I had read about the rice terraces around the Banaue area. They are inscribed on the UNESCO World Heritage list (not that that really means anything anymore, but I still like to visit areas that are so inscribed). When I arrived in Banaue at the Jeepney terminal at the top of the hill, there were the usual sorts of people hawking themselves and their tours to the new arrivals. As a foreigner, I especially stand out and at times I am practically at the bottom of a dog-pile. One friendly young man named Noli (something I will probably always remember because in Korean, Noli means play), helped me out of the jeepney and, without too much of a hard sell offered to take me down to a particular hotel. If I didn't like it, I could choose any of the others in the area and there were lots to choose from. He also told me that he was a guide and could show me around the area. Well, I often find that I don't have the kind of time it would take to do it myself, so I need guides and people to do these things, and I figured I would take him up on it, as he was nice enough. This persisted even though he put me in a motor-trike and went around the corner and down the hill. All of four hundred meters (maybe) to the hotel in question. And when I looked at where we had been, there was a staircase down to the same spot that took off at least half the distance. Oh well, I don't think I will ever stop being taken in by those with transportation on offer. I got checked in and set up my tour for the next day with the young man. I didn't feel up to the longer options through the (apparently) more spectacular areas, so I opted for the trip through the Hapao rice terraces. They were quite picturesque and I had a good time walking through the terraces with my guide.
When I reached this point in the journey (from Banaue proper to this point it was about an hour and a half of bouncy, jouncy roads that were being "improved," but my guide suggested that government corruption was keeping the funds that would make the improvements possible from being fully in evidence), we were about to enter the area called Hapao, where the rice terraces were located. Now my guide, who you can see looking pensive (I'm not sure if he was just being polite and waiting for me without trying to look like he was waiting for me, a la Star Wars ("I don't know, just fly casual, Chewie."), or if he was striking some kind of pose, but it made a cool photo.) here, made his fee of 750 pesos for the day, and the trike driver made 900 pesos for the day. But when we arrived at the checkpoint below where this photo of the rice terraces was taken, I paid to the entire community of Hapao the grand sum of 10 pesos.
I asked Noli just to confirm the situation, and yes, the only thing the community got was 10 pesos. Initially, this had me feeling uneasy. My guides were individuals (although they were working for families, for instance Noli has 12 brothers and sisters, but still many fewer than a whole community), and they were making these huge sums compared to the community of Hapao that was making about 25 cents for allowing me to come in and tramp all over the source of their livelihoods. Initially, I was feeling like I shouldn't recommend this experience because of that. However, when I returned to Manila the next day and went to the Department of Tourism offices for advice and I asked about this issue, I got a different point of view. I was told that the native communities were not encouraged to ask for more. They were in fact encouraged to be happy that people were coming to see the rice terraces and not to worry about the money. They were making enough to live and that would be fine. The reason for discouraging a higher "entrance fee"? When other communities had learned about money, and tourist money in particular, they let their terraces and livelihoods deteriorate in favour of making that tourist dollar. By not getting more than the 10 pesos for the visit, the natives in the area maintained their terraces because that was still how they had enough food to keep living. (Now, I later decided that Department of Tourism advice and information is a tad suspect, but I'm hoping this part was true enough.)
Anyway, we tramped through the rice terraces and saw some interesting things. My guide was a freelance guide (as in not registered), and though he probably wasn't the best guide around, he did tell me many things about the terraces. For instance, last year was a very dry year. Hapao suffered less than other areas around Banaue, but they still had to resort to newere methods to bring rain, such as cloud seeding. Unfortunately these sorts of methods have their own difficulties, with chemicals and such being involved. As a result there has been increasing damage to the terraces, with landslides and such taking their toll.
This one occurred last year. Unfortunately, because it is so tall and because of its location, it cannot be repaired. Others, when they are small or less steep, can be repaired and this is undertaken by the owner. As time has gone on, there has been more and more damage to the terraces, and the marks of that damage can be seen all around.
As for ownership of the terraces, they are family owned. A rich family may own 10 or fifteen terraces. When the parents become too old, they will apportion them out to the children. The first child might get three or four choice terraces. The second might two or three. The third one or two. However, by the fifth or sixth child, there are usually no more terraces to be handed down. They can only be given education. This was the case with Noli. He was the 12th child in his family and was in the process of being educated, when his father died. His father, incidentally, was a forest conservation officer and knew a great many people in the valley, and was well-liked. He had a large turnout for his funeral. But when he died, Noli was unable to continue to go to school and had to drop out and help with farming on the family terraces, even though he was not going to own any of them. I can imagine this sort of situation in North America. We hear these stories often enough, and they so often end up badly, with the individuals ending up on the street, drug addicts or prostitutes. But Noli took a different route. He knew no English, but he had a friend who was a tour guide. His friend taught him English, in particular the English he would be needing to be a guide. Noli listened (he was a trike driver) and learned how to speak about the area, and then began to give tours himself. He worked towards becoming something more than the circumstances he found himself in and worked beyond the limits imposed by he forced lack of education. I was glad to have him as my guide. It was a good day.
Well, this one will fit into the "What not to do" category. Kota Kinabalu is a nice place. It is laid back and friendly. It's small. The province of Malaysia where it's located is isolated from the peninsular part of Malaysia. It sits on the island of Borneo. And there seems to be a lot to do here. There is Mount Kinabalu nearby, and islands just out in the bay nearby as well. World class scuba diving sites are nearby and snorkeling abounds. There are jungle treks and wildlife encounters, animal rescue centers and river cruises. One of the things to do is to visit Mount Kinabalu National Park. Mount Kinabalu is the tallest mountain in South-East Asia, that isn't a volcano. It stands 4095 meters high and is apparently reasonably easy to scale, requiring no special equipment or training. There are viewing platforms from which to see the mountain as you get closer. 
There is a botanical garden where you can see many of the plants that grow on the mountain, among them pitcher plants, and orchids.
Maybe you want to do a canopy walk on a suspended walkway high above the jungle floor. That's possible, too. 
