Hello my darling mischievous busybee! Let me tell you about a recent harrowing experience of our little family that might turn out to be one of our bedtime stories in the future. (I started writing this right after our trip last November, and only got around finishing it 2 days before New Year.)
If there's one thing I'd like for us to do before we migrate to Canada is to have one last beach hurray so you can put your pail, shovel and rake to good use. I guess I wanted it so much more than your daddy, because I even chose a quaint and exclusive location - El Nido, Palawan, even if it meant shelling out a good sum of money just because it will be at least 5 years before we can do this again. Anyway, when your lolo picked us up, he mentioned that a typhoon was brewing and was about to hit Palawan, Mindoro and some parts of the Visayas. I thought he was joking because he usually does that just to annoy. The sky was cloudy when we got to the lounge and I thought it's going to be a great day because they even served delicious muffins for breakfast. We exceeded our baggage allowance by 6 kilos because we had all your medicines (you were experiencing your second round of colds and cough), your floater, your sand paraphernalia and your daddy's laptop (which could have been a wrong move because it's Palawan for crying out loud). I guess you were pretty excited about this trip, too because you badly wanted to approach the plane nearby. You were shouting and running to and fro perhaps annoying the rest of the departing party especially when you bawled your eyes out after falling down a few steps at the fire exit.
I found it weird that as we got in the shuttle, I overheard from their two-way radios that we weren't supposed to board yet. After a few minutes of confusion, the shuttle started to move and we're finally on our way to board the plane. The plane was pretty big, a 50-seater, and we were only about 20. Finally we could all rest and hopefully when we open our eyes we'd be greeted by white sand and clear blue waters. But then again, fate had other plans. We were awakened by really strong turbulence, and I felt your Daddy's hands and feet become clammy and fearfully cold. (You should know that your dad is uber terrified with plane rides, so let's see how he'll survive the 12-hour flight to Vancouver in February.) To make a long story short, it was nothing short of a dizzying and frightening roller coaster ride (rides and I don't go together FYI) and I probably was a pitiful sight trying to nurse a crying toddler with my right arm and barfing on a paper bag I was holding with my left hand. I'm sure you were crying because the feeling was very strange and scary, and you couldn't even be comforted by nursing. Apparently, the pilot was having difficulty landing the plane at El Nido Airport because of zero visibility and he tried twice (or thrice, I'm confused) to no avail. And so, after three hours in the sky, we were back at the hangar, still heavily nauseated and terrified from the experience.
It was no question that we would rather pay a million pesos than to ride a plane in the next few months, but the staff was going around and talking to passengers about rescheduling their flight in the coming weeks. I talked to another passenger and said she'll cancel the trip altogether. However, there was one family who insisted they get on the next available flight which left like 15 minutes after we landed. O di ba, as if nothing happened. For a location that prides itself from getting the least amount of rain, they were experiencing a storm. I wonder how their vacation will go. Your Daddy didn't leave their office until he was promised a full refund for the sole reason that the experience was already too much to happen once.
Sorry that you had to go through that experience even if you will not remember it anyway. I was of course sad that you won't be able to dig in the sand, swim with and watch sea creatures from up close, aside from passing up the opportunity to visit a very nice place. I promise you will have your time on the beach, wherever it is, and by then you'd probably enjoy it more. Last week we were at Subic and Daddy said you had the greatest time "writing" on sand with a stick you found on the beach (until you brought your hands to your nose as a sign that you need a diaper change).
Next year, we'll be on the other side of the world. Even if it's just the three of us, Mommy and Daddy promise that we'll always take vacations as often as we can, to make up for the beach trip that never was.