Best Pool Ever!

There are certainly a number of things that I do not like about being a Diplowife; for me it can range from a simple matter of wearing heels to a party or being stuck in country during a civil war. Nevertheless, there are still the perks, and top of the list of course is visiting and experiencing things only travelling can bring. My latest adventure is visiting the Hawiyat Najm Park here in Oman which is the location of the Bimmah Sink Hole.

The view from the top of the Bimmah Sinkhole

I imagine some of you would think of a Sink Hole as something that is not good, but in case you haven’t seen one, as I have not prior to the trip, a sinkhole is huge depression on the earth caused by disbanding of rocks. This particular one which is known here as the Bimmah Sinkhole is located in the Dabab area in Wilayat Qurayat; it is about an hour and half drive from Muscat through the rocky mountains of Oman, via their very impressive, albeit winding highways.

through the rocky mountains of Oman

I think there are several kinds of Sinkholes, but Bimmah is the kind which is located near the sea and what seems like a crater that is filled with water. How it looked is probably why the locals believe that it was created by a piece of meteor (or something from space) falling on Earth creating this massive hole. And while most people would have swam in the usual man-made pools, I was there to take the opportunity to swim in a geological wonder the likes can only be found in a number of areas around the world.

the pool that God made...

But of course, since this isn’t the backyard variety pool, it isn’t exactly the safest kind either. The pristinely clear water will give you the illusion that hole is an easy 2-3 meters deep, but once you dive under you can see that it is not even close, as it said to be about 20 meters. If you can’t imagine numbers, imagine looking down a rocky steep cliff under water into an abyss instead. And I have to say, if you are ever planning on coming there, be sure that you are very confident swimmer, because I do not recommend it to ones that are not. Not to mention the fact that the rocky state of the surface makes it very uncomfortable for the wadding type.

As you can see I was the only one crazy enough to brave the waters, but it was totally worth it.

But if you do not have the lungs or the swimming prowess to brave the deep hole, you can always just sit by the edge and have a moment of fish-spa. Just try and stay still and pretty soon the little fishes in the water would start nibbling on your toes which they say is a good way of getting rid of the old dead skins. It doesn’t hurt at all if not ticklish even, plus pretty cool, foot rejuvenation care of nature itself.

Fish Spa treatment, promises to rid of your feet's dead skin the natural way.

Anyway for the tourists and fellow newbies who are planning to go there, I highly suggest that unless you are a brave driver, you find an expert driver or someone who has driven there. It’s not so much dangerous but I think being familiar with the steep turns can be a bit tricky for first time visitors. There is no fee to get inside the park and I think you are welcome to camp out or have a picnic. I cannot comment on the bathroom facility as I opted to just dry up and get clean at home. And like I said protective footwear that you can use around the hole, since its rocky state can be very hard on the soles.

We had a bit of time so we decided to drive on to Sur, which another 30 minutes drive away. The destination was to visit these antique ships that were said to have sailed to another country years ago, and was bought back by the Omani government as a testament to their heritage as voyagers and men of the sea.

I still have to look up the name of the boat and the story behind it, so here's picture for now.

And if you are a sucker for great views like me, I think something like this would definitely be worth the drive.

Tags: Bimmah Sinkhole, fish spa, great views, Hawiyat Najm Park, long drives, swimming pool

Year End Special: The Roller-coaster that was 2011

No doubt about it 2011 is a memorable one for me. Of course mostly due to the whole Libyan crisis, it seems that the year went by so quickly and yet for the first time in a long time I feel as I am older. Around this time exactly last year, my thoughts were filled with a European Year of Travel, and finally being able to visit home. That holiday in the Philippines were chock full as we explored some of its parts outside Manila, from Corrigidor, to Vigan, to Bohol, even to Palawan which I realized I did not write about (which I should I promise, along with my first trip to an Asian country, Singapore).

I wasn't able to write about our Singapore trip... but I will soon I promise....

But as quickly as the good times rolled the most unforgettable phase in my life as a Diplowife led to the saddest, scariest, most depressing, five months I have ever been through.

But then again, last year was also a great example of how quickly the wheel of life turns, one moment you are up, the next you are down in the dirt, and the all of a sudden you are back up again. It has been two months since my first month here in Muscat, and so far things are doing great. I really do not want to jinx it by mentioning it, but really, as much as I liked the Libyans and as interested I was in the dynamics of their culture, I found myself stuck and bored most days when I was there. And although I have met and made friends I will never forget, what I learned most about being posted there was just because nobody is saying anything doesn’t mean everything is okay; oh and that appearance is never really a good way of gauging someone or others.

But I am grateful to be in this city because although I have not been here that long, it has shown me that not every place is the same just because they have major commonalities. And that sometimes you still get lucky and meet a group of genuinely kind and fun loving people.

The Sultan's palace here in our new home Muscat

In general 2011 wasn’t the best one in my list, nevertheless it wasn’t all bad. The experiences I collected in the past year still did give me a few great things I can hold on to. Being away from JG that long and in that kind of situation automatically showed both of us how much we mean to each other, plus we both learned things we never really thought we could be capable of pulling off – him living by himself whilst I learned to let go and how to be patient.

And because 2011 was a rollercoaster-up and down-spinning around kind of year for me, I think I want to welcome 2012 with an open mind and just wait and see what it will bring, I will just do my thing, whatever it is I feel like doing and not worry about how it may affect the future. Expect perhaps for good health and the safety of everybody I love, I will not wish for anything this year… que sera sera and all that…

Tags: Bohol trip, Corregidor trip, Libyan crisis, Muscat life, Vigan Trip, year end

First Christmas in Oman

While I was thinking about what to write about this year’s Christmas, I tried to recall what happened last year, and up until I decided to go back to my entry I could not remember anything about what happened on December 25, 2010. And you know what was funny? When I did go back to that post, I saw that I entitled that one The Christmas JG and I will Never Forget. I thought it was pretty ironic since five minutes ago, I could not remember a single memory of that day. But if you did not try to read that link, it was really a pun on my part because nothing much happened that day.

This year here in our new side of the world, it’s basically the same. Oman also being a Muslim country, does not recognize such a holiday. We did have a good Christmas party with the embassy staff a few days ago, it was simple and fun, but December 25, was solemnly spent at home, outside it was business as usual for everybody else.

Nevertheless Christmas here is also very different from that of Libya, because at least here, you kind of at least feel it, subtly, but you know it is around. Unlike in Libya, non-Muslims are free to celebrate it as they please without any hindrances from the government or the locals. In Libya, you are not allowed to decorate the exterior of your house with Christmas trimmings, (which was why I found it funny when someone gave us a huge Christmas lantern; JG and I were grateful but had no idea what to do with it afterwards).

Have I mentioned there are several English radio channels here in Oman? Their DJ’s (mostly westerners) acknowledge the coming of Christmas even play Christmas songs once in a while. Many establishments have also launched gimmicks, like raffles, and other stuff. Today I ran into a guy dressed as Santa who was giving out candies at the mall.

Groceries and department stores sold Christmas decors, one even displayed a real Christmas Pine tree, it was hella expensive but hey, I bet someone wasn’t able to resist. We on the other hand opted for the plastic kind, to which we thought was practical; after all we weren’t that crazy about celebrating. We never really did the decorating, event back home in the Philippines, where people are so crazy about the holidays, it starts as early as October. I suppose we got it this year in appreciation to the people of this country who despite not really celebrate this kind of holiday (which is also a bit ironic since this the best place to get Frankincense and Myrr) respect those of us who do, and let us experience it the best way we know how. I personally appreciate this gesture being that it is the most that we have being far away from our homelands.

Nevertheless as I said, today was a pretty quiet one for us. I woke up extra early to chat with my mom via the internet and spent the day mostly catching up on some sleep, and reading. JG and I drove his mom to church later in the afternoon (we both are not very religious people, so we stayed outside and waited until the mass ended), and capped the night playing bowling of all things. And that was pretty much it, it wasn’t so bad, it was just quiet.

A wise lady in an email I received today said that this was a “reflective Christmas” here in Oman, and added that it is “quite nice” – and I couldn’t agree more.

Merry Christmas everyone!

I couldn't think of a nice picture to put with this post so I'm just re-posting this one I took showing real Frankincense and Myrr, a famous story did say it was two of the best gifts to bring during Christmas.

Tags: Christmas decors, Christmas in Oman, christmas trimmings, muslim country, quiet Christmas, reflective Christmas

Of Souqs and the One in Matrah

One of my favorite places back home in the Philippines is Quiapo and its surrounding markets, its dirt, noise, and chaos is nothing compared to the posh malls of Manila but I bask in the variety and bargain it has to offer. Plus the fact that I think that flea markets can be a central location to studying a country’s culture as well as finding great discoveries.

In the Arab world, markets are called Souqs and like in Quiapo, everything that represents a country can be found such markets. When we were in Libya my not having a car only made me visit the Old Souq a couple of times, and even so, I was truly amazed every time I visit. I am reminded of Babalhiriya in the Old Town, wherein remnants of Roman ruins can still be found in nooks and corners all around the walled city. When I stayed in Tunisia, the Souq in Djerba was not as big and as historical as in Libya but what made that one great were the friendly locals manning their stores. JG who has travelled to Turkey boasts of having visited what he believes is the biggest Souq in the world.

So it wasn’t really a surprise when I grabbed the chance to visit Muscat’s Matrah Souq. Unlike the beach, I was disappointed to find out that I lived fairly far from the said Souq. I had hoped that I would be able to visit such a place as often as I did Quiapo back home. My having a car is still not an answer to my logistical concerns as driving there can be a bit scary as I have to go through some major highways to get there. Not to mention the fact that JG discourages me to go to places wherein major possible spending may take place. But I digress…

So when the opportunity came for me to go, I hurriedly took the chance. And Matrah Souq was no disappointment. What made it stand out for me was that unlike the ones in Tripoli and Djerba, the place was really clean and orderly, plus the fact that the interior had some great detailing and furnishing including wooden ceiling panels and tainted glass ceilings which were really an impressive touch.

the ceilings of the market were decked with wood panels and tainted glass.

One of the first things that I read about Oman was that it was a country that was very much concerned about showing off their art and culture, and such designs in their souqs is to me a testament to that characteristic.

As you can see the Matrah Souq is really clean and orderly.

Like most Arab countries one of the commonly sold in their Souqs are scarves and pashminas. Ever since JG brought me my first one from Istanbul, and since living in Libya I have become a scarf/pashmina feign and now have an assorted collection and truly believes that one cannot have too many. One of the first stores we went to was manned by a young guy who was very keen on hard selling his products but did it a very personal and friendly manner that we could not help but come back and buy from him. Not to mention the fact that he gave us a good deal. I also learned a lot about such garments, as to why some of them were hella-expensive. As it turns out the pricey ones come from the wool shaved from the softest parts of a sheep like its neck and belly areas, as well as how intricate the sewed designs are. Of course I really couldn’t afford the really pretty and soft ones but was happy with my purchase nevertheless.

Something like this Pashmina costs around 30 to 40 rials which is like 4000php back home

Another major highlight that can be found in Matrah Souq are Myrrh and Frankincense made famous by the three wise men who visited the baby Jesus in the stables and brought such priceless gifts in honor of the prophesied Messiah. Aside from Gold, the two gifts that are always mentioned during Christmas were really a mystery to me. I’ve always wondered what they looked like and 20 odd years later I finally get to see some.

The one in the bigger jar is the Frankincense, and the brownish looking one is Myrrh.

So in case you don’t know Frankincense is an aromatic resin from Boswellia trees, while Myrrh is also a hydrocarbon secretion of a thorny plant.

“Religious ritual across the Mediterranean and the East depended and, in places, still depends, upon thick, sweet frankincense smoke to transport supplications heavenwards.” (http://www.independent.co.uk/travel/middle-east/oman-going-for-gold-frankincense-and-myrrh-1844723.html)

Now aside from religious practices, store owners also swear to the affectivity of burning Myrrh and Frankincense when used as a mosquito repellant.

And like all Souqs, the one in Matrah is no exemption to finding anything Arabic…

Everything Arabian plus the lamp, magic genie sold separately.

Tags: Arab Souqs, at Quiapo, Frankincense and Myrrh, Frankincense in Oman, In Djerba, in Muscat, In Tripoli, Matrah Souq, nice Pashmina, Old City

This Little Britain

Now that we have settled in our flat, got a car, and found some bearing in our new home that is Muscat the next thing JG and I prepared for was a well deserved vacation. The week-long holiday of the celebration of Eid was the perfect opportunity to finally get away.  I said the vacation was well-deserved mostly for JG’s case because he did actually deserve one after the whole Libyan crisis that he went through. And his immediate choice was to go to the small but great island of Britain, particularly London (he wanted to also stop by Ireland but there wasn’t any more time to do so).

JG has always wanted to go to London mainly because three of his favorite authors are from that side of the world, namely Agatha Christie, Arthur Conan Doyle, and Grant Morrison who is from Glasgow. Also now would be the best time to go because next year’s 2012 Olympics which is to be held there, would probably make it difficult, even impossible for us to find a place to stay. So with JG’s obsessive compulsive planning and research, of to the UK we went.

And since, as I explained, that this was to be JG’s well-deserved vacation I did not press the fact that my dream that if I ever was to go to Britain I would most certainly do the Jane Austen tour, for I dearly love her works. Okay yes, I did press, even threw a bit of a tantrum when JG explained it was impossible to sneak in visiting her home and do a tour about her, but then again it would be a good reason to come back.

There were some highlights for me, aside of course from seeing the famous sites, like the Big Ben, The London Bridge (more accurately named Tower Bridge), Westminster Abbey, and The Queen’s palace. My most favorite part was visiting The National Gallery where the paintings of great artists were on display. The collection was very small compared to when we visited the Louvre, but I particularly wanted to see one of my most favorite paintings which like Vincent Van Gogh’s “Sunflower”. It was only second in my list following “Starry Night”, but to be able to see his work in person was really something much more exciting to me than say meeting a celebrity in person.

The National Gallery Museum wherein some works by Van Gogh, Monet, and Da Vinci are displayed.

The museum was also currently holding a Da Vinci exhibit which they said to be a once-in-a-lifetime thing because the original portraits were displayed alongside their sketches, or Leonardo’s first drafts of the said paintings. This is a rare opportunity because such works are already too old and fragile to be constantly shipped and handled, which is why it would take a few more years before something like this were to happen again. However rare exhibits are also not held for free, thus for peasant tourists like us who travel on a budget, this was one once-in-a-lifetime thing that I had reluctantly but practically had to pass.

Number two highlight was to go shopping in Portabelo Road which is infamous for its flea market and great finds. I have to say that the dresses sold were really nice, although at 15 pounds were still a bit too pricey for me. Nevertheless the dresses were really a swag compared to buying the same styles in posh stores, plus it really is a great place to go and buy swanky coats of all kinds.

Portabello Road where you can buy great finds, we went around 10 in the morning so most shops are only starting to open, but still were able to get some great swag.

It was also pretty cool to be able to visit famous fictional locations like the actual 221B Baker Street where Sherlock Holmes was said to live in the famous detective novels, also going to Notting Hill and visit the actual Travel Bookshop that Hugh Grant owned and managed in the ever famous chick flick.

The actual bookshop that inspired Hugh Grant's store in the movie Notting Hill.

And of course visiting London was not complete without going to the theatre. I wanted to watch Wicked, so as to be able experience my generation’s most famous hit on Broadway, but beggars cannot be choosers and tickets were not sold with discounts as JG and I had hoped.  Nevertheless JG insisted that we see Agatha Christie’s Mousetrap, which I later learned as London’s longest running play, going on 59 years. The St. Martin’s Theatre was pretty old both in style and amenities but it was really nice to think that it has been there and running for over half a century. And the play was pretty good too, if you haven’t read Mousetrap, I promise you will not be able to guess who the killer is.

It's really nice to think that I had the opportunity to see a classic play that has been running for almost 60 years.

We have also been seeing a lot of Doctor Who lately and are big fans of the show, especially JG so we thought that it would be a great trip to see the actual Tardis, the really actual one is displayed in the BBC studios, but there’s a sort of Dr. Who Experience, a theme park 3D tour that lets you go on a journey a la the Doctor’s companion.

"Exterminate!" a life-size Dalek at the Doctor Who Experience.

Like our German holiday the only downside for me was the weather.  I am a tropical girl through and through and really doesn’t do well in cold climates, JG promised me it was only going to be at least 20 degrees Celsius, but it really did not feel like that to me. Plus the British weather can really be gloomy for someone who came from sunny Asia; there were some moments when the sun would come out but it was mostly damp, or cloudy, and at times both.

Nevertheless it was still a great trip all the same; JG put it best when he said that we shouldn’t just travel for pleasure but also to take the opportunity to educate yourself with such a culturally vibrant and historically rich city.

that's me... Cool Britannia!

 

Killing the Old Lady Driver

In a previous post I mentioned that one of the things that I did while JG was still in Libya and I was sent home was to learn how to drive. I also explained that the reason for this was because I want to make sure that in our next posting I have the means to get around wherever and whenever I want to. In more recent developments we recently acquired our vehicle here in Muscat to use for our personal convenience. That’s just the good news; the bad news is, so far I am not enjoying that much.

The fault in this matter is entirely mine, what I did not elaborate in that previous post, when I mentioned my learning how to drive, was that I’m really not that good at it yet. And as much as I want to rejoice in our new found freedom to explore this great city of Muscat, the same notion is now the source of mild anxiety attacks and the urge to tell people in my life that I hold dear how much I love them – just in case.

Let me explain, I have no qualms in admitting that I not only drive like a lady, I drive like an old lady. See, in the Philippines it was okay, because our country’s problem of over population has of course caused congestion in every possible road to anywhere. Thus the often heavy traffic entailed me to drive at a speed which I very much prefer as my pace, wherein I can comfortably anticipate sharp turns, jeepneys whose driver lacks the ability to signal, and would be jaywalkers who are too lazy to use the pedestrian crossing. Familiarity to the area as well as to cultural norms is also an advantage back home, because getting lost can happen rarely, and living there all your life you kind of already have an understanding of how driving in the Philippines (especially in Manila) works, which is basically kung makakalusot, lulusot (this literally translates as “if you can get pass it, pass it”; but back home it is an old saying and a general mantra for many which means if you can find a way, never mind if its prohibited, dangerous, or out-right crazy… go for it).

But now, here I am in new country, with an all together different means of driving. Here in Muscat, speed is an everyday thing, and road rules are taken seriously. I am now left with no choice but to finally kill off the old lady driver in me, but to keep up unless I want to be constantly honked at, or worst get hit by a faster car. Of course since I am not used to driving al a Stig, my reaction to turns, maneuvering, and all the other things you need to consider is much slower and all together sucks.

In the two days since we got the car, I almost got in an accident twice. Once in a sharp turn at high speed, and another going over the curb in a busy round-about (which they have lots of here in Oman). JG has been supportive at times, very understanding about the fact that I almost got him killed twice, assuring me that I will get the hang of it eventually. But then again there are moments when I suppose his testosterones get the better of him and he shouts at me like a grouchy driving instructor commenting at how slow I am and how my being too careful will definitely be the last of me. Oh, and btw, JG doesn’t drive. He took lessons back home, and claims that he knows how to, citing credentials he earned playing Grand Turismo with his PS3 consul.

In fairness to him, I find it amazing at how he has easily memorized getting around here in Muscat. He is one of those people who have a very good sense of direction. To be honest that was one of the first things I liked about him, because another thing I grudgingly admit is that my personal compass has always been dysfunctional ever since I was little. I was notorious for being claimed at the lost and found in malls, and should I accidentally find myself in a maze even today, I would probably never be seen or heard from ever again. So it’s nice that JG has a talent for maps and directions, for I would be both metaphorically and quite literally lost without him.

Nevertheless, I really like being able to get around. Yesterday we accomplished so many things that needed to be done, we normal would have to be at the mercy and kindness of others who would give us a ride, or perhaps ride a cab. On more promising thoughts, having the car would now enable me to drive to a pool I can use to go swimming (something I miss doing since I came here), plus be able to visit places like this, which to me is something worth braving it for… or at least until I finally get the hang of it.

Hello From Muscat

So here I am in Muscat, the truth is I haven’t decided if I like it here, I have only been here about a month so I do not want to make judgment until I have stayed at least six months. It’s not that it is bad here, but I have decided that I want to make sure that while I am here, I get to see and know as much of this country as much as I can. I really do not want to repeat what happened in Libya where I spent most of the day inside doing nothing, and thankfully unlike there, there are a lot of things to do and see here Muscat.

I regret that I did not do my best to get to know Tripoli better, I guess I took for granted the idea that we would be staying there longer so I put everything on hold thinking that I had a lot more time to do it. In fairness to me though, it wasn’t so easy to go around Tripoli, compared to Muscat, for one thing they did not have street signs in Libya (the few places that had them was written in Arabic) so imagine trying to find your way around there.  Another thing that whole Libyan crisis taught me is that you really shouldn’t hesitate and do what you can because things can change very quickly.

Thus I declare that my mantra for Oman would be Carpe diem. Now I realize as quickly as I typed that I, can be very fickle sometimes, also have a very solid track record of not following through, but I would really like to make the most of this. Hey if all goes well, we’ll be here four years so it would really be a waste of a lot of time if I at least did not try.

So how is it so far? It’s okay, there are a lot of places to go to, and it’s great that I can walk around by myself because it is pretty safe here. There are a lot of Indians, which is only logical since India is only an ocean away, but another great thing is there are also a lot of Filipinos here. And they are mostly in the customer service department so buying stuff for the house wasn’t so hard; I hardly had to speak English or pantomime with my hands like what I usually did when I encounter language barriers.

The funny thing is I’ve talked to people from India, from Egypt, from Sudan, from Sri Lanka, even from Ireland, but I rarely speak with a real local yet. My landlord is one of course but I only spoke with him briefly; I had dinner with another two with other Filipinos, but we hardly said much to each other. I see most of them in their cars (btw most of the cars here are really bad @$&m [sorry]. On my first day I saw nine different kinds of Porches); going in their homes, but not much interaction with an Omani. If you don’t find that weird, imagine going to someone’s home, meet everybody else, except for the owners.  I read that they are a really friendly and hospitable bunch of people, and I am very curious to learn more about their culture and way of life.

On the downside although they have massive malls, great places to shop and eat, it’s a little bit pricey here compared to Libya where everything was in the budget. On the marital basis, these are one of those cases where JG and I are being tested with different views. For example, another thing I did not want to repeat was no not live in an empty house again, so I was determined to make sure our house here is a place I we can really live in, as a start get more furniture. JG is okay with it but of course puts on the brakes on some of the things I believe are crucial to everyday life. For instance a small rug which I thought would look nice in the living room, he said it wasn’t necessary but I bought it anyway.  Nevertheless I can really understand where he is coming from when it comes to that, so I do my best to control myself as I go about buying things for the house. Well, at least I try…

And as expected with a Middle-Eastern country, the heat can really get to you. Same as the Libyan dessert summer, it feels like being baked in an oven, you stand outside long enough and you are sure to expect to see a mirage, or faint. It isn’t so bad anymore compared to when I arrived a few weeks ago, but if you are ever here, I suggest you refrain from trying to go outside between noon and three. If you can’t help it, loose clothing, comfy shoes, and a bottle of water is always wise to remember.

So there, my very first impression on my new home away from home, maybe you can look forward to more posts on food, and nice places here. I hear they have great beaches here as well.  Plus the diversity of people makes the food choices really varied and fun. For now I leave you with this beautiful mosque near my house…

Said Bin Taimur Mosque in AlKhuwair, so far I only know that it is named after the father of Sultan Qaboos Bin Said, but when I find the time I'll try to find out more. It's not after all everyday one gets to live so close by to something this grand.

Tags: in Muscat, Omani life, Said Bin Taimur Mosque

In case you’re wondering…

… where I have been these past few months, I have simply been spending time here in Manila. The past five months have really been an emotional rollercoaster for me, and at the risk of being over-dramatic there is really no better way of explaining it other than the fact that I got really depressed.

So I guess I do not need to tell you what happened to Libya, and if you have been following my blog, I think my last update was around April when I retold the story of how we got out. But leaving wasn’t as easy for me, because I had to leave behind the most important thing, or person rather which was JG. He had to stay behind because his work demanded it of him, and I was ordered to leave for my safety. Actually I vehemently wanted to stay, damn the bombs and the violence, I would really rather face all that than having to go through the last five months of worrying for his safety and well-being. I even opted on staying in Djerba where I could be as close as possible to him. I stayed there for almost 40 days, hoping for the best, of either things quiet down that I could come back to JG, or if it didn’t he’d come home with me. But he was ordered to stay. And stay he did.

Up until the last day, when I was boarding my plane home, the feeling of resentment for the career my husband chose, and the irritation of how this could be happening to us planted its seed in me that I really did not want to do anything that had to do with any of it- which is basically why I stopped blogging.

I spent the first few weeks hiding away in my room watching Korean and Japanese dramas, and spending money on phone cards for long distance calls. The really worst part was a few months ago when the rebels were finally able to penetrate into Tripoli and JG was stuck inside the house for four days unable to get out because it was really unsafe to do so. He did not have internet connection, and getting through by phone got really difficult to do.

The really worst thing about all that was being in a position where you can do nothing but wait and hope that nothing bad was going to happen, the feeling of being so powerless to change anything because you got caught in a situation that you did not ask to be but was so much bigger than you are.

But as cheesy as it sounds, events like that really happen to teach you something, you just have to be able to recognize it. What I did learn most of all is that really, sometimes you just got to let go. That as disabling as it feels, there are some things you just have to wait out and hope for.

Eventually I did get out of the room and thought about what I could do while I waited, of course the worry and the longing was constantly there, but I thought that this probably is a good opportunity to do things I have always wanted to do – also mostly to distract me.

For one thing I did get the chance to spend time with my family, and some good friends I haven’t seen since I left. Such moments reminded me of the person I was before I got married, and how great having company you really enjoy feels like.

I also rediscovered Manila, two years ago I really could not wait to get out of here. To get away from the congestion, the dirt, the chaos, and most importantly the Filipino trademark of everyone being in your business.  But while I waited, I made several trips to Quiapo and walked around by myself eating the most unsanitarily(sic) prepared street food and buying everything from fake lamps to “cheap” DVD’s. What I realized was how much I missed being in a place where you understand people, being able to make a turn and not be afraid of getting lost, comfortably being able to act w/o worrying of offending somebody because you did something wrong. For some weird reason my walks made me understand what JG was always calling the method to the madness that is Manila. As for Pinoy nosiness, one time I unconsciously found myself stopping to watch a very public marital squabble, reminding me that the very thing that I hate is within me after all as well.

I also took the time to learn some new things, first academically enrolling for a master’s degree. On a more social and (perhaps) practical level, I also bought my first car (well technically its JG’s money, but hey conjugal property right?) and learned how to drive. I did this out of frustration of not being able to get anywhere in Libya due to our lack of skills in maneuvering a vehicle, and promised myself to be prepared next time we get posted, especially if it’s a place where public transportation is a bit difficult to get used to. On a more personal note, I also took found a new joy in swimming. It was probably the one thing that kept me sane throughout all this. I don’t know why, but for some weird reason I found a moment of peace when I’d go to the nearby public pool and swam laps. I guess the workout was a way for me to vent out my sadness, which is great because in the past whenever I’d get mad, or sad, or tensed, or whatever I’d just cry, but now I found that swimming calms me. It is also kind of nice to think that maybe I was a mermaid in my past life (humor me on this one okay?). I got burn marks all over, and I realize that it’s not easy to require a pool very time I need to vent out, but finding out what it does for me really is a great discovery for me.

If you are curious, I guess I do not need to tell you how Libya is now. But like all bad phases we got through okay, well almost. Tomorrow I am flying to Oman where JG was cross posted to a few days ago, I finally get to see him after five agonizing months. So it’s a brand new adventure for JG and I, and if God willing I get there safely, hopefully this is the start of more posts to come.

 

The Road Trip Out of Libya

So as closure to my experience during this whole Libyan crisis, I’d like to share the day when we headed out of Libya about a month ago. It’s nothing like in the movies of an epic, perilous, dramatic journey to escape a war torn country, I have to stop your imagination there. But for an ordinary person like me, who about a month before that was eating street food in a lower-middle class Filipino neighborhood, it was I admit a bit dangerous and nerve wrecking of an experience.

The even sadder part about that was the day before we left was when JG finally returned from being away for ten days, assisting in the repatriation of other Filipinos who wanted to leave. My joy of finally being able to see my husband again was immediately replaced by a sudden realization that I was going to be apart from him again, after only a day of seeing him, and this time it wasn’t going to be just for ten days.

And there was no time to waste catching up, we had to prepare our bags and think about the stuff that we could and want to take with us. We were leaving via what was supposed to be a four hour drive to the Libyan-Tunisian border as it was impossible to get flights in the chaos then going on at the Tripoli airport. And if you didn’t follow the news, it was widely known that any electronic device spotted in your possession by the Libyan border control was either confiscated or purposely wrecked as damage control to keep any video you might have taken in the country from leaking out. So careful packing had to be done to make sure our laptops, phones, digi-cams were not found in case our bags were asked to be opened.

The next day we woke bright and early, and at the last minute decided that we leave more items behind because it seems we might have over packed. The problem there was that JG says we might have to make a bit of a walk from the Libyan side of the border into the middle that is no man’s land, towards the Tunisian side; and that would be quite a challenge if we were bringing three huge luggage each.

It was by that time three weeks until the unrest began, many days later since the crisis of the exodus happening at the Libyan-Tunisian border. So I thought that our group would mostly consist of us and the other embassy staff and their families, I had thought that most of the Filipinos who wanted to leave have been evacuated by then, but to my surprise there were still a number coming along. Among them was a family of four with a nine-year old girl and her two-month old sister. The dad explained that they wanted to leave as soon as things started but the little baby was sick so they had to wait until she was okay to travel. I consider those encounters God’s way of telling me that I shouldn’t complain or ask why this had to happen to me, meeting them I seemed to have it easy.

We did not have a car; thankfully we had Mr. T, a Libyan driver/friend who has been driving us in Tripoli when we need to get somewhere. He is sort of like the embassy’s go to guy when we need to get around, our favorite special taxi/chauffer/tour guide/friend whom you asked to give you a lift. In the Philippines we call him “suki”, our regular, sort of like having your regular or more preferred butcher. That day, Mr. T was our convoy leader out the now heavily guarded roads of Libya.

And I have to say, that if I ever get to see him again in a happier circumstance, I would thank him deeply, buy him a great big present, for helping us all. And not just for that day, but for the many times he gave me a ride, over the past year and a half, he wasn’t just some random taxi driver any more, he is, someone I will always consider my friend.

So Mr.T’s job wasn’t easy, I think we were a convoy of eight cars? If I remember right, and since we were non-vehicle owners, JG (who was only taking us as far as the border), my MIL, and I rode in Mr. T’s car. The challenge you see, is aside from the checkpoints from both the government and rebel side, also that even though most of the drivers driving that day had driven to Djerba several times, some the roads they usually took and know by heart are no longer accessible.

Like I said Mr.T’s job wasn’t easy, because not only was he responsible for leading the way he also needed to make sure that everyone keeps up with the group. So he had to stop several times to wait for those behind the pack so they did not get lost in case we make a sudden turn. It got to a point that he was so preoccupied with making sure every car was accounted for we got lost several times. And when he did find a road he recognized we also had to turn back a number of times, because some of the roads were either closed off or blocked so we had to find an alternate route. I sat quietly at the backseat, usually I would fall asleep during long drives, but this one time I was awake like I never was before in a road trip. During those times that we got lost, a number of locals, good Samaritans (in this case Libyans) driving along would literally and figuratively go out of their way to show us the road out, until we get to one that Mr. T recognizes, which was something very brave I thought since anybody would’ve preferred to get to where they were going as quickly as possible considering the current situation.

At one point we also passed by a rebel held town, I forgot the name. To my observation was eerie quiet, at first with the rebel flags flying in some houses, a big one painted on a wall of one building. But as we drove in, pass the rebel checkpoints that only use used furniture as their blockades, life went on. Shops were open, people going about their business as if there is nothing new.

And then of course there was the fear of getting caught in the line of fire. On the way out, you would have to pass by the town of Zawiya, where heavy clashes were taking place. And sure enough after a number of road blocks and checkpoints, we had to turn back again at one point because an apparent gunfight was happening down the road. We did not actually see or hear the clashes, from far off we could see cars ahead of us, hurriedly bolting back, and flashing their lights to the coming cars; some of the ones who’d pass us, did a pulling a trigger gesture with their free hand, confirming our fears. So we wisely took a hint, made a u-turn, and did not wait to see all the live action ourselves.

That was the climax of that whole ordeal for me; we got to the border thankfully intact and safe. Since like I said this was already three weeks since most of the people started fleeing, days after countries have sent their ships and planes to help the thousands stranded in the border, so the chaos I saw on the news, was no longer present at the border. However remnants of the refugee camps remain, for some small groups crossing the border. Our bags were spared from any search and we did not have to walk through no man’s land, and was generously offered some space by one of JG’s colleagues in the embassy (If you are reading this you know who you are and I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart, also to say that I will always appreciate what you did for us that day. You did not have to do that, but you did, and I’m sorry I was not able to show my appreciation as much as I should).

I did however see for myself, some of the men whose things were really opened and thoroughly, thoroughly (for emphasis), searched. I also spotted remnants of mobile phone parts on the road, whom I imagined belonged to some guy who now has to worry about how to tell his family from wherever he is from that he is alive and well.

We left Tripoli at around 10 am, arrived at the border at around 4 in the afternoon, and said my goodbye to JG. At the risk of giving TMI, JG gave me a nice kiss on the lips that day, which he rarely, rarely (for emphasis) does in public. Those kinds of gestures between couples you kind of take for granted even if it seldom happens when you’re married to someone like JG, but including our wedding day, that was one of the ones I will probably always remember.

It’s kind of sad thinking that I had to leave Libya that way, in that state that the country is in. And I am still concerned as to what will happen to it.  Not just because my husband is still there, but because it was my first home away from home as a Diplowife; and because it is my first it holds a special place in my heart. I still wish to come back, maybe not soon but someday, as they always say there Insha Allah.

The views written on this post and this blog are mine alone and are not shared or represented by my husband or the Philippine Embassy in any way.

The Post on Corregidor (Could not think of a better title,sorry)

This post is going to be a short one. One of the side trips that we took during our visit home last January was a guided tour to the historical Island of Corregidor. During World War II, the island at the entrance to Manila Bay became a very crucial defense area to protect the capital as it being a very important seaport starting from the Spanish rule, to the American, to the Japanese, until the establishment of our Republic in the mid 40’s.

Especially during WWII, Corregidor became the location of the final stand against the Japanese Imperial Army. At some point it also became the temporary location of the government when it housed then President Manuel Quezon and his VP Sergio Osmena. It was taken by the Japanese, but was re-taken by the Americans and Filipinos a few years later. The island is now a tourist destination for war veterans, and history enthusiasts like JG, where you can find old military installations and more famously for the ruins of the war ravaged buildings.

Unfortunately, I must admit that I did not enjoy the trip that much. A forty-five minute ferry boat ride will take you to the island where you will be met by your guides and taken around the island on several old school tram-like buses that were made in the likeness in the actual ones used in the island when the Americans were still there.

The tram buses that would take you around the island.

I was expecting a bit of a solemn, close to first hand, detailed stories of heroism, patriotism, and camaraderie amongst the soldiers in a time of war. Unfortunately for me we got into the bus of the up-beat, salesman-like, colorful Sylvie (I have forgotten her name actually). She wasn’t bad, very good English, very entertaining, and funny at times, but I think she would better fit if she was the tour guide for a happier atmosphere say like the set of TV show perhaps, like the pages at 30 Rock. She kind of ruined the place for me actually because her jokes and side quirks distracted me from the dark yet heroic feel of the island. Like when she pointed out the Brothers in Arm statue of the American helping of a wounded Filipino soldier, and then made a quirk about not mistaking them as drunkards because they are in fact lovers. It was funny, but I guess she’s been doing for so many years she kind of wanted to change the repertoire a bit from less war-serious to comedic gay punch lines.

Thankfully I had my trustee history geek of a husband who also pointed out that Sylvie has said several erroneous facts like wrong dates, and mixed up details like when she said that the Spanish paid the Americans in exchange for the Philippines, when it was in fact the other way around. She was so busy making us laugh, she did not notice she was feeding us, most especially the tourists, who now has wrong ideas about my country’s history, wrong information. And if that was not enough, she finished early, so when she ran out of stories to tell, she then went on the tell us how a fine arts graduate like her ended up being a tour guide, more emphasis to why she is still single and the many suitors that have gone her way. Again, my opinions are nothing personal, I guess basically she did not fit the job, or at least made sure she did well enough. Thank goodness to my husband who managed to make it interesting for me with his stock knowledge; I, sadly did not get anything from her. JG and I regretfully agreed that we would’ve been better off getting on the bus of the old guy, who would probably be as boring as common history teacher but would’ve probably been already alive in the 40’s to give us real, accurate, first-hand stories of Corregidor.

So because I did not get much of the trip, here is a photo montage of our trip, and the popular sites on the island:

At the Filipino Heroes Memorial where several murals are depicting heroic battles of Filipinos in our history since the 15th century.

Battery Way was named in honor of the Coast Artillery Corps of the US Army, which along with Battery Geary, was the mainstay of the Corregidor Garrison during the Japanese invasion – Wiki

The Pacific War Memorial was built in honor of the Filipino and American soldiers who fought in WWII. The main attractions there are the dome, and the huge steel structure known as the Eternal Flame of Freedom.

A fertility statue, or so they said, at the Japanese Garden of Peace which was built in memorial to the Japanese veterans who fought and died there during WWII.

The Corregidor Lighthouse, to which JG did not dare climb, but can get you access to a great view of some of the ruins and the island as well.

Old coins like this are said to be around the island. An old man lives there living as a sweeper as his alter ego, but really just stays there and makes a living as a scavenger and sells the ones he finds.

If I have to point out a favorite part, it would have to be the sound and lights show in the Malinta Tunnel. The tunnel was the last strong hold of the Americans, before Corregidor was taken by the Japanese. The audio-visual show would take you along the tunnel through a number of bronze dioramas of events that took place on the island, complete with very good narration of voice talents and convincing sound bites of the historical moments, including the actual radio announcement that Bataan has Fallen aired by the Voice of Freedom broadcasted from the tunnel .  But it wasn’t perfect either for me, because just as the light fades at the end of one scene, just as you are taken in by the story and sound effects, the guide inside would bellow, “Next!” in a disdainfully, let’s-get-on-with-it type of way that would instantly pull you back from your time travelling daze.

One of the lateral extensions inside the Malinta Tunnel.

I was also looking forward to walking along the ruins, but was disappointed when told that the structures were already fragile and brittle for our safety. Despite my frustration, I did agree that it is always better safe than injured.

One of the ruins of the former barracks that can be found in Corregidor

On the way back, I won a raffle for answering the survey on the tour, which was probably because only two of us only submitted their questionnaires – I never win in raffles. The funny thing about it was that I could only claim my price of a free dinner on a yacht that very night, which was ridiculous. Why would you give someone a prize a like that and make conditions for the claim? What if I had an important prior engagement that night? I didn’t but still, the point is, it is my prize, and I should at least have the privilege to claim it when I can. Okay, if that sounds too primadona, perhaps even just a 24 hour leeway, right?

On the plus side, I must say that visiting Corregidor is something a Filipino must do in his lifetime, preferably when one is old enough to appreciate our history or at least pay homage to it. Unfortunately most of my countrymen would happily spend their earnings and flaunt around in Puerto Galera. I’m not saying going to the beach to relax using your hard earned money is bad, but if you’ve been there five times already, it would be nice to visit other places and pick up on your heritage along the way.

And for a more interesting trip, one can also opt to camp there along the shores of the Island or stay in a hotel, and do more tours which I am told includes a more in depth route into the tunnels of the mountains, a ghost tour, and zip-lining/bungee jumping for the more adventurous you. And if you ever visit I suggest you ride the bus with the old guy in it, or bring a book, or if possible someone who knows their history well.