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Journal 46: Philippines Days Six and Seven

Pushing on today, I made it to about the half-way mark: Bontoc.

Bontoc was one of the towns that I had made it a goal of mine to visit because of one particular fascination of mine: the ancient headhunters.

Warring tribes all throughout the mountain areas have feuded for hundreds of years over land, power and mating rights with the women.  And I wasn’t aware of this before I went, but a missionary had set up a museum, the Bontoc Museum, years ago when he’d arrived to rape the local people of their then-current belief system.  Funny – even ironic – I thought, that Christianity would aim to remove all traces of the local belief system which included beheading, worshiping ancestors and honoring gods of unknown western appreciation, and then turn around and build a memorial commemorating its amazing past.

I wasn’t able to get much information about the family lifestyles, but I definitely hit the major points in the museum.  There was a Frenchman who wandered into this area in the 1970s when the culture was still in full swing and not yet inhibited by any western conservative movements.  He captured the life that existed here on film and published a book of the best of those prints.  [I have been unable to find this author’s name and would love it if someone would leave that information in a comment at the end of this blog]

In his book there are so many telling photos that show situations where men had just come back from a headhunting party where they had the headless loser of the battle tied up and hanging like a pig from a bamboo strewn between two carriers.  They would bring their spoils back to the village, remove the face of the fallen prey, keeping it as a trophy, and tattoo a patterned series of lines on their chest marking their success amongst their battles.

How amazingly far flung, I thought, from our current accepted way of life these people are.  Nestled in this little country at some far reach of the world, why, too, would their culture not be just as foreign?

Headhunting, as I found out, was not the work of mad people bent on control or power or because of some strange right of passage.  As things went, there were no rules that might keep people from killing each other and taking their land, their animals, their women and on and on.  So, instead of warring on a tribe-wide scale, the village leaders would simply send out two snipers and a small contingent of soldiers to find the opposing leaders – the few people in charge of waging the violence in the first place – and, simply put, come back with their heads; guaranteeing that these orders would not see their way to fruition and certainly sending a message to any who might follow in their footsteps.

The pictures that I saw in this museum showed men with six and seven rows of these tattoos indicating their take of the men who’d otherwise have their memory emblazoned across their chests.  Men sat in the proverbial Asian squat, holding up their latest trophies from the massacre – the eyeless face of the man who’d not fought hard enough, or the man who’d been taken by surprise in his sleep, or the man who’d been turned in by his own people at the risk of losing their own heads in his stead.

The stories, too, were captivating.  I stood reading every etched piece of wood, every banner and sign in the museum – all of them depicting the shortened history of a certain village or strain of people living their lives in their unique ways, wearing their unique cloth-work and providing the camera with their own lives in the villages they lived in.

I won’t soon forget the many interesting things that I found there.  And I apologize that I don’t have any photos from the location.  But the video below should do a good job at staving off the fiendish demand for the answers to the curiosity for secrets of the Ifugao headhunters.

Back on the road, I headed northward.  More on that trip and the gallery from the mountains of Sagada in the next journal.  Until then, enjoy Part Four  of Travel Geek: Documentary Philippines!
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dbf1O6my9-c]

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Journal 45: Philippines Days Four and five

Ifugao:


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!]

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New Photos from the Philippines, 2nd album

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!

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Journal 44: Philippines Days Three and Four

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:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j_NFWWaw-u4]

[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!]

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Journal 43: Philippines Days Two and Three

Jeepneys:


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!]

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Journal 42: Philippines Day One

First Day in the Philippines:

I’ve chiseled out about two weeks to spend in the Philippines over the New Year holiday, 2011.  During this time, I am interested in seeing two world heritage sites, climbing some mountains, seeing some waterfalls and navigating underground rivers.

This might be an auspicious venture and an unreasonable expectation for Southeast Asia’s black sheep.  But I have been pleasantly surprised at my goal’s relinquished rewards in the past.  So I continue to set my standards high.

Day one sees me landing in Manila.  I landed at about 9:30, well after dark.  And Manila, like many Latin-descended capital cities, it’s not really safe to fumbling the streets late at night.  So I jumped right into a cab and headed for the Stonehouse Hotel, far north of the city.

Strategically, I planned on staying near this location because I wanted to simply leave Manila as soon as possible the next morning.  I had bigger plans in mind.  In fact, my plans stood 1486 meters high as I planned to crest the lower reaches of its summit within the next two days.

The mountain has an amazing recent history.  But first, for reference, I will start on the other side of the world:  In 1980, Mount St. Helens, which sits along the Cascade Range in Washington State, erupted like a nuclear bomb and blew fully grown trees to the ground for hundreds of yards in all directions.  It was so powerful that it recorded a Volcanic Explosivity Index of 5, the most significant in the contiguous 48 states.  It hurled bombs and ash into the air that tormented surrounding states and Canada for months after.


Be sure to check out the Philippines photos at cyleodonnell.com

But when Mt. Pinatubo went of in 1991, it recorded a VEI of 6.  It also coincided with a massive tropical storm that happened to have been battering the coast at the time.  When they met, the water from the heavens created a surge of mud that buried a handful of villages in the mudflow’s wake.  A dozen people died and cleanup and recover took months.  It erupted again two years later.

I didn’t know if I was going to take the longer, more strenuous two-day hike with an overnight, sweating to the temperature-cued crickets choir or if I was going to try and shoot straight through in one day.  But I knew that I was headed for the world’s most recent VEI-6 explosion and currently active volcano, Mount Pinatubo.

But, as is the case in many other times of seeking out the location of desire, the adventure, I was planning, would be in the voyage.

Below is a video of the first part of the trip (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 please 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!]

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Introducing the Author Spotlight:

Here on my blog, I have started to get some feedback as to the recommendations for what I do in those “down times” of travel.  So when I find myself on a 13-hour plane ride, and nothing out the window creates enough of a canvas on which to paint my wandering thoughts, I generally turn to books (or audio books on the trusty iPod).  So, in the effort of promoting great reads, I will be introducing a new section to the blog: Weekly Author Spotlights.  I will be reading, discussing and posting videos about the books I have read throughout my travels.
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XP7bOMTNFsI]

Okay, so by this point you’ve probably realized that I have made good on my promise to use more video in my blog.  But I don’t want to overdo it.  So in an effort to ease the video onslaught of late, I have been actively editing lots of text blogs and photos to bring back in.  But there’s lots more going on than just that.  Read below:

Other important updates:  After months of filming for the upcoming film, Travel Geek: Documentary Taiwan, I have finally been able to set aside some time to get the much needed edits done to the the Philippines gallery of photos.  So it might be the end of the week before I am able to get this album published, but it should be up at least by the end of the week.

And speaking of the Philippines; I have edited the first of my journals from this latest trip and will be following this post with the first of what will likely turn out to be about ten pages of amazing reflection from Southeast Asia’s black sheep.  So thanks for sticking with me throughout all the years of posting, and up next is my latest journals from the Philippines.  I know it’s been a while since I’ve posted any actual travel journals.  But I have been working on releasing (not one, but) TWO books which should be out soon.  I have been editing heaps of video.  And I have also been compounding more filming on top of that.  So I have been a busy boy.

The gallery of photography from the Philippines will be hosted at cyleodonnell.com.  You can reach the page directly by clicking HERE.  And new Travel Geek short films are coming out all the time.  Just subscribe to my Youtube Channel to receive all the new shorts that I post.

Also, I am getting new subscribers all the time, so I know that some of you have been talking about the page.  THANK YOU!  I really appreciate the support.  But if you could do me one more favor, I’d really appreciate it.  Please email one or more of my email updates to at least ten friends in your email contacts list and ask them to subscribe.  Anyone that you think would be interested in reading about the updates that I post here, they should sign up for a subscription too.  It’s free, and I love getting feedback on what else I should be putting up here on the blog.

[Wanna Help?  One way you can help is to please 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!]

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Journal 39: Day 14: Home from Korea

Well, I am home and finally settled from the two weeks in Korea.  It was an amazing experience.  Overall, Korea is a place of hidden gems.  There is a sense of “manufactured” environment in many of the parks and reserves.  But in all that, it’s still something to be experienced.  It has a sense of human manipulation that I haven’t seen anywhere else.  It’s like they had a picture of what the environment was supposed to look like.  And instead of simply leaving nature to its course, they “made” it look permanently to their scale of how it should stay.

And it’s things like that which make Korea unique.  Of course there are beautiful places that have been left to the elements and have weathered into wonderful view-scapes of hillside and country.  And there are plenty of peaks to climb and villages to see.  But I think if you’ve ever been in a place where you look at something and your eyes don’t immediately register the information in your brain and you eventually figure out that it’s just an obscure scene; that’s what Korea is.  The customs and traditional life that takes place here, even with pop culture and fashion trickling in from all sides, are the stranger of the two things that your brain thinks your eyes are creating an images of.   You just know that what you’re seeing in Korea could quite possibly be normal.  But upon further investigation, they’re simply not.  They are the refined items that Korea has created over the years.  And there they sit; seemingly normal but profoundly off-centered.

As my time passed traveling throughout the Korean Peninsula, I was reminded of the joys of traveling to these new and fascinating places.  I was gifted with the insights of a new way of thinking.  I achieved experiential knowledge and the lessons it uses at imparting that knowledge.  And I had a peak into a new world with new rules.  It was truly something that I won’t forget.
Soon, I will be headed for Hong Kong; a city straddling the Bay of Victoria and bursting with lights and sounds of a busy metropolis.  I hope to come back with great photos of architecture, nightlife and of course, the people who make it all run.  It will be my forth time passing through, but this time I plan on putting in some time and visiting as much of it as I can.

Until then, I hope that you have all enjoyed this latest entry into my blog of travel and research from around the globe.  And I hope to have you back with me soon.

Be sure to go to my website, cyleodonnell.com, for the best and newest photography from these and other travels and for my latest books available through the site.  I hope to have at least two more published in the next six months.  So keep an eye out!

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Journal 38: Day 13: A dodgy, little love motel on my last day in the Korean Peninsula

So it’s my last night here in Korea.  I decided to leave Jeju and come to Incheon where, I once thought, the city’s Chinatown held new opportunities for some great market photographs or architecture.  I was, I guess, hoping for some Chinese temples where I could snap a few shots of the animals cresting their eves or a dragon greeting me at the entrance.  Maybe I was expecting lots of commotion as bustling streets flowed with people moving goods and foodstuffs around with a sense of navigation that westerners can only stand back and gawk at.  Or perhaps I was hoping for some food that swelled with the heat that comes off it, food that you don’t have to crack open or cook yourself.

Alas, there was nothing.  Or perhaps I should say, there was nothing worth taking photos of.  Drab and somber, the entire area looked more like it was the outskirts of something much more interesting.  Its grimy streets and heavy overcast gave it a feel of old timey poverty just before a dustbowl was set to come in and put to rest any fleeting images of holding on to the last few drumbeats of an economic heartbeat.  It seemed like this was the place that was bashed with North Korean gunfire back in 2010.  But even that place was not far from here.  Only about 30 kilometers or so.

At any rate, I followed what I thought were Lonely Planet’s directions for a motel near the subway that I would take in the morning to get to the airport.  But after walking way too far with all my gear, I finally just used my visual knowledge of reading Korean signage and found a motel across the street from a pizza joint and down the block from a subway entrance and called it a night.  These two landmarks represented what my will had been ground down to; food and the quickest way to exit this country.  I’m certainly not regretting my time here.  It just seems like, now that the end is right around the corner, I may as well get it over with.

Anyway, apparently in my learning of Korean advertisements, I could read enough to know that the sign said “motel.”  But clearly I hadn’t learned what the text for “love” was.  When I checked in, I thought that it was odd that they owners didn’t give me a key to my room.  They also kept asking me in Korean if it was going to be just me in the room.  I kept saying that I, alone, was going to be sleeping and needed a key to protect my valuables.  But they were simply not happy with my response.

Before I go on, I think it would be better if I explained just what a “love motel” and its purpose is.  Now, normally one would simply think, ‘Oh, well it’s obviously a cathouse and there’s nothing more to think about it.’  But, like most other things here in Asia, it has a deeper meaning and purpose.  And, make no mistake, its meaning and purpose follow lines to a source that hold no bearing on whether or not the western world would approve or even understand that logic.

A love motel can be rented by the night or by the hour.  A man can get a room alone, wake up with a woman and never feel shame from the owners as he’s checking out.  The owners of these establishments generally offer a woman to single men checking in and can suggest a man for the single ladies.  A love motel is a place most often occupied by actual couples.  But it can also be used as a discrete meeting place for strangers.

In America, it undoubtedly seems a little strange that a couple would check into a hotel for one night – or even a few hours.  It might also come off as odd that the owners might have some say in the eventuality in the population of each room’s occupancy.  It may also come as a huge shock that these motels have resident “lovers” who, from birth, have lived there to pay off their parent’s debt as sex slaves.  But then again, there are many things that Americans will never understand about what goes on in this strange corner of the world.

As the tradition goes in most parts of Asia, it is expected that the children, once married, move into the house of the husband’s parents.  It’s also expected that the wife becomes, for lack of a more polite description, a slave to the parents – fulfilling chores, errands and other demands.  Keeping in good with a family that demands strict adherence to a very conservative lifestyle, then, becomes an everyday challenge.  Sex, therefore, is a bit of an uncomfortable item which brings a lot of stress to the already difficult nature of a new marriage.

Love motels sprang up out of the resulting need for privacy in these new relationships in the turning of the world’s traditional ways.  These motels were first used as places for dating couples to spend anything from a few days of relaxation to just a quick visit between their busy lives.  From there, of course, the Asian culture of why-can’t-we-have-everything-we-want came into play and they started to gain popularity for other types of visits.  And as for the lifetime resident lovers; well, that was a tradition long preceding the invention of the love motel.

For thousands of years the ideals of Buddhism played into the perpetual cycle of reincarnation and parents thought once their daughters were born when they were expecting a boy, it was their karma giving them the requirement of payment for their ills in previous lives.  So giving up their daughters as payment for this karma was the right thing to do.  Their daughters, in turn, were taught their life of sexual servitude was them paying off their karma as well – otherwise, why would they have been born as the payment of their parent’s karma?

It makes a lot more sense once you have been living in Asia for a while and can understand the mentality of all the intricacies of what goes along with the absolute and unquestioning belief in rebirth.

So there I was, being probed by the owners of this motel and the lady starts moving her hands through her hair.  I had no idea what this meant until some time later.  But once she was satisfied – though not very pleased – knowing that I would be staying one night, alone and not be in need of anything “else” from them, she came up with her price and charged me for the room.

Once checked in, I dug out some cash and went across the street to the pizza place for edible, non-seafood that I didn’t have to break the shells off of or barbecue myself.  On the way, though, I kept wondering what the lady meant when she was combing her hands through her hair.  And it eventually came to me.  She was asking me if I wanted a woman for the night.  Then all the other mannerisms came into understanding as well.

The couple were upset that I didn’t want a woman because they could charge me more for the room.  They were displeased that I would only make them money on the room when, ultimately, this was not the kind of place where they only charge for the room.  This also explained the delay in coming up with a price for the room – essentially an overcharge.  And they didn’t give me a key because they wanted me to ask them for the key every time I wanted to enter the room because they didn’t want me hiring a woman from the street or from the little paper advertisements I would see taped up to the underside of steps throughout the alleyways all over the city.  That was the competition.  And for these elderly, Asian pimps, that’s just not the kind of place they run.

Since having been back in Taiwan, I have done more research into this and have talked to natives who indicate the benefit of short-term motels is much greater than having to put up with the prying eyes and ears of older, more traditional parents who would just as soon have their daughter-in-laws doing back-breaking work than to spend their nights corrupting their respectable son’s sensibilities.  They also confirmed that the majority of the love motel’s use was limited to these situations rather than for the sex-shops they’d more easily become reputed as being.

Nevertheless, my last night in Korea did little more to put me at ease but ultimately summed up all my experiences in that amazing country.  No matter where you go in Korea, you’re sure to find yourself in one inextricably unique situation after another as you navigate the intricate web of peculiarities of everything from traditional Hanok Villages kept in the old ways complete with dances to entice the soil’s richness, to parks dedicated to phallic splendor.

Stay tuned for my last blog on my Korea trip and a toast for things to come.

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Journal 37: Day 13: Soegwipo-Si and the motorbike ride to broken bones and freedom

If it’s not the broken foot that made this trip great, it was certainly the motorbike that broke it.  This trip was just what I needed after a night of gloom and a hangover that threatened to chew its way right out of my abdomen like some alien movie.  But all things considered, that would have probably been an experience all in itself.  And therefore, I’d probably embrace it as I have the rest of the oddities along this long, winding road carved into the limestone bedrock of the Korean Peninsula.

The day started off great.  I was up at 6am to hop a bus to the south of the island where I would take part in one or more of several key items listed on Lonely Planet’s inventory of must-see’s abound.  They ranged in definition from slightly dangerous to downright taboo.   And I was navigating my morning in the wake of a fresh detox.  So what I saw was a recipe for fun and ordered up a heaping helping of misadventure with a side order of senselessness.

Unfortunately, one hour into my ride I found out that I was not on the right bus.  But that was only a minor setback because I had plotted points all over the map that I wanted to see and there were a couple in that direction as well.

Once off the bus, I snapped a couple pictures of the volcanic tuffs in the horizon.  Then I went on what turned out to be an early morning 5k walk and found out the hard way that this stretched out town along the sea was no place for a sweaty westerner with an expectation for seeing all there was to see in just one day.  It just wasn’t going to happen in the time I had if I had to walk it all the way.

 

I eventually came across this little shop run by an older couple.  The husband had a cap that I hired as the mule that would save me from walking another 10 kilometers into town.  But whether I was walking or in a whatever I employed to speed up my sweaty trek, the Korean oddities just kept coming.  All along the roadway there were things that just looked normal being in Korea, but so abnormal had they been in any other place.

On the other hand, the people that have added so much flavor to the preceding moments of this trip were out in full flavor as well.  I snapped a shot of this shipbuilder grinding down the last of his nicks and burrs off the anchor he’d been repairing.  And the closer that I came to the capital city of the south of the island, Seogwipo, the more interesting the buildings looked and the more flavorful the people.  

Once in town, I headed straight for the oceanfront.  It was very quiet all around, but I made my way to the pier and could tell that it was going to be a nice, bright day with lots of opportunities for great shots.

Looking directly across the inlet, I could see what looked like a huge park with inlets hidden by the large, vertical pillars building up the volcanic rock wall.  I’d find out later that there were plenty of great little hikes, waterfalls and seaside resting areas to check out along the way.

What I expected to find was these amazing geological oddities.  But along with finding them, I also found some other amazing things in the area.

Columnar basalt rock comes from areas of high submarine volcanic eruptions.  Once the magma opens up on the sea floor, it quickly hardens, creating conditions where jointed columns of volcanic flows can be forced up over the seabed and given a longer time to cool and, under pressure, make large, polygonal pilasters.   The areas where millions of these pillars (and other basalt formations) have been pushed up through the ocean floor to the surface are called “tuffs.”  They are also known as pyroclastic rock formations.  But whatever they were called, I was on my way to see the most awesome tuff I of all.  Well, besides the fact that it was a famous one, it was technically going to be the only one I have ever seen.  But I was no less excited to do so.

But before getting there, I knew I had to rent a motorbike to see all that this spread out expanse of land had to offer.  So, on the way, I found a a place to grab a bite and sat on the steps inside to fuel up before I kept on.  While I was sitting there, though, I noticed and interesting sign.

Now, I have seen a lot of strange translations on signs throughout Asia.  And most of the time, I wonder how this translation got all the way through the design phase, through production, printing, constructing and finally even being posted without someone actually reading it and wondering if there might be a better translation out there somewhere.  In fact, I often wonder if anyone actually even asked a white person how this phrase was supposed to be worded before putting up a ridiculous sign that means something much more comical than the author had intended.  But this one definitely perplexed me.  It was a sign on a trash bin.  And, well I will just let you see if you can try and figure out what the hell they were trying to tell you what to put in there other than your dog.

Walking along the coast was great.  I really liked the gardens and the way they were kept.  It was cool to see so much use of the volcanic rock that was so readily available.  And the things they crafted with it include everything from fences and sculptures to stepping stones and even curbs and sidewalks.

Moving onward, I could see that I was nearing a large waterfall that I had known would be around there somewhere.  It was cool.  Just a quick hike down and I was at its base.  It was very tall — 20 meters or so.  And I could see that during seasons of high rainfall, this could really be a very active one.

After that I made my way back up the hill and into town where I rented a motorbike and set off westward to circle the eastern roadways and head back to eventually make it back to the hotel on the other side of the island.  It was a long, comfortable ride punctuated with wonderful seascapes and vistas of people, animals and object of a very diverse nature in their own world.  It was something I won’t soon forget.

But another thing I won’t soon forget is the crash that snapped my left foot completely backward and left me limping for days as my blue-black ankle swelled to near bursting before the trip even started.  I wish that I could say that I wrecked to save some poor child who’d run into the road after is bouncy play thing had found him careening into my path and it was either him or me.  I wish I could say that the bike malfunctioned and the brakes went out, sending me barreling into the curb at an uncontrollable speed and I dove from the bike having known what to do in an instant’s notice and rolled to safety.  Hell, I wish I could say anything but the truth.  Which is that I turned to look at some random noise that happened behind me and when I turned back around, I was half-a-second away from plowing into the curb.  But I must admit the truth.  And when I hit the curb for lack of operable ability to manipulate the handlebars with cat-like calculation, I was sent over the handle bars and then the bike came over top of me.

It was completely embarrassing.  But what’s worse is that I scuffed up my favorite pair of shoes.  They remind me of Indiana Jones.  They’ve been with me for the last seven years of travel.  They’re so comfortable.  And they’ve even been resoled to keep me from having to try fruitlessly to find a size-12 in Asia to replace them.  They’re great.  And the best part is that I bought them for $10 at a thrift shop in Mercer Island, outside Seattle, Washington.  I will be oiling the hell out of them to try and save them.  But I am not holding out too much hope.  Time will tell.

 

Making my way to the tuff it was so awesome when I finally breached the last turn before seeing it tower high above the mainland below.  I had no idea that it was that big or amazing.  It was really something impressive.  Hiking up its western side, there’s only one way that you can view it.  But it was enough to be impressed.  The surrounding area from the top is really interesting, too.  It’s sea-chiseled bluffs and land jetties were quite random and beautiful from way up there.  Here are a few photos of the climb and the surrounding area.

You can click on them to enlarge the photo just like in the galleries.

Well, this could be a very long journal if I detail every single experience that I had while pulling over to all the awesome places that I saw along the way back around the coast.  But I think I will just add in a gallery and hope that the photos will fill in the blanks.  It was an awesome trip and I was so happy that I got to do it — injuries and all.

Remember, click to enlarge!

Okay, there’s one more blog on the way and I will be home from Korea.