TEXTING BACK IN THE 17TH CENTURY At the only internet café in Sagada, there is no internet connection. Well, according to the sign posted outside, there's supposed to be an internet connection. Inside, though, the attendant casually noted that the connection was to return sometime next week. If you need to send a fax, don't be misled when you see the brand new fax machine sitting on the counter. This place claims to have the only landline telephone in Sagada, but that doesn't work either. Turns out the only ones able to conduct any business on the six computers in the cramped quarters of this �Internet café wannabe' situated high in the lush and stunningly beautiful Mt. Province were the children. Half a dozen kids sat there happily blasting their buddies over a rousing interactive game of Counterstrike. It could have been a case of a fledgling business not quite having it together yet. But one also easily gets the feeling people here are performing a timid dance with the 21 st century. For over a thousand years they have guarded their unique traditions and resisted change imposed by outsiders. And it's not difficult to understand why. These hardy folk have survived by carving life right out of the mountains. They've depended on themselves for survival and they've done it admirably. And despite the tourist lodges and various travelers that come to enjoy Sagada's fresh air and spectacular landscape, this simple and practical way of life really hasn't changed much over the centuries. Except for a few notable things: Sheet metal has replaced native grasses as the building material of choice. Signature brands from the local Ukay Ukay stores have permanently eliminated the g-string from the wardrobe of the locals. And just about everyone has a cell phone. It's this last option which offers the most intriguing possibilities. This is not some half baked cell connection . Thanks to that gleaming metallic beacon sitting quietly atop nearby Mt. Ampacao, these mountain folk have been blessed with what is as good a cell phone connection as anywhere in the country. It's like that all over the mountain regions of the Philippines as companies like Smart, Globe and Sun seek out high perches from which to send their beams. It's a phenomenon which also provides some outrageous juxtapositions. The road from Banaue to the provincial capital of Bontoc stretches for only 47 kilometers, but the trip takes between two and a half to three hours. The mountain pass looks like it hasn't changed much in three hundred years. But while the roads are barely up to 17 th century standards, the communication is totally 21 st century. The drivers of the vehicles that ply these ancient roads all carry cell phones. So too do many of the passengers. Owning a supersonic electronic device can't solve the problem posed by ancient roads, so the cell phone doesn't help you arrive any faster. But with a few simple text messages, people on the other end have a better idea now of how long they have to wait for their ride or relative to arrive. Things are so backwards in the road building department that they have guys quarrying rocks and sand with mere pick axes from the mountain side just over the road. Occasionally rocks and boulders come tumbling down onto the dirt and gravel byway even as vehicles are passing. Several guys make a living picking up the debris from the road, but when they're resting or not working, traffic on this mountain trail often comes to a halt. As you sit and watch this frighteningly comical display in action, you don't even want to think or know about any boulders slamming into a jeep full of passengers and sending them over the edge to a hideous and grisly death. Say a quiet prayer and tell yourself �today is not my day.� Then you can text ahead to relatives or conduct business in Manila or elsewhere. Just past the stone-age road construction, the rickety bus bounces and swerves its way to a sight which can only be described as a classic metaphor for the cell phone and all it stands for in our time. About halfway between Botoc and Banaue, in the middle of nowhere, high in the sky, with breathtaking and spectacular views of the vast green valley below, the center of attraction is, of course, the local cell tower. An oasis of sorts has formed around the tall structure. People have set up small stalls selling fresh mountain vegetables, fruits, drinks, cheap wooden carvings and yes, load for your phone. Vehicles from both directions stop so their occupants can relieve themselves, refresh, take a break or fill up the radiator. It' also easier to send a text now that you're not bobbing up and down. It's a big leap to go from talking to basically nobody for a few thousand years, to having millions of potential text mates sitting in your back pocket while you, say, plow your ancient rice terrace the way your ancestors did it. Mountain people, though, have taken to texting the way a carabao takes to a grassy field. All the sari-sari stores in Sagada sell Smart e-load and all day you see local ladies sitting out on the stoop of the store busily typing messages. (Apparently Globe is still searching for a suitable site for it's tower.) Despite it's global possibilities, texting has become more of a local form of communication. Since time immemorial in these mountainous conditions, a message could only be delivered only by an arduous climb up the terraced fields. In the year 1478, if a rope broke on the old wooden plow hooked up to the carabao, it was hours before they could get a replacement. Now in 2005 you simply pop out that cute gadget in your pocket and get your thumb busy with the urgent plea. People in these far off lands are discovering the never ending possibilities of the mobile phone. Only a few years back sending a message to Baguio from Sagada and getting a reply could take days. Now mere seconds. The lady at the palengke selling mountain coffee tells me to text her if I need some local brew sent to the lowlands. Punters no longer need to wait for the morning paper to arrive on the bus to find out the last two digits of the PBA score. A massage in your lodge is now only a text away. In the pitch dark of night, the glowing cell phone can even serve as an impromptu flashlight on those narrow hilly paths through the village. If you worry that modern communication will take some of the mystery out of these ancient cultures, you need not fret. For while I was marveling at the centuries old hanging coffins in Sagada's mysterious but breathtaking Echo Valley, I was also bowled over by one of the great mysteries of our modern world; that I had a better cell phone connection out in the middle of nowhere then I do in the city center. And as I laid on the grass I listened to the timeless noises peculiar to the far reaches of the mountains; birds singing to each other, water rushing down an unseen gulley, the wind rustling through the tall pine trees. And occasionally piercing the air came that ubiquitous four syllable beeping sound indicating that I have a text message. The beauty of it was that it was the only sound out there that I could simply turn off, and at my leisure. Author's Note: Since this story was written back in 2005, several internet cafes have sprouted up in the village of Sagada. Thanks to the gleaming metal tower perched atop Mt. Ampacao, the connection is fast and reliable. The roads in the Cordillera Mountains, however, continue to languish back in the 17th century. |