Travel often becomes the source of many firsts. New experiences, though incomparable to being sandwiched between Michelle Rodriguez and Arci Muñoz, still resonated in my head long after the moment they happened. Just like that border crossing my brother and I did coming from Vietnam to Cambodia in 2011. Those sorts of things became memorable as one continued exploring the world. Our trip to Myanmar afforded me the opportunity to fly to a city (Kuala Lumpur) and then connect to another flight to Yangon, Myanmar (killing a few hours in between). There was nothing particularly milestone-worthy in that undertaking, but I remembered that during the few times I got to travel outside of the Philippines, it always fascinated me every time I would see those "Connecting Flights" signs at the airport.
First Inter-Galactic Connecting Flight
The Anticipation of the Airport
I got curious as to where the other passengers heading that way would continue their journey. While I had already reached my destination, they were still in middle-ground territory. One major addicting thing about travel for me was the journey itself. The route between point A to B and C was what comprised a large part of traveling. I loved being at airports, even ones as deplorable as our old domestic terminal, because that meant I was actually within reach of going to another place.
The day of our departure from Manila, I spent the whole afternoon rushing back to Glorietta to replace the 100 USD bill I had bought from Czarina the previous day with fine, crisp, unfolded, and unmarked ones. I had missed that memo about Myanmar only exchanging spotless dollar bills. I then met up with Monette, one half of the hilarious non-romantic couple of FlipTravels, near her work so we could split the cab fare going to the airport. Before heading to the airport, Monette still managed to get a couple of beers for the road.
When we arrived at the airport, Gay, Dong, Jerome, and Melo were already there waiting for us. Baby Luna was running wildly in a pre-Marky Monster terrorized mood. As far back as three weeks prior, some of them had been posting countdowns for that particular trip on Facebook. I was not feeling much excitement at that time yet, but by being at the airport, I remembered having an unusual vibe. A positive one. All thoughts of a long trip to KL (four hours), the waiting in between, and another three hours to Yangon were replaced with anticipation rather than dread.
The Flight and the Midnight Layover
The Cebu Pacific flight to KL went smoothly. I sat on the aisle while Gay was seated beside me, and Luna occupied the window seat. As the most well-traveled tot outside of the Brad Pitt-Angelina Jolie kids, Luna behaved well watching cartoons until she dozed off and ended up occupying hers and half of her hippie mum's seat.
I went in and out of consciousness during the flight, though I remembered hearing the pilot giving out their trademark speeches filled with UHM. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking, UHM, we like to welcome you onboard this, UHM, Cebu Pacific flight to Kuala Lumpur. Flight duration is around, UHM, and we are expecting a fairly smooth flight today. Once again, we thank you, UHM, for choosing to fly with us today, and we hope you, UHM, enjoy your flight." We reached Kuala Lumpur at around midnight and, half-asleep, we met up with Ron and Reuben at KL LCCT's Starbucks.
The Myanmar gang was then finally complete. But we all still had at least five hours to burn before our connecting flight to Yangon. We all hung out at a nearby restaurant at KL LCCT called A Taste of Asia, which doubled as a free hostel where customers could order a plate of Nasi Goreng and then pull up chairs and sleep afterward. Fast forward a few naps later, we finally boarded the AirAsia flight headed to Yangon. I wanted to order an inflight meal, but I had forgotten to exchange a few Ringgits at KL LCCT, so I just stalked Luna's pancake meal. I fell asleep, though, before she could leave some for me. I guessed hippie mum Gay ate her leftovers.
Touchdown in Myanmar
I was expecting a rundown, old, worse-than-our-very-own-Manila-International-Airport facility when we landed at Yangon, but what greeted us was a post-modern, spacious, and well-designed new airport. It was the first of many preconceived notions I had of the country that were proven to be entirely the opposite during our trip. As I handed my passport to the immigration officer, I was half-expecting to be dragged away by airport police, but a few seconds later, I heard the sound of the stamp pad dropping onto my passport's page. I heaved a collective sigh of disbelief. I was finally there in Myanmar. A country I used to think of as a place where everyone was put in jail and underweight military officers threw away the keys for good.
