Bontoc is a great little town with lots of friendly people and way too many children. The town is just a couple streets in a valley at the confluence of a couple of rivers.

We carried all our stuff up to a hotel room only to find the shower didn't work, and it was the last room with a shower left. But showers aren't just a luxury for us. So we packed everything again and went to find another one. On the way, a little kid yelled to Joan, "Americano! you give me one Peso!" When she ignored him, he ran after her and grabbed her Centennial flag out of her panniers. She had been flying it from her panniers since the day we left Manila.

He tried to run past me but I blocked him with my bike and then grabbed the flag back and yelled at him. Some old men were sitting nearby. Totally amused. I yelled, "Not a very patriotic kid." they laughed. After that we were wary of kids.

Everywhere we went in Bontoc little kids ran around yelling and screaming. They kept yelling until about 9 p.m. Early in the next morning they were at it again.

The ride from Baguio to Mt. Data was probably the hardest we had on the entire trip. The ride from Bontoc to Banaue was probably the second hardest. Also perhaps the prettiest of our whole trip. We climbed about (1,200 meters) 4,000 feet entirely on rocky road. We just kept going up and up and up. Fortunately it never rained.

(Joan: I have to say this road totally fooled me. I thought that since we were starting at 900 meters, and climbing to a town at 1200 meters, we would only climb 300 meters or a little more. Instead we ended up climbing 1,200 or 1,300 meters and then "descended" to the higher town.)

At the top of the climb, 2,000 meters we saw a 30-foot tall statue of the Virgin Mary with her arms held out. For some reason they have a police station up there. A nice policeman put down the M-16 he was cleaning to take our photo under Mary's outstretched arms.

From the top we could see a lot of the descent etched into the mountain across the valley. A truck stopped by with a video crew and a sticker saying, "Philippine European Union Cooperation--Official Use Only." The same truck had passed us two days earlier.

We took lots and lots of photos of the views on the way up and down that day but none of them came close to capturing the grandeur (partly because our lens was fogged). Rice terraces are best seen in person.

A few kilometers from Banaue the pavement began again. We had pavement from there all the way back to Manila. Banaue (pronounced Ba-now-ay) is famous for its 2,000-year-old rice terraces. Everyone kept telling us they were the "Eighth Wonder of the World." Calling it that actually cheapens it. I think there's a mini-golf course in Gatlinburg, Tenn. with the same name. These rice terraces are way better. Seriously they are remarkable.

Just before Banaue, we stopped to take a photo and some kids grabbed the back of my bike as we started again. After the kid tried to steal Joan's flag in Bontoc, I was worried some kid might grab my raincoat, which was just tucked onto my pannier, under some bungees. When you're on a bike little kids can be like dogs. They chase you until you stop and then they freeze and don't know what to do. So I stopped to make sure they didn't have my coat. I also wanted to tell them to let go of my bike so no one got hurt. (Joan: We later learned that the tot problem in the Philippines is nothing compared to the one in Tibet).

But just after stopping, I humiliated myself by almost falling over. Joan only saw me falling and thought the kids had knocked me down. She started yelling at the kids like an elementary school principal on a playground. They shut up and let me alone after that. (Joan: I don't know why but that really infuriated me. I was worried one of them might seriously hurt us by pushing us over while we were speeding downhill. Or push us over a cliff).

In Banaue we braved another steep hotel driveway and got a room with a great view and a balcony for enjoying it. In the parking lot a little girl was practicing Do-Re-Mi and the Marine fight song ("... from the halls of Montezuma to the shores of Tripoli ...") on "the bells," a marching band instrument that looks like a portable xylophone.

The next day was the Philippine Centennial, and the town had planned a parade. I woke up to the Hallelujah Chorus at a march tempo, played on a tinny loudspeaker somewhere below us in town. When it reached the last bar, it started over again at the beginning. It did this twice before finally playing out the ending. After that they played something like Handel's Concerti Grosso before breaking into a medley of marches that lasted four hours.

They used the loud speaker as a replacement for a marching band. Most of the town seemed to be part of the parade. Just before it started several jeepneys zipped past full of costumed people. Some wore "Senior Citizen of Banaue" T-shirts, others wore waiter-like outfits from the deluxe hotel down the road.

The parade comprised hundreds of people walking about two kilometers up the road. Several schools supplied boys who played drums and girls who played bells. They must have only one music teacher in the area because the girls in majorette costumes always played Do-Re-Mi or the Marine Fight song on their bells. The boys played as loud as they could. Some percussion sections had 20 kids. They banged on their drums with gusto!

Some insurance companies and banks also marched their employees in the parade. We sat on the edge of the road and took a lot of pictures but it felt a little uncomfortable. Most of the people just strolled up the road like they were walking to work. We waved and smiled to them but felt like gawkers more than spectators.

After the parade we strolled through the rice terraces. Originally we tried to find a trail to an overlook but got lost and decided to just stroll around instead, walking on the thin concrete, or sometimes dirt walls that separated the terraces. You actually need a lot of balance not to fall anywhere between two and 20 feet into the terrace below.

We took half of a banana cake with us (from the marvelous bakery in town) and some drinks. Several people including little kids, offered to be our "guide." We turned them down. Along the way we stopped at a little bench under a hut (sort of like a bus stop, but probably a lunch shelter for the farmers) and ate. The rice terraces look best from a distance. Close up they look like plain old fields and not nearly as neat, crisp and green as they appear from a distance.

Probably because it was the Centennial, and everyone was partying in town, we saw hardly anyone in the fields. We passed only one woman, who was working on her vegetable garden. She was wearing a "Palmolive" T-shirt and asked where we were going.

That afternoon we had one of life's great naps and then cleaned the bikes for a few hours. We also replaced Joan's front brakes, which were just about dead after the past few days of burning rubber. The Philippines are hard on bicycles.

Next: back to Manila.