Summer was Just July (part 1)

when I started to feel somewhat better. 

A lot has happened since. I don't want to put too much pressure on myself by making this first--after a long time--entry a "perfect" one, or one near to the definition. Also that I will be relying merely on memory, and mine isn't that reliable for the specifics.

July has been a month of movement but of still breaths and an occupied mind. The prior month was a baggage load of all the things I disliked, and the birthday blues had me accompanied for the entire duration. "Ego, ego, ego," Franny says. It's funny how books coincidentally fall on your lap just at the moment you've been needing to hear something from somewhere.* Franny and Zooey was that book for me. I've read it twice last month, partly because I took too long to finish the second part and I felt the effect lacked the punch I was looking for. I remember how Paulo Coelho's books used to be those hidden messages when I was in junior high school. But this entry isn't a book review, though I did accomplish reading 5 books last month! It's a shock to many but most especially to me. 

Here is what my summer looked like:

a bright sunset in Monywa

June 30, 2022

    the birthday blues encapsulated my entire being, and the first plane ride to the next destination wasn't quite a thrilling experience, despite it being over seven years since my last ride in the skies.

I wrote this down on my notes app while on the plane to Cebu at 5 in the morning of June 30th:

"i am on a plane at seventeen years old. there isn't much to it now, and it seems the fantasies dying out enable me to see things more clearly: an aircraft with its metal wings and heavy plates could lift people off the ground. how bizarre a human's mind is to come up with this invention.

we are seated at 12A, B, and C. I'm assuming I'm under A, the window seat. Things are interesting to me now in a different way, where the window seat could grant me the sky, the grounds, the water below. Right now it's all blue.

- 

Two days of being seventeen, now on a plane.
My third time, this is, and the whirring of the plane's propeller indicates we are about to lift.

My excitement is far less than it used to be:
the fascination of flight,

the"

And I went over to a different note entry and wrote this ramble:

"scattered islands, the Philippines is an archipelago, blue waters, thin mist of white covering the land, roads are finely marked as if drawn from hand--the curves and the sharp turns, I am seeing for myself the formation of the scattered islands on the map. I must have seen it in a previous plane flight but I wasn't paying much attention. The clouds are connected, rainbow light emits from the window. I have not slept through this flight. Mother sleeps in her seat without a neck pillow (she forgot and left it up the baggage area above us), Ina sleeps with a neck pillow but she's removed it now and imitates mommy. The blue greens of the water near the islands contradict the deep blues of the surrounding ocean, and the light blue sky makes the entire view very blue. About three minutes ago, the attendant said we are nearing our destination. This must be how it is for the crew: awake for the entire flight, seeing the entire trip from initial distance to the destination itself. Heads bob out the window aisle, others recline heads near the window, some look out, some don't mind the view at all. To those who look out, we see the same skies, I wonder what each of them must be thinking. A while ago, I looked out and thought how small we are, and how wide the world is. Cramped up in a room, I have finally seen the world again. It is my third plane ride ever, I think I belong to the 5% who could afford three plane rides in their entire life. Some don't even get any experience at all. I think about my grandparents--I want them to travel the world and enjoy their retirement. Lord I do wish for their safety and good health, and the fortune to which would avail them and our family the opportunity to do what most rich people command others to do: enjoy life. Another island, it has a lot of big and defined buildings, though ironically I can't really define nor identify what type they are: for leisure, work, who knows from up here? Perhaps the engineers and architects. Who knows what profession these boarders have. It is impossible to tell. We are nearing our destination, I assume. The greens are apparent once more, and the crash has ensued."

I took no photos inside the plane during the first flight. I felt no obligation to. After months of taking endless nonsensical photos, I felt the same apathy as perhaps businessmen have towards a usual airplane ride. I felt the same apathy my other uncle would have about taking too many photos and not actually experiencing the moment. But as I looked at the cloud formations out the window for the flight to Singapore, I recalled a friend who loved being able to identify shapes and figures from cloud formations. I took a photo and kept it hidden in my photo album. I never got to tell them about it yet, but they'll know it's them once they read this--that is, if they read this.

[insert cloud photos on scoot plane]

8 a.m.

       upon our arrival at the Cebu International Airport, I was amazed at how fancy the ceilings were, how the air already felt like being in another country. slowly, my apathy began to subside.

Cebu

We arrived around eight in the morning, but the check-in was not until eleven. I dropped the notes app for Snapchat, took some photos for remembrance, and we walked around and marveled at the architecture of the airport. Stores were closed still, but coffee stalls and Dunkin were open, so we ate donuts for breakfast. We sat on those metallic chairs, and then I opened the ePub reader in my phone to Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982.

See this here? This is Seoul. It’s just a dot. A dot. We all of us are living in this tiny, cramped dot. You may not get to see all of it, but I want you to know: it’s a wide world out there.

Most of the hours spent in the airport were our butts pressed against the cold, metallic chairs and my crossing over between the ePub reader, the notes app, and Snapchat. The bathroom was also a great attraction, where, not only their faucets but as well as their soap dispensers had automatic sensors. My amazement furthered with the hand dryer against the wall: its design was different than the usual white ones. (It sounds like I've never witnessed these inventions in my entire life, but the truth is just that I have stayed too long inside our house that I forgot how public bathrooms were not necessarily always uncivil.)

I also walked around, but never too far. That meant I could only go to the bathroom or the souvenir shop near where we sat. They had scented fruit soaps--soaps that were shaped like the fruit it smelled like--and shirts, bags, keychains, snacks, etcetera. I left empty-handed. It seemed silly to buy souvenirs then when we haven't even arrived at our destination. Although I did like the idea of silly, we probably had similar stuff back home anyway.

    One moment as we were sitting down, a dog came rushing towards where we sat and I remembered, unmistakably, it came rushing towards me! It was a cute lil service puppy and it had its guardians along. They handed out a flyer about dog training or something, and then they performed tricks right in front of us. It was so cute but I regret never having gotten to pet it, despite the chance.

[insert dog photos]

The stay in Cebu was quite lengthy, though it was just a day and within a limited area. After checking in our baggage, we ate in a restaurant with mixed Asian cuisines. I got Thailand's Padthai, my mother got Indonesia's Mee Goreng, and my aunt got Filipino BBQ. We couldn't comment on the price of the other dishes, but the barbecue certainly caught us off-guard. Three sticks for 300 pesos, and you had to pay about a hundred more just for the rice. If you were a tourist, you would be comfortable chewing on your pork, pouring the liquid on it, and exclaiming how it was perhaps worth your money, but as a Filipino who turned to Barbecue Station when I hadn't any cash for lunch after morning practices, it would be hard to swallow. Back home, barbecue is fifteen and puso rice is five pesos. Maybe the prices have been raised now, but it still makes a big difference. I take it quite offensive, too, for them to serve us, their fellow countrymen, whatever that was, and call it "Filipino-style". Even the sauce was wrong. Soy sauce and calamansi is simple and great as it is. We chose to eat there anyway so that's the review. I don't care if they don't sponsor me or whatever, we can cook our own barbecue just fine. The other cuisines tasted good though, but you can't trust them for authenticity.

After a filled stomach, we moved onto the embassy which took awhile, sort of like an examination (both verbal and written), then we waited to board. Once we got in, we sat relieved and comfortable. I finally took my first plane-window cloud photos, and they just looked like your typical cloud photos, nothing too bizarre, maybe the different logo. On the last trip to Singapore, I had never really noticed what company we flew in, but for this one, we had Scoot. Cute name, if you ask me.

[insert plane vids]

They had snacks too, and it was also during this flight that I made the initiative to make a TikTok. I thought I'd dedicate it to my mukbang career. I haven't posted any drafts yet, but I planned to make eating a living--while maintaining my health because if I die early after acquiring lots of money, then what's the point.

[insert Scoot food pics ??]

Singapore

    We arrived in Singapore late in the evening. It was an exhausting trip, though we were able to rest on the plane. The longest time we spent waiting was at their embassy. The lines were long and categorized according to whether you were vaccinated or not. It was also there where I realized how big the world is to accommodate so many various beauties all at once. Gathered in that space were so many different nationalities, so many types of people aside from my kind. It makes you think, really. It made me think.

My aunt (my mother's cousin) came to pick us up, and we strolled around the airport. We ate, we took photos, and we grabbed a taxi to her apartment, where we stayed overnight. The driver was a fun guy, he had so many amusing things to say. The next morning, we went to Lucky Plaza and walked around Orchard Road. We exchanged money currencies, ate ice cream, bought fresh lemonade from a machine, rode trains, walked some more, bought more snacks, took more pictures, and we went back at around 3 pm to rest for 30 minutes and we were off again to ride another taxi for the bus to Thailand.

While we were waiting, I felt nauseous from the taxi ride. We had to create an account on an app for the next embassy--which was never used when we got there. I opened the chips we bought to cure my nausea, and our bus arrived. We said our goodbyes to my aunt and off the bus went.

This was a different kind of travel now--land travel--and I think I actually enjoyed it better than if we took an airplane to Thailand. Riding the bus allowed you to see more attractions. Passing by, buildings stood tall and their lights glimmered through the dark contrast of the night. There were colors of blue and purple, pink, red, and yellow. I felt very small looking at them from the moving vehicle's window. Even the cars looked as if they were toys being controlled by an invisible hand. They were tinier than I was.

A narration found inside my notes:

"fascinating. buildings loom over like giants in the sky, and the architecture of their also gigantic trees, its harmony with the bustling cityscape, and the building lights which appear like a night-long light show. their small cars look so tiny, the vans an average, the buses a bit bigger, even the double deckers are not so humongous when compared to the entire place. truly the place is stretched wide, and it is all very small in this big world. maybe this is just how it is in the city. still, seated on this bus, i feel small looking at every frame of the window where not a single tall building escapes my eye. skyscrapers and five star hotels, they seem. and a glowing red compliments the dark sky. even the blues, the whites of streetlights and buildings, the greens, the yellows. i feel like a tourist (and i am), though now i feel it is real. 

on the first plane ride to cebu, i said it is only a certain percentage where people could experience three plane rides in their entire lifetime. now, i think it is smaller the percentage where people could see these big buildings on a bus after three flights, and perhaps soon, onto the fourth. i am a blessed person. but also perhaps I'm referring that i acquire a certain privilege to attain these advantages, though we are not really that well-off, we have managed. we are blessed and grateful. though right now i think about other friends who are similar to me in that we have lives dependent on our family's humble works, just managing to get through each day. i think about how amazed they would be as i was to see the tall buildings, and regain a spark of enthusiasm for living and exploring to see the world. a long time of being at the same place has confined me to an image of little boxes and small corners where my hope is slowly diminishing--the hope that i may truly experience what i want from the media i consume. and it is a depressing routine looking at pretty things and merely staying in that position: admiring and wishing from afar, secretly envious, but self aware and thus filled with hope again every now and then. 

there is traffic still in this unfamiliar city, perhaps the only familiarity there is. it is the border i am told, and honks of cars are honking. beeps beeping. 

foreign people turn me back into a child. it is fascinating to see them up close, doing the same things you normally do. it's almost as if i have not known this, nor have any exposure. and this is true but only partially."

11 p.m.

    descended the bus and we walked towards the embassy building. on hand were my passport, my school ID, and some additional papers clipped inside a white folder. a lot of the passengers were scurrying about, rushing as if they were catching a different flight to which they were on their last call. actually, we were also one of them.

Thailand

    I remember seeing this one couple who looked Filipino but was in fact not, and we followed them through the entrance although we had different visas, so we were then asked to turn back and reenter the premises through a different doorway. What happens in these embassies basically is that you give your passport to the officer in your lane and take your face mask off for them to approve of your identity. It varies if they take your photo, but I don't think they did for that particular time. They would also ask for your thumbprint, and I forgot if it applied to all the embassies we passed through.

Once finished, we waited in the parking lot for the bus to come back. There were a lot of people and buses, so we had to remember certain passengers on our bus so as not to ride the wrong one. We stepped aboard and the bus continued its route. We slept. A single stop was made at a gasoline station. It allowed us to stretch and pee, and we were off again. The bathroom there no longer had fancy faucets or dispensers. It kind of looked similar to the public restrooms back home, with their broken bits and dirty floors.

July 1, 2022

2 a.m.

    groggily, we descended the bus and took our baggage out. we were in the drop-off area, then we walked a few steps to ride a taxi cab towards the hotel we would be staying in for less than three hours. the taxi driver was very friendly, and with the quiet of the postmidnight air, he volunteered to escort us to the airport after we rest.

    The hotel was not the best, but it didn't really matter since we stayed only briefly. A funny thing: they had a blacklist for all the people who complained about anything during their stay. We asked the manager--I think that was him behind the counter--and he responded very confidently about it when my mother asked. I thought it was very funny. I told a friend about this only a month later and she said it could have been funnier if we complained and got ourselves blacklisted. So true. I imagine our names being written in black ink onto the page of banishment the moment we open our mouths to point out a flaw in their service--really, we could have complained about the bed, how the sheets were obviously kept as they were from the previous tenants; the stains were very revealing of their ineptness, but we said nothing. Our constant motion made it unnecessary to stop and complain. It was no use if they weren't willing to improve themselves anyway.

4 a.m.

    We were now off to the airport with a different cab driver. This was the friend of our previous ride, and he said his friend had a very important client to pick up, so he was given the obligation to take over. He was just as kind and accommodating, and he even attempted to call his friend to talk to my mother, though he didn't pick up, so he told my mother he'll give his friend's number to her for future use when we return to Thailand someday.

6 a.m.**

We arrived. The airport was big. The juice we carried in a paper bag had a puncture in its container and started soaking the paper bag. The bag sagged, we had to transfer the drinks. My stomach was hurting, I think. Oh, also a very important detail: I had a small crush on the baggage counter guy (I don't know what they're called) because he looked so much like Taehyung, I am not kidding. He had slicked back hair and all. I could've told him about my observation right when we were leaving but my mouth was not speaking so I just ended up smiling at him and walking away. We then proceeded to the bathroom, and then we roamed around the place, looking at shops. We got to ride an air train (?) to reach the other side of the building where we had to board. We were once again on the process of looking, observing, admiring. We had to find a place to eat. We ended up in this noodle place where I got to record a pretty decent mukbang video. I felt nauseous afterward. I probably ate too many noodles or drank too much soup. I don't know, just that the feeling faded away eventually. My stomach gets all weird most of the time.

I forgot to take out the canned Coca-Cola in my bag. The detectors sensed it and the officer confiscated it with a triumphant smile on her face. I didn't mind. That was given as a freebie anyway, so there was no waste. Sharing is caring.

We were boarding on economy class and that was the best plane ride I had experienced yet. There were small screens behind every chair, and there were tons of movies inside; you get to take your pick. I chose Last Night In Soho, mainly because I have been wanting to watch it but hadn't got the time ever. There were other films, like Dear Evan Hansen, Batman.. but I was inclined to watch Anya Taylor Joy more. Additionally, headphones were given out to accentuate the vibe--and because you had to use it to hear the audio. I loved every bit of the experience. When they were serving food, though, I didn't take any. My excuse was that my stomach might act up, and it wasn't completely well yet, but really, I thought it had additional expenses. I learned my lesson when we got off on Yangon. I was seated separately from my mother and aunt thus my unawareness. But it felt like I rode that plane ride alone. I didn't even have seatmates. I had the entire row to myself. A child was very loud behind me, but I could tell they were smart people from their conversations.

It was a fast ride, since I spent it watching the movie, and all I could think about afterward really was the downtown vibe. I felt like I had been rebirthed into a different person.

 

8 a.m.**

Yangon

*how I'm aware this statement could be wronged by some people I know, and I'm sorry for expressing just some of my thoughts. more about this in the beloved book review <3