deerhunter: yo, have you heard 'bout that one lady
deep in the cordillera that does tats via stick and thorn?
homie: yup, that shit's crazy son.
dh: i been thinkin' 'bout planning a trip to get some
work done on my leg.
homie: word? it'd be nice to get some work done myself.
dh: hmmm...
homie: hmmm.
dh: what are you doin' for holy week?
your humble narrator, and homie, eleven
hours on a bus and four hours on a jeep later.
on our ride over we almost get pissed on by
a pig, and, we were delighted to make the
acquaintance of an employee from the
department of education... who also
happens to be a shabu addict.
we decide to wait 'till morning to hike out
to the village where tat lady extraodinaire
resides at.
our guide recommends the sleeping beauty
inn for a good nights rest. two-hundred pesos
a night, plus you get an actual bathroom --
porcelain toilet and sink, stainless steel faucets,
tiles, the works!
here's the kicker: you sleep with a colony of spiders.
spiders on the ceiling, on the wall, under your bed,
next to you, etc. etc. there were some pretty gnarly
lookin' ones too. thankfully for me, they were mostly
in homie's room.
nature is your bathroom in the boonies.
i kinda got used to this way of life. first
night back from kalinga i thought it'd be
a good idea to piss in my friends front
lawn. for his sake, i'm just glad i didn't
have to do the number two.
meet francis pa-in.
for all you single ladies, the man's a bachelor.
he loves hawaiian shirts, enjoys country music, he
can't get enough of red horse beer, and his ideal woman
is gma newscaster, miss karen david (???). his dislikes are
corrupt politicians, israelis, and he hopes that kalinga
won't ever fall victim to mass commercial tourism.
(as did its neighbors in banaue and sagada...
and boracay)
francis was our tour guide, and he's been doin'
it for twenty-some years.
time: 7:00 a.m.
destination: buscalan village
eta: 10 a.m.
birthday shit.
carabao, wild boar, goat, and
even the occasional human shit.
you name it, i bore witness to a
plethora of fecal matter during
our hike to meet our maker.
(tattoo maker, of course)
fellow pedestrians.
to be continued...