I wanted to get out of the flat, so I asked the visiting boys and Dominic if they wanted to go hiking or walking in the city or to visit Camp John Hay.  The boys were keenly interested in seeing Camp John Hay, a tourist enclave which they hadn’t set foot on before, and Dominic just wanted to go anywhere for lunch.

So we rode a jeepney to Pacdal traffic circle, disembarked, then walked downhill past Baguio Country Club.  I pointed out the place from which I’d made the photo of a boy putting on a green the day prior.  As a light rain began to fall (what’s new?), we hailed a taxi to ride to the Mile-Hi mall for lunch.  That place is a tourist trap, but I knew that it has several eateries and that Dom and the boys could have lunch.  We picked the cheapest place, paid exorbitant (for Philippines) prices for chicken sandwiches, fries, burgers, juices, and coke.  Then we got the foods piecemeal.  Dominic and Mack waited and waited for their sandwiches, Dominic inquired about them twice, and eventually the cook said that he hadn’t received an order for their sandwiches.

If Dominic had behaved the ‘Filipino way,’ just sitting meekly at the table, never asking for the two missing sandwiches, he and Mack would never have gotten them.  As usual, Dominic had to stir people into action.  But the Filipino way is to be a mute sheep and take what comes – or not receive anything – without complaint.  Some Filipinos are so reluctant to ‘hurt feelings’ or desirous of ‘saving face’ that they would rather be suffocated in a bus or jeepney or wait several extra minutes to see a cashier, clerk, or service adviser or be killed on a crosswalk.

After lunch we walked past expensive lodges/hotels, including The Manor then saw vacation homes, a ridiculously crude miniature ‘golf’ course (P85 per game?!), a decrepit playground, an indoor amusement arena with electric rides, indoor bicycle rental, video games, basketball throw games, and other inane junk to separate tourists from their pesos.  We saw peeling, ancient Air Force barracks that are still used as offices and dormitories for the poor employees of Camp John Hay.  These squared-U buildings on 1-meter stilts have no apparent insulation and no window screens, but chimneys are visible, so I suppose that the denizens have heat in winter from firewood.

I felt sorry for the CJH employees who live there, work there and worship there in a makeshift church. It seemed a shame at first blush, but they have steady employment, shelter, their own cooperative canteen/grocery/cafeteria and a public safety department (security/fire). Some employees of the resort probably receive gratuities.

I’m sure that all CJH employees receive the minimum wage or more, and they can ride jeepneys and taxis out of CJH as desired.  They’re not trapped, like Overseas Filipino Workers working as domestic helpers in homes in Arabia and Indonesia, being abused and unpaid or underpaid, raped and murdered, or OFWs on cruise ships and supertanker ships.  So I guess that they’re not pitiable; they’re gainfully employed at a nice resort, have clean water and food and have liberty.

Anyway, our little band walked and looked at the pine-covered hills and marveled at the clouds moving through the treetops.  The boys seemed to think that this is common-place, and it is.  But I assured them that this scenery and weather are the attractions for the wealthy Filipinos and westerners who come here.

Certainly this place has cleaner air than Baguio City, and it’s pine-scented.  Sure, this isn’t pristine wilderness without taxis in Mountain Province, but the businessmen, elected officials and vacationers who come up here want the accouterments of a resort.

We walked past duplex vacation homes, past the 48′ crude Statue of Liberty replica, wandered south and saw the butterfly pen (P40 admission fee) and overpriced pony rides with sixteen pony owners waiting forlornly for customers.  We saw an expo hall/convention center which may be a converted military aircraft hangar.

We passed a comical, dilapidated “Marketing/Sales Center” which was a decaying, clapboard ex-military shack and the “Art Park” without visible art.  I would have expected outdoor sculptures, but this is the Philippines.  Maybe ‘Art’ was someone’s name.  But we saw no park.

I spied a sign for “Eco Trail,” asked if anyone wanted a short hike on the trail, had to explain what “eco trail” means, and no one wanted to walk any further than necessary (wimps).

Past that I saw a sign for Republic Paintball.  I asked if anyone wanted to take a look, and they were willing to follow me several meters, out of curiosity.  They’d never seen a paintball battlefield before.  There we saw an adjacent amusement, a fast cable slide ride to a tower from which one could rappel.  One side of the tower was studded with handholds and footholds for climbing.

Knowing that Nick has been thinking of being a soldier when he’s grown up, I thought that he might enjoy this, so I inquired.  The climbing side wasn’t available, because it was wet (from rain) and therefore “dangerous.”  Prices for sliding downhill hanging from a cable and for rappelling were posted at 100 pesos each, but I thought that that was too steep and perhaps a mistake, so I asked.  PhP 100 pays for both activities, so I asked nearby Nick if he’d like to have a go.

He was game, so I bought a ticket, Nick got in line, then we watched fat tourists from Manila go down the cable then clumsily rappel.  Nick stepped up to the platform edge wearing a loose web seat, got clipped onto the strap hanging from the cable, Mark started to make video with his cell phone, and Nick was pushed to begin his zoooooooooom toward the metal-scaffold tower.

On the tower, Nick waited for two girls ahead of him to descend, then he got rigged and leaned out into space to try his hand at rappelling.  He wasn’t too adept, but he enjoyed it.

As he was still wearing his harness while walking uphill with us to turn it in, I asked him if he’d like to go again.  Nick was eager to, and Mack wanted to have a go, so Dominic bought a ticket for him while Nick got in line.  After Nick got clipped-on, I took a photo with Mack’s cell phone and he was shoved away.

His second rappel was better, and after a few minutes Mack followed.  Then they returned their gear and we beat feet toward home, hoping to avoid rain.  ‘A good time was had by all,’ as I say.  At least it was a change of scenery for the boys from Baguio Gold. †