I excused myself from my afternoon Pathology classes to pack. I still had a big exam the other night, so I didn't know that I lacked one white undershirt, which I had to buy at the nearest mall. I still had a few hours, but I was all over the place: I didn't want to forget anything, my travel documents, especially. The flight was in the evening: I would take Cathay Pacific to Hong Kong, and from there, go on to my connecting flight to Amsterdam. I was to travel alone.
Thankfully, my brother, Ralph, came over to help me arrange my things. He took me to the airport and, during the cab ride, gave me a how-to-tie-your-neck-tie demo. It was a hot, sunny afternoon.
While checking in my luggage, the two questions I often got asked were: "Are you travelling alone?" and "How old are you?" It dawned on me again that I still look young for my age, and if people mistake me for a sixth grader in the Philippines, they'd probably call me a toddler in Europe. I am 23, and I am well past my puberty.
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