Or how I became a foreigner for the first time in my life...

Bear with me on this one will you? It’s my first time ever so I feel as if I have to blog everything for posterity. Not that I will ever forget it. It’s just that I want it written, as if to prove to myself I’ve really done it.

I woke up at 8:30 in the morning, immediately went into the shower, and did some last minute packing. I’ve been packing for days but I felt that there were still stuff I didn’t get to pack. I asked Joks to bring me to SM Megamall where the shuttle to the airport will be. I wanted to get there early so we were off at around 10:00.

At nearly 10:30 I arrive at the mall, lugging a bulging backpack with about seven days’ worth of clothes, my mailman bag containing my script, transcripts, passport, and money. Okay, so I had Php 3,500 with me. I wanted to bring more but I couldn’t – it’s all I have so it’ll have to do.

I grab lunch at the Food Court, grateful that I could sit down and unload my luggage. It must have weighed a ton and my back is killing me. The shuttle ride is supposed to leave at 12 noon so I head on to the desk to get tickets.

Philtranco bus ride to Clark: Php300 each.

I find out that my two traveling companions, let’s call them M. and H., are going to be a bit late. And then when they arrive with just a few minutes to spare, we find out the bus had been delayed. The ticket guy assured us that though their bus is late, we will be able to make our 4:30 p.m. flight on time. Whatever. I just want to fly.

The bus finally pulls in at 1:00 p.m. Great. I was surprised to find out that the shuttle had an attendant – a young woman who gritted her teeth when we asked her if we would be able to make it on time. Her answer: “Bibilisan na lang po natin.” Which is Filipino for, “I’m going to have to kill the driver for screwing with the gas tank.” Jesus H. Christ!

I thank the Lord for the refurbished but outrageously expensive NLEX. Without it, I believe we truly could have missed our flight. At 2:45 p.m., the bus screeches to a halt in front of the departure area of the Diosdado Macapagal International Airport. We immediately check in our baggage. My backpack weighs a little over than 6 kilograms – I swear it felt heavier than that.

We had to pay travel tax at the airport, the total for us three came to over Php4,000 but I don’t know the exact amount. I mention this because before we went there, we had no idea we had to pay that much. We booked our flight through the internet but, I regret to say, we failed to read the fine print that says we still have to pay travel tax. Anyway, what happened was, our production budget was significantly diminished because of this. And we still had to pay the terminal fee of Php350 each. Milking us for all we’re worth and we haven’t even flown yet.
Shortly after checking in, we go through Immigration. For me it was such a novel experience, it’s my first international flight ever and was I psyched! I couldn’t wait to get on the plane. Plus, my spanking new passport gets its first stamp. Yay!

(On a related note, I had my passport renewed through the DFA Passport Direct. It cost me Php1,300 and took a week to be delivered. It’s great because it’s hassle-free. I don’t have to queue up to bring my passport to DFA or get it when it’s done. They pick up my old passport and deliver it along with the new one. The service doesn’t cover new passport applications though.)

At 4:00 p.m., we start boarding. “Air Asia Flight AK033 for Kuala Lumpur now boarding. Ladies and children first, if you may.” Yeah right. Chivalry is a dying art. Either that or it’s the free seating. Who wants to get left with the worst seat on a four-hour flight?

Price for a roundtrip flight via Air Asia (their tag line is: “Now everyone can fly.”): Php8,000++ but you can only book through their website, using your credit card.

A few minutes later we were finally seated in a row behind the middle emergency exits. It’s probably the least cramped seat there. The aircraft, I soon found out, was a Boeing 737. Since it’s a budget airline, there aren’t any free snacks. There is a menu though but the prices are outrageous. You have to pay Php50 for a bottle of water and Php65 for cola and juice. A rice meal, called Nasi Lemak goes for Php125. A baguette costs Php110, I think. We resolve to eat dinner in Kuala Lumpur.

About midway into the flight, we experience some turbulence at 34,000 feet. Knowing that we are probably over the ocean by then is not a comforting thought. I jokingly ask M if he could manage the emergency exit door if need be. He gave me a threatening glare. Okay, I know, not funny. Ha-ha.

The bad weather lasted for about a quarter of an hour. It was the longest 15 minutes of my life.

At a little over 8:00 p.m.,we touch down at the posh Kuala Lumpur International Airport (KLIA). We had to go through three walkalators before we could take an escalator down to immigration. I was expecting to get asked what I was doing in Kuala Lumpur with only Php3,500 but luckily, the Immigration Officer hardly took a look at me, stamped my passport and embarkation card and waved me through. Cool.

I had to stop pinching myself. Am I really not in the Philippines already? After we get our luggage, we proceed to the bustling arrival hall. We get a few ringgits, and get tickets for the KLIA Ekspres which would take us to the Kuala Lumpur Central Train Station. Cost: RM35 each.

Will post photos soon but I can tell you, the KLIA Ekspres is as posh as can be. The disembodied voice told us we’ll be at the station in 28 minutes. Along the way, we get our first sight of the Petronas Twin Towers. See you later ladies, we have a train to catch.

At the central station, we decide to grab a quick and very late dinner at McDonald’s. We hungrily bite into our grilled chicken foldovers. It’s a bit like KFC’s Go-go Sandwich only it’s not breaded and was almost twice its size. Yummy but we had to rush to the platform of the train that would take us to Singapore. We went into carriage L3 and had beds 17, 18 and 20. It’s a sleeper coach wherein their stab at providing privacy were curtains. Cost for the three of us one-way to Singapore: S$124.

It was okay, should have been, except that our coach was filled to the brim with what I will politically incorrectly call the “Chicken Curry Chorale.” Okay, I have no problem with chicken curry, it’s even one of my favorite dishes, but, I just don’t like its pungent smell on people. Yes, you got it. We were in the Aromatic Chamber of Doom. From our left and right arose the heady scent of anghit. I purposefully used the Tagalog word because some people might read this and label me a racist.

No, I am not a racist. But if I have to spend more than eight hours in a confined space with people who smelled like they just got off a curry shower, I can call them whatever I want to call them! I mean, don’t they know that they smell awful? The amazing part is, it’s the women who don’t smell too good. You see, I encountered one of them in the plane, and he was wearing a pleasant-smelling perfume. One young guy who was with the CCC smelled fine. But the women, my god. I have no words to describe them.

When the train began to move at around 10:30 p.m., I noticed a woman of size (notice my politically correct term) who was watching the people go by. I was luckily assigned in one of the lower bunks and this woman had difficulty climbing into the upper berth. I mean, she tried several times but she simply couldn’t carry herself and couldn’t very well swing her saree-clad legs onto the bed.

Finally, they came to me. Her husband asked if we could trade beds. In the back of my mind I was wondering, why the hell did they pick me? There were much smaller women than I am in the lower beds. Why pick me? Maybe I looked kind. Or maybe I just looked like a sucker. Hello? Did I look like a savior or a super hero? I think not. But, gink that I am, I acquiesced. Maybe I’m in for good karma or something.

As soon as I climbed into my bed, I felt that I had to pee. So I had to go down again. If any of you guys decide to travel from KL to Singapore or vice versa by train, take heed. The toilet is communal and not very presentable. It’s very small, kind of like the ones in a plane. It also has a sign that says: “Please do not use toilet when train is at a stop.” The sign worries me.

Though I was able to sleep, I was very uncomfortable. The train swayed at times, jerking me awake. I must have woken several times during the night due to the train’s movements and the heat. The carriage was airconditioned but you’d never know it most of the time. At around 6:00 in the morning we were awakened by a guy who gave out embarkation cards that we were to fill out.

Once we reached Johor Bahru, the last town before we enter the causeway that connects the Malaysian peninsula to the island of Singapore across the Strait of Johor, several immigration officials came aboard and checked our passports. One Indian guy had some trouble because he had no visa to Singapore yet had a transit visa to Malaysia. Thing was, he couldn’t go to Singapore and couldn’t stay in Malaysia either. He and his companion were asked to step off the train. We left without them.

According to my guidebook (Globetrotter, Php514, on sale at Fully Booked), the causeway is one kilometer long. After the brief stop at Johor Bahru, we were all looking forward to getting off at Singapore. However, once we reached the Woodlands train station at the northernmost tip of the island, we were asked to disembark along with all our luggage. What a hassle. We had to go through immigration and customs again and board the train. Take note, we had very little sleep, no bath or any washing up whatsoever, and no breakfast yet. It was already 7:30 then and it looks as if we would not be arriving at 7:45 a.m. in the Singapore KTM station. All three of us were grumpy as hell.

Of course, upon passing the CCC, we were assailed once more by the heady aroma of anghit. I wondered whether the women use that as come-ons to their men. I wondered whether the men are attracted to women who smelled that way. What a thought. It must be the smell that’s getting to me. Some of the older men, and later, I would find out, even young children, smelled that way.

I remember I had a friend in college who is of their race and she didn’t smell like these people did. She smelled fine, in fact. Is it their food? Why then do Filipinos not smell like bagoong or patis? Do they ever take regular baths? They looked clean, though. Some even looked like they just came from the shower. It puzzled me really.