Getting Lost in Buscalan, Kalinga

Buscalan, Kalinga

I traveled sixteen hours northward without a particular plan in mind  (see travel notes below). I had no idea how many days I would be there or where I would be in the next couple of days. No expectations, just the hope of finding peace, of again appreciating the world in silence, as it changes from second to second. I had imagined patiently minding the sound of drops of water while recalling smiles. I just wanted a break from a maelstrom of pressure of going beyond mere survival, towards realizing a dream of a purpose-driven life.

I was, at least, clear about one destination- Buscalan, but where after that would be dependent on what I'd feel like doing. I thought, "Bahala na". For sure, things will just unfold, and I would be quick to seize opportunities if worth taking.

Buscalan and my first traditional Kalinga Tattoo

Apo Bang-Od and her grandniece, Grace

Buscalan is a small village in Kalinga that has gained popularity because of Apo Bang Od (pronounced /Fwhang- Od/, thanks to photographer Tomy Hafalla, who I was lucky to meet in the village; aka Apo Whang Od)- the lastmambabatok (although her granddaughter, Grace, has already started following in her footsteps). Her traditional way of tattooing tickled people's curiosity, not only of those who like getting inked, but even those who are not a fan of the art. She uses a stick to tap the thorn of pomelo, which stands as the needle that will force the ink into the skin. The ink, on the other hand, is bamboo soot mixed with water. She herself has most of her body tattooed, as have many of the women in the village. A long time ago, this was considered ornament. The more the tattoo, the more beautiful the woman is. As for the men, they would get the tattoo by killing an enemy in battle.

There are two ways to get to Buscalan: via Bontoc. through Banaue/Baguio, or via Tabuk. Whichever you choose, you will be treated to beautiful views along the way, especially, if you ride on top of the vehicle's roof (termed top load), which I did. I chose to take the 12-hour bus ride to Tabuk and another 4-hour jeepney ride to Buscalan's Turning Point. The bus to Tabuk was a drag, since I took the night trip but the ride to Turning Point was amazing. At first, I could not let go of the jeepney's roof's railing and I would close my eyes whenever we would pass by the edge of the dirt road on a mountain side. Some parts of the road are so narrow while some looked they would give in to the weight of the jeepney. There have already been several accidents where a bus full of passengers fall off. I would say a prayer, and convince myself that death is an inevitability. We are all going to go eventually. By sickness, by car, or even by soy sauce, so there is no point getting scared. Forget fear, but mind the danger. This was not very effective, but it did help with the acrophobia a little.

It's common for passengers to ride on top of  jeepneys and buses.

I arrived early afternoon, after a thirty-minute trek from Turning Point to the village. Kuya Charlie (my awesome host) was busy attending to other guests, but his folks were kind enough to accompany me. After introductions over freshly brewed Kalinga cofffee, which by the way, puts Starbucks to shame, we went to where Apo Bang Od (or Apo Whang Od) was. Mr. Hafalla and his wife were having their intricate tattoo finished. There, I found out about Apo Bang-Od's 14 ex-boyfriends, and story has it that if she's doing the tattoo on a guy, she would remember their treachery hence, the heavier pounding of the stick. Later, I would realize how I must have reminded her once more of the cursed jerks. As she was doing my tattoo, I thought those exes should have given her more love. A thousand more love! I was told to think happy thoughts, but boy, was it difficult! It was hard even to spell the words! All I could do was squeeze my fingers, which seemed to have lost their sense of touch. For somebody who was going to get a tattoo for the first time, I had no idea what kind of and how much pain I was going to go through. Forty minutes was all I needed to know that had I chosen a a design that would span the length of my calf, I would have fainted before we were half-way through. It was all the time I needed to forget about elevators, to hope that any moment the ordeal would be done, and to finally understand everything, including pain, is transitory.

I didn't go to Buscalan just for the tattoo. In fact, I never really thought I would get one for myself in this lifetime. But traveling for 16 hours changed all that. Besides, she is the last mambabatok that

Traditional Kalinga House

inked Kalinga men who were victorious in head hunting. I had to have something to remember her by. I also went there to escape the city- the traffic, the smog, the noise, the pressure, the hypocrisy and MSG. And it wasn't a bad decision. In the village, I only have the mountains and the rice terraces around me. Vegetable's served every meal, giving me a break from an unhealthy diet. I use my feet to get from one place to another, and yes, the place is perfect for people like me who is not very big on taking baths. The air is fresh, and though pigs wander around the village, they do not smell, at all. Every morning and towards sun down, people clean up their yards. The slow-paced life is contagious, allowing you to reflect and distill thoughts. It's a place that reminds me of warmly-lit homes in Christmas and of butterflies.

Taken at a local's house after
inviting me for a cup of coffee

My plan to stay there for just a night stretched to four. It was difficult to be there for just a day, when there is so much to see. On my second day, I went on a tour of the village, took pics and met some of the locals. I gave matches to old people, as a thank you for giving me permission to take photographs of them. For the kids, I brought candies. I also got a chance to see a nearby waterfall, but passed the chance to dip (my new tattoo should not get wet!). I met fellow travelers staying in the same room as I was. These are photographers (the real kind), geologists, nurses, artists, and many others from different walks of life (As I stayed there for 4 days, I saw them come and go), with one common ground: adventure. From them, I confirmed how unprepared the government would be for the big quake (the movement of the Marikina fault line), and that mining is not the evil as we know it to be. I also witnessed how one of them, a nursing student, gave free blood pressure checkup. We learned that though the village has a medical center, there is only a midwife that frequents the place. No doctor. We were told it would be good if we could bring along our doctor friends next time, so people in the village could have free medical checkups. Sad, but such is the case in most forgotten villages of this country. In some others, even worse.
I had the privilege of meeting Mr. Hafalla, a distinguished documentary photographer. From my conversations with him, I learned that Buscalan's tribe is called Butbut, that the rice in Kalinga is of different variety from that of Banaue's. Kalinga rice is taller, easier for the tribe to plant and harvest, and how disputes are now resolved through negotiations (no longer head-hunting). Mr. Hafalla had many interesting stories to tell about the Cordilleras. He has seen the changes among the people. He has witnessed how progress has slowly transformed these people's lives, most of the time at the expense, as is usually the case, of tradition and culture. He said, we cannot and should not preserve culture and traditions. Unlike photographs, we cannot freeze people and communities in time. We can only help sustain them. I am awed at the experience he has had with the people there, and how I envy him!

Making Rice Terraces at Kanaan

Even with how I had gotten used to sleeping at 3am, I would be forced to go to bed before midnight. On my third day, this has become some sort of catharsis for me. I was living among people that do not feel the need to complicate life with cars, fashion, and philosophy.

There was no resisting the peace that can get the worst of insomniacs to sleep in this village. The mornings in Buscalan, on the other hand, is always a good time to start the day. The village slowly awakes to a cool morn, with  the mist making way for a beautiful day. Men and women start the day with sweeping their ground, then feeding the pigs, while children get ready for school. I, on the other hand, would go down the living room for the first cup of deliciously brewed Kalinga coffee. Then, I would notice tatay from the house next to where I was staying making his first broom and tobacco pipe, Kuya Charlie, busy with breakfast, and some women grinding rice using traditional bayo.

Kids having fun at the peak of Kanaan

With not much left to do, I went on a climb to Kanaan with some of the new-found friends (and Khent, a local teenager) on my third day. Kanaan is a nearby mountain, whose peak takes about 30 minutes to hike. Though the climb is hot (the mountain's bald), especially, since we did it at one o'clock, we had a very nice view of the village on the way up. For those of us who need to get in touch with family and friends, there is a phone signal at some parts of the peak. A little patience is necessary to look for the right spot, though. It was a good thing to be able to send one or two text messages from there, but what made this climb memorable was how we shared cashew nuts under the shade of a pine tree while listening to the quiet of the afternoon. Even more memorable is when we encountered a group of farmers making the famous rice terraces of the Cordilleras. We offered to help them, and they asked us to take their pictures. They were very excited about it,and even told us to send them prints when we found the time.

These farmers had been at it since before sunrise, and would continue to be working till sundown, but they looked content and happy. They were laughing while doing the extremely physical work under the heat of the sun. It doesn't mean they did not need anything. They said they needed pails, shovels or anything that would help them make the work lighter. They would be grateful if we could bring them some the next time we were there. I thought I should remember: the photos, some farming tools and doctors. If I could invite more friends, we could make a little bit of difference in these people's lives. Nothing heroic like making them rich maybe, but simpler like bringing even more smiles and fun memories for them.

When we were ready to leave, they told us to stay a bit more, so we could share with their afternoon snack- sticky rice with peanuts. It was surprisingly good! The downside, some of us had a hard time finishing a bowl. We did not want to act ungrateful for the food, so we had to do our best to finish it.

Communication was difficult since they speak Butbut, which we are not familiar with. They, on the other hand, could not speak any of our languages- Cebuano, Ilocano, Filipino. If not for Khent, we would be doing sign language. At the end of the day, genuine kindness transcends language and culture.

The farmers and their sticky rice treat.

Lubuagan

Fourth day, my roommate and I chartered a motorbike that would take us to Lubuagan- a fourth-class municipality in Kalinga, 2 hours from Buscalan, which became the capital of the Philippines for 72 days (see Lubuagan history here). I went there to see the weaver's village. I had never really seen fabric woven the traditional way, and it would be a good experience to see it there. I had also remembered how beautiful the view was going from there to Buscalan, so I thought riding the motorbike to this town would give me more photo opportunities.  Well, I did not. I merely reveled in the freshness of the air and the awesome view on the way and back.

Lubuagan is a quiet village. I had planned on staying one night here after Buscalan, but something about the place made me decide otherwise. I had also planned on visiting Awijon, a village founded by the national artist, Alonzo Saclag (performance arts). We had to cancel this, since the road going to the village is difficult for the bike. With 4x4 jeep, it would take just 40 minutes. It was very nice of Ms. Roda Saclag to invite us for some coffee and for her readiness to arrange a trip to the village the next day. It was too bad I could not go back for my heart was set on Sagada. There will be a next time. For sure.

My ride to Lubuagan

Last Day

On the fifth day, after much hesitation, I left the village for Sagada. Even with the coffee, the amazing people, the rich culture and the serenity, I was not meant to stay there long. I had to find some time for myself. This was difficult to do in Buscalan, where thoughts about my future took a back seat. It was impossible not to be engulfed by the simplicity of the village. In simplicity, they found joy, and there was no place for worries. Even when the farmers told us how they were poor, they were saying it in a manner that did not sound regretful, but more of a mere comparison to our very different life in the city. It sounded like being poor was something to aspire for.

As I took the concrete stairs down from the village, I took one last look around. The terraces looked brown this time of year, but in a few months they would be teeming with green. And like the promise of a good harvest, I will be back to experience more of the culture and of the simplicity of life that makes you want to leave all the baggage of conventional success behind.

Read Sagada story here.

Travel Notes:

How to get there

Manila- Tabuk

Bus Terminal: Victory Liner Kamias

Apo Bang Od (Apo Whang Od)

Bus Fare: Php 614 (aircon)
Travel Time: 12 hours
- Victory only has 3 bus trips every day to Tabuk. Earliest is at 7pm (see schedule here).
- Buscalan can be accessed via Banaue-Bontoc

Tabuk-Buscalan

Bus Terminal: In front of St. William's Church
- Take the earliest bus/jeep schedule to Buscalan, as there are not many jeep/buses going that way.
- From Tabuk, you can reach Buscalan by taking a bus/jeep going to Bontoc. Get off at Bugnay, then hike to Turning Point, then to the village. That will take 2 to 3 hours depending on how fast you walk
- If you get lucky, you can take the jeepney that goes all the way to Turning point. If that's the case, you will only need to trek for 30 minutes to the village.
Bus Fare: Php 150
Travel Time: 4 hours (To Lubuagan, 2 hours, to Tinglayan, 3 hours)
Where to stay: 300/day (food and loging) at Kuya Charlie's house in the village

- Contact Kuya Charlie to arrange the accommodation (and how much it would cost) @09981888697.

- Phone signal is difficult in the village. Only Kuya Charlie has it. He puts his phone on a certain spot of a house. There he replies to text messages and makes calls. Do not expect to be able to send any communication using your phone from Buscalan. If you need to, hike to the peak of Kanaan. Signal is more probable there.

Pigs everywhere in Buscalan

- You can bring canned goods or any kind of food if you are not into vegetables. You can then just ask Kuya to cook them for you. I notice others give all their food to Kuya and then he would just cook it for everyone.

- Drinking hard liquor is not allowed in the village, but they are more lenient with guests. Just make sure you do not do anything stupid if you do decide to drink.

- There is a store that sells beer (only SMB).

- If you decide to climb Kanaan, I suggest you do it early.

- Cost of the tattoo is not fixed. Apo Bang-od will decide the cost depending on the complexity and size of the tattoo. This ranges from Php 300 to Php 4000 or higher.

- If it is going to be your first time to get a tattoo, don't get too carried away. Choose a simpler design as the pain might get to you. I was told that fainting is not an uncommon phenomenon there. Every month, somebody always makes it to the village headlines. Spare yourself the embarrassment.

- Make sure to protect your new tattoo. Do not get it wet nor get it exposed to dirt to avoid infection. Also, do not go swimming at the pool or at the sea before your tattoo is fully healed, as these bodies of water have chemicals that can destroy your tattoo.

Sagada Story here.

Gallery:

(Right-click and open in a new tab for a bigger view. More later.)

Apo Whang Od uses dried grass to outline the design

a "palliative" poem

Another poem to read to forget the pain

This took three days.

smithy

Tatay making the scabbard of a small knife