Manila to Acop

Riding north from Manila on the Victory Liner was a lesson in off road, big rig driving. But we were on a road, at least as good as any i have seen here. The bus driver, clearly a professional showed me just how it was done. We passed cars, flashed our high beams, honked and road bumpers for the entire 6 hours, swerving and breaking only to gun it again when semi clear of what ever obstacle had gotten in his way occasionally oncoming traffic. I arrived at Bagio city just after 3 am, i had been told it would take closer to 7 hours but we made it in just over 5. I, not having a place to stay and not caring to venture into the unknown darkness that was the sleeping city, decided to camp out and make my home for the night right there under a handful of eerie incandescent. i woke many times, but for good at sunrise with the need to find the local "comfort room" as they are so eloquently called. I can say that one thing is for sure, no matter what they are called i have encountered not one that i would deem comfortable. As i left the comforts of the local bathroom I over heard the song "no soy americano" and i remembered a little dance preformed by the great Oakley masterminded by Alan and Kris. I turned a corner and could see some possible miscreants milling just outside the door and as i approached all but one stared at me as i emerged. The one who didn't was singing along with the song. He was nudged and looked up also."think fast i thought" then in a spur of inspiration i did a little jig. Nothing. one second, two seconds (maybe the longest of my life) and the man who had been singing started again and i did a little more dancing, laughter erupted and i was applauded as i walked past. Phew. The Filipinos are very warm people if you just get past there often hard exterior. With a smile i headed to town in hopes of making contact with the farm. My phone was not working just when i needed it most of all. In times of doubt i am learning to just sit and be patient, so i sat and had a cup of coffee on the outskirts of town and by the time i had finished my second round i had talked with the farm and was confident of how to get there. Walking into Bagio in the wee hours of the morning, on a Monday was not very intimidating. A few directions and a number of pointed outstretched arms urged me to walk a little furthur where i could find Dangwa station. I got there looking for a Jeepney (local transit of unknown origin, many are Mercedes) to take me to Acop. A very nice gentlemen told me that in fact i was wrong and that they leave from a different terminal. They use the word terminal but really street corner would suffice. Off again i went in search, after a few more stops to consult the locals i was told more than once, "Dangwa station". By this time i the streets where flooded and quite a bit more intimidating. Was this man wrong? Or was the farm and everyone else wrong? Back i trode up the hill and was soon approached by the same man. I told him of my quest and he assured me that he was right, in fact so sure he walked me nearly all the way there. Everyone else was wrong, go figure. I loaded into the back of a Jeepney about to depart.The Jeepney can hold up to i would say 25 people and more if you care to ride on the roof. the one hour trip would cost me 21 pesos. Just about 50 cents. Imagine going an hour for 50 cents in the states. there seemed to be no formal way to give the driver your fare. People just simply paid when they chose and passed the fare, person to person to the driver who navigated the streets full of people, debris and a large amount of stray dogs with one hand as his other made change. Passing the change over his shoulder, back it went to whoever it was meant for. Each Jeepney has a colorful name and elaborate decorations. On my trip i decided to jot some of the better names down. "Cold Dessert", "Shadow Chaser", "Midnight Blue" and my personal favorite the "Diana Ross" these names were just some of the many hundreds we passed. Apparent in my Jeepney was a few "wear your seat belt" signs. What was not so apparent was where the seat belts could be found. Certainly not on the seats and certainly not on the roof. As i sat i reached into my bag and pulled out a sack of clementines i had picked up for breakfast. i pulled on the bag and like a volcano shooting bright balls into the air they went everywhere. i quickly said, "oranges for everyone!" (as they are called by those who don't know how to say clementines in English) but only a few seemed to know what i meant. quicker than i could say "would you mind handing me that" i had them all placed nicely in my lap with smiles from all. I was thankful but wondered if anything could be easy for me, just once. I still laugh thinking about it. Beyond the city i was amazed to find that we were in fact high in the mountains. something i could not tell in the dark of night when i arrived. Steep ravines cascaded down all around as we bumped our way to Acop. A quick bang on the ceiling to stop and a very thankful "salamant" i was standing in the middle of a very small Filipino town with no real idea of what direction to go in. I was directed to the local Municipality Center. Off i went a tid bit nervous about what the next week would hold for me.