#1 Manila Journal

Before my travel began I spent one and a half hours at the Consulate Embassy of Philippine, in Ft. Lauderdale, to obtain my visa. Angelo S. Macatangay, M.D., the Honorable Consul General and his small staff, mostly family members, volunteer their time, services, and funds to operate the office. Twice a week they offer this invaluable service; without it you would have to do business with the Washington D.C. location. I’m sure travelers to Philippine and the Filipinos in South Florida are grateful, I know I am. When I walked into Dr. Macatangay’s office (photo) for the official stamp in my passport, he was sitting at his desk smiling and listening to jazz music coming from his laptop. In addition to my visa, I got maps, brochures, tourist suggestions and my first lesson of the Filipino language. Salamat is thank you; Kamustaka is how are you? They spoke English very well with very little accent. This visit was a glimpse of things to come and ease the little doubt about this trip that was lurking.

My son, Rahim, took me to the airport to catch that 6:45 AM flight to Los Angeles; he came down the week before to spent time with me before leaving the country again. The lady at American Airline couldn’t find my reservation or my flight. After about five minutes she and I both realized I was at the wrong airline. It was definitely too early in the morning for me. The lady at Air Tran found my reservation but wasn’t pleasant at all. I was in the middle of asking for a musician’s discount for my excess luggage when the airline employee from the next counter interrupted with a loud, stern NO and a sour pus face to match. I wasn’t even to this young Haitian girl who looked like she was having a bad hair day. Instead of opening my mouth to say what was on my mind, I closed my eyes and said my prayers that I forgot to say when I woke up. I’m here to tell you that prayer changes things; it changed my words to this wench, oops lady.

The travel to Manila, Philippine was long but not without people and moments worth mentioning and remembering. It was two hours of flying from Ft. Lauderdale to Atlanta, two hours layover, then five hours to Los Angeles. After we reached a nice comfortable altitude I moved to the empty seats at the back of the airplane to stretch out and sleep. A few other people had the same idea. Lamont, a forty something, Black businessman with the motto, “I Can Do It All” (photo). He has several businesses in three different states and seems to have the energy and drive to match. All the best, my brotha. Shawanna, a massage therapist from L.A., recently married. We took turns talking and sleeping which made the trip seem shorter. It’s a good thing I ate before boarding because there was no food served during those five hours. We exchanged emails, I gave them both my CD, Shawanna gave me the novel she finished reading on the flight, then we said our good luck and good-bys.

There was no attendant around, so, I gathered my 3 large pieces of luggage, one heavy carry-on and my big purse, loaded up the cart and slowly walked to the next building to wait for my next flight. On the way there I ran into Lamont waiting for his ride and talking with an Asian lady (photo). Lucita just happened to be Filipino but lives in Vancouver, Washington. She gave me her phone number and email; she has a single brother in Manila to hook me up with. The adventure has begun.

Thai Air only has that one flight a day and its counter don’t open until two hours before flight time. There was no place to store my luggage and explore L.A. close-by; so, to fill the time during the eight hours layover I ate, made some calls, surf internet and rented DVDs. WHEW!! Finally the line at Thai Air started; the line was long but it moved steadily. Lilly, the Thai lady in front of me, easily struck up a conversation with me. She has been married to a White American military man for 38 years and was going back to Bangkok for a visit. She said she’s 70 years old and has never been to school (photo)

Once aboard the familiar airplane, I changed to an isle seat in the middle section because there were four seats across and there was only one other passenger on the other isle of that row, an elderly East Indian woman. We took turns stretching our legs across the two empty middle seats. The plane, staff, service and food was just as good this time as it was last year on my trip to Bangkok. There was and elderly Thai man seated one row in front of me on the right, by the window. It was hard to tell how many years were on his weathered face with kind eyes (photo). I got the impression that this was his first flight or he doesn’t like flying. During the entire fight he kept his seat belt on and his big army green coat, with four big pockets stuffed with I don’t know what. He spoke no English but we communicated while showing him how to work all the electronic gadgets (remote, controls …). We made one brief in Osaka, Japan for gas, and then we were on our way to our next destination, Bangkok. Eat, sleep, DVDs, Music reading, exercise and frequent visits from Lilly, who couldn’t sleep well, took up all 22 hours on that plane. Whew!

Another country, another layover, but luckily I didn’t have to harass myself with luggage. As I walked and rode the sliding walkway the first thing I notice was beautiful art paintings ( photo) along the walls and the second thing was the large amount of Moslems at the Bangkok airport. They were everywhere. They even had their own personal prayer room there (photo).

Three of my six hours layover was spent at the spa that was conveniently located in the airport. Ahhhh! I did some window shopping then settled in with the book Shawanna had given me to read. There were four people sitting close by who was also waiting for the same flight. These young, energetic Filipinos were friendly and offered more info about their country. It also made the time go by faster. I boarded the third airplane that took me to my final destination, Manila, Philippine. The Englishman I sat next to was friendly and familiar with Manila; he didn’t mind sharing what information he knew. He also helped navigate me through custom, which was very hectic (photo). Thank God for Angels! I collected my luggage, passed through the security check point then began to search for the hotel’s representative. I began to get nervous, so, I walked through the exit doors. Slightly to the right and twenty feet in front of me was The Mandarin Oriental Reception building. As I started walking toward it, a representative met me half way, greeted and welcomed me, then took over from there. After about a seven minute wait in the comfortable lounge, with a wide selection of beverages, I was escorted outside where the hotel’s car awaited me. It was night time. During this thirty minute drive we stopped at one red light. This little girl, about five or six years old with the biggest pleading eyes, was going from car to car selling something. That look would make anyone want to empty their pockets and buy everything she has . As I was digging in my purse the light turned green. While turning the corner I looked back for her; she was standing in the median counting her money and smiling.

As we pulled into the semicircle driveway, I looked up the eighteen story building and saw the familiar gold fan logo of the Mandarin Oriental chain, then exhaled. I had arrived at my home for the next four months.