PI09 — Prologue [hundreds.]

“I don’t believe man was meant to fly for 17 hours through 11 different timezones”
–Jonathan S. conversation with Megan F.

I woke up unwillingly today.  It was 8 o’clock AM, received seven and a half hours of sleep—which is more than the average school day—yet my body was still tired.  It wasn’t that I was depressed about the day’s events.  No.  Not at all.  I was very happy to go back to the Philippines—one of my homelands.  I guess it was just the previous day’s events that had my energy low.

The night before, my Dad and I scrambled.  There were so many things thrown at us that we were not expecting to do.  Of course there was packing (I was done by Saturday, though, so that wasn’t much of a problem), and then cleaning the house for our relatives who gratefully volunteered to water our lawn/backyard.
Not bad, right?  Not yet.
Around 6PM, we received a phone call from my aunt Momiji.  My grandfather was supposed to drive us up to LAX the following morning.  However, this phone call just killed that plan.  My aunt called, telling us that my grandfather got a cold from working on the frontyard late the previous night.  At age 86, my aunt didn’t want him to drive us, just to play it safe on his health.
Understandable.  Only problem was… whos going to drive us tomorrow?  We checked shuttle services.  Cost?  $225.  Sorry… this trip to the Philippines was taxing enough on our budget.  My Dad decided to drive to our church to see if anyone there would be willing to help us.  It’s a good thing he got lost, because he wouldn’t have ended up at the Paguio’s doorstep.  Gratefully, Mr. Paguio was willing to drive us up, even with such late notice.  That was… a big worry off our back.  Now to worry about… other things (worth omitting )

Back to the present.  Despite the stressful prelude to my trip, the excitement of the trip was still present.  It has been 13 years since I last visited the Philippines.  Things have surely changed.  Not just in the Philippines, but I am not able to see my homeland through mature eyes.  I wondered, though… what could be done in merely nine days?

Mr. Paguio and Jarel arrived at my house around 8:50.  The ride up north was a good one.  Jarel and I talked about… a lot of things—mostly revolving around music.  Wishlists, sound equipment, how synthesizers work… it’s always good talking with Jarel.  Only problem is that I couldn’t shift my body in my seat, so my eye the whole time was forced right to communicate with Jarel.  Gave me a slight headache on the airtrip… but it was worth the chat.

 

My first flight was on Northwest 81, from LAX to Narita, Japan.  I was a bit disappointed.  Not necessarily in the flight, or that we were landing in Japan.  Rather… we were flying over the Pacific, and only one of the numbers on my flight corresponded with “the numbers”… as in the numbers from Lost.  4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42.  I shot a text to Jackie regarding this, but she didn’t seem to comprehend what the heck I was talking about until after I got back from the Philippines.  Waste of money -.-

The flight to Japan good.  Food was relatively good.  I was able to listen to some good tunes… until my laptop died.  Downsides were… the movies sucked.  There were three movies, only two that I remember.  “He’s Just Not Into You” and “Hotel for Dogs.”  If you’ve never seen/heard of the movies, the titles speak for themselves.  In fact, I don’t think I really needed headphones to understand what the movies were about.  It just was… plastic.  I guess some people can relate to it… iono.  It just seems like that that’s the world, yet there are more/better things to write about.  I just finished The Chosen on the plane and to see those movies just paled in comparison.  That’s one man’s opinion.  (Tangent:  The Chosen was a great book, and you can bet that there’ll be another blog regarding it)

Nearing the last quarter of our flight, the woman next to me decided to talk a bit.  Then my Dad got into the discussion, which turned into a pretty interesting conversation.  Her name was Sue and she lived in northern Washington—a part where she states is basically the middle of nowhere.  Her life is an interesting one.  Initially, she pursued spanish in college, thinking she would do missions work down in Mexico.  It turned out that that led to her father to setting up missions works in the southeastern pacific—I forget how  
Now she has her house open to foreign exchange students to live in—mostly from Japan—hence the reason why she was on our flight.  One of her previous kids from Japan invited her to JP.  Through prayer, she received a ticket for a very low price (400 was it?).  Shocking stuff.
Sue felt that Japan is the country that God has lead her, and I wouldn’t disagree.  Japan seems to be prevalent not through her job, but she even married a half-Japanese man.  However, that was the area she needed prayer with.  It was weird… we barely knew this woman, yet she gave her concern.  There were events in her husband’s life that was bringing him to a state of confusion in life.  There are more details, but it probably wouldn’t be polite to share.  We prayed for her and she reciprocated.

It’s just interesting.  We bonded with one person’s life.  I don’t think I would’ve done it on my own, seeing how I can be turtle-like regarding socializing with new people.  But because we reached out, we warmed a soul.  One of… how many on that plane?  There were hundreds I’d say.  There are so many lives out there that are in our grasp, and if we reach, we can make their day. 

In economics, it’s called a multiplier effect.  One action creates a chain reaction to the whole population.  We are all connected, and if we do just one good deed, who knows how that will respond to the general populace.

It reminds me of the Japanese movie “Nobody Knows”—though to a much less depressing state.  There are millions of people out there… people concealed in their livingspaces.  But nobody truly knows what lies beyond those concrete walls.  Nobody truly knows the hurt that each individual bears.  Everyone has hurt.  So why not reach out?  There are a million answers to that question, but I’m not sure if any bear true sustinance.
There were hundreds of lives on that plane.
I don’t know what kind of impact we made on Sue’s life, but indirectly, she helped me realize (or re-realize) the importance of opening up.  I hope the best regarding Sue and her husband.

 

We landed in Narita… I can’t remember what time.  It was hard enough to add four hours to the Pacific Standard Time and flip the Meridian to find out Japanese time.  Light was still out.  Heck.  It felt like we were chasing the sun the whole time, since when we left, there was light out.

My Dad searched the airport to get my grandmother (on my Dad’s side) otabe.  Meanwhile, I looked around.  It was a very interesting airport.  The entire airport was constructed in a way that the sound died as it travelled.  It didn’t matter how many people were in the airport, relative silence was present.
The airport art was interesting in itself, as well.  The way the couches were arranged… the paint on these random glass sheets… the use of wood.  Cool stuff.
Speaking of cool stuff, they had very interesting rooms.  I don’t remember encountering any airport with “Shower rooms.”  I remember in SFO and LAX, they had those air glide driers, which were nifty… but shower rooms?  If that wasn’t sweet enough, they had a playroom for kids.  Not good enough?  Try an “Oxygen Room.”  Yeah.  You read correctly.  “Oxygen room.”  I am still befuddled to what that does…
There were quite a few sex magazines in the convenience stores.  I guess I’m not too surprised… it just isn’t something you see in every airport.  Oh wells…

 

Northwest Flight 1 — From Narita to Manila.  This flight was probably the most pressing.  Only four hours, but I was so tired that I didn’t even bother putting headphones in for “Yes Man” (which seemed like a funny movie).  I’m not sure how it’s possible for anyone to get sleep on a plane.

 

The plane landed in Manila around 11PM.  I took one whiff and the familiar smell arrived in my nostrils.  The smell of moisture and diesel.   My Dad and I left the airport and although it was dark, the blast of heat caught me by surprise.  Not just that, it was raining, but the presence of heat was still there.  Very odd, but I got used to it.
Josh got a haircut.  A hair chopping.  I was next -.-
We arrived at Kamuning, and despite that it was 12AM, Dad and I had 4 meals already today… well… you know Filipinos.  “Eat!  Eat!”  So Dad I had another serving of food.

Then I hit the hay.  Exhausted… it was 3PM in San Diego -.-