The blog that follows hereafter discusses the views expressed by Richard Dawkins, an admittedly controversial author and evolutionary biologist, whose opinions and research unfailingly spill over into the religious spectrum. Being that the Travel Geek label and this blog maintain the priority of discussing issues which center around travel, research and humor — and not overly polarizing issues — I have password protected the content below.
By nature, I am not a guy who shies away from controversial issues. But seeing as most readers of this blog don’t really come here to talk about, learn about or find those types of issues, I wanted to ensure that this material wasn’t immediately visible for those who don’t want to see it. Therefore, if you would like to see the review, enter this password: #DawkinsRichardRevie. And if not, no worries! You can rest assured knowing that more interesting stuff is on its way soon.
See the rest of the photos from the Philippines at cyleodonnell.com
Moving onto the mountains, Ifugao was my next destination. Highlights abound on this leg of the trip. I wanted to see the hanging coffins of Echo Valley, the tall, majestic waterfall past the ancient Fidalisan Village and of course the ancient rice terraces.
I have seen many terraced farming fields before in places like Northern Vietnam, Laos, Malaysia and throughout some areas in Korea and Taiwan. In full season, the fields can take on an otherworldly pallet of colors and, depending on the perspective and the backdrop of the sun at the time of witnessing them, they can make the intricate lines of a valley appear to carve out the steps the gods take to travel to their resting place – or something equally mysterious and grandiose.
But these fields were said to be the best terraces in all of Southeast Asia because of their expanse and their meaning in the ancient world. I suppose I’d find out in a couple days.
To see the rest of the photos from the Philippines, go to cyleodonnell.com
My first stop was a little town called Baguio. It was just a quick stopover as I would almost immediately catch another jeep into the higher reaches of the mountains. But it’s worth mentioning because it’s the carving capital of the Philippines. Well, that and the fact that I had a great conversation with a lady who sold beetlenut to the locals.
So beetlenut is a small, fibrous bud that comes from within the fruit of a palm-like tree. Beetlenut by itself isn’t really all that stimulating. It’s basically got the consistency of chewing on a pine bud or pre-pinecone sprout. And it’s not all that organic tasting either. But if you never spat the juices out on the ground, you’d never really get the feeling that this little bud really has an odd chemical reaction in your mouth.
The punch comes when you add two other ingredients. First, you add tobacco and wait for that to get into the blood stream. Then you squeeze in a packet of mustard. And the combination of all the various substances forces into the blood, a very amphetamine-like buzz. It’s effects are fleeting — only 20 minutes or so — but the process can be repeated over and over with the same effect.
Basically, it’s become this ritual for the men in the area, more than a drug or addiction. However, the addictive qualities of this substance are not to be questioned. Almost all men do it. And if the stained red mouths full of quickly decaying teeth didn’t give it away, the huge, snot-covered, crimson spatters all along the roadway will. All told, it’s probably one of the most disgusting pastimes I’ve seen in Southeast Asia. And I have seen a lot of them.
But that didn’t take away from the “carving capital” aspect of the place. Huge trunks and split logs almost completely line the roadway up to the town and even a little after, awaiting their artisan’s shaping hands to come and craft them into something appreciable by human standards.
The town itself has an easy, laid back feel to it. Shops line the three corners of the central part of town and they supply the entire outlying area with goods and food. But what I liked the most was that the backs of most of the shops had restaurants hanging about a mile above the huge, mountain drop-offs below. The people are very curious of travelers, walking up to talk and waving at you from passing vehicles. And this also adds to the demeanor of the place.
If you share any of my photos, please reference back to this blog, cyleodonnell.wordpress.com, or my main site, cyleodonnell.com.
From there it’s only a short wait until another jeep is full of people and items are piled high on the roof. My jeep started rumbling up the mountain at about noon and I arrived at my next destination, Banahue. by 6 p.m.
Banahue is another one of those towns where things are a little slower, not necessarily finding any reason to rush around. And over every mountainside guardrail there’s a vista of the most amazing terraces chiseled into the valley below.
It was Banahue, too, where I got the full grasp of the risk people take in traveling through this area. The mountains in this area were simply not equipped with the soils befitting of support for the roads being plied through them. As in several locations I could very easily see the next pass the jeep was headed over, there would be a huge empty space where the mountainside used to be underneath the 4-inch-thick concrete pathway for the passing vehicles. This, of course, was precariously replaced by a few rickety beams used as temporary replacements for the moment’s pause until the seasonal construction crew could come out and lay concrete underworking to the roads damage.
Buy a print of this or any of the photos here or on my website, cyleodonnell.com/photography.
Passing over these dodgy turns was shifty business at best, and, as I thought many times, likely to be my last time passing over anything at all on this planet. It made me wonder if the last vessel of people to have toppled to their deaths during one of these trips was filled with people who may have been thinking the same things I was thinking – anticipating their own demise just moments before it was sure to take place…
In Banahue, I moseyed around and went to the little tourist-based shops and bought a couple masks and a native fighting stick and even a couple little bags to keep my batteries in. And when I walked back across the lazy road I snapped this shot of local life in a typical shop in this area. The peacefulness of the mountains seemed to echo its own voice back into the culture that exists here. In fact, a lot of the mountains’ characteristics are played out in traditional life, I thought. It was the nice, cool climate that I had been seeking since my retreat from the heat and bustle down in the towns of southern Luzon.
Buy a print at cyleodonnell.com
Below is a part three of the six-part documentary film, Travel Geek: Documentary Philippines (be sure to subscribe to my channel). It covers much more than this journal. But since I’ve already made the video, I might as well put part one of the six-part series in here to add some reference:
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YEVWwTJMXcw]
[Wanna Help? One way you can help is to sign up for blog updates. You can also share this video (which can be found on my channel), my photography website and this blog. Email at least ten of your email contacts who might enjoy it. Help spread the word so others can enjoy my travels! If you have any questions, just email me at: cyle@cyleodonnell.com. You can also follow me on facebook, sign up to receive my tweets on Twitter, and see my latest pins on Pinterest!]
Hi everyone. I wanted to send out a very special THANK YOU for your support in recent days. Enough people went on and checked out my blogs and thought enough of it to show their support by clicking the ‘Like’ button more than 50 TIMES!! My current total now sits at 52. To give you a reference on this, I only have less than 47 journals on travel. And because I have been adding more to the blog lately, I think that’s a great motivator to keep branching out and creating more interesting content.
Maybe now I might get nominated for one of WordPress’ coveted blogger awards… [fingers crossed]
Thanks to everyone who came on and read the blog. You can be sure that I will be keeping up the hard work to bring you the best in travel photojournalism diligence.
Okay, so here is the second album of recently edited photos. This is the rough draft editing stage of the photos. The final drafts will be edited all together in a batch process and then uploaded to the commercial website. So you’re getting the sneak preview before the photography page gets updated.
In this album, the elderly people taken in HDR are from the hill tribes living in the mountains. The beautiful lady trying to hide her face from the camera was so shy that her friends made her take the photograph. She very reluctantly and uncomfortably sat as I snapped these shots of her. I gave her a warm thanks and a fist full of cash afterward. And they wounldn’t let me leave without getting a shot of the tattoos that she acquired in her time in the hills. The tribes people decorated themselves back then and are strangely embarrassed of it now. The older gentleman sat proudly and let me take this shot even though the youngsters around him were laughing and pointing. He seemed not to mind.
Be sure to click the images and make them larger. The detail that comes out in HDR when you’re looking at the larger image reveals much more detail than a thumbnail. Tremendous range is exposed in this technique of photography — which is responsible for giving the photos that “dreamy” feel to them. The mountain shots have so much old-worldy feel to them in these shots. There are many more that will make it to the commercial site, but these will have to do to start.
Take a look and be sure to leave me comments on what you think!
No journal today. I thought I would just share some photos that are recently edited. This gallery will only consist of regular color and B&W photography. Stay tuned, though, for the gallery coming up later today in HDR. I think that will be the highlight of the first half of the Philippines journals. These photos are not yet complete, and therefore I haven’t loaded the gallery up to the website yet. So you’re getting the sneak preview before the photography page gets updated.
In his Japanese warrior trilogy, The Tales of the Otori, Lian Hearn dives into a gripping account of deep love, gritty warfare, mystical powers and hardened betrayal. And he does so with the poetic prose of master writers.
The thing that I have come to appreciate the most about his writing is that the depictions of the ancient tales are woven around a latticework of what most readily appears to the western reader as a very identifiable and believable historicity that may very well have existed in the hand-me-down legends that pass through the virtual gateways of Japanese myth. Seeing how these myths, then, play out in a western authorship, makes his books take on that very mysticism on which he bases his themes. And that certainly goes for his style as well.
Just as in his characters’ level of patience and poise, he writes in a way that sells his scene with obvious, painstaking precision.
To say that he wrote a “trilogy,” though, isn’t quite true. The trilogy exists and is certainly worth the read. But he has also gone in and written a prequel and a sequel that gives a two-fold capstone to the series.
The first in the trilogy is called Across the Nightingale Floor, and talks about the young master who, unbeknownst to him, is the last in a long line of mystical tribesmen. He’s trained at an art which he will later use to shroud his real powers — all the while honing them to become invisible, move with phantom-like fluidity and scale impossible climbs.
My review will end with this book, but I discuss more in the video. And I don’t want to give the rest away, but you can feel free to find out more about his other books at these links:
The video review is below:
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eu5oXU-VzIM]
[Wanna Help? One way you can help is to sign up for blog updates. You can also share this video (which can be found on my channel), my photography website and this blog. Email at least ten of your email contacts who might enjoy it. Help spread the word so others can enjoy my travels! If you have any questions, just email me at: cyle@cyleodonnell.com. You can also follow me on facebook, sign up to receive my tweets on Twitter, and see my latest pins on Pinterest!]
After Pinatubo, I headed farther north into the western peninsula of Luzon. Hundred Islands National Park was next on the agenda.
As I rolled into Alaminos, on the long bus, I hadn’t realized how much time had gone by. But that last leg took me almost six hours. I just spent most of the time snapping photos at passers by and trying to scribble a few words into my journal as the bus bounced roadward.
Getting into Alaminos doesn’t mean you’ve made it to the park, however. Once there, you still have to pay a tricycle to drive you the rest of the 7km distance to the coast. The price isn’t that bad (only about $2), because the driver probably will have a brother or cousin who owns a hotel, restaurant or boat. Good people to know.
Hundred Islands National Park:
Probably the thing I liked the most about the Hundred Islands National park was area surrounding it. Staying in Alaminos and Lucap was sort of what I was hoping to see since I got to the Philippines. The slower pace of life, the small town feel and the quiet streets that, once you wake up, you’re happy to have had the night before.
The place I stayed at was a reasonably large place that had recently been built by a small family. I couldn’t tell if the husband was a perpetual drunk, because it was Christmas Eve when I arrived. To be fair, both towns were equally stocked with drunkards, I suppose. So perhaps I was being a bit harsh on the old man. But it was his reliability as a boat captain what I was more unsure of. Because the next day I’d signed up to have him drive me out into the park.
I approached to set up a time to leave to the park the next day and it felt like he’d thrown up an entire bottle of malt liqueur within five minutes of our meeting. But as I had begun to find out, there were many people who could captain the rickety little vessels passing as the latest influence for the aquatic tourist conveyor belt out to the islands. So if he fell through, I was pretty sure I’d be okay.
And that turned out to be the case as I wound up snatching up a younger, more sober looking driver at the entry to the pier.
Being as it was the morning time and I had arrived to the crumbling docks in time for the sunrise, I thought I’d snap a few photos. They became some of the best shots I’d made yet on this trip. So I was happy that I went out early.
Being the first national park that resided in the ocean that I have ever seen, I thought that this was one was particularly special. The islands themselves were interesting. But they weren’t mindblowing – as played out in the advertising all along the coast.
Shaped like the average blooming mushroom, these islands display a headdress of green foliage under a short canopy of failing coastline. They are also very close to one another in proximity. So there are lots of shallow pools, swimming areas, neat beaches and what is left of the coral that was swept nearly away from the latest wave of seasonal typhoons and covered by annual sediment brought in by lahar flows.
I don’t want to give the impression that I wasn’t impressed and didn’t enjoy the trip. But if they were a little less dramaticized before you got there, they might seek less awe and find more of it in the people that gaze upon these eroding structures. Nevertheless, among the two packages (a half day [3 hours] and a full day [can include an novernight stay on Governor’s Island]), I opted for the short tour.
But I was no less excited about the day in the islands. The driver took us out to little coves and swimmable spots. There was this great little island that had all sorts of little pagoda-looking huts that appeared to have lived through many a noisy party echoing through the inlet. And probably my favorite part of the trip was… well, the trip. I guess I mean that literally.
When we arrived at the last island, there were lots of people swimming in the crystal clear waters at the south-facing beach. And I was happily prancing along watching them when I stubbed my toe on this enormous shell jutting up through the sand. I definitely broke my toe and I was down for a ten-count. But once I was back up and snapping away, I found this great little oyster bed that had been “salvaged” by the last heavy weather that had come through and torn up the coral bottoms.
I crept out into the sectioned off nursery and snapped a few photos of these giant oysters. They must have been two feet across. They were bright blue and green and seemed to change color under the shifting light of the cloud-strewn sky. It was a great additive to the trip. But after that, I headed back for the trenches.
Today, it was off for Banahue and Bontoc on my way to seek out the home of the native headhunters of Ifugao. That trip would prove to be exciting and full of great views. I would spend the first half on top of one vehicle and the other half hanging out the rear door of another. But you’ll have to wait for the next journal to see photos and read about that.
And speaking of photos, be sure to stop by cyleodonnell.com for the photos from the whole Philippines trip.
Below is a part two of the six-part documentary film, Travel Geek: Documentary Philippines (be sure to subscribe to my channel). It covers much more than this journal. But since I’ve already made the video, I might as well put part one of the six-part series in here to add some reference:
[Wanna Help? One way you can help is to sign up for blog updates. You can also share this video (which can be found on my channel), my photography website and this blog. Email at least ten of your email contacts who might enjoy it. Help spread the word so others can enjoy my travels! If you have any questions, just email me at: cyle@cyleodonnell.com. You can also follow me on facebook, sign up to receive my tweets on Twitter, and see my latest pins on Pinterest!]
Along with her book, Letters from Burma, I also recommend her book, Freedom From Fear. Both were written while she was under house arrest at her Inya Lake residence in Myanmar. When released in 2009, she instantly became one of the front runners in the political movement in which she was involved before her incarceration 15 years before.
In Letters from Burma, which is a collection of two-page notes, she talks about everything from her visitation rights to and from her loved ones and supporters, to the folly involved in releasing pigeons outside her house. And in the moments where she’s found writing about the smaller, less static times of her manifold hours alone, her poetic writing never trails too far from the undercurrent of strife that she is faced with in her life.
Truly an inspiring woman through her strength, dedication and passion for non-violent resolutions in a country run by anything but peaceful leaders, her book, Letters From Burma, shouldn’t inspire women. It should inspire EVERYONE.
Below is my video review on her book and her time as the leading face of the peaceful movement in a land of tyranny.
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JhkOiI2vrts]
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Be sure to check out the Philippines photos at cyleodonnell.com
There’s an interesting and flavorful addition to the Philippines that is home to no other location on earth. What is this delectable, endemic treasure: the Jeepney.
Short is its history on this green earth, but fascinating is its time here. The Jeepney came about through an unexpected gap in the Philippines chilling and exciting past.
For only a short period of years, about (#) years or so, the United States occupied this small, island-speckled nation. But in those short years they peppered the countryside with the vehicle most appropriate for bouncing around its rugged terrain, the Jeep. So godlike is this amazing entity bestowed upon the Filipino people that they created many different Jeep-esque country crawlers in its honor.
Useful in hauling everything from livestock to construction materials up the slow-to-progress hinterland road system, these smoke-belching beasts are seen all over the country – especially in Luzon and the larger islands. The classic front end, the heavy steal construction and, of course, the diehard suspension system are all akin to their master. But Filipinos have added girth, length, an upper rack system that could rival the strength of boardwalk pilings. And that’s all in an effort to tote as much as possible (and therefore make as much money as possible) in one trip. But little else has changed about from the Jeep’s original design – including its not-so-environmentally-friendly miles-per-gallon ratio.
I was scammed and always charged the local rate on these mobile social clubs. And it was never a boring ride. People were crammed everywhere; in the nooks aboard the body, on the rack above, in the front seats and even clinging for dear life off the back.
I could have taken the big bus liners to the areas I wanted to go – mostly. The air condition going through the city would definitely have been nicer. But I would rather see the Philippines the way it’s seen from the inside – not the outside or looking down.
Mount Pinatubo:
Once near Angeles, I could tell that getting the rest of the way would have to be done a little more discerningly. Angeles is a dirty, crowded town where little English is spoken. People are willing enough to help you get to where you need to be. But the drivers seem more to be out for the buck.
At the local depot, I was approached by lots of “tricycle” drivers asking to take me to my destination. But I have learned that generally, you don’t want to just jump into the first offered ride when you’re fresh off the boat, so to speak. So I haggled a little bit and met a few guys that were willing to discuss the idea.
The first price was offered. I turned it down, of course. Then I walked a little further and they sort of teamed up against me, saying that this was the regular price and that the distance was far away.
I knew that we were only about seven kilometers from the dropping point for what I had researched was the start of the hike for the mountain. So I eventually just moved on. They were not pleased that I had not fallen for their game.
Lesson from memory: be willing to walk away… a long way (in order to A, find out of the driver is serious and B, ensure that you’ve done as much as possible to help guarantee that you’re not the next white dupe to fall out of a bus and right into a scam).
Down the road a little bit, I hopped into the least formidable looking jeepney headed in my general direction and cut my lost time. On the trip I found just what I needed. A relative of the person in charge of the next leg of my trip.
Cindy, the cousin of Wendell, had told us that we were approaching O’Donnell Village and that we should stay at her relative’s place overnight and then, in the morning, take his jeep tour into the Pinatubo region for a quick day hike.
And just like that, I had a place to stay, a hookup into the trek up the mountain and the closest thing to a personal guarantee that I had secured the best price possible – the local price.
And what a hookup I had: Wendell turned out to be the president of the Four-Wheel Club in the entire area. And as a bonus, it was his birthday. So he was celebrating with a huge banquet of food, complete with servers and free beer. So, besides the all night bash that included seemingly endless karaoke until all hours of the morning, it was definitely a good night to stay at Wendell’s place.
The next morning I was overcharged for my room and headed toward the mountain. It was the first time I had been swindled, so I didn’t take it to heart. And since I’d been given plenty of food and beer the night before, I didn’t really waste much time debating it. But Wendell gave me a price the previous evening, 500 Pesos, which had somehow turned into a per-head price by morning. But nevermind that, it was off to see one of the world’s most famous mounds of dirt.
Once at the gate and registered, it was 16 kilometers to the base camp. From there I’d end up hiking another 12 klicks to the summit. Or should I say what used to be the summit.
In 1991, Mount Pinatubo breathed its most recent breath (well, the lesser of the famous ones was actually in 1993), casting a billowing haze of smoke, ash and flying debris 40 kilometers into the air and combining its efforts with a tragically coincidental typhoon that had pummeled the west coast that same day, adding insult to injury. The resulting lahar flowed down the mountain and through the surrounding villages, killing scores of people in its path.
Once I reached the crater left behind by this destruction, I instantly felt the helplessness that must have been a part of the psyche of the victims of this massive sleeping goliath.
Below is a part one of the six-part documentary film, Travel Geek: Documentary Philippines (be sure to subscribe to my channel). It covers much more than this journal. But since I’ve already made the video, I might as well put part one of the six-part series in here to add some reference:
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KM7BnYvzRa8]
[Wanna Help? One way you can help is to sign up for blog updates. You can also share this video (which can be found on my channel), my photography website and this blog. Email at least ten of your email contacts who might enjoy it. Help spread the word so others can enjoy my travels! If you have any questions, just email me at: cyle@cyleodonnell.com. You can also follow me on facebook, sign up to receive my tweets on Twitter, and see my latest pins on Pinterest!]
