If i was able to grow beard and matching side burns to go along, I would have had. But I couldn't; I palpitated by the sight of aggresive people fetching their baggages, squeezing their grown bodies into mine, a somewhat indication that I was still insubstantial (or looked like one) even to my home country which, over the years, evolved somewhat foreign and questionable to me. Surrounded with the most impatient people I'll ever encounter in my life, I watched the moving machine intently, almost gave me a squeezy feeling and constricted lungs. Boxes after boxes came along and similar baggages anyone would have thought all these filipinos planned to buy the same red ones to abominate my pea-head brain and make me even confuse as if I was not terrified for my life already. When I unboarded Philippines Airlines, with heavy eye lids that is, I thought I wouldn't be able to exit the new territory. I went along with the flow, followed two old couples, down the stairs and more stairs (where the hell are them elevators! My carry on was freakin heavy), and alas I saw a magnificient sunrise, a sign perhaps that no matter how heavy my carry on was (as, if you were there, would also thought...I'd have had drag it to the floor), I'll get to my destination and be able to decipher my uncle from all the filipino cloned bald-headed men.

Easy was far from check out. Maybe "easy" barely came along when I finally saw a man, with all his disappearing receding hairline, waved at me from the crowd...I thought to myself, "Who the hell is that?" Of course it hit me, or so I've heard that my uncle was not picking me up but my dad and the butler, instead. After the long, grueling time I had at the "pick-up baggage" area...after my weary face was about to turn sour...after frustrated sighs were about to be heard in some hundred miles, I finally saw my poor red luggage all beaten up from the back, looking tired and pathetic. I knew I was not going to be able to carry them both and still look fashionably tired...oh I knew. And so i got me one of the big carts about, oh I don't know, a mile from I was. The one thing I truly hate about traveling (and I've only done it twice...you know, gone international) is the fact that there will always be 95% you would get lost and or loose your luggages. I am one of these people who will likely to face such unfortunate adversity. I would be fine if I was in the clouds because my mind is in the clouds, somewhere over the rainbow, away with the horizon most of the time anyway. But when it comes to being alert and tending some real world concerns I lack attention thereof.

Anyway, after asking the old lady upfront what to do next (and she said "well, sweetie, you go home now..." oh the sarcasm,), I stood up front for good 20 minutes looking for a bald man or a sign that says "Ja, WE'RE here" and an arrow pointing down. A hand wave was okay too although crazily, I thought everyone was waving that I have had looked around and see if there's anyone behind me. And sure enough there were hundreds of people looking for their own families as well.

I seriously thought I would take a taxi cab back to my uncle's house although all so sudden, I saw my dad beamed through the crowd with his glasses, a faint smile, and (even from afar) creases in his face. As he signaled me to walk towards the right, I felt the breeze that would soon accompany me for a 6 week vacation to my hometown. It wasn't bad weather, I am not use to humidity anymore like the old golden days of my childhood.

My dad and I hugged like we have had a good relationship over the years. My oldest sister was there too. She still looked the same during his post-college days of bang up reasonings and funky hairs. Even with two kids, nothing have changed for her. She still buys expensive heels--the cost could help feed a whole town for a day. My dad on the other hand looked weary as if he is already in his 70s ready to retire--from his job as a government official as well as his job being a dad, son, and to my nieces and nephew, grandfather. Jimmy was right about everything though. He encouraged me that no matter what have happened and will happen during my stay, my family would be happy to see the 'grown-up' version of the spoiled brat they used to adore and even perhaps, abhor. And I saw that reaction from the start.

Our way back to my uncle's house, both my dad and sister 'obstruct' me with mile long questions. All the what's, when, where, and why's of life, it was presented during the car ride. Of course I willingly answered their questions--out of breathe--but I answered with my weird combination of the tagalog, english, and ilocano vocabulary, nonetheless.

When I get off the car and be reminded of why Philippines will always have a place in my heart... I knew summer '07 was going to be somewhat idealistic: I was far from reality, far from my mom...far from the fast-pace life of California. I was, alas, going to relive what i've missed for 2 years during my melancholic days here in the States.


P.S.
It has been a year. Its weird how time flies by these days.

Labels: memory lane, unfictioned

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