In connection with my article last Sunday, I believe that a number of you my dear readers “connected” with me as regards to my views and sentiments on the emotional struggle and the unexplainable feeling we go through during the “have to go” part of a “temporary disconnection” between two parties, particularly those happening at airports — and much worse, in a far and foreign land. Weirdly heartbreaking.
And usually on the first time, a statement to this effect is expressed — mentally or whispered, but almost inaudible, “Sige na, basta umalis ka na lang.” Ouch.
And it is also true that in scenes like these, there are more actions than words; more tight embraces than straight-looking faces.
The lips and arms are much alive... the legs are weak.
Well, I guess the only remedy to avoid this problem is to always travel together. Stay in a place where everybody is easily reachable. Distance is the real villain. What you don’t see will hurt you. But that’s unrealistic, unless of course, you all have nothing else to do and you exactly share the same interests and intensity of passion about moving around. And the most important of all — it’s always raining CASH and DOUGH in your house!
For me, the perfect program is: Plan your trip together. Leave together. Take off and land together. If possible, always eat together. Shop and sleep? Ahhh... galit-galit muna d’yan! Bahala na muna kayo sa buhay n’yo! Enjoy! Then pack up and go back home together. Ang sarap, ‘di ba? Masakit lang sa bulsa!
Pero ang sarap talaga mag-viaje kasama ang mga mahal at kaibigan mo. See the world before you “C” Calayan. And it’s “above” at 35,000 feet that will make you happy... and not Belo.
In our case, I know that my wife Eileen will always have tears in her eyes every time this babayan happens. And it has been happening since our daughter Jocas started the “tradition” of flying back and forth Manila and New York to study at Fordham University at Lincoln Center.
I clearly remember that the first time was a nightmare. Imagine, while we were just beginning to adjust to the absence of Jocas at home and learning to accept that our girl would be gone for long and be thousands of miles away, then came the shocking news of the attack at the World Trade Center’s Twin Towers in New York! Ngek! Eh kaaalis pa lang ng anak namin! Eh, dun ‘yun mismo! Many blocks away nga, pero hindi ba everybody thought that the smoke could be poisonous and fatal?
Talk about power of tense? Nope. It was PANICCC!
That is why when their class graduated in 2005, they were called the Batch of 9-11 graduates. Osama cum laude.
And this “tradition” takes place about two to three times a year — start of classes, spring break and the Christmas season. Jio is still carrying out this “tradition.” And there was even a time when Jako and Jocas were both in New York.
Now back to Heathrow — Jio was on his way to the other terminal for his flight back to New York. And we were waiting for our British Airways flight to take us to Nice. Eileen went back to her Sudoku-mentation. Jako tinkered with his camera and Jocas looked for a magazine shop. I knew everybody was feeling low, but what more of Jio who was suddenly alone by himself? Buti nga kami apat pa eh.
No, I didn’t try to lighten up the gloomy atmosphere — I was just being me — tira nang tira at puna nang puna sa kahit anong makita. Isip nang isip kung ano ang kwela; lahat na lang ginagawan ng istorya. Ganyan ako. At saka ako ang padre de familia... at showbiz pa — kaya, mood out... and move on.
I was beside Jako and Eileen was already Sudoku-possessed by this time. And because we were seated facing the restrooms, I told Jako that if he wanted to have a “successful and special delivery” inside the toilet, he should pray to St. Eliot. “Owws?,” he sluggishly reacted to my somewhat sacred information about bowel movement.
Then I followed it up with, “Hindi mo ba napapansin ‘yung mga nagbabawas na in full concentration? Parang nagdarasal, hindi ba? Kay St. Eliot ‘yun.”
Now slowly becoming interested, he asked, “Eh bakit si St. Eliot?”
Then I told him to read “St. Eliot” in reverse.
(READERS APPLAUD)
We landed on French soil after an hour and 45 minutes. Actually, we were expecting a “warmer reception” from Nice. My daughter Jocas was all prepared because she even picked up a red bikini before we left London after learning from her Mom that our hotel, Hotel Suisse, is overlooking the beach.
But she also admitted that it was all for pictorial purposes only... no swimming. I told you, they are all into serious photography. That’s a case of BATHING SHOOT.
In reality, we are not beach people. This writer drowned three times already, remember? At hindi po nagpapatawa ang manunulat ninyo— as a matter of fact, pinaalam ko pa ito — Eileen’s dad died of drowning!
The last two occasions I remember seeing my girl in a swimsuit was in the Bahamas when she was about 11, and at the Gold Coast in Australia when she was about 13.
Yes, we thought we could escape the London chill, but the weather in Nice was no different. Worse, it even rained hard and hailed one afternoon — kasinlalaki ng aratiles!
So, no costume change. Maintain costume. It was a “Chilla With Umbrella.”
(TO BE CONTINUED)
CORRECTION: In my article of April 26 ( The Shrimpsons in London Part 2), the words “YOKE” in the picture caption of Joey and Eileen should read “YOLK”.
Here’s a bonus question: What “The Beatens” song best describes all eggs? “MAY SHELL”... ma belle, these are words that go together well.
Well, Happy Mother’s Day! A good Joey’s Quirky World morning and a good Wow Mali evening to all!