BUYING SIGNATURE IN BESAO

There is nothing quite like the sensation of standing at the bottom of a vast and great valley in the remotest regions of the Cordillera mountains, looking up at verdant swathes of terraced hills full of head-high rice, gabi, peppers, cabbage, and general greenery and beauty in every direction, then jumping in a cool swimming hole being filled up with fresh mountain water rushing down from above.

There is also nothing quite like the feeling of wearing newly bought signature, brand-name clothes of exceptional quality, while on vacation with your family.

Now while it may seem that these two highly invigorating activities could not possibly be availed of in the same afternoon�after all, the first means you're in the far away mountains, while the second requires being in the vicinity of a swank, air conditioned shopping mall�I discovered to my delight that, in the Philippines, one could actually rough it and live the high life all within minutes.

This epiphany happened when the rains came that mid afternoon in the quiet, stunning far away village of Besao, Mt. Province. With the deluge came the hard charging water roaring down the valley, in hundreds of unseen channels and gullies, all built over the millennium to harness and channel the manna from heaven. The sound of life-giving running water is one of the pleasant constants in these ancient lands, especially when it rains and the torrents rage around you.

But we quickly learned what hardy mountain folk have known for centuries; beauty and danger run hand in hand. We abandoned the swimming hole for nearby sanctuary under a bridge. Along the way, our clothes became completely soaked. We waited for an hour and a half for the rains to stop, but to no avail. Then the rushing water leading to the swimming hole began rising. Luckily four local teenage girls who had been swimming showed us a hidden path straight up the hill to the road above. For the next thirty minutes we walked on the road through the rice terraces and the village, completely water logged and getting even wetter, cold, shivering, and filthy dirty from the climb. But then at the top of the road came our salvation. An ukay-ukay store.

In mere minutes my wife and nine year old daughter, and myself, were completely decked out with new clothes�well, new to us, anyway. Nice cotton pants and shirt for my daughter, brand name denim shorts and cotton t-shirt for my wife, and for me swim trunks and a maroon t-shirt. Total price for this haul; P145, after the discount.

Now downtown Besao is hardly Nathan Road in Hong Kong or Fifth Avenue in New York. There's a few small stores selling basic provisions, a carinderia or two, a billiard room. You have to wait hours to see even one car or jeepney show up. And of course, there's an ukay-ukay store. In fact my travels in the northern mountains of the Philippines has led to an interesting finding: there's an ukay-ukay store in every village in the country, no matter how remote. If, say, cachets of vital medicines could make the inroads that ukay-ukay has, tens of thousands would be saved from early deaths.

The modern mountain inhabitant lives not much differently than his ancestor, but, thanks to the ukay-ukay, his attire has changed radically. The stunning coat of intricately hand-woven fabric has been replaced by a guy wearing a New York Knicks t-shirt and a jacket from the Gap. The g-string worn for ten centuries has been forever eliminated by a sturdy pair of Levi's. Why would the women go topless, as they used to, when they can have the luxury of a Liz Clayborn blouse draped across their chest.

The spread of ukay-ukay has had an unintended benefit to the hardy traveler in the Philippines. When you hit the road, there's no need to bring lots of clothes. No matter where you venture, even to the remotest village, if you have that drive and energy to shop, like my wife and daughter, you can find signature brand name clothes that are in perfect condition for next to nothing. And to think that most Filipinos never see their own country because, they say, there's no place to shop outside of the cities.

Even more amazing is the outrageous juxtaposition that ukay-ukay presents. One minute you are standing amidst awesome beauty, in the middle of God's own backyard, a far away Shangri-la. The next you're picking up a pair of high end, ladies Italian leather shoes from the Ferragamo Collection. Welcome to adventure traveling in the Philippines in the early 21 st century.

Sure, there's the complaint that the proliferation of ukay-ukay is destroying the local garment industry and the legitimate retail sector. Although this argument may ring true with economists, the sting seems more benign out in the far off provinces. Indeed it's quite the opposite. It'll be a least 5000 years, or more, before SM decides to build in Mountain Province. Why shouldn't the locals be able to get their hands on quality, cheap clothes now?

And this is what it's all about. My wife and daughter had just gotten done-for the second time-- rummaging through the racks and boxes of the ukay-ukay in Besao�my daughter scored a nicely made light weight jacket, while my wife picked up a sharp looking skirt�when the guy who ran our lodge told us that his family just happens to own several ukay-ukay stalls in Manila. He filled us in on some interesting facts.

Contrary to popular notion that all these used clothes come from America, it turns out that the clothes flooding into the Philippines come mostly from Hong Kong. When used clothes first became a popular item in the Philippines, they did come from America. But Filipinos quickly discovered that the t-shirt that that way too fat American gave to charity, looked like a tent on the small Filipino frame.

Like all right proper fashionable, first world shop-aholics, Hong Kongers discard their old wardrobes at least four times a year. Some enterprising Filipinos are buying them up in bulk and shipping them to the Philippines.

�It's a better product,� explained Felix, the lodge owner. �It doesn't fade when you wash it like the stuff you buy at SM. Nor does it fall apart after a few washings. It's the only chance for the poor people to ever acquire a signature brand.�

Of course it's not just those poor folk. The incredible finds at bargain prices attract movie stars, business people and others from the higher classes who quietly comb through those thick racks in places like Calaoocan and Quiapo. Probably most people reading this story right now have at least one item on that comes from ukay-ukay. Or you definitely have some ukay-ukay in your closet.

In a world overflowing with goods, clothes and trinkets, the ukay-ukay provides quality and value to every man, woman and child. Even the old man watching his rice field near the swimming hole in Besao understands that. He had foregone the traditional hat of feathers, and instead wore a baseball cap that proclaimed to one and all that he was having a, �Bad Hair Day.�

Say what you will about long lost tradition, but that is extremely funny.

Return to Hey, Joe Archives

HOME