Gets Stamped

Before boarding the plane, my brother, now a how-to-get-around-Dubai expert called me up and gave very helpful and important instructions. Once in Dubai airport, do not proceed to getting your passport stamped by an immigration officer but I was told to follow these:

First, get an eye scan. The scans gets into some international database perhaps finding matches if one has a criminal record. Indeed, the eyes are the windows to one’s soul.

Second, proceed to the immigration officer for the entry stamp.

The luggage section gets the last priority.

Following his instructions gave me two encounters to Arab Immigration Officers – veiled and moustached bulky big boys.

Encounter One: The Happy Mr. Officer:

Mr. Officer (upon seeing me)         :               Filipino!!! Komusta??

Me (nervous with nginig tone)       :               Mabuti po.

Mr. Officer (chuckles)                   :               Mabuti, huh?

He might have seen a lot of Filipinos and needs no effort to identify one. And I always thought I could pass for a Brazilian supermodel (*fake sigh*), haha! Oh no, I am a Filipina and proud.

Ta-dugsh. (Yes, that’s how the precious stamp sounds)

My visa gets stamped.

Encounter Two: The trying-to-be-strict-but-can’t-get-away-with-my-charms Mr. Officer

Mr. Officer          :               Why are you here?

Me                      :               Business, sir.

Mr. Officer          :               Do you have a friend?

Me                      :               Of course sir, I have many friends.

Mr. Officer          :               Who?

He meant to ask but I have a friend IN DUBAI, I thought it was a simplistic question if I’m likeable – if I have a lot of friends. I did not give him a name but just smiled at him.

Ta-dugsh.

My passport gets stamped.

First Timer

written March 28,2012, Wednesday


Random things I have noted down on my first out-of-the-country travel experience – pre departure phase (yes, maraming phases ‘to! Haha!)

*There is a separate entrance for OFWs as they are not required to pay terminal fees.

This information I got from Kuya Edgar, the taxi driver who brought me to the airport. The line is long and I could not help but ask my father if Kuya Bo, my eldest brother, had to endure queuing when he went to Dubai and tatay said yes. Kuya has been working as an engineer in Dubai since 2010. I couldn’t think of that country without thinking about my brother.

*NAIA Terminal 1 has yellow lights dim enough to give an even more romantic atmosphere to passengers bound for a honeymoon to some European country and torturously dim to highlight the homesickness of an OFW bound to work his ass off in another country.

*The terminal smells of Nissin Yakisoba.

*The restrooms are located near counter 42.

*So many documents are required. I have one clear file of visa’s, passports, COE’s, sponsorship letters, boarding passes replicated five times over. Takot akong mawala.=)

*My literature companions while waiting to board are David Sedaris (currently reading Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim) and Lourd De Veyra (This is a Crazy Planet).

*I am obsessed with my bag’s padlock. The lock comes with a combination and I keep on rechecking whether it is working. I don’t want to slash my own bag because of my stupidity of forgetting a combination I myself have assigned.

*The guy sitting one row away from me is playing Fruit Ninja. I feel hungry.

*Airport Terminals, whether the best or the worst in the world, has the power to conjure really strong emotions (at least for me). My mother’s simple question when I answered her phone call (“Anong oras kita ipapasundo sa Tuesday pag balik mo?”) nearly brought me to tears. My colleagues phone call inquiry about where I kept some file melted my heart – “Mr. Boss of that real estate company, I am indispensable, raise my salary, only I know where that file is kept” (end statement with threatening evil laughter!!)

*Airport authorities are gods.

*It pays to get everything done online. Check in online. The lines are much shorter.

*It does not hurt to ask. Really.

*People are extremely curious of where each one is going. I changed seats while waiting for Miss Toni to check in, four times. And 2 out of my four seatmates asked me where I am headed. It is but a common or if not the only ice breaker in terminals.

*Airport  food is extremely expensive.

*Dubai is DXB in international flights. If it were up to me, I’ll have it in “Dub”. Wala lang, para madaling tandaan, haha!=)

Time to board the plane.

I’m a giddy first timer.

And I assign meaning to everything.=)

Esquire

Dear Mr. David,


Yes, you, the ever so talented and sexy photographer, who are dying to take my pictures and to make me pose a la Megan Young in Rogue or some hot sexy chick which has the power to make "man"kind drool (haha! sobrang feeling na..=)), I know I said no to your invitation because I find posing artificial (charot), but seriously now, I am reconsidering.


Call me.


You know my number.=p

I love love Bianca Gonzales!=)

Burj-er.

worldmegastructures.com

Trivia picked up from one of the company's round table meetings.


The famous Burj Khalifa in Dubai used to be called Burj Dubai but Dubai had shortage in construction budget thus they had to borrow money from their money-master neighbor, the oilngas capital (yes, oilngas, oil and gas - such a word exists, I picked it up from Eric Weiner's Geography of Bliss - a wonderful book for one's inner wanderlust), Qatar. Thus Burj Dubai became Burj Khalifa. I did not verify this trivia anymore (haha!)  but regardless of its accuracy, I feel excited that in a little over 24 hours, I'll be seeing the royal Burj-ness, face to face, in real life. Albeit, from across the street kasi picture lang daw niya, may bayad na.=) Time to pack!!

Oh Yes!

Written March 26,2012
A Monday.


I am a happy girl today and it is Monday!

No Monday blues, just colorful, happy, glimmering hues!!

Spread love through rhyming words.=)

I am a happy girl today because I went home with a bagful of David Sedaris books (thank you Allan!!), Rogue Magazine's Travel Issue and the cherry on top of my Ferrero-flavored ice cream... a poem, a cheesy, corny but sweet poem especially written for the sexiest girl in the world!!

And yesterday, I was a happy girl too!! Yogurt, Cupcakes, Crispy Chinese Noodles, Hunger Games (the movie... and the feeling - hunger, gets? haha!) and shopping galore with two of my favorite girls in the world. Being an "ate", gives me that warm and fuzzy feeling that snuggles and sings me lullabies for a goodnight sleep. Promise!

And oh, just several days before yesterday, I was a happy girl (indeed!!) as my cousin Joan's bestfriend, Joanne, (they have the same name, beat that!! I can not find another Tina to my Tina... ano daw??) came home for a visit from her work place, the la-lah land, Singapore. And this early, we are planning an Asian getaway and dear Universe, please, please, help us make this happen!!=)

Pajama Party pa rin ba kahit hinde pajama ang suot??=p

Happy Monday!=)

Today, I write about...

Sunday, March 25, 2012, 10:46 PM

Today I write about Marriage.

yes, dear friend, I am capable of such kind of thought.=)

It’s a thought encouraged by a facebook post of a former colleague about him getting engaged. And then eventually getting married. (Thank you facebook for your updates of our friends’ major milestones in life, keep it up!!) The former colleague has the physique of a high school student. You know those kids in Hollywood movies who always get bullied in school? - Not really tall, thin, goofy smile, gullible but angelic face, elicits the usual description of fresh grads from company seniors: parang pinabili lang ng suka ng nanay niya nang nakakurbata tapos di na nahanap yung daan pabalik, yun, nagtrabaho na! It does not seem right. I cannot imagine him being a dad because he looks like a kid himself. I cannot imagine him on his honeymoon night (go ahead cringe with me and accuse me of entertaining such lurid thoughts, Oh God make me sleep!!!), he is such a baby to even go on a honeymoon or even just hold a girl’s hand. But thinness and lack of height, not even age, are NOT enough measures of one’s readiness in marriage. I myself am not prepared for one. Marriage requires selflessness and maturity – virtues I do not have and have not even started working on. Marriage requires one a sense of completion of himself – because how can “two become one” when one of the two is fragmented into many parts. Two Christmases ago, my father, having lost track of his children’s ages, asked me to remind him how old I am. I told him I was 23 years old. He chuckled and remarked that when my mother was my age, she already had two kids, my brother and me. Well, I have one kid which I have a great deal of trouble handling – myself.

Let’s see three years from now. Or maybe four. Or five. Or ten. I really don’t know. But should that day happen, the day when I finally find the courage to say I do, to wake up in the morning and find another human being on my bed, to spend the rest of my life with him who has been singled out by destiny and by the Divine to be with me, to be mine and for me to be his - amidst the “bigness” of this earth and the multitude of human beings who roam this planet, to bear beautiful children (and smart and funny and sexy like their mommy!!) and be responsible to impress on them the beauty of life… I just pray that it be worth the wait. And please Lord, help me make me, worth the wait.

For now, let’s settle with simply being in luurvveee.

Monday , March 26, 2012, 10:41 PM

Today I write about Freedom.

And how it is such and intimidating topic. 

And how it is best to live it than to write it.

And how freedom makes me want to do the crazy thing. 

mindbodygreen.com

Managing Mondays

Dr. Seuss is my current addiction!=)

from mamiverse.com

Getting Old and then Older

Thoughts at 23:

(or otherwise known as sweet and full of promise period)

The 23-Year Old Prayer

Dear Jesus,

I am grateful for the mornings that I wake up to

I am grateful for the goals YOU intend me to do

I am grateful for my parents and the rest of my family

I am grateful for my friends who have always been there for me

I am grateful for my dreams, they keep me going

I am grateful for this life, this beauty I am living

I am a year older, I hope a year wiser

Help me to live each day full of smile and laughter

There is so much I want to do, so much I want to explore

Please protect me from all evil knocking at my door

Dear Jesus, please from me, do not set my guardian angel free

I need him still, I need him more than ever

Even at 23.

Thoughts at 24:

(or otherwise known as Kuma-quarter life period)

I have yet to reach my equilibrium point… - me, in my college yearbook published 4 years ago.

I am nearing the 25-year old mark. I have yet to own a car, own a house, yet to be called a mommy partnered to an extremely hot daddy, yet to earn a master’s degree, yet to see Batanes, yet to do many extraordinary things, yet to be in many extraordinary places, yet to be wise, yet to shorten my list of yet’s – Yet is the evil word of discontent, I did not realize my dislike of the word until now. But I have grown up. Have grown old.

I won’t say I have matured (maybe a bit) but in my opinion, I have transcended from toddlerhood (supply me with the proper noun, please) to adolescence to semi-adulthood quite successfully. The process did not result to my ideal physical transformation such as a bigger cup size or a taller meatier stature and there are traces, still, of the whiny toddler and angst-ridden adolescent me – but I can confidently say I have grown up.

And it makes me feel good to say it.

Thoughts at 25:

(or otherwise known as the period, you know, the punctuation mark….)

To lunch or not to lunch? Oh Mommy, I have a big, unsexy tummy!!!!

Not really profound, but still rhyming, oh yes I am 25 - high five!!!

How time flies. J