MANILA, Philippines ? Where did the fiesta come from? In the centuries before 1521, the archipelago was essentially a gathering of clans and family groups. There were no towns, no provinces, no Philippines. This was a challenging situation for the Spanish colonizers so they promptly introduced the plow. And, from relatively unproductive, slash-and-burn systems, early ?Filipinos? began to shift to much more productive, lowland mono-crops.

This created a shift. Local families now had more than they could eat. Barter was an option, but the problem persisted. Thus, town and marketplace found a reason for being. Now, ?Filipinos? had a way to exchange their excess produce for cash. With their new wealth, they bought goods they could not grow. To further enhance the appeal of towns and strengthen colonial governance, other economic innovations were introduced, encouraged or popularized?among them, gambling, factory-made cloth, ginebra, and the fiesta. The rest is history.

When I hear the word ?fiesta,? images of crowds, overworked kitchens, traffic jams, noisy contests and fatty pork fill my head. Oh yes, good thoughts that have to do with laughter, friendships and family come into play, as well. But the very idea of leaving the buzz of the metro, braving the cost and stress of traveling to some far off place only to plunge right back into a hubbub of intense social gluttony, makes me cringe.

Don?t get me wrong. I love travel. Over the last three decades, I have visited most of our country, from the Batanes Islands in the north, down to Tawi Tawi and the Turtle Islands in the south. I have hiked the lowland forests of the northern Sierra Madre, and dived with sharks along the bottomless drop-offs of the central Sulu Sea. I have driven all over Mindanao, flown over the entire length of Palawan, and sailed through most of the straits and seas of the Visayas? Tanon, the Bohol Sea, the Camotes. I have photographed Philippine Eagles in the hills of Dalwangan in Bukdinon, danced with the Tboli of Lake Sebu, enjoyed the white water rollercoaster of the Chico river in Kalinga, spent days coasting through the marshlands of Agusan and Liguasan, swam with whale sharks in Donsol, and photographed stone churches and forts down the historical early warning system built by Spain that stretches from Samar to northern Palawan. I have been fortunate to get to know the Ifugao, the Matigsalog, the Agta, the Manobo. With friends, I have flown over Lake Venado at the summit of Mt. Apo, choppered over the rice terraces and filmed aerial footage of humpback whales in the Babuyan Channel.

This is an amazing country. And, as new information comes to light, my life list grows each year?the wetland flocks of Candaba, the crystal clear Cantingas River in Sibuyan, the marine lakes at Siargao and Cagayancillo, the wind farm at Pagudpud, the reefs of Sarangani, the old mosque at Simunul.

For me, travel (as it is profiled today) and fiestas do not match. With so much to see and do, so many quiet places and spaces that provide stark respite, the brief contrived abandonment of a fiesta just doesn?t cut it for me.

If you were to go back in time, the very roots of this archipelago are digital. In spite of decades of effort to weave this heavily pixilated texture into an analog map, the cultural, natural and social gems of what we now call the Philippines remain as delicate bits and bytes of diversity. Much of this is lost in the cultural ?banig? (mat) that make up most fiestas.

In the engineered atmosphere of a fiesta, much of what is authentic often takes a backseat to hospitality and showmanship. Especially in the matter of food, Filipinos being Filipinos, there are many attempts to highlight and serve what are perceived to be status dishes, relegating the true essence of their day-to-day existence to the sidelines. Yes, there is something to be said for the social or religious cohesion that a fiesta can generate, but has anyone ever done a cost-benefit analysis?

The fiesta often coincides with the harvest, a time of plenty. One look at media headlines shows how so many of us spend the entire year griping, griping, griping. So, who are we kidding? It has been documented as well that many families incur huge debts just to be able to pay for this annual binge--driving them into a boom and bust cycle. Is that sort of behavior something that we, as a nation, should actively encourage or market abroad? I don?t know about that.

This takes me to what I think is the heart of this issue. With the increasing encouragement being given to promote fiestas for tourism, towns frequently resort to copying what others have done successfully in a frantic effort to raise their fiesta?s profile. For instance, street dancing. So when you look at it through a wide-angle lens, what image do we project as a nation? Are we merely a nation of street dancers? From a marketing standpoint, does this give us a unique selling proposition, globally? Or are we merely seen as poor cousins of Brazil?s Mardi Gras? More importantly, do efforts such as this take us further away from what we really are?

The core of community-based ecotourism lies in successfully documenting, understanding, packaging, sustaining and marketing a unique lifestyle. And, as any travel person will tell you, the best destinations are the ones that promote repeat visits. Common sense tells us that good businesses and livelihoods are those that breed enterprise year-round. A fiesta happens once a year. It?s a binge. If it is our intention to nourish a living and lasting culture, shouldn?t we rather focus on the day-to-day things that last?