charged at reception, and worst of all the staff was unfriendly and sometimes downright rude. On my final morning they tried to strong-arm me into taking a private driver to Sagada, and when I said that I was taking the public Jeepney they laughed cruelly in my face. Avoid.

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I lucked out with this particular destination — not all places are so easy to have a cheap holiday in. Discount booking sites can help you plan intentionally cheap trips — just be sure to check about ATM availability in your intended destination!

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The Great Escape: Month 20 Roundup

Alex — Thu, 09 May 2013 14:00:00 +0000

Since I left home for my Great Escape, I’ve been doing monthly roundups of my adventures filled with anecdotes, private little moments, and thoughts that are found nowhere else on this blog. As this site is not just a resource for other travelers but also my own personal travel diary, I like to take some time to reflect on not just what I did, but how I felt. You can read my previous roundups here: Month 1, Month 2, Months 3 and 4, Month 5, Month 6, Month 7, Months 8 and 9, Month 10, Month 11, Month 12, Month 13, Months 14 and 15, Month 16, and Months 17 and 18, and Month 19.

If last month was all about readjusting back to life out of a backpack, this month was about embracing it. I broke my usual beach-hopping pattern to explore Northern Thailand more thoroughly after only giving the briefest of glances in the past. I was all over the place not just in terms of destinations both new and old but also in terms of travel style: I went from solo travel to traveling with a guy to kicking around with friends, and switched between budget backpacking and splashing out for quick fixes of luxury.

Throughout it all, I cemented my love for both the act of long-term travel and also for Thailand, the country I just can’t seem to quit.

Where I’ve Been

• Seven days in Chiang Mai

• Five days in Pai

• Two days in Mae Hong Son

• Two days in Sukhothai

• Seven days in Bangkok

• Seven days in Koh Tao

Highlights

• I’ve been pretty transparent about not really loving Chiang Mai — so how did I end up spending ten whole days there on this trip? One word: people. I settled right into an amazing group of insta-friends including Diana, Lindsay, Matt, Torre and Ivan. Our dinners and nights out broke up an otherwise somewhat monotonous period of work and made it quite difficult to tear myself away.

• It’s pretty easy to get jaded about travel experiences after almost two years on the road. But anyone who could spend a day feeding, bathing, and hanging out with elephants and not be awed has their wow-o-meter broken. A particularly special moment for me in this day was sponsoring one of the park’s dogs and naming him after my first pup, Westley.

• After years of being a Thai massage devotee, I loved getting to see behind-the-scenes with my one day Thai massage course! And let’s be honest: half the course consisted of just getting a massage.

• Every moment of Pai was a highlight! I fell so hard for this little hippie mountain town, which I now count among my top three favorite destinations in Thailand (sharing the thin air with Bangkok and Koh Tao!) I truly look forward to spending at least a month here in the future, training at the Muay Thai gym, hanging by the river, eating delicious food and soaking up the laid back atmosphere.

• Two days rafting through the remote Thai jungle was not what I had originally expected — I came for a white-water, white-knuckle ride and ended up with a reflective and quiet two-day float. Not to pull anything patting myself on the back here, but I really was proud of the way I turned my attitude around to enjoy a trip that was not at all what I had anticipated. I ended up loving my contemplative, peaceful trip.

• Mae Hong Son is a tiny town, explorable in a day or two. None of the sights are making Thailand Top Ten lists, and yet I’ve been dreaming of visiting there for years. I absolutely loved it — sometimes it just feels good to have a dream realized, no matter how simple, right?

• After doing a big Northern Thailand loop from Chiang Rai to Chiang Mai to Pai to Mae Hong Son and back to Pai, I stopped over for one final weekend in Chiang Mai. It was two nights of indulgence — meeting up for a final dinner and night out with friends, cashing in some Starpoints at the luxe Le Meridian Chiang Mai, and taking an absolutely excellent cooking class! I loved seeing what went into my favorite dishes and can’t wait to get home and butcher them in an attempt to share what I learned with friends back home. Highlight of the highlight: eating mango sticky rice that I made with my own hands.

• Ever since I visited Ayutthaya last year I was itching to visit the twin tourism city of Sukhothai and find out for myself where I came down on the rivalry between them. In the end I’m Team Ayuthaya, but I had a quiet moment in front of Wat Si Chum that almost changed my mind. There I sat before one of the most humbling and beautiful temples I’ve ever knelt before, and I had it to myself for a full ten minutes between descending groups of tourists. It was bliss.

• I always love my time in Bangkok. I never seem to purposely plan in much time there, but it’s hard to drag me away in less than a week. This time I spent a few days in Silom working on a design hostel story and checking out the Bangkok version of Eve Ensler’s One Billion Rising, then headed to Sukhumvit to stay with my friend Wes, visit with friends Neil and Scotty, and pop over to the Talad Rot Fai weekend market. I even got to squeeze in a girl’s night on Soi 11 with Diana and Lindsay! This city just feels like home.

• Ya’ll know I love Koh Tao — what else is new? On this particular trip I really enjoyed trying out something new — trapezing! It was such a rush and I loved discovering something new on my favorite rock in the sea.

• After my New Year’s Eve Full Moon Party last year, part of me wanted to call it quits on them forever. I had had such a good time I wanted to end my moon-partying on a high note and never try to top it. I’m glad I didn’t stick with that! Heading to the February Full Moon Party with Lindsay, MM and a huge crew from Roctopus Dive was one of the most hedonistic and purely fun moves of the month.

Lowlights

• Food poisoning — talk about a travel lowlight. In Mae Hong Son, both MM and I spent a miserable night wretching, squirming, and in my case, weeping self-indulgently. Worst of all, we had a tight schedule and had to get back to Chiang Mai rather quickly, which meant subjecting ourselves to windy, long mini-bus rides with no air-conditioning. It was painful, to say the least.

• Two of the things I was most looking forward to about exploring Northern Thailand were the Pai Reggae Festival and driving the Mae Hong Son loop by motorbike. The former was inexplicably never scheduled for this year and the latter was scraped when I finally accepted that I wasn’t an experienced enough driver to comfortably take it on. I admit, I was disappointed by both.

• Its not the worst thing that ever happened, but somehow due to a variety of circumstances I managed to miss out on the Chinese New Year celebrations in pretty much every city I was in for the entire holiday. I hate missed opportunities.

• I spent three days of my time in Bangkok in basically a walking anxiety attack, paralyzed by indecision. I knew that I was not ready to move on from Thailand, but yet I had to follow the plan(!) which said I was meant to be in the Philippines. In the end, I followed my heart rather than my head, and it was the right decision to make. But those few days of back and forth were torture.

• After working a bit too much last month and feeling like I was missing out on traveling, this time I swung the other way and had a bit too much fun! My income took a slight hit but in the end it was a trade I was willing to make for all the fantastic experiences I had.

Budget

Considering the amount of hopping around I did in this month, I was quite pleased with my budget. Between traveling with someone and splitting expenses, traveling through cheaper areas (Northern Thailand is generally much less pricey than islands), and barely spending a penny on accommodation (staying with friends and doing work assignments), this was one of my cheapest months of travel ever.

Fitness

While I was nowhere near as vigilant as I was in Month 19, I did a respectable job keeping up my workout routine this month. In Chiang Mai I did yoga and once even went for a four mile run around the perimeter of the city moat (believe me, in Thailand heat, this is a mission!) In Pai I went to Muay Thai training and on my luxury weekend at the Le Meridian I used the hotel gym both days. Back on Koh Tao I went back to my usual routine of hitting the gym and going to Muay Thai training, but mixed things up with trapezing and a hike!

What’s Next

After one more week in Thailand, I’d head straight to the Philippines for three weeks of exploring a whole new country. Stay tuned!

Readers, as usual — it wouldn’t be the same without you. I can’t thank you enough for coming along for the ride!

Beyond the City: A Manila Day Tour

Alex — Tue, 07 May 2013 14:00:00 +0000

I consider myself to be a lapsed City Girl — these days, I only daydream about skyscrapers and high culture, while spending my time kicking around laid-back islands in flip flops instead. So I’m actually quite excited when my travels bring me to a big urban metropolis. But I’ve come to learn that I’m in the minority here — most backpackers I meet can’t wait to make a beeline out of Bangkok or pop out of Phnom Penh. So it comes as no suprise that one of the most popular things to do in Manila is actually to join a tour that takes you away from it.

When I was picked up at Pink for my Tagaytay Ridge Tour from Manila I was amused to find that I in fact had a private drive and guide all to myself for the day — I’m sure they were just as amused to pick up their VIP guest from a hostel, rather than a posh high-rise in Makati. Having just arrive in the Philippines, I was eager to use our time fighting traffic to glean as much information as possible from my guide.

Our first stop was to San Jose Church, home to a source of great Filipino pride — an organ made entirely of bamboo. My guide passed me off to yet another guide, this one an employee of the church who walked me through a small museum and rattled off an impressive instrumental history starting in 1816 and surviving typhoons, earthquakes, World Wars and more. Then came the real highlight, as I was led to a second-story balcony with views of the old-world church and treated to a private concert of the unique sounds of the bamboo organ. As I shot video on my iPhone I thought about all the Sundays I spent as a child listening to the same instrument, worlds away from this one.

It was an interesting stop, and a reminder of the Philippine’s strong devotion to Christianity — something that sets it far away from other Southeast Asian nations.

Next up was another bite-size dose of Filipino culture — a stop at a jeepney factory. I’ve often heard that no trip to the Philippines is complete without a ride in one of these extravagantly painted, extremely overcrowded forms of local transportation. The jeepney truly does tell the story of the Philippines — originally made from US military jeeps left over from World War II, a defining war for this nation, and currently restored using local resources like shredded coconut husks stuffed into vinyl to make seat padding.

Today, they clog every street in Manila, slowing slightly for passengers to jump off and hop in, shifting the masses of overstuffed bodies already inside.

While this location seemed much more of a museum or showroom than an actual factory, it was still a really fun stop. I hadn’t yet had a chance to actually ride a jeepney, so it was quite fun to get up close and personal with one and see them in various stages of development.

And then we were off to our true destination for the day — Tagaytay Ridge. En route, my guide explained how the rolling hills, cool breezes and fresh air of Tagaytay made it the most desirable vacation-home spot for Manila’s glitterati. “What about the beaches?” I has asked. “Philippines has seven thousand islands,” he replied, “and eleven hills. I suspect he was exaggerating, but the message was clear. We were headed somewhere rare.

Just a short distance away from Manila, and we were in another world.

We began our Tagaytay trip with a stop at The Palace in The Sky. This unfinished summer home boasts a Greek-style ampitheatre, a towering statue of Christ and panoramic views of Tagaytay Ridge and Taal Lake. But what really interested me was the Marcos family connection — this was her unfinished summer home, now in ruins. This was now the second extravagant and eventually abandoned building project of the former Philippine president and his wife — and I had been in the country two days.

I did enjoy the kitschy additions that enterprising individuals have added to spruce up the place, though.

From the Palace in the Sky, Taal Lake and the volcano nestled within it were still just tiny specks. So we headed back to the van and wound closer along the mountain roads until we reached a better view in the form of a restaurant balcony. After asking me about my palate preferences, my guide ordered a sampling of Filipino dishes for the three of us to share. I admit that Filipino food never really blew me away, and sadly this wasn’t an exception. Dessert, however, was quite fun. With a tasting platter placed in front of me and the encouragement of the driver and guide, I tried some yummy and radioactively colored treats that I might have ignored otherwise.All the while, a Filipino cover band made the rounds, serenading in exchange for tips. They were actually amazingly good — perhaps a testament to karaoke being the national pastime — but I felt a bit awkward when I asked my guide what an acceptable tip would be and he named a figure that seemed shockingly high. I handed it over but couldn’t be sure if I had been taken for a ride.

To break up the picturesque drive home we stopped frequently to pick up fresh fruit from a market, sample coffee from a brewery, and photograph orchids at a beautiful local farm. I saw far many more domestic tourists than foreign ones, confirming Tagaytay’s beloved status among the Filipino people.

I returned to Manila exhausted but with a greater understanding of the Philippines, from its music to its transportation to its most popular vacation destinations. But most importantly, I finally knew what that slime green drink with the jello blobs in it tasted like.

I am a freelancer for Viator and participated in this tour in order to write a review for their site. They did not request a favorable view on either their site or my own. All thoughts and opinions are, as always, mine.

Photo of the Week 99

Alex — Mon, 06 May 2013 14:00:00 +0000

Another week, more underwater photos and declarations that time is moving too quickly. You all must be getting bored of this by now, am I right?!

It is crunch time on finishing my divemaster course, so I was very lucky that this week I was able to bring my camera on one dive and also have an afternoon at the beach. Believe it or not, in my full month here so far this was the first time I have sat my butt on the sand in front of the water for more than three minutes during daylight hours. It was glorious

Photo A
Documentation exists: I spent five weeks on Gili Trawangan and did in fact go to the beach at least once.

Photo B
This photo might not be the sharpest but I love the scale and the mood.

Photo C
There’s nothing like a little eel popping out to say hi in front of a beautiful blue background.

Photo D
While deep diving is always fun, nothing quite gets me going like shallow dives like this one — I can’t get enough of that light streaming in from the surface.

Which photo is your favorite? Tell me in the comments below!

The Philippines Hostel Experience: Pink Manila

Alex — Sat, 04 May 2013 14:00:00 +0000

In my never-ending exploration of hostels in Southeast Asia, I stumbled across a recently opened hotspot in my next destination of the Philippines — Pink Manila. My first week in the Philippines I was flying solo, and so I was eager to meet other travelers to explore what I considered a somewhat intimidating city.

I had no idea how blown away I was about to be by the warm welcome I would receive at Pink.

The Crowd/Atmosphere

I didn’t realize it when I first arrived as Manila was my first destination in the country, but true “backpacker scenes” are quite rare in the Philippines. It makes Pink all the more special — if you’re looking for travel buddies to team up with or bump into throughout a trip through this archipelago — this is the place to do it.

In my short time at Pink I met a wide variety of travelers, from English teachers in Korea on holiday to dive nuts chasing the next great reef. The very social atmosphere and variety of communal chill out areas made friend-finding easy.

Location

Taking up the fifth through seventh floors of a former residential building, Pink is a high-rise backpacker hideaway in the heart of the Vito Cruz area.

Vito Cruz is connected to the other areas of Manila by a nearby metro stop, an efficient and affordable way to way to get around the city. Taxis, if they aren’t being driven by scammers, are also quite affordable. A ride from the airport cost less than $5USD.

Rooms

Pink offers both six and twelve bed dorms, each with an ensuite bathroom. Each dorm features large lockable shelves large enough to store an entire medium-sized backpack — a very welcome touch. Otherwise rooms are basic, save for touches of signature pink!

Air conditioning turns on automatically in the evenings and off in the mornings.

Amenities

Pink’s greatest asset is obvious the moment you step through the door. The pool that wraps across the first floor of the hostel is responsible for many guests’ lack of exploration of the city. But who can blame them? Manila can be overwhelming, and lazing around in the pool with fellow travelers provides the perfect oasis from the heat and chaos. Floating in a yellow raft, Instagramming away thanks to my waterproof iPhone case, and listening to music… I was in heaven.

Additionally, Pink boasts a kitchen and extremely affordable breakfast options, free internet and computer use, and frequent group activities like shisha nights on the roof and unique walking tours of the city. There is also some very basic exercise equipment in the ground-level common area of the building.

The roof is strewn with hammocks overlooking the Makati skyline. At night, the staff often sets up blankets and pillows under a tent for shisha parties.

Room for Improvement

The area of Vito Cruz is not necessarily the most ideal — there is little to do within walking distance. Still, it is very close to a subway line and I found the hostel itself to be a worthy destination. I suggested that Pink provide a local map with more information about where to eat, shop, drink, etc.

Pink is still a very new hostel and so most taxi drivers do not know the location. Before arriving be sure to have a clear map or description of directions.

At the time of my stay, internet was only available in the common areas though there were plans to extend it to the rooms.

Overall Impressions

I said before that the greatest asset of Pink was the pool, but there is actually another feature that stood out in my mind long after I left. The staff at Pink Manila, and the hospitality that they fill the hostel with, absolutely blew me away. Marianne, the manager, was like a Filipino mom to me while I was there. “Our guests are family,” she told me with a smile. And I was treated as such, with Marianne going as far as to set her own alarm for 2am to make sure that I woke up and got into a taxi safely for a middle-of-the-night flight. I’ve never felt a warmer welcome or goodbye at a hostel.

I truly loved my time at Pink Manila, so much so that on my way out of the country I scheduled a long layover so that I could head back one more time to say hi to the staff and have one last dip in that lovely pool. I can’t imagine a better place to start or end a trip to the Philippines.

Location: 2551 Pablo Ocampo and Bautista Boulevard, Vito Cruz, Manila
Price: Six bed dorms are $14 per night, while 12 bed dorms are $11
Amenities: A lovely pool, free internet and computer use, kitchen use, exercise equipment available, occasional tours and pub crawls organized
Book Here: Pink Manila Hostel

Have you ever stayed in a hostel with a pool? I’m hoping this trend catches on!

This post was made possible by Hostelworld and the generous hospitality of Pink Manila. As always, all thoughts and opinions are my own. I’d love to keep sending you updates about my (mis)adventures around the world, so please subscribe to Alex in Wanderland via RSS or by email below!

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