Kalinga: Buscalan’s Wang-Od, the Pretty Tattoo Artist

Having seen news in CNN about the oldest tattoo artist in my country, Philippines, left many thoughts in my curious mind. People said there is a documentary in Discovery Channel or in National Geographic. I have never seen it. So I decided to leave my mind curious about her. I never tried to google her, ever, because I was waiting for the right time for me to reach her place. Meeting her up close was something I was excited about. Getting inked by her is an ultimate desire of authenticity of my being.

Finally, I touched the land of Kalinga; Tinglayan in particular. But Whang-od (or Fang-od, as pronounced by the natives), live in far away Buscalan.

A two-hour trek on a drizzly morning was filled with enthusiasm. I did not feel any hardship of passing thru steep slippery mud. I did not look down and see how deep the cliffs were below me, but looked up at the beautiful highlands with pine trees instead, exactly how Calayan’s Nagudungan Hill looked like. In my view, the rice terraces of this place, was far more sustained than that of the famous ones in Ifugao.

Then there she was, busy with her artwork, not to be disturbed.

I watched her as she stroked her hand with a stick to get the design on the travellers’ skin.

After a day’s work of four people getting inked, she stood. I thought she rested.

I saw her feeding her native black pigs and piglets. At 92 years old, she had this strength of getting on with her daily living. I was watching where she would go. I asked what food she eats. Salt and sugar are not in her list.

I showed her my design for the tattoo. She said something translated as: “If I ink this on your arm, many will come chasing you. It is beautiful.” I laughed and excitedly told her, “So be it.” J

She prepared to cook the rice for our meal that night. I sat beside her, as I cooked a little bit of dinner, eggs, noodles and corned beef. Her other two sisters were there too. I tried to start some chat, as their granddaughter Emily, was there to translate. It was a fun cooking moment. After cooking, Fang-od, peeled off some sweet kamote, for feeding to the pigs the next day.

In the morning, I chanced upon her, cooking rice for breakfast. After which, she prepared the meal for her pigs and piglets.

I was getting ready to be tattooed, and there she was already, preparing the stuffs: Ash from burnt bark of pine trees, a needle like thorn from a citrus tree, and a bamboo stick.

I watched her eye as she looked at my arm. She painted the design. The sound of her sticks beside my ear still lingers now. Un~ending hymn of “Toktoktoktok.”

I remember her wiping her eyes of tiredness. She would re-do, re-ink to perfect the picture on my arm. She would laugh at me whenever I scream in pain. She would pinch my skin and smile.

Her sense of humor in her own language would have given me instant laughter instead of a delayed one after a translation. She told her nieces who were around at that time: “Get pregnant by the man you marry and not just anyone else.”

She remains single until now. She admitted that she had been kissed. But never touched. J We would be giggling as she tells the story in her own language, as if I understood. She jokingly told me, “My parents did not like my suitors.” I told her, “You can have a boyfriend now, your parents would not know.” She replied, “I am old and not pretty anymore.” I told her, “Oh, you are beautiful.” And I touched her tattooed arms. And we would giggle together.

I helped her remove her first clothing over five blouses. There, exposed are the tattoos in her arms and neck, and nape. Oh wow.

After her authentic artwork in me, I gave her my headware. She immediately wore it. She would wrap her arms around me spontaneously and touch my face with her skilled hands.

How I wish I could talk her language and understand every word she utters. I am more interested in her life than anything else.

I would love to live till 92 like her.

In the morning, at four, I went out to see the moon brightly lighting the mountains, as the clouds passed by it. If this were what Fang-Od had been seeing her entire life for her to reach her age now, then, I wish I lived here. If it were the tattoos on her sleeves that made her reach her age, then I’d like to be tattooed that way too. If it is because of her skill, then I would like to learn being a “mambabatok.”

Too much for daydreams. There can only be one: the authentic oldest, kicking & alive, tattoo artist, making the tribal tattoo alive to this day; the pretty fun lady “mambabatok,” Whang-Od, Wang-Od, or Fang-od. Oh how deeply honored I am to be inked by her.

Let her tribal spirits live in my tattoo.

You can read more of How To Go:

Kalinga's Whang-Od: How To See Buscalan's Oldest Tribal Tattoo Artist

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For those who wish to see her and reach her for an ink, please leave a message at https://www.facebook.com/journeyingpinay ~ i can tell you how to go there.

Thank you to those who inquired and had the guts to ask me thru sms, you rock. Hope you got a tatt now.

Kalinga: Whang-Od's More Than A Second of Pain Artwork In Me

Fang-od and her artwork in me.
a second of pain.
as she said, "enjoy the pain. no pain, no gain."

the grand daughter of Fang-Od persuaded me to record it on video. that is Gretchen's voice you will hear saying, "Oh she is crying." Fang-Od was smiling. but was focused on her passion, to ink me.  I couldn't scream anymore as the native pigs get irritated and come out as if to check who is over reacting to Fang-Od's strokes. my tolerance to pain may not be as high as yours.

Ouchie.

Kalinga: Authentically Tattooed

Having a tattoo had always been in my mind. But many factors limit me from doing so. Like my hair braids, that I try to have when am on a long vacation, away from the confines of a conventional world that I choose to live in. So whenever I can, I let my skin get inked with henna.









Deep within my heart is a raging spirit of love for the native, tribal, and authentic; of the world of the ancient times and the beginnings. Being different from the normal scheme of things, for me, is what makes me sensible and tranquil. Sometimes, I want to think and believe that I come from a tribe. This got me thinking seriously when I was in South Cotabato, particularly in Lake Sebu, where the the Tboli tribe exist. Instead of asking me a usual “where are you from?” or “where do you live?”, the Tboli woman spontaneously asked me, that left me stunned until today, “from what tribe are you?”


In past travels, I have found myself amazed at the Mangyans of Occidental Mindoro, Igorots of Mountain Province, Aetas of Zambales, Tagbanuas of Coron Island, Palawan. And am on my way at finding the Negritos of Apayao Mountains, who I have seen in my childhood days, the Manobos of Bukidnon, and search for more tribes. That faraway island, Babuyan Claro, whose Chieftain I met in a ferry ride upnorth, left me with so much interest of ancestral domains.


So, here I am, in Kalinga, at Tinglayan Tribe, savoring every word they utter at their language. It is more than a song to my ears.


This unscathed landscape with beautiful mountain ranges and well-sustained rice terraces is an ancestral domain.






Mount Mating-oy or Sleeping Beauty Mountain at sunrise


The rainy ambiance cools down my mind and pushes me to think clearly of things to come.






Two-hour trek away is where the oldest tattoo artist or “mambabatok” dwells; by the name of Fang-Od, as natives call her. Her name is spelled as Wang-Od or Whang-od, says her niece.





Wang-Od, Fang-Od or Whang-Od: the oldest Kalinga Mambabatok (Tattoo Artist)


Earlier, I have already seen the fine-looking, eccentric inks in the skins of two well-designed women, Chummangyag and Uwong. And I am struck with admiration. In Buscalan village, the sister of Fang-Od, named Kanna, is also skilfully tattooed.






with Chummangyag, with my all-time necklace (she requested it) :)





with Uwong, the mother of Francis Pa-in, the tour guide







with Kanna, the sister of Fang-Od


In my desire of authenticity of my existence, I am certain to get painted with a symbol that will be marked in my being; that according to Kalinga belief, a tattoo that will not be left on my body on earth, but will soar to the heavenly paradise with my soul, when my life reaches its conclusion in this world of great magnificence.





Fang-Od wearing the headware that I gave


Like my tattoo, may I leave a mark in the hearts that are touched in the things that I love to do; in the lives of people who are stroked by the goodness and the happiness that I spread in my not so ordinary travels.





ouchie!






I am Authentically Tattooed. In me. And in you.


Ammodnan ayat on si~a!


(May all the love be with you!)

A Year of Journeying in 2012: The Real Solo (Part 2)

In February, finding myself in Dumaguete and having bites of one of my favorite desserts, Silvannas, was more important than finding a place to stay in for the night. Am just so lucky I was able to find a place to stay after walking around. 

Finding Casaroro Falls by myself, after being left by the motorcycle driver, was scary but overwhelming. The sight of the waterfalls seemingly hiding itself was refreshing after bouldering. The recent typhoon washed away the pathwalk. But I managed to climb the big rocks. Being alone with the waterfalls on an early morning made me love looking for more during my travels. The quietness of just watching it made me realize what I would love to do, waterfalling.

Since I started the year travelling & finding old friends, I was sure I would be looking for more friends of the past during my travels within the year. Not for reunion purposes, but more of making friendships real and not stuck to some cyberspace. I love to hug & kiss my friends. It makes everyone of us younger and feels even better. I am sure of that. Now, I already miss them all.

Also, I was so sure to find more waterfalls. Not just for the sight of its melodious rampage that is left in my ears, but more of the calmness it supplies my mind and heart. It is more of the excitement and rejuvenation it provides to my entire being to courageously face the actuality of the world.

Kalinga: Francis Pa~in, The Passionate Tour Guide

He came dashing in the Sleeping Beauty Inn. I shook his hand. He started talking. About the people he has guided here, in the ancestral domain of Tinglayan, Kalinga. 

His visitors were from the famous Filipino celebrities of the blogosphere, television and academe; some are simple but enthusiastic travellers. He has escorted numerous foreigners from all over the world. He showed me the currency that had been given to him; paper bills from Kenya, Tazmania, Japan, Malaysia, Vietnam, among others. He also humbly mentioned that his name is written in two travel books, as the tour guide of Kalinga.

A Year of Journeying in 2012: The Real Solo (Part 1)

Whenever I look at my travel calendar of the year 2012, it amazes me. It is marked with places I have been to. Some planned ahead, some impromptu. Some trips are with some travel bloggers, or with travellers whenever they feel like travelling with me, especially when I am in their territories.

Since I have been travelling more, most of these travels remain un~blogged and untold.

Today, as I look back, let me try to integrate how it has been.

In January, meeting friends in Singapore had been overwhelming. Having five sets of friends from different parts of my existence was wonderful: Yam from previous work; Peegees (Ena, Leng, Dioms & Jane) of Laguna, also from previous work; Sheng, a childhood summer friend and neighbour at folks’ hometown; Auntie Haidee; and Viv, a close college classmate. 

Having been treated with so much hospitality bonded the friendship with stronger security. Sometimes, own plans are given up as friendship is more treasured and considered more important. Having dinner, sleeping together, or just walking around the Merlion City, talking, laughing, or crying were even better than watching the musical light show at the Marina Bay Sands. Listening to how they have progressed with their lives, their future plans, and how they have been was truly enriching.

Since I started the year travelling & finding old friends, I was sure I would be looking for more friends of the past during my travels within the year. Not for reunion purposes, but more of making friendships real and not stuck to some cyberspace. I love to hug & kiss my friends. It makes everyone of us younger and feels even better. I am sure of that. Now, I already miss them all.

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This is the first part of the series:

A Year of Journeying in 2012: The Real Solo 

My Unforgettable North Luzon Journey

Being assigned as the “byahera” (that’s how I label what I do and make it a blessing) for North Luzon stores has enriched my life.

The moment when I touched down at every destination, 38 all in all – after a really long land travel along McArthur Hi-way, made my heart calm down; I feel safe.

Arriving in sunglasses, pretending to be a customer, was the most exciting thing. Then those who do not know me would think I was who they were all getting prepared for and get gold. :) Dah-ha.

Seeing teams happily smiling, or in spite of loads of tasks to do – relieves me of the monotony of my long travel.

And it starts to energize my every muscle.

Knowing a little bit or a little bit more about their lives has touched me.

Their thoughtfulness and sweetness had made me so, too.

Their courage made me brave-r. Such that when stormy days follow me during my visits, I stay alive and still see them.:) 

Those simple kumustahan secured me that they are all right. If not so, I hoped to have enlivened them, and made them overcome and move on.

Being inside those cubes would take my breath away, literally. I usually stay somewhere open.

They know very well how absorbed I am to stay in their territories. And how i try to be awake to catch the graveyard and witness the closing event. They have seen me chase buses.

But I chose to stuck myself, talking and dining with them in the four walls of their comfort zones. And i loved that. I loved listening to the stories of their lives and dreams. And understanding the circumstances of their daily living.

Hence I did not get to roam around  and see which places they spend their rest days.

But I chose to explore around during my rest days and planned vacation. :)

Journey, visit Kapurpurawan & the monstrous Windmills, Laoag! Also, Vigan at night is romantic. Ilocandia never fail to amaze me. Your e-tour is worth exploring it in the actual.

Apayao: Church Ruins in Mataguisi

the locals asked me, who do you know? i replied, none. what will you do there? see the church ruins. they did not want to bring me there. 

i had been to pudtol,  apayao once in April 2012. but i only saw the church ruins near the municipal hall.  i told them so.

they said it was not safe. i can sense from their ilocano conversations. as i understand a bit. one said, what if some people might just want to kill him? another one said, there are some uniformed men around the area. in short, they were all discouraging me. i did not know if i would like to even believe what they were saying. one tricycle driver said that it was not worth the money he will earn if he takes me there. he was even undecided. they were also saying that we had to notify the police station that we would go there.

maybe they thought i would back out and not proceed. i was even more determined to go after hearing all that they said. but  a lot of what ifs were playing in my mind. i forgot my knife and i have not replaced my lost whistle.

with a braveheart,  i went to mataguisi in apayao, to see the church ruins. though i have seen a majestic one in fuga, this was still a beautiful structure.

Natigbasan Falls

photo taken by Christopher "Tupe" Diaz

of http://www.trekero.blog.com/

at Natigabsan Falls, Imapasug-ong, Bukidnon

Malaybalay, Bukidnon: Life-Giving Waterfalls

The cerebral storms in the four-walled room overdosed my senses. Those hours filled my brain cells with greens, instead. The trip to the hills the weekend before marked my thoughts with nothing but scenery. The thrill hurried my heart to beat like crazy. That I could not control. Then, there I was, powerless. Fighting it hardly, to pack, catch and fly. It almost stopped. That nearly gotten me stuck for good, forever.

Reflections crammed my mind.  Choosing to miss it would have been unforgiving. To choose wholeheartedly would entail accidental outflow. But what would I do with all the abundance?

Arriving in a familiar place at a quarter before midnight would trouble a highlander, who had patiently waited a long time just to glimpse the lady who almost did not make it.  Rugged, with a backpack, and heading to a 3-hour ride to a mountainous terrain, a local adventurer who happened to be seated beside me could not help it and asked, “Which mountain are you climbing?” I answered, “I don’t know. But I like to see waterfalls!”

A midnight-morn snooze was enough for my body to awaken in this chilly weather. The clock was ticking, and my body hungered for adventure.

The green façade exuded fresh blast of air; the smell of the trees and its barks filled me; the gentle breeze caressed my skin.

Ifugao: The Young Mountaineers

On a sunny morning in June, my thoughts to do the things I love to do most, travelled through the air and reached those cold mountains of the famous rice terraces of the Philippines. I love to G.I.V.E. – that’s Give Intensely Victoriously Enthusiastically. I do it randomly, secretly. And this is the first time I am sharing it. To inspire and to influence. Because I remember when I was in my youth, giving was my happiest moments. 

Cateel, Davao Oriental: Amazing Aliwagwag Falls

Aliwagwag Falls: Magnificent Waterfalls Overload!

The trickling sound of the water enlivens my spirits. The splashing sound of gallons of water that streams down those rocks is more than marvelous. 

It vanishes all my worries about the world and enchants my mind and leaves it with nothing. These words and so on will try to express this astonishment at this nature wonder of less than a hundred cascades, its water coming from high up above, which certainly is even more extraordinary.

This end part of it is so reachable.  It is exceptionally beautiful. I can get enveloped underneath. And be lost somewhere in these white waters.

I can stay here forever. Until my senses get back to reality. But this is genuine. So authentic. The most stunning waterfalls I have stroked my soul with. 

Aliwagwag Falls. You leave me breathless. But each time my mind ponders with your magnificence, I awaken and you give me life all over again.

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Located at Cateel, Davao Oriental


Thanks to Olan, The Travel Teller
& to his brother, Noy. 

Care for the Ocean and Its Great Resource

Lost But Found

when i travel, i just go. i don't have a map. i don't research. i don't have a notebook. and i don't know sometimes what's that place called.o r where that place is in the map. i don't remember the name of some islands and beaches i have been to. i do not know sometimes how i got there. am i a forgetful crazy lost traveler?or what do you call me?

like the other travelers/bloggers, recently, i start to research, look at Google map, try to write in a notebook, and recall the names of the places, how much i paid for the boat, what jeepney i boarded, what street. gosh - i found it a task. ahaha. that's not me. had so much tasks at my regular job. when i travel, i just want to. see people, places & savor. so if you notice that i have not been writing lately, it's not about writer's block. maybe it's because i am more of a traveler than a writer/photographer.

but if you think i am all, thank you. then i think i should catch up with my writing and take more photos. :)

happy reading, enjoy life and see you on the road.

Vigan: Where the Town Explorer Lives

Vigan had always been a romantic place for me. I love walking along those streets with parallel cobble-stoned houses, where you can sit and talk a while on those antique-looking benches lined up on the elevated sidewalk. The horse’s metal protective footwear creates a sound so ancient such that when it hits the pavement, it sounds like it is dancing on a percussive instrument. It is a place of special cultural and physical significance.

Here lives a young man, a passionate writer and traveller. I have been seeing his posts flooding this exclusive group account of travel bloggers. And it was all about those towns in Ilocandia that I get to pass through when I go home to Claveria, Cagayan Valley to visit my mom.