Sunday, January 30, 2011
Mon 1.24.11
Spent today up in Plaridel, up at my aunt’s hospital. We were going to go tour a dragon fruit plantation but my dad got sick and we had to postpone it. But its ok, I’ll get around to it someday, I actually did want to see it. Later that night we went to bocaue to my dad’s old house. I believe his old yaya, adela, made us dinner. She made quite possibly the best kare-kare that I’ve had ever.
Sun 1.23.11
Stayed with my dad and aunt last night at my aunt’s apartment near manila bay. Pretty sweet place aside from the lack of wifi… we went on a day trip to my aunt, uncle, and father’s condo in Pico de Loro, Batangas. It was about a 2.5 hr trip on the way there but holy shit, Filipino drivers are crazy. Even though I was sitting in the back, I was basically scared shitless. Im not exactly sure how to describe what was going through my head while riding in the truck… but it made me value the organization of the American highway system. The condo itself was pretty bare, they had been slowly been moving things into it. But the country club that was on the premises was nice. Multiple pools, a beach, and patio areas to chill at. Not to mention the food there was pretty good. Kare-kare is the best, no way any other food can beat it out.
On the way back home there was so much traffic heading back to manila, it probably took us four hours. But we stopped on the way back in tagaytay to buy some fruit, some random guy was walking up and down the sidewalk trying to sell knives. He had a pretty nice balisong but I didn’t want to bother bringing that with me everywhere. My dad on the other hand bought two knives from him. the packaging said they were made in the USA and I guess I found it a bit ironic that they were supposedly returning to the country they were produced in. ( they were probably made in china, and not made of stainless steel).
On the way back home there was so much traffic heading back to manila, it probably took us four hours. But we stopped on the way back in tagaytay to buy some fruit, some random guy was walking up and down the sidewalk trying to sell knives. He had a pretty nice balisong but I didn’t want to bother bringing that with me everywhere. My dad on the other hand bought two knives from him. the packaging said they were made in the USA and I guess I found it a bit ironic that they were supposedly returning to the country they were produced in. ( they were probably made in china, and not made of stainless steel).
Sat 1.22.11
Not too bad of a day, a little sad/slow. Woke up and went to lunch with my extended family. My grandma came out with us, she usually doesn’t leave the house, so that was really nice. I had an enjoyable conversation with my uncle about the state of the aerospace industry and other engineering related topics. After lunch we went back to the house but my aunt and I stayed in the car and went to the market to pick up flowers. At my request, we were going to visit the graves of my grandfather and one of the family maids.
We went to Market Market and my aunt haggled the prices for some flowers down, quite impressive. Hopefully I can learn that skill while aborad… the first stop was my grandfathers grave. He was cremated and his resting place is in a cemetery/mausoleum place next to a church. My aunt replaced the water in the flower holders there while I just stood and spent the time remembering the few memories of my Grandfather. I remember that whenever he would come over to the US to stay with my family, usually on vacation, he would always bring these awesome gifts. But they were beyond the age of me. Models of old cars, that is probably the most memorable gift that he gave to my brothers and I. they’re still somewhere in my house, but looking back on it, I wish I had cherished those gifts/ memories more. And I realize that as a kid, the future is a difficult thing to grasp, and that you can’t turn back time. In the least, I am happy that I had the opportunity to meet him, from the stories that I hear, he was a great and successful business man. He would bring my mother and her sisters around the world. I think my mom’s favorite story to tell of him is how when they were younger they took a family vacation to france and they would always have the best. I hope one day I can provide that for my family.
After, we visited the grave of Teresa. One of the maids of my mother’s family for a very long time. My aunt and I just stood there for a while, remembering what Teresa meant to us, what she taught us and what part in our lives she had. And upon further reflection, I would go so far to say that she was my first best friend. I remember I would write letters to her and she would respond! We remembered how good her cooking was. And how she would come to the US for months at a time just to stay with us and take care of my brothers and me.
We went to Market Market and my aunt haggled the prices for some flowers down, quite impressive. Hopefully I can learn that skill while aborad… the first stop was my grandfathers grave. He was cremated and his resting place is in a cemetery/mausoleum place next to a church. My aunt replaced the water in the flower holders there while I just stood and spent the time remembering the few memories of my Grandfather. I remember that whenever he would come over to the US to stay with my family, usually on vacation, he would always bring these awesome gifts. But they were beyond the age of me. Models of old cars, that is probably the most memorable gift that he gave to my brothers and I. they’re still somewhere in my house, but looking back on it, I wish I had cherished those gifts/ memories more. And I realize that as a kid, the future is a difficult thing to grasp, and that you can’t turn back time. In the least, I am happy that I had the opportunity to meet him, from the stories that I hear, he was a great and successful business man. He would bring my mother and her sisters around the world. I think my mom’s favorite story to tell of him is how when they were younger they took a family vacation to france and they would always have the best. I hope one day I can provide that for my family.
After, we visited the grave of Teresa. One of the maids of my mother’s family for a very long time. My aunt and I just stood there for a while, remembering what Teresa meant to us, what she taught us and what part in our lives she had. And upon further reflection, I would go so far to say that she was my first best friend. I remember I would write letters to her and she would respond! We remembered how good her cooking was. And how she would come to the US for months at a time just to stay with us and take care of my brothers and me.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Friday 1.21.11
Once again my flight landed at a weird hour, it was already Friday… I chuckled as I passed the hordes of Filipinos crowding the duty free shop, one last purchase before entering the taxed area. Waiting in the line for immigration I could tell how tired I was by just trying to read their signs and various advertisements they had going on the TV’s suspended from the ceiling. However, one thing was clear. The Philippines has a good amount of overseas workers, so many that they need to have half of the lanes devoted to them. Getting past was no big deal, I don’t recall having to say a single word to the woman at the immigration desk, I just handed her my passport and immigration documents, I got a nifty little stamp on my visas page and proceeded to the baggage claim.
I got a cart (free) and found an opening on the far end of the carrousel, people were still pouring around it as the full plane load of Filipinos passed immigration. A few minutes passed, the area was packed with short, tanned people and many of them sniping their bags off of the metal conveyer belt. After half an hour, a last shipment of balikbayan boxes had to be manually loaded onto the baggage claim. And soon enough, the large room was empty, it was just me, a few stragglers, and the few workers on duty at 1230 AM. I asked one of the workers if that was all the bags, and he calmly confirmed. Shit. One of my biggest worries on the trip, that my bags would never make it. They probably got stuck at JFK despite the woman in Boston telling me that my bags were fully checked all the way to Manila. I filled out the necessary paperwork to claim missing bags and made my way through the declarations department a little out of it. My memories of the Ninoy Aquino National Airport are few, but I seem to always have remembered it being bigger than it really was. Probably because the last time I was here was almost three years ago, and before that, six or seven.
As I made my way to the arrival pickup area I spotted a few of my younger cousins and one of the maids at my family’s house. My mood was instantly improved, the first question they asked was where my bags were, and all I could give them was a mumble about how the airline lost my luggage. We hugged and made our way to their massive van. This van was different; they explained how it was new and less than a month old. Regardless of this fact, it brought me back to my previous trips to the Philippines, we would take one of the vans to travel around the Philippines, places like Tagaytay, places around Manila, Batangas, Taal Volcano. Eventually we arrived at their new house. In the house resides my Grandmother, three of my aunts, two of my uncles, my cousins, the nurses, and the maids. The new house certainly looked newer and cleaner than the last one, but not as big. We entered the property through a door in the gate and waited outside the door to the house, one of the maids came and opened the door and let us in. they showed me where I would be staying, my cousins’ work room with a bed in the middle. Apparently they call it the “blue room” due to one of their walls being painted blue. I’m not quite sure why only one of the walls was blue, but I didn’t even notice it until later that day. I put my backpack down on a chair. It was the only piece of luggage that I had, but it had all of what I would consider essential: my laptop, my camera, my travel documents, and my laptop charger. I sit and contemplate what I was going to do without my luggage. I had no clothes, nothing more than what I was wearing on the plane: shirt, jeans, socks, sneakers and two sweatshirts. I thought that it was going to be a rough trip, and that I would have to shell out a good amount of money to buy a new wardrobe. Too stressed out, I went outside for a smoke. It was nice out. Maybe about 70 degrees F, and 70% humidity, I couldn’t see the stars, or the moon. All I could hear was the gentle hum of the power transformer and see down the road. Both sides of the street were blocked by walls ten feet high. The smoke was hot. My American cigarettes didn’t like this thick, humid, polluted city air. But it didn’t matter. I arrived.
The next morning I was awoken by my cousins leaving for school, shouts could be heard downstairs and everyone rushing to get to the car. I said good morning to my Grandma then talked to one of my aunts about my missing baggage, she was surprised that they got lost. I exclaimed that some of it had to be my fault for not waiting at JFK (remember I was there for 7 hours) and some of the blame put on the representative for telling me that I would be all set. Another of my aunt’s came downstairs and asked if I had filled out the claims form, and called the airline. Surprisingly enough, the airlines give compensation for lost baggage, and that they had found it. My bags never left Boston.
What?
Really?
That’s ridiculous. I checked in, and made my flight. It made no sense, but I was just happy that I would be getting some cash and my bags back.
Later that night, my cousins took me out to dinner after my bags arrived. It was pouring outside; the rain was amazing, so much better than the snow. I hope a week is enough time here…
here is a picture of my cousin's dog, he's awesome:
I got a cart (free) and found an opening on the far end of the carrousel, people were still pouring around it as the full plane load of Filipinos passed immigration. A few minutes passed, the area was packed with short, tanned people and many of them sniping their bags off of the metal conveyer belt. After half an hour, a last shipment of balikbayan boxes had to be manually loaded onto the baggage claim. And soon enough, the large room was empty, it was just me, a few stragglers, and the few workers on duty at 1230 AM. I asked one of the workers if that was all the bags, and he calmly confirmed. Shit. One of my biggest worries on the trip, that my bags would never make it. They probably got stuck at JFK despite the woman in Boston telling me that my bags were fully checked all the way to Manila. I filled out the necessary paperwork to claim missing bags and made my way through the declarations department a little out of it. My memories of the Ninoy Aquino National Airport are few, but I seem to always have remembered it being bigger than it really was. Probably because the last time I was here was almost three years ago, and before that, six or seven.
As I made my way to the arrival pickup area I spotted a few of my younger cousins and one of the maids at my family’s house. My mood was instantly improved, the first question they asked was where my bags were, and all I could give them was a mumble about how the airline lost my luggage. We hugged and made our way to their massive van. This van was different; they explained how it was new and less than a month old. Regardless of this fact, it brought me back to my previous trips to the Philippines, we would take one of the vans to travel around the Philippines, places like Tagaytay, places around Manila, Batangas, Taal Volcano. Eventually we arrived at their new house. In the house resides my Grandmother, three of my aunts, two of my uncles, my cousins, the nurses, and the maids. The new house certainly looked newer and cleaner than the last one, but not as big. We entered the property through a door in the gate and waited outside the door to the house, one of the maids came and opened the door and let us in. they showed me where I would be staying, my cousins’ work room with a bed in the middle. Apparently they call it the “blue room” due to one of their walls being painted blue. I’m not quite sure why only one of the walls was blue, but I didn’t even notice it until later that day. I put my backpack down on a chair. It was the only piece of luggage that I had, but it had all of what I would consider essential: my laptop, my camera, my travel documents, and my laptop charger. I sit and contemplate what I was going to do without my luggage. I had no clothes, nothing more than what I was wearing on the plane: shirt, jeans, socks, sneakers and two sweatshirts. I thought that it was going to be a rough trip, and that I would have to shell out a good amount of money to buy a new wardrobe. Too stressed out, I went outside for a smoke. It was nice out. Maybe about 70 degrees F, and 70% humidity, I couldn’t see the stars, or the moon. All I could hear was the gentle hum of the power transformer and see down the road. Both sides of the street were blocked by walls ten feet high. The smoke was hot. My American cigarettes didn’t like this thick, humid, polluted city air. But it didn’t matter. I arrived.
The next morning I was awoken by my cousins leaving for school, shouts could be heard downstairs and everyone rushing to get to the car. I said good morning to my Grandma then talked to one of my aunts about my missing baggage, she was surprised that they got lost. I exclaimed that some of it had to be my fault for not waiting at JFK (remember I was there for 7 hours) and some of the blame put on the representative for telling me that I would be all set. Another of my aunt’s came downstairs and asked if I had filled out the claims form, and called the airline. Surprisingly enough, the airlines give compensation for lost baggage, and that they had found it. My bags never left Boston.
What?
Really?
That’s ridiculous. I checked in, and made my flight. It made no sense, but I was just happy that I would be getting some cash and my bags back.
Later that night, my cousins took me out to dinner after my bags arrived. It was pouring outside; the rain was amazing, so much better than the snow. I hope a week is enough time here…
here is a picture of my cousin's dog, he's awesome:
Thursday 1.20.11
Sometime during the flight, I crossed the international date-line. But for all intents and purposes, it was not Thursday until I landed in Hong Kong. First thing I did was grab a smoke with my buddy, thank god for smoking rooms. After, we went our separate ways. I passed through the next security check-point, and noticed that some Indian woman was being questioned about her small can of mace. I couldn’t help but laugh a little because of two language barriers between them. The security guard could speak minimal English, barely managing to announce to travelers that they need to put their mobile phones through the scanner, and the old Indian lady who could not explain what the can of mace was. After the checkpoint, I had to get to my gate, the terminal in Hong Kong is huge and requires the use of a small underground rail system to ferry people from the checkpoint to their various gates. I had found my gate and called my mom, told her about my flight then skyped another one of my home friends. As I was finishing up one of my calls, a lady came up to me and asked if I was calling America, I responded yes and loaned her my ipod (which I was using to make calls). My registration date for classes was on the 19th, but obviously enough, I was mid air and couldn’t not register, thankfully I receive an email saying that I needed to register and thankfully the given time was within the period that I was sitting in the airport. Once boarded, my plane sat at the gate for a good half hour, they cited control tower problems and I wanted to stay up until at least the plane took off. Once it did, I passed out and didn’t wake until we were landed in Manila.
Wednesday 1.19.11
My flight today was at 6am to JFK. I got to the airport at 4 and there were a shit ton of Vietnamese people with tons of boxes to send over, I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to check in on time but was relieved when one of the airline reps called for everyone whose flight was at 6am. My friend that I met yesterday was also in the line with me. After we checked in, he discovered that he was not on the JFK flight, but on standby. Now the whole situation got a little more ridiculous because changed his flight before me and checked in before me too. He opted to fly to La Guardia and take a taxi to JFK while obtaining a sweet 200 USD travel voucher (on AA, so not as sweet…). I more or less just passed out once I got on the first plane, not really excited that I had to wait in JFK from 7am until 2pm, when my flight left. What felt like seconds passed and we were already landed at JFK. I disembarked and began the journey from terminal 8 to terminal 7. JFK is a huge airport, and they have this pretty awesome sky rail that goes by all of the different terminals, so finding the one I had to be at was not difficult at all. After passing through security I got the usual at mcdonalds, sausage egg and cheese mcgriddle with a hash brown and orange juice. Pretty sweet breakfast, things were looking up again. I found the gate that I was to board my next flight on and passed out on the seats. A few hours later I wake up and find that there is no one at the gate I sit stunned and a little worried until I hear an announcement saying that my flight’s gate had been moved. I got up, found a seat and passed out again. And for that day, I woke up a third time curious where my travel buddy was, I sent him a text and found that he had found another place to sit and that he was going to get a cig. I left the terminal and went out to smoke with him. I was enlightened that I needed to check in again because I was switching airlines and I asked the attendant if my bags had to be rechecked (the attendant in boston said that I was set all the way through Manila), she said that there had been 4 bags checked under my name. I explained that they had printed out too many stickers and that the two on my boarding passes should be the correct one. Everything was set again. later we passed through the security checkpoint again and decided to get lunch before boarding. As we took a seat at the bar, the bartender said that we couldn’t and later found out that he thought I was 16 and it was against the rules for a minor to be at the bar (lol…). We joked with the waiter while we were eating and had a pretty good time. It was time to board, but we opted to sit in the restaurant, for Asians may be the most frustrating travelers ever, despite only a few rows being called, they all decide to line up to board. Complete anarachy. As I got into my seat I check out what cool things are there and to my surprise they had power outlets!
I could go through the whole flight while charging my laptop. God I love the 777-300ER. After a while, the old couple sitting next to me begins to talk to me in Cantonese, I give them a quizzical look and desperately try to explain that I only speak English and after a while they understand. After taking off, my travel friend, sitting in the row in front of me, asks if I had gotten a beer yet, (it was one of our topics of discussion while smoking), and I replied that I had. In my right hand was a green can of Carlsberg beer, brewed in Hong Kong, and 5% alcohol by volume. It was now or never, my first beer in a few months ( those who know me know that I am not a big drinker). The first sip: not so bad. I take out my leftover food from lunch and eat it with the beer, I can now understand why people enjoy drinking beer with somewhat greasy food. I was having chicken fingers with hot sauce. Damn good. I hate to admit, but it took me about 2 hours to finish that one beer. I guess I just need to start off slow. 2 hours down, 14 to go, I spent the remaining time listening to music, sleeping, watching Skins, and reading. Mid-way through the flight, the old man sitting next to me handed me crackers that were not offered by the attendants, very nice gesture. And by the last hour of the flight, the old man and I were pointing out random things outside of my window. 
But all in all, this was probably one of the more relaxing long flights that I can remember.
Tuesday 1.18.2011
Went to the airport today, it was snowing pretty hard with a lot of rain and ice and shit. It took me 2 hrs to get to the airport.
When I got there I checked in and surprisingly enough there were no mention of delayed flights, things were beginning to look up. As the time for my departure grew closer, the atmosphere in the gate was getting tenser. I had already been told that because there was less than two hours between my arrival at JFK and departure for Hong Kong, that I would have to collect my bags and check them in again at terminal 7 (Cathay Pacific). The person at the gate announced that the there was a plane available, but no crew to fly it… they still had not left JFK, and at that moment all I could think was “shit.” I went up to the ticketing counter and asked what I should do, the attendant recommended that I delay my overall departure to the 19th, just to be safe. I called my mom to tell her, no answer. I told the gate attendant that I would think about it. A few minutes later, I called one of my friends asking if he could come to the airport to pick me up, knowing that there was no one at home to get me from the airport. He told me that he could, and I said thanks and that I would call him back in a few minutes with more details. The attendant announced that they had found a crew and the other crew had already left JFK. Things were looking up again… but minutes passed and I was getting more anxious. There was another passenger waiting for the JFK flight, he too was going to Hong Kong. He started talking with the attendant and decided to follow through with moving his flight to the next day. I requested the same. She pulled both of our bags and I went down to the baggage claim to meet him. While grabbing a smoke with him I discovered that he too was an engineer of some sorts, working in Hong Kong and in Boston, we exchanged contact information and went our separate ways. My friend arrived about half an hour early and spent the rest of the day just hanging out with his friends from school. I would say this was a pretty rough beginning to my adventure.
When I got there I checked in and surprisingly enough there were no mention of delayed flights, things were beginning to look up. As the time for my departure grew closer, the atmosphere in the gate was getting tenser. I had already been told that because there was less than two hours between my arrival at JFK and departure for Hong Kong, that I would have to collect my bags and check them in again at terminal 7 (Cathay Pacific). The person at the gate announced that the there was a plane available, but no crew to fly it… they still had not left JFK, and at that moment all I could think was “shit.” I went up to the ticketing counter and asked what I should do, the attendant recommended that I delay my overall departure to the 19th, just to be safe. I called my mom to tell her, no answer. I told the gate attendant that I would think about it. A few minutes later, I called one of my friends asking if he could come to the airport to pick me up, knowing that there was no one at home to get me from the airport. He told me that he could, and I said thanks and that I would call him back in a few minutes with more details. The attendant announced that they had found a crew and the other crew had already left JFK. Things were looking up again… but minutes passed and I was getting more anxious. There was another passenger waiting for the JFK flight, he too was going to Hong Kong. He started talking with the attendant and decided to follow through with moving his flight to the next day. I requested the same. She pulled both of our bags and I went down to the baggage claim to meet him. While grabbing a smoke with him I discovered that he too was an engineer of some sorts, working in Hong Kong and in Boston, we exchanged contact information and went our separate ways. My friend arrived about half an hour early and spent the rest of the day just hanging out with his friends from school. I would say this was a pretty rough beginning to my adventure.
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