"Does the Plane Even Honk Here?!" - An Adventure at El Nido Airport
The pilot left the cockpit mid-flight, and the plane leaped like a race car - a day of contrasts, fears, and small victories
📍El Nido, Philippines
I spent my last day in El Nido outdoors, after packing my suitcases and once again parting with items I don't need. Each repacking becomes a meditative ritual of filtering and releasing - one more item, and another, and each time the suitcase becomes lighter.
I realized that despite the fantasy of high heels and belts for a polished style, it's not worth lugging them around just for a single use per month. I once came across a quote from a veteran nomad: "If you haven't used something for a full week, you can get rid of it." A bit extreme, but it serves as a mental compass. Maybe I'll start with things I haven't used at all in the past month, and go from there.
To pass the time until my evening flight, I embarked on a journey between cafés. Each one had something different I needed, but none contained all the magical components of the ultimate café – good breakfast, clean restrooms, working air conditioning, and a comfortable place to open a laptop.
I started at a place with coffee and air conditioning, continued to a place with a good breakfast and restrooms, and finally found the ideal compromise – a place with excellent coffee, functioning air conditioning, and a table suitable for work. That's where I pleasantly spent most of my day.
On my way back to collect my suitcases from the hotel, of course, it started raining. Yes, that rain that usually arrives on the day I leave a place I love. "I'm sad too, El Nido, me too," I whispered to myself as I sank into a puddle.
The hotel representative called a tricycle for me, and it arrived within minutes. I squeezed into the cramped seat, feeling my heart race as it always does when I board this contraption that looks like a motorcycle with a sidecar on steroids.
With every pothole, with every sharp turn, I wondered if this would be the ride where I met my end. The rain had turned the roads into a slippery track, but the driver drove as if the sun was shining and the road was completely dry.
We arrived at the airport – a small, modest building that almost blends with the rural landscape around it. There are no huge runways or impressive control towers here – just a small square, a modest waiting hall, and a feeling that the place functions more like a bus station with planes than an airport in the conventional sense.
It still amazes me how different airports around the world can be. El Nido's airport seems like an improvised simulation of an airport. Yes, there's security screening and two representatives at the check-in counter, but as for the planes themselves? Neighborhood operation is the only phrase that comes to mind.
The plane dropped off passengers from another city and immediately boarded us, without even turning off the engine. When we stood outside the plane, I suddenly heard a honk. "Does the plane even honk here?!" I amused myself and started wondering if planes can even honk. Maybe it's the captain saying, "Come on, get on board already, I have more flights today."
On the flight itself, people sat in seats that weren't theirs as if it were a classroom. Someone was sitting in my seat, too. Not wanting to be the nerdy kid (not to say Karen), I simply sat in the same row in a window seat. Despite there being an official seat assignment, it seemed like no one was taking it seriously.
I wish I could say the plane began with an orderly takeoff, but it simply leaped the moment they closed the doors. It didn't taxi to any runway, didn't wait in any queue, didn't consult with a control tower. Just – go!
The moment they gave the signal, the plane accelerated with such force that we all stuck to our seats like in a "Fast and Furious" movie. The guy next to me crossed himself, and I burst out laughing. Then the lights went out. You could cut the collective shock with a knife. The plane rose into the air within a second, and I felt like my stomach stayed behind on the ground.
During the flight, we saw the pilot leave the cockpit, go to the restroom, and return – like watching a teacher leave the classroom during an exam. "Excuse me? Who's flying the plane now?" I wanted to ask, and burst out laughing at the thought of the pilot getting stuck in the bathroom while we continue flying in circles until we run out of fuel.
The cooling on the plane was powerful, but this time the scarf that always serves as my blanket was stuck in the trolley above my head, out of reach.
"It's okay, we're almost there anyway," I try to convince myself to give up.
I'm writing in the meantime, and my skin is getting goosebumps. I pause.
"Maya, we've talked about this. Ask the man sitting next to you to get up. Now." - my new inner voice insists.
"Okay, okay, you're right, I'm already prepared for this scenario." (A phrase I say to myself every time I enter a bathroom in the Philippines when there's no toilet paper, which I always have in my bag). I remembered the Pad Thai I wanted so badly on the flight to New Zealand, and how hard it was for me to ask that guy sitting next to me to get up.
Within a moment, I was wrapped in my scarf and said to myself, "Thank you, Maya, thank you for getting up for me."
This time it was easier, and maybe one day I'll stop trying to convince myself to give up altogether, and immediately choose myself. Maybe.
Your support helps me keep experiencing new worlds – and sharing them with you through my words. Sometimes, one cup of coffee can make all the difference.
Thank you for being part of this journey.
Who Am I? | The Journey Through Time | The Daily Journey