Day 4: Into Sagada

Today hailed a long and arduous journey (about six hours on a winding and bumpy road by bus) to Sagada and like the champions that my roommates and I are, we slept at 4.30am the night before due to a strange burst of enthusiasm to talk late into the night. Nevertheless, despite breaking the travellers’ taboo of having enough sleep before a tiring day ahead, we were all down on time (Malaysian-wise) and raring to go. One of the most tiresome things traveling forces upon a person is the need to pack. Due to a misguided decision to buy a packet of fried chicharon*, I found myself having to cram it into my backpack without crushing it.

By meeting time at 6.30am, we students of Monash University were looking like a sleep-deprived bunch of backpackers, strapped to the gills with all of our earthly belongings. I personally would not wish a six hour bus ride with bumpy road on my worst enemy but countless sources have informed us repeatedly of the famed beauty of the Mountain Province rice terraces.

As we descended into the valley, close enough to see the twisting blue Chico River, one of us spotted a rainbow over the valley. This resulted in a clamour to get from one end of the bus to another for a better look. I chose to see it as a good omen for our trip to Sagada. When this was closely followed by three other rainbows, we began to wonder if our luck really was going to be that spectacular or nature was just being generous that day.

Perhaps the grueling six to seven hour bus ride from Clark Air Base to Baguio had trained us to withstand long hours in a cramped and rattling space. Whatever it was, we arrived at St Joseph Inn in Sagada on time and lugged our humongous bags up stone stairs that never seemed to end. Admittingly, halfway through the trip, I did wonder (uncharitably) if Sagada was really worth the six hour ride.


When we reached the top of the guesthouse, we took a long hard look around. It had none of the bustle of Baguio city, or its conveniences but it was simply beautiful. Best of all, it was exhaust-pollution free!

If that did not change my mind, seeing the quaint wooden cottage and finding out that I would be sleeping in the kind of sloping loft you only find in Enid Blyton books certainly did. I was ready for what Sagada could throw at me for sure, I thought.

At the end of the day, what struck me most during the days’ trip were the rice terraces. Apart from the sheer beauty of its uniformity, they symbolise the spirit of endurance and strength of the human character. It is a reminder that we are all able to adapt to the harshest conditions as long as we have the will to do so. At the end of the day, we may come away beaten but never truly defeated.

*Deep fried pork belly, a local delicacy

By Maxine