Sometimes when I opened my eyes and looked outside, I would see what appeared to be a sunrise... or was it a sunset? I lost all orientation of time and space while inside the pressurized interior. It was a confusing but refreshing feeling as well, like you're in limbo just floating. You're literally and figuratively suspended in the air with no idea to which direction you're headed. You only know the destination written on your boarding pass.
As we neared landing in Amsterdam Schiphol a feeling of familiarity welled up inside of me even if I've been there just twice prior to that moment. Looking out into the little buildings and the airport below I could hardly wait for the 'fasten seatbelt' sign to go off. And when I stepped inside the airport I felt that feeling all over again...I was a citizen of the world. I was no longer in my small bubble of Philippine comfort. I was in transit with all these other travelers from every corner of the world imaginable. After that profound thought came another: I have to buy stroopwafels.
After my purchase I proceeded to find a charging station for my Ipod. Once online I got to talk to a friend who was set to move to the U.S. while I was away on my trip. I wished him well and thought about how someday I'd like to do the same thing. I would love to live in another country for once in my life. But let's save that for another blog.
I went to the Newcastle waiting lounge after checking out the small museum at Schiphol. By that time the excitement had tripled as I thought of seeing my sister again and good old Guelder Road where her little flat was. I was hoping for sun but wasn't expecting much from British weather.
Once seated in the plane I discovered I had more legroom than usual and then saw I was near the emergency exit. The attendant explained the responsibility of being in that seat to me and my seatmate. When she was gone, the guy seated next to me said in a Geordie accent, 'You want to do it?', referring to opening the emergency exit. And I told him, 'Hopefully, I won't have to.' After that was an awkward silence which usually infiltrates small talk between strangers.
But my curiosity and newfound confidence (it seems to come out whenever I'm on trips) prompted me to ask him if he was from Newcastle. He answered that he was. I found out that his name was John and that he lived in NCL all his life. He had just come from a trip to Texas to visit friends. When he saw my passport he noticed that I had quite a few stamps and so I asked him which places in Europe he'd already visit. To my utter shock he said he hadn't explored his own continent yet. I felt like he was wasting an advantage that he was born with. He didn't need a visa and it wasn't that expensive to go around yet he hadn't done it. So I ended up telling him about my previous trips and the countries I had been to. It felt strange that I was selling his own continent to him. He had been to Asia once but that was basically the extent of his travel experiences. The talk went on until the plane had landed. It was a great way to start my trip to Newcastle, and what made it even better was the fact that the sun was shining! I was ecstatic.
But then came the dreaded immigration check. I have no worries except for one, which is the cause of my anxiety: my hands. They get really dry in cold weather and that makes my less readable prints even difficult to read on the machine. I had no problems except for that. So after rubbing my fingers on my chin or behind the ear (where there's bound to be some oil) I passed immigration check and proceeded to get my luggage.
I was surprised to see that John was waiting for me on the other side even after I spent quite a time at Immigration. I was so ready to go through the doors that say 'no return beyond this point' and thinking to myself, hey, i don't mind. My sister hadn't arrived yet but John's parents were already there to pick him up. I told him that he could go and I'll be alright and so we said our goodbyes. Soon after that I saw my sister walking to me and we both got so excited. I swear at some point we squealed like little kids in delight. I looked over to the side and saw John was still there with his parents. He saw that I was with my sister and I waved goodbye.
We got into the car and my sister right away relayed her story about how she forgot to pull up the handbrake and her car slowly rolled into another car (haha!) Luckily the damage wasn't that big. It was my first time to experience my sister's driving in the UK (she didn't have a car yet when I first went)and so a simple thing such as sitting on the left side was fascinating and disorienting to me at the same time. We chatted nonstop and I forgot how hungry I had gotten. I was at my destination and I was soooo happy. YES!!!
I looked around and was beaming at how familiar everything was. Oh, I remember that pub. Right, that was where we had Indian food. Hey, the Sainsbury's has gotten bigger. And when the car pulled up in front of the house, I felt I was home again.
When I went inside I immediately recognized that familiar smell, the smell that would stay in my suitcase and clothes until I go back to the Philippines. I was immediately introduced to my sister's Greek flatmate, Oz. He was very nice and friendly and I felt like I knew him well from all the stories my sister told me.
I sat down in the living room as my sister prepared my Indian lunch. It was already noon. I couldn't resist going on Facebook and putting a shoutout, of course making sure I added my location. As the sun's rays streamed through the window I couldn't help but take a look around. I was back. Almost a day ago when I got on that plane the adventure had already started and it was right before me. I couldn't wait to find out what would happen.
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