Batad is one of the barangays of Banaue, Ifugao. We reached it through a hired jeep from Banaue Hotel, and by foot through a mountain Trail from Saddle.
The 3-kilometer trek was a downhill leisure. We took our time with a number of photo ops on the way. I did macro shots on the pretty wildflowers along the hillsides.
All the while, what I was thinking was the walk back to Saddle in the afternoon. And that would be uphill. I had to look back to assess. The terrain seemed to have been scooped out. I had to rev myself up with the prospect of a steep arduous climb on the way back.
Yes, my tree;) During this walk, I chose it to be mine.
And the spirit of the tree said, "Yes, I am yours!"
We came upon this man single handedly building this Ifugao house. He had no other visible tools, except the saw. He measured with a rope. We watched him as he busily fixed this and that.
I asked him, "Whose house?"
He answered that he is getting married. So he had to rush finishing this house.
It sounded as a Kiangan joke to me;)
We reached the Viewpoint of Batad. It was drizzling.
From the top, you could only see the mountains. The view was obscured by houses and stores. There was a tourist registration area where it also served as the viewdeck. I was thinking,
"Where is the majesty of those rice terraces?"
A stone throw away from the view deck was a mother and her child. Their seeming comfort just sitting there together despite the light drizzle and their sense of contentment were captivating. They were oblivious of tourists who were coming and going. Like a magnet, I was drawn to the direction of their intent gaze.
The sky was overcast, but over the mountains, the sun shone brightly.
Overlooking the Viewpoint, the rice terraces looked like tiers of seats or steps descending on a central area illuminated by the mid daylight. It streamed and casted dramatic shadows on the rice fields.
The gash on the mountain eroding some parts of the rice terraces was visible.
The destruction was brought about by typhoons Ondoy and Pedring. Financial support was given to restore the damages.
The landslide made its mark. Still, the view was awesome.
The destruction was brought about by typhoons Ondoy and Pedring. Financial support was given to restore the damages.
The landslide made its mark. Still, the view was awesome.
The rice terraces of Batad are beautiful.
It is an ingeniously designed amphitheatre.
It is an ingeniously designed amphitheatre.
Like an open air coliseum, the stage where the houses are was spotlighted by the sun. I viewed with pleasure as Mother Nature highlighted for me its awesome beauty.
The serenity of the mountains stood as avante garde for the village providing sources of water to irrigate the fields and for use in the community.
The idyllic community of farmers is no longer what they seemed to be. There were radical changes in the social, economic, political, spiritual, and ecological lives of the people. These dynamics affected the traditional system in maintaining the rice terraces.
Not all of them, specially their children opted to tend their rice terraces. They have other alternatives.
Batad is now teeming with tourists where people of different races trekked up and down their communal steps. Some residents catered to their commercial demands. The traditional huts and GI hamlets were developed into inns and restaurants.
The traditional hut is a living museum. The artifacts are used to educate guests on cultural traditions.
Not all of them, specially their children opted to tend their rice terraces. They have other alternatives.
Batad is now teeming with tourists where people of different races trekked up and down their communal steps. Some residents catered to their commercial demands. The traditional huts and GI hamlets were developed into inns and restaurants.
The traditional hut is a living museum. The artifacts are used to educate guests on cultural traditions.
The Homestay offered a close up view of the rice fields. Maybe thousands of photographs of the terraces were shared and circulated all over the world. The images I took were stamped with my own soul print. I would cherish them in my mind's scrapbook.
The photographs had their own stories to tell. Each one who came here to personally shoot their own pictures had their own intents. It was exhilarating to capture the images from my own lens - no matter how blurry.
Life in Batad was rustic but comfortable, simple yet satisfying. The homestay's resto was the same with their own dining place. The food was good. Pork, chicken, and seafood dishes were available. They served red rice. They also offered cheese pizza and fruit salad. Good coffee and pancakes, too. And yes, also beer;)
The bonanza of the visit may be the opportunity to don the traditional costumes in that living cultural landscape.
Rice produce and its implements were offered as actual props.
Dogs too were part of the actual setting.
Our short stay gave me an opportunity to closely observe an ongoing community meeting. It showed the cooperative system of the villagers. They went about their business as tourists went back and forth near the community centre.
A young boy sulked under a post unmindful of passers by. He may have gotten used to seeing strangers in their village.
I was wondering how a young boy's life gets affected with his exposure to tourists and other people who visit their village for other purposes. These influences on the younger generation would determine the future of the rice terraces.
These young school girls ate their packed lunch on a hanging veranda overlooking the rice fields.
Quaint and peaceful.
Quaint and peaceful.
Their school is within the cluster of residential houses. The space is limited. No room for expansion. There may come a time that the higher grades would have to move out to another school building, especially when the population of the lower grades increases.
The children of Batad co-existed with their domestic animals alongside. It was an important mix in their habitat. Simple biodiversity.
The children were not that timid to speak out their minds as we used their pathways.
The children were not that timid to speak out their minds as we used their pathways.
The girl asked for coins so that we could pass. Her younger brother seconded her motion. She was told that it was not good for us to be giving her money. She gave out reasons why we should.
It was time to leave.
Going back, the scent of Sampaguita flowers wafted.
I picked some and crashed the petals on my wrists. That would be a nostalgic remembrance to boost my energy for a strenuous journey to the top of the mountains.
As we walked, rose petals were scattered along the pathways by the wind. The stretched thorny bush laden with roses in full blooms shook and more petals dramatically covered the steps.
The pomelo branches heavy with fruits swayed with the breeze...
They were bidding us goodbye.
'Til we meet again;)
They were bidding us goodbye.
'Til we meet again;)
All in a day.
This was my last shot of the aesthetically mundane, and all that were exceptionally interesting.
Batad is a beautiful experience!
Haggiyo!
My heartfelt gratitude to:
Zen Lopez
Max Haberstrough
The Nalulas