THE PLANE TRIP FROM...(well, you know where)

Thursday, February 9^th

Very soon after we disembark in San Francisco Scot and Kara pick us up and we go to Burlingame to walk around and get some dinner. Their two little girls, Lyla and Leah, are doing marvelously. Kara and Scot are such good parents, actively teaching accountability, respect, and many other values. It's a joy to watch the family together, and especially to be a part of it! We couldn't ask for more beautiful or wonderful grandkids and we're very excited to welcome their next baby into the world in June sometime.

We go into a restaurant that serves quiche and get a wonderful meal. The cashier remarks on our nametags, responding the the name of Jesus Christ on them. She gratefully accepts a pass along card, which is almost the last one we have left. Elder Armstrong has been handing them out right and left since we left the MTC.

We walk around and just enjoy the company, stopping for dessert in an exceptional bakery. So much for the “no more sugar for a while” thing! We get back to the airport in plenty of time and a minimal amount of hassle. TSA is scanning everyone there, no exceptions. I refuse because I consider my body more private than TSA does. They are very nice and a woman agent explains to me that no one ever sees the pictures anymore. I ask her to promise me, and she did, so I went through. She showed me on the other side exactly what they see, not the full body scan anymore, just the machine's pronouncement that the scan is 'OK'. The woman does not see why I object to the picture being taken. She informs me that they all did it themselves and they thought it was very funny.

We have several hours to wait for boarding, and we're not in a hurry in any case. I cannot imagine how we're going to survive for 14.5 hours on an airplane, no matter how big it is! Johnny gives out our last pass along card while we wait. We wait in the Cathay Pacific boarding area and we're no longer surrounded by tall, English speaking people. Around 12:40, we start boarding and don't take off till about 1:30 am. It was supposed to be a 12 midnight flight.

One the plane we are sandwiched in the middle row of seats like sardines, one person on either side of us. Before we left, President Stanfil and his wife told us about their transocean flight that was very cold and there were not enough blankets to go around. We took our jackets and I took a sweater and when we get into our seats we're crammed in like sardines. Elder Armstrong is seated next to an exceptionally large Chinese man and next to me is a very slight Philipino who is not having the slightest problem with cramped space. The first three hours of the flight are a nightmare. It is so hot we both think we're going to throw up and our jackets are packed as far away from us as we can get them and still keep them in our own space. We are unable to get comfortable, unable to sleep, and every time we want to get up we have to wake our neighbor to do it. I wonder how I can possibly do this for another 11 hours.

At one point I think we both just got numb and finally slept a little. After that Elder Armstrong decided to get up and walk around a bit, then stand in the back of the plane with several others. He spends a very large portion of the trip this way. After what seems an eternity, we finally see some light in the sky and we're informed we're coming into Hong Kong. I'm a little nervous because I don't know how the Chinese government treats foreigners, but they're quite friendly. Though we just disembark one plane to go to another, we still have to go through security. It is MUCH simpler than in the US, however. You don't have to take off your shoes, take your computers out of the bags, worry about liquids or anything like that. They just scan your stuff and off you go. We get a personal, hurried escort to the Philippines airline since we're late and they're ready to go. We are the last to board the plane and we think they waited for us. Unfortunately, Hong Kong is socked in with low clouds and we can't see ANYTHING out the windows of the plane except the tarmack and airport terminals.

When we get to the Philippine airport, we are barely out of the plane when we see a nice young woman holding a sign that said “Armstrongs”She leads us through the crowds to the immigration counter. For some reason, we are escorted right past huge lines of people who are waiting their turn. They stare at us and I feel uncomfortable and wonder why we rate this treatment. With hardly a glance, the agent stamps our visas and then wonders good naturedly if we're related to Neil Armstrong. We're then escorted past many people to the baggage claim area. When our bags come out, the nice young airport employee directs us to the customs area. We're a little worried about this. We read the forms on the way in from Hong Kong and we are not supposed to be bringing in CD's. We mark the form to acknowledge that we do, indeed, have illegal contraband and wonder if they shoot people for it here. They take our papers at the counter and never even look at our luggage, let alone ask to look inside. They go right over our full confession, stamp our papers and out we go. It seems wise not to comment on it. President and Sister Taylor are waiting for us on the other side of the rope barrier. They are smiling and happy looking, we shake hands all around and then Sister Taylor gives me a big hug.

They have come with Br. Villanueva and Br. Pachano and his son, driving the white MTC van. We feel very welcomed. The weather is about like we expected, only not unbearably hot yet. The ride home is hair raising. It's hard to describe driving in Manila. There are very few traffic lights or even signs. No one would obey them, anyway. There is a horrendous amount of traffic, but we're told it's actually pretty light today and they made good time to the airport. Br. Pachano is driving and he doesn't stay in his lane very well. No one minds much. He does not use his turn signals, no one else does either. When he wants to change lanes, he just starts drifting over and people sort of squeeze by with one or two inches to spare until we're finally in the other lane. When he wants to turn across lanes of traffic, he starts inching forward into oncoming traffic and eventually we somehow get across. It seems like utter chaos, but no one is getting upset. There is much beeping, but it's not people blowing their horns in anger, just little beeps to say 'I'm here! Don't hit me!'. Added to this, there are multiple motor scooters bipping in and out among the cars like they're just as big and totally comfortable in this mess. I have to avert my eyes many times on the way to the MTC, sure that one of them will be squished before we get there, but no one is. We didn't see one accident, not even a little fender bender.

We get to the facility and it's very nice. We're shown to a missionary room with two bunk beds and given blankets and sheets. I guess they use blankets here, but I don't know why. Even in the air conditioning, it's about 73 or 74 degrees. True to their promise, the Taylors show us around a little, tell us dinner is at six, and leave us alone in our room. They make it clear that they'll expect to see us when we're ready to be seen. They've stocked the apartment with a small refrigerator with milk and fruits. There are cookies and chips, cereal, cans of tuna, and a loaf of whole wheat bread. There's also some eggs, but I don't know what to do with them because they're not cooked and and we have no stove or pan. The thought is so appreciated, though. We already feel loved and cared for.