Destination: Manila International to L.A.X.

In the movie LOVE ACTUALLY, the narrator speaks of the Airport as a place full of love. Of Families, lovers, friends. It’s a place where people cry at departures. They cry at arrivals. It’s one of the best places to observe humans at their finest emotional state.

For me, it was an exciting moment, of being so close to a total stranger, whom I haven’t meet my whole life, and whom I haven’t heard of recently. Yet, there was the feeling of complete happiness.

My cousin’s wife, Jodi, came to the Philippines more than a week ago. Immediately from the airport, she and her companions went to Batangas to take the boat ride to Galera and Dumaguete. She’s some sort of a dive connoisseur and photography aficionado.

Just this afternoon, she called my dad from the airport on her way back to the US, and told him that my Tita Dora sent in some cash for my Lola. Dad called home and Lola spoke to him. And I was tasked to go to the airport and meet up with her. Now, the problem is, I don’t have a fucking idea how to call her cellphone. I haven’t made long distance calls in such a long time, and she didn’t get any local sim cards. So, I had to call her from the landline, after haggling some instructions on International Direct Distance calls from my Ate Dolay. I agreed to meet her up after an hour or so.

Because I am an avid Unlimitxt user, I was then obliged by the circumstances to buy 300 prepaid card in order to call her up.

It was her first time here in the Philippines, so naturally, as I went to the airport, and being a foreigner, I assumed that she’s taking Northwest or American Airlines. I went to the Old Naia airport. Calling her again (after so many failed attempts to connect) I asked her what was her airline. She said Air Philippines.

Now, at this point, I began to doubt… using some logic and circumstantial evidence, and plenty of asking around with the guards at NAIA, I finally concluded that I was at the wrong terminal.

First of all, Air Philippines is a domestic carrier, at most, it only travels to Hongkong. Secondly, Philippine Airlines has international flights… and is the only airline using the Centennial Terminal. Thirdly, I asked the guard whether there is a snack exchange at the old Naia. None. Only the Centennial Airport has one which is specifically named ‘Snack Exchange.’

So off I go again, rapidamente, to the Centennial Airport, and with several attempts to call her again, I thought I was too late, because she might have already boarded. Then, while walking around, looking for a tall blonde girl. (She would have been easily spotted had she been in a place wreaking with Filipinos like the mall or some restaurant… but Hello! It’s the airport! All kinds of blondes are there!) So, almost in despair, I walk away from the snack exchange, desperately calling her, and when I reached the terminal entrance, she called me. There she was in my plainsight. Holding the phone and talking to me. I waived at her and ran (nay, brisk walked) toward her. We hugged and said our greetings, then we decided to go to the lounge area where her other companions are at. She introduced me to her one by one. At this point, I thought my English would falter, but hey, strange as it may seem, though at times, I ran out of words, or rather had a hard time choosing the proper words, my old slang came back as if it was a forgotten tongue.

We talked for over an hour, while she shared to me some pictures that she took underwater.

Her name is Jodi. She’s an all American white girl. Really beautiful. 33 years old and a nature lover. She loves going around beaches and jungles and loves Asian stuff. She loves San Miguel Beer Pale Pilsen. I told her that it’s quite usual for foreigners to drink that. (they have that there) but here, the young ones’ preference is San Mig light. She even likes to celebrate Chinese New Year. Whoah! She’s soooo nice. My family is so lucky to have her.

We talked naturally, without hesitation, as if, we’ve bonded a lot in that short hour or so that we spent together.

I haven’t seen my eldest cousin, as in never, but it feels good to see his wife, the least to say.

I promised her that the next time she would come back, (that is, if she has the leisure of time to spent in Manila, and not in the provinces), I’d tour her to where else… the various malls, diners, restaurants, gimikans and hotspots in the Metropolis. She’ll love those native and oriental products abounding in Tiendesitas or in Rockwell, or wherever.

So, after seeing her nice photos in her nice Macintosh notebook, and all her gadgetry which I can no longer understand… we took souvenir pictures, through the help of Ernie, her half-filipino half Mexican companion. First he took shots of us with Jodi’s profession camera, for her own memorabilia, and then with my trusty Motorola V3X for my own (to Ernie’s amazement… I told him that’s Japanese technology at it’s finest)

After an hour at the lounge area, and plenty of getting to know each other, and getting to know how my cousins are doing… she had to board the plane, so I escorted her back to the terminal entrance, where we gave each other the warmest hug. A hug given to a complete stranger, who otherwise is also family. It was such a nice experience.

Truly, the airport is indeed a place of love, even for two strangers related only by marriage, and hence, family.

(Nota Bene: Since I'm having a shitty time with uploading the pictures with blogger, you hafta check out my friendster instead... or i'll probably post it here at a later time)

tah tah!