NAIA PULLED ME OUTTA MY BLUES
Sunrise? Check.
Cool, clean air? Check.
Voices of Papa and neighbors talking on the street below my bedroom window? Check.
Joe Taruc and Deo Macalma on DZRH? Check.
Datu barking and yelping alternately? Check.
Tricycles roaring by? Check.
Date? January 5, Monday
Activity? Flying out.
The minute that thought hit me, I cried. It was time to go and I wasn't ready. It's never enough. No matter how much time you spend visiting home, it's never long enough.
I went to the bathroom and did my morning ritual, all the time dabbing at my eyes for the tears that seemed to have a mind of their own, falling no matter how much I try to repress them. Having done that, I went to the other room to see if my sister was awake... barely, but my nephew Lucas was already up and about, already into his non-stop scrutiny of everything around him. I sneaked in and exchanged 'good mornings' with Lucas, and then left them so they could start the day their way.
Down the stairs, I was greeted by Datu with his usual tail-wagging, high-pitched yelping and non-stop jumping. He will keep at it until I pick him up and give him his good-morning hug, which I give him just to avoid getting scratched by his long nails. Anna asked me if I will already have my coffee, and the question brought tears to my eyes again. I put Datu down and hugged her. 'Yes Anna. Salamat.'
With my coffee-mug in one hand and my first cigarette in another, I went out the door to greet the neighbors gathered around Papa. We greet each other, exchange jokes, laugh, bicker... I do everything like it was an ordinary weekend morning when there wasn't much to do and there was all the time to hang around... and each minute that passed made each thing I did a lot paler than the one before. In a little while, Darlene, Lucas and Kuya Bong joined us and I had to turn back cause I couldn't hold on any longer. For another stretch, this isn't my world again, and the sooner I snapped out of it, the better for me.
I went back to the house and called my parents. First, I spoke to my dad. I asked him to take care of himself, to be a good patient and follow his doctors' advise. I told him I wanted him to be in his best of health cause this year, I will do all that I can to save up for their trip to Singapore for his and my mom's birthdays (his, on Dec. 4 and hers, on Dec. 13), and then we'll all fly home together for Christmas. Then I spoke to my mom and asked her to take care of herself as well, to have a little more patience with my Dad. I told her my plans and asked her to help me pray that all goes well. 10 minutes tops, I can't take any more of it. My heart was bursting to pieces.
Soon, we were taking turns in the bath. Soon, we were having breakfast. Soon, they were tossing the luggage in the car. Soon, we were off.
The trip was nondescript, I even managed to doze off a bit. The minute the airport loomed before us, the tears came again and I hugged Darlene and Lucas so hard, Lucas almost cried out in pain. In the middle of this, I glanced out the window and I can't believe what I saw... a queue of people snaking in forward and back endlessly on both entrances. It was total chaos.
First problem was the trolley, there was none in sight. I trudged the whole length of people queueing up, hoping to spot one neglected trolley but it was hopeless... although this was a feeling I couldn't afford because at the back of my mind, the image of 9 pieces of luggage kept creeping up. There was no way Papa and I could haul all of them into the airport barehanded. After making sure there was really no trolley available, I approached one of the airport police to ask for one. When it appeared that he was going to ask me to wait until they were brought out, I tried to look totally forlorn, my best rendition of a damsel in distress, replete with downcast eyes and quivering lips bitten between my teeth... and it worked. He asked me to follow him as he approached one of the entrance guards. Peeking in, he spotted one trolley just nearby, asked the guard to pull it out and both of them hoisted it up past the rails, after which, my hands grabbed at the handle bars like a clam closing up to protect it's pearl. I happily thanked the policeman and rolled my way back to the car. Apparently, Papa already got hold of one trolley. Where Papa had to give a whole leg and half an arm to get it, I only had to shed off my 'paawa' effect. Well... that's what women are made of, I think to mysel.
Problem no. 2 was the travel tax queue... problem was there was no queue and the counter was plastered with people 4-breadth deep, a convolution of sweating, sticky bodies snuffing air out of existence. I sighed and ate my humble pie, and plunged myself into this sea of people... submitted my documents, paid my fees, and waited... and waited... and waited. In the end, I was awarded with my tax certificate, a stepped-on toe and a convergence of sweat on my skin.
Problem no. 3 was luggage. Since Papa was a goldcard member at Krisflyer, we've never had to pay for extra luggage... now we did. What's funny is, I remember once, we flew with 90 kilos of luggage and we never had to pay a cent. I'm not sure how heavy our luggage was but they were now asking us to pay in excess of 70 kilos, which apparently was our luggage allowance. So much difference 14 kilos of butong pakwan and kornik makes, huh. Well, at least now we knew. Or maybe it's because the flight was so full, they really had no room to spare. This wouldn't have been a problem except... Papa and I were at our wits' ends, and so were our tempers. We needed a break, some time to breathe... which we barely had, cause we finished everything 10 minutes after boarding time.
Still deciding we were going to have that break no matter what, we hoisted our 'heavy' hand-carry bag up the stairs to the 2nd floor restaurant where we had a coke, a quick smoke and 5 breaths. Having had that, we tugged at our bag again down the stairs, to boarding gate no. 5 and went straight to the plane.
Now I'm here, back in Singapore, away from my family. I thank NAIA for all that it is, even the incompetence of its personnel because inspite of it, they are capable of pulling their act together to help a lady in need after all, if the situation called for it. I thank the crowd, the queue and some needless protocol because inspite of pissing me off, all of these things left me no time to cry and go sentimental about being away from my family again.
And I thank the forces that be, because that night, after tearing myself away from my family, I still had a couple of loving arms to embrace me... I had Papa, cushioning me, protecting me.
Three weeks... there is so much to share and share it I will. But like a love gone sour, it's simply too soon to talk about it... my heart's still aching and my eyes are still smarting with tears.
Bear with me.
Sunrise? Check.
Cool, clean air? Check.
Voices of Papa and neighbors talking on the street below my bedroom window? Check.
Joe Taruc and Deo Macalma on DZRH? Check.
Datu barking and yelping alternately? Check.
Tricycles roaring by? Check.
Date? January 5, Monday
Activity? Flying out.
The minute that thought hit me, I cried. It was time to go and I wasn't ready. It's never enough. No matter how much time you spend visiting home, it's never long enough.
I went to the bathroom and did my morning ritual, all the time dabbing at my eyes for the tears that seemed to have a mind of their own, falling no matter how much I try to repress them. Having done that, I went to the other room to see if my sister was awake... barely, but my nephew Lucas was already up and about, already into his non-stop scrutiny of everything around him. I sneaked in and exchanged 'good mornings' with Lucas, and then left them so they could start the day their way.
Down the stairs, I was greeted by Datu with his usual tail-wagging, high-pitched yelping and non-stop jumping. He will keep at it until I pick him up and give him his good-morning hug, which I give him just to avoid getting scratched by his long nails. Anna asked me if I will already have my coffee, and the question brought tears to my eyes again. I put Datu down and hugged her. 'Yes Anna. Salamat.'
With my coffee-mug in one hand and my first cigarette in another, I went out the door to greet the neighbors gathered around Papa. We greet each other, exchange jokes, laugh, bicker... I do everything like it was an ordinary weekend morning when there wasn't much to do and there was all the time to hang around... and each minute that passed made each thing I did a lot paler than the one before. In a little while, Darlene, Lucas and Kuya Bong joined us and I had to turn back cause I couldn't hold on any longer. For another stretch, this isn't my world again, and the sooner I snapped out of it, the better for me.
I went back to the house and called my parents. First, I spoke to my dad. I asked him to take care of himself, to be a good patient and follow his doctors' advise. I told him I wanted him to be in his best of health cause this year, I will do all that I can to save up for their trip to Singapore for his and my mom's birthdays (his, on Dec. 4 and hers, on Dec. 13), and then we'll all fly home together for Christmas. Then I spoke to my mom and asked her to take care of herself as well, to have a little more patience with my Dad. I told her my plans and asked her to help me pray that all goes well. 10 minutes tops, I can't take any more of it. My heart was bursting to pieces.
Soon, we were taking turns in the bath. Soon, we were having breakfast. Soon, they were tossing the luggage in the car. Soon, we were off.
The trip was nondescript, I even managed to doze off a bit. The minute the airport loomed before us, the tears came again and I hugged Darlene and Lucas so hard, Lucas almost cried out in pain. In the middle of this, I glanced out the window and I can't believe what I saw... a queue of people snaking in forward and back endlessly on both entrances. It was total chaos.
First problem was the trolley, there was none in sight. I trudged the whole length of people queueing up, hoping to spot one neglected trolley but it was hopeless... although this was a feeling I couldn't afford because at the back of my mind, the image of 9 pieces of luggage kept creeping up. There was no way Papa and I could haul all of them into the airport barehanded. After making sure there was really no trolley available, I approached one of the airport police to ask for one. When it appeared that he was going to ask me to wait until they were brought out, I tried to look totally forlorn, my best rendition of a damsel in distress, replete with downcast eyes and quivering lips bitten between my teeth... and it worked. He asked me to follow him as he approached one of the entrance guards. Peeking in, he spotted one trolley just nearby, asked the guard to pull it out and both of them hoisted it up past the rails, after which, my hands grabbed at the handle bars like a clam closing up to protect it's pearl. I happily thanked the policeman and rolled my way back to the car. Apparently, Papa already got hold of one trolley. Where Papa had to give a whole leg and half an arm to get it, I only had to shed off my 'paawa' effect. Well... that's what women are made of, I think to mysel.
Problem no. 2 was the travel tax queue... problem was there was no queue and the counter was plastered with people 4-breadth deep, a convolution of sweating, sticky bodies snuffing air out of existence. I sighed and ate my humble pie, and plunged myself into this sea of people... submitted my documents, paid my fees, and waited... and waited... and waited. In the end, I was awarded with my tax certificate, a stepped-on toe and a convergence of sweat on my skin.
Problem no. 3 was luggage. Since Papa was a goldcard member at Krisflyer, we've never had to pay for extra luggage... now we did. What's funny is, I remember once, we flew with 90 kilos of luggage and we never had to pay a cent. I'm not sure how heavy our luggage was but they were now asking us to pay in excess of 70 kilos, which apparently was our luggage allowance. So much difference 14 kilos of butong pakwan and kornik makes, huh. Well, at least now we knew. Or maybe it's because the flight was so full, they really had no room to spare. This wouldn't have been a problem except... Papa and I were at our wits' ends, and so were our tempers. We needed a break, some time to breathe... which we barely had, cause we finished everything 10 minutes after boarding time.
Still deciding we were going to have that break no matter what, we hoisted our 'heavy' hand-carry bag up the stairs to the 2nd floor restaurant where we had a coke, a quick smoke and 5 breaths. Having had that, we tugged at our bag again down the stairs, to boarding gate no. 5 and went straight to the plane.
Now I'm here, back in Singapore, away from my family. I thank NAIA for all that it is, even the incompetence of its personnel because inspite of it, they are capable of pulling their act together to help a lady in need after all, if the situation called for it. I thank the crowd, the queue and some needless protocol because inspite of pissing me off, all of these things left me no time to cry and go sentimental about being away from my family again.
And I thank the forces that be, because that night, after tearing myself away from my family, I still had a couple of loving arms to embrace me... I had Papa, cushioning me, protecting me.
Three weeks... there is so much to share and share it I will. But like a love gone sour, it's simply too soon to talk about it... my heart's still aching and my eyes are still smarting with tears.
Bear with me.
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