Being Filipino and growing up in America, my trip to the Philippines was an experience I will never forget. This was the first time I would be traveling to the place of my heritage. I was gladly going to live there for 2 years to finish my studies. I did not know too much of the Philippines, only the stuff my mother has been telling me about. She explained to me, that the weather was different in the Philippines. She told me it was very humid. That it was so humid, it was like walking in a sauna. This has become very useful, for I knew what type of clothes to bring over there. But as the day of my flight came closer, I could not help but feel nervous. I never met any of my relatives over there, nor did I know anything about the place. Then I calmly told myself, it was going to be alright, that it was going to be an adventure; a thirteen hour adventure.
The time has finally come; thus it was time for me to fly Philippines. As I looked for my seat in the plane, I could not help but accidently bump into some people as they were putting their bags in the overhead compartments. I continued to walk down the aisle, frequently looking at my boarding pass, and continually searching for where my seat could be. After a couple of minutes of searching, I finally found my seat. I was happy to know that I had an aisle seat. This was convenient for me because of bathroom purposes. As I sat down, I noticed that there was a small screen in front of me. It was playing a vaguely video on safety and procedures in case of emergency.
After what seemed like an hour, I heard a fairly loud ping sound that seemed to be coming from the overhead. It was the captain of the plane. She was introducing herself and giving the passengers details of the flight. Time of arrival, local time at destination, and what the weather was like, was just one of the few things she covered. With all the passengers seated, I looked up, and saw what had seem to be an orange seatbelt sign was on. I had started to strap my seatbelt on and prepared myself for takeoff, as so, did the other passengers.
Once again, I heard another fairly loud ping. It was the captain. She was telling the flight attendants to take their seats and get ready for takeoff. As the crew slowly made their way to their seats, I looked out the small window and noticed that the plane has been making its way to the runway. The plane made what had seemed to be one final sharply turn, and stopped. After a minute or so, it was rapidly moving again. The jets roared as the plane began to accelerate. And as it got faster, it began to repeatedly shake as if there was an earthquake. And in a matter of seconds, the plane had accumulated enough speed and lifted off the ground into the air.
After hours of being in the air, I looked out the small double paneled window, and saw what would have appeared to be land. It was only a matter of minutes until the plane landed. I was happy. I felt happy because I did not have to take another bite of whatever it was they called food. They had served us what should be chicken. But after taking a bite, it was like chewing rubber. I was happy because I did not have to experience anymore turbulence nor would I have to listen to the obnoxiously, loud snoring of the person next to me. I was just happy to know that my miserably thirteen hour journey was coming to an end.
As the plane landed and began to taxi its way to the terminal, I quickly unbuckled myself, and prepared my things for the unloading of the plane. After a couple of minutes of patiently waiting, the plane has reached its terminal, and the jet way has been attached. As the orange seatbelt sign went off, people in the plane started to hurriedly move towards the door. I stood up, and tailed the orderly crowd as we moved in a single file line. As I got closer to the door, I started to feel some nastily warm air. I felt like I walked into, what could surely be a sauna. My mother was right; the weather was definitely different from America. The air felt damp and heavy. It was surprisingly hard to breathe in the humid air. I felt sweat instantly roll from my face to my shirt. Telling me is one thing, but experiencing it, is completely different.
After going through a couple security checks, immigration and customs, I was on my way out of the airport. As I made my way out, I noticed that not only was it humid, but also terribly smoggy. I anxiously looked around to find out where all the smoke was coming from. And surprisingly, it was coming from the cars. As I confusedly kept looking around, I saw a lady waving at me; it was my aunt. She and my cousin kindly helped me carry my bags as we walked to the car. On our walk, I had asked her why there was so much smog. She told me, that it was not like in America, cars in the Philippines did not have to go through a vigorously strict emissions check to be driven. I have learned that not only was the weather different, but so were the laws.
Either way, the unbearably hard part was over with. As long as I did not have to fly, in coach, for another thirteen hours I would be fine. I just had to deliberately patient the next time around. It will be two years, before I had to painfully experience a flight like that again. And to me, that is two years I was willingly willing to wait.