Good morning, Mamsir!

Solid 23 hours of flying behind me, changing the plane in Rome and Hong Kong without missing the connection or having a delayed flight, I finally landed in Manila Ninoy Aquino International airport. Just to hear that my luggage didn’t make it, and that I had 90% chance to see my precious personal belongings again.

I had never managed to pack so much stuff into my wee case before, and I have packed a case quite a few times. This time I had to stuff it all in no matter what, and for the first time I also sat on the case to close it. Laughing loud by myself when trying to do so, because I fell off few times before I succeeded. Have you ever tried that? – Then you know what I mean.

This was the longest journey I had made so far in my life, and I was a wreck. I could have fallen asleep anywhere in 30 seconds.

 

“Good Morning Maa’am, only 10% of the luggage will be permanently lost, Maa’am”, the endlessly smiling clerk at the lost luggage desk encourages me with incomprehensible accent and gives me a piece of paper to fill in. Asian people are small, many of them tiny. I am size 14 (40-42 in Finland) and the XL in Asia usually equals size 12 – if you are lucky to find it. Asian ladies have thick, black hair. I really don’t. Local hair products are totally different to what I am used to. And so it continues. That’s why I was absolutely worried about my luggage.

After queuing for ages and supported by the Smiling Wonder to get the lost luggage report done, I finally found my driver. He had waited for me there for two hours! Later I have learned that two hours of waiting means nothing in Manila. But that morning, as a prompt and precise Finnish person, I thought that driver must be ready to shoot me.

My wise husband had sent me one, as the airport taxis cannot always be trusted and I did not yet know which ones are the goodies and which ones the baddies. The driver’s nick name was Tiny. When I saw him I thought they must sell clothes for people of my size since that giant had found clothes to wear, too. Right, so all the locals aren’t so small in Philippines.

Normal traffic flow on a highway C5 outside rush hours

One could imagine that the curiosity – or fear – beats tiredness when sitting in a car that goes through madness and mayhem, driven by a stranger. But no, I slept on the back seat like a baby. You cannot do anything anyway, if something happens, except pray or hope for the best, depending on your preferences.

When me and my husband walked into the hotel lobby, the security guys with heavy artillery on their waist and the door men with their white shirts are smiling in a choir: “Good morning, Mamsir!”