Date: 6/21/2015
Entry Writer: John McClung
Entry #1: Bus ride from Manila to Kiangan
The density of traffic in metro Manila requires bus travel to occur in the evening. I boarded the multi-passenger coach stepping out of the humid pressure cooker temperature of Manila and into an artificially maintained atmosphere that must have been in the low 70's or 60's degrees Fahrenheit. The sore throat that awoke to that morning had by this point blossomed into a full blown fever. Perhaps exacerbated by the aches of the fever settling over me, the dimensions of the seating and paneling felt as if every component was designed to stab, poke and prod with efficiency.
The interior of the bus was lined with fringed curtains suspended by curtain railings that denied any attempts to position one's head against the windows for rest. Thankfully I was in possession of enough Benadryl to allow me to sleep through the worst part of my fever during the twelve hour bus ride to Kiangan. Maybe the illness was a blessing because I had the added fortune of an empty seat to stretch across.
With the Benadryl activating in my blood stream, I feel into sleep surrounded by the endless sea of Barangays, road construction projects, and gratuitous advertizing that is Manila. I awoke sometime after five AM by the morning glow of sun rise breaking the darkness of the bus cabin. Drops of rain skidded downwards and sideways across the outside of my window. The bus winded up mountain roads and from my height I could see the sheet metal shingling of roofs peppered with rust and beyond them were the smoky cloud choked mountain valleys rich in the lush green that has filled my imagination of my homeland my entire life. As a first generation Filipino American I have longed to behold this landscape with my own eyes.
Our bus took us as far as it could. As we unloaded our bags and equipment from the bus and onto a jeepney, about five or six town folk came out from where ever they were to stand and watch us. Chickens and dogs roamed about freely and the ground was dotted with puddles. My classmates and I walked up the difference of the mountain road between where our bus had left us and the compound where we would be staying. The road was shouldered by think patched of vegetation that one could only see into a depth of perhaps two meters.
Once we arrived at what would be our home for the next several weeks we unpacked our bags from the jeepney and began to file into our gendered dorm rooms to stake out the beds we each wanted. I made my first blunder by flushing my tissue paper down the toilet after I relieved myself. I hope that I'm the only one within our crew to make that mistake.
Still feeling sick and light-headed, I rested in my mosquito net encased bunk until our 10 AM lecture. Lecture consisted of house rules and how the field school would be organized. Professor then gave a 45 minute lecture briefly outlying the basics of cultural archaeology just to start us all out on the same page. I asked about the possibilities of using applied visual anthropology on this research project for my independent portion of our research. I learned very quickly that because of policies of informed consent put in place to protect indigenous peoples and myself that it would probably not be possible to carry out the research regime that I wanted to do which would have been to photo document how terraces in Ifugao are worked, maintained, repaired and the customs institutionalized at the community level around terrace farming practices. I shall see how I will design a research plan from this starting point into a pragmatic plan that can be carried out over the next few weeks.
Entry Writer: John McClung
Entry #1: Bus ride from Manila to Kiangan
The density of traffic in metro Manila requires bus travel to occur in the evening. I boarded the multi-passenger coach stepping out of the humid pressure cooker temperature of Manila and into an artificially maintained atmosphere that must have been in the low 70's or 60's degrees Fahrenheit. The sore throat that awoke to that morning had by this point blossomed into a full blown fever. Perhaps exacerbated by the aches of the fever settling over me, the dimensions of the seating and paneling felt as if every component was designed to stab, poke and prod with efficiency.
The interior of the bus was lined with fringed curtains suspended by curtain railings that denied any attempts to position one's head against the windows for rest. Thankfully I was in possession of enough Benadryl to allow me to sleep through the worst part of my fever during the twelve hour bus ride to Kiangan. Maybe the illness was a blessing because I had the added fortune of an empty seat to stretch across.
With the Benadryl activating in my blood stream, I feel into sleep surrounded by the endless sea of Barangays, road construction projects, and gratuitous advertizing that is Manila. I awoke sometime after five AM by the morning glow of sun rise breaking the darkness of the bus cabin. Drops of rain skidded downwards and sideways across the outside of my window. The bus winded up mountain roads and from my height I could see the sheet metal shingling of roofs peppered with rust and beyond them were the smoky cloud choked mountain valleys rich in the lush green that has filled my imagination of my homeland my entire life. As a first generation Filipino American I have longed to behold this landscape with my own eyes.
Our bus took us as far as it could. As we unloaded our bags and equipment from the bus and onto a jeepney, about five or six town folk came out from where ever they were to stand and watch us. Chickens and dogs roamed about freely and the ground was dotted with puddles. My classmates and I walked up the difference of the mountain road between where our bus had left us and the compound where we would be staying. The road was shouldered by think patched of vegetation that one could only see into a depth of perhaps two meters.
Once we arrived at what would be our home for the next several weeks we unpacked our bags from the jeepney and began to file into our gendered dorm rooms to stake out the beds we each wanted. I made my first blunder by flushing my tissue paper down the toilet after I relieved myself. I hope that I'm the only one within our crew to make that mistake.
Still feeling sick and light-headed, I rested in my mosquito net encased bunk until our 10 AM lecture. Lecture consisted of house rules and how the field school would be organized. Professor then gave a 45 minute lecture briefly outlying the basics of cultural archaeology just to start us all out on the same page. I asked about the possibilities of using applied visual anthropology on this research project for my independent portion of our research. I learned very quickly that because of policies of informed consent put in place to protect indigenous peoples and myself that it would probably not be possible to carry out the research regime that I wanted to do which would have been to photo document how terraces in Ifugao are worked, maintained, repaired and the customs institutionalized at the community level around terrace farming practices. I shall see how I will design a research plan from this starting point into a pragmatic plan that can be carried out over the next few weeks.
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