Pampanga Detour

The flight from Cebu to Manila is just a little over an hour. As short as that is, I still take Dramamine, and especially because it is typhoon season. So I was asleep before we took off. And this is what I saw upon waking up.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is NOT Manila!

I don't care what planet you're one, this ain't Manila!

Aside from the vast fields of grass, I know this isn't Manila because 

1. Use of cell phones and electronic devices are not permitted, yet passengers are not being reprimanded for doing so.

2. The airplane door is wide open, and no one is either getting on, or getting off. By the way, Asian flight crew are very handsome and pretty, don't you think?

Come to find out this is what happened: our flight was instructed to standby over Cavite, over which we were doing donuts. Well, not really; I'd be hurling the entire contents of my stomach if this were the case, even on an entire bottle of Dramamine. After fifteen minutes of flying circles, our captain announced that we were not able to land because of some special ops taking place at the airport in Manila (later, he admitted that the president was boarding an aircraft, and all other flight plans were postponed in the meantime), and because we were running dangerously low on fuel (according to Cousin Nelia, who was picking us up in Manila, "the ground agent told me there were only two liters of fuel left in the tank!") we had to divert to an alternate airport to refuel.

What does that say on the fuel truck's door?

CLARK?!

As in the former Clark Air Force Base, now Diosdado Macapagal International Airport, Pampanga.

Finally, fifteen minutes after taking off again, we land here.

Now THIS is definitely Manila. Ninoy Aquino International Airport.

Now I'm curious. Who is Diosdado Macapagal, and did he meet an untimely demise on the tarmac like Ninoy did?

And by the way, two liters of fuel... Seriously? Nelia, someone was pulling your leg.

On the Sea to Bohol

Once again, I traveled across the Bohol Strait from Cebu to Bohol. Except for this tarpaulin on the damyo, everything remains the same.

The pier pilings are still precrariously standing.

The paddling panhandlers are still peddling.

Steamships are still belching black smoke.

And the sea still beckons travelers to fare with ease. Despite the fact that it is typhoon season.

Bohol, on the other hand, is in the midst of an "upgrade". The pier is getting an extension.

Maajong pag-abot!

We're Not in Truk Anymore

Most definite sign we're not in Truk anymore:

You buy fish at the SUPER market.

This is the seafood department at Park Mall, Cebu.

Manila

Manila. 

Smog.

 Jeepnies.

[Almost] silent jeepnies. 

[There's a new traffic law passed: NO HONKING.]

People. 

Dirty river.

Kids swimming in dirty river.

Restaurants.

Have I mentioned people?

More people.

Ah, but Manila is a drug that one can't quit. I find myself drawn to its smell, its sounds, its niches.

As our plane few over Manila Bay, I couldn't help thinking about Hawaii, the movie adapted from James Michner's novel Hawaii. There was a scene where Jerucia's ex-boyfriend Refer (please pardon me if I've mispelled the names) and his crew went on a marauding spree. Refer grabbed a young Hawaiian girl and enticed her into sailing off with him, promising her such wonders as "the lights of Manila Bay..."

The lights are pretty. But the shopping is nicer!