First plane ride

At eighteen months, I got to have my first plane ride going to Dad’s hometown in the town of Peñablanca, home to the famous Callao Caves, which is often thought to be part of Tuguegarao City.  I think Mom was more excited than I am because I was clueless about what was happening.  All I knew was, I was pretty amazed at the new NAIA 3 and its quite impeccable surroundings.  I wouldn’t know, I haven’t been to other airports although the others are supposed to be dingy and outdated according to the grapevine.  Although I was also excited, since the whole experience was fairly new to me, I got a little clingy to Mommy, much to her chagrin.  I didn’t even want to be carried by Dad.  And I absolutely refused to walk!  What if I get lost?  What if some complete stranger took me?  I know you would all understand that these are absolutely valid worries of a poor baby.

The flight from Manila was uneventful.  I snoozed through to it the moment we were airborne.  We were later met by my Uncle Henty, and cousins, Ate Zay and Kuya Vincent.

The ride back home was another matter.  I didn’t get to sleep at all, and when we were on the first descent (Metro Manila could already be seen through the window), I got spectacularly sick to the horror of Mom and Dad.  I didn’t even want to place my mouth near the sick bag that Mom was trying to offer me.  My mom’s lap seemed like a good place to dump all the lunch I had.  After getting all that out, I was fine and I returned to my usual mischievous self, and often tried to sneak past my folks.  But she and I had to change clothes later at the airport’s restroom.

Here are some photos of my plane experience.  Mommy would later blog our actual homecoming, and our New Year celebration with my Dad’s side of the family.

Going back:

I can’t wait for my next plane ride later this month, this time our family’s bound for Hongkong.  Yay!

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