COMING BACK TO JAPAN

COMING BACK TO JAPAN
Monday, July 23, 2001

Early in the morning Peter and Mikee sent off Terry and me to Sydney airport for a trip to Japan via JL 0472. Paul did not join us, as he had to work early. During the rush I forgot my waist wallet where my camera and medicines were hidden.

In the airplane from Australia to Japan there were so many good-looking people that it was not surprising to see someone that looked like Elvis Presley or Bernardo Carpio or Brook Shield and other popular showbiz personalities. It was a very pleasant flight with all the smiling crew serving the passengers very kindly.

AT Narita Air port we met certain Mr. Maranan from U. S. who was going home to attend his parent’s Golden Wedding anniversary.

We stayed at Narita View Hot el, the same hotel we went to the last time we also stayed overnight in Japan for connecting flight . It was unfortunate that we did not even have a chance to join City Tour. All my addresses of friends in Japan were left in the waist wallet that I failed to bring from Sydney.

Tuesday, July 24, 2001: We woke up and prepared early for the air port. From Narita View Hotel to Terminal II, Narita Airport, clean-looking passengers were very attractive. I felt I could hygienically kiss and embrace any of them.
At the airport I noticed that most equipment was made for “little people”. Toilet bowls were small and low as well as the urinals. The chairs at the waiting lounge were also small and short-legged.

We met several coming home Filipinos. Our flight was delayed for thirty minutes.
Otan who flew directly from Australia arrived at around 7:00 p.m. We partook in a sumptuous dinner courtesy of our daughters. The two grand daughters were also there as well as Ken and Jogie.

It was a happy reunion after a fantastic, memorable, though somehow tiresome travel.
If there was anything our Australian escapades outstandingly contributed, it was the special bonding by our family. We discovered each other’s hidden potentials and genuine characteristics.

Life in Australia seemed too good especially among Filipinos who were doing well. Out of the plain curiosity I made a crude random interview asking this question: “If there is anything not good in Australia, what is it?”

One said it was the exorbitant tax, the other one answered it was the difficulty in caring for your young children. One responded that it was racism but most of them complain about loneliness. I told the Australians how impressed I was in the country, where discipline could be felt anywhere. Without hesitation he blasted aloud: “That is what you think”. There must be some relevant reason why one out of five Australians suffered from depression.

Anyway I look at it, my Australian experience was truly a memorable one but I still happily anticipate my return to the Philippines. Be it ever so messy, there is no country like my own.

I did not feel sad that Paul is now married. I did not lose a son, instead I gained a daughter. But he is also a full-pledge Australian citizen. That is what hurts me. He is no longer a Filipino. I don’t know how erroneous my patriotism is but that is just how I feel.

As I recall his wedding and the dizzying sways of the Pontoon during the reception, I was reminded of t he song “River of no return”.

There is a river, called the river of no return,
Sometimes it’s peaceful and sometimes wild and free.
Love is a trav’ler down t he river of no return,
Swift on forever to be lost on the stormy sea.
Wa-la-ri, I can hear the river call,
Where the rolling waters fall.
Wa-la-ri I can hear my love one call come to me.
I lost my love (son) in the river (Australia)
And forever my heart will yearn
And gone forever, down the river (country) of no return.
Wa-la-ri, wa-la-ri, shall never return to me.