I forgot to update on this, I don't know why. Let's see if memory still serves me right.
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Hong Kong was an easy 5 hours. From what I remember, there was this really long hall where all the gates were located. I got into a little hold up when they asked me for my Dad's address in Brazil. I was ready for that. I had it in my phone. The problem was that the SIM card in my phone was my sister's and her PIN was different from mine. I locked the damn thing. My only contact back home was SIM blocked. I excused myself from the woman I was talking to and tried to find a phone card to call back home and find out what the PUK code for this thing was.
But then I realized, my phone can function without a SIM card! Thank you, Nokia for making your 6630 model SIM card independent! I got a green light about my ticket, called home (using a verrry weird dialing system. I even called a HK household. Whoever you are, sorry!) and unblocked the SIM and then tried to settle down. Three hours to go which I spent browsing the still-open bookshops (I saw a monk!) and walking around. I tried to read more of the book I had with me, a King novel. I also had the DS so I was covered in all the boredom bases.
About 30 minutes from my flight, I was already hanging out by my gate. I think the attendants asked me if the flight that was just leaving was mine. About two times. I got into my flight, ate and slept. I think I watched a movie on that 10 hour flight...as well as tried out all the in-flight games, music, documentaries and shows. I also browsed through the in-flight magazines. I woke up sometime before we landed and looked out the window. I didn't know why France was the called City of Light then, but I saw it from the air that time. It was ablaze. Well, not really. But it was really full of lights.
This airport is weird. Look it up in Google Earth if you want to. It had six mini-terminals from A to F and you have to ride a bus if you want to go somewhere else. I first went to Terminal E, as stated in my ticket. When I got there, the ticket guys told me to go to Terminal C because my flight was 10 hours from then. Terminal C had the forex, the stores and all. I can eat there, it seems. So the next few hours were spent going around the airport by bus when I was bored of waiting in Terminal C and waiting in Terminal C. I looked at a lot of people coming and going as I sat down somewhere. French people have this really cute way of saying Hello. Allo?
Terminal C was a really cold 10-hour home. I bought a bag of peanut M&M's after I had lunch. I wanted something sugary to eat while waiting. I managed to finish a third of the book out of boredom. My flight was at night, so I guess I spent a whole day in Paris' Charles de Gaulle airport. A whole day of waiting. If ever I needed a lesson in patience, I'd recall this trip.
Then another ten hour flight. See third paragraph above but subtract about 6 hours from it. I got held up again in Rio and I can't call my parents because the phone battery died, but I managed to convince the people there that yes, I'll come back home at the desired date and I'll be staying with my parents at this address. They let me go, passed the gates and I saw my parents and kid brother immediately. Hugs and more hugs.
Now I understand the feeling my father gets back then when we see him again after 11 months at sea whenever he comes back home.
Nope, that's not Hitler! That's actually my father. My phone was still the bulky N3650 and I took this picture to get the sunset behind him. I could have asked him to stop the car but we were in a hurry for some reason. He invited me to go back to Zambales...to his hometown. It was just us guys. We talked about everything: school, girls, the future. We sang along the music that we knew on the radio. I grew up in his house, his music was mine too. Yep, even Kenny Rogers.
