The Evolution Of A Pinay Travel Junkie

How long have you been around? Long enough to sniff that what's mostly penned here is about this awesome thing called world, and rarely about the deep sentiments of that Pinay travel junkie who inches her way around it? Perhaps you don't give a damn, and well, I don't either. But you see, 265 days into our round-the-world trip, I'm feeling rather nostalgic. Bordering emo. Recently, for four days we traipsed around quaint Moroccan desert towns - With no status updates. No Tweets. Just the barren expanse and our thoughts.

I felt pure mirth. And contentment.

"If evolution really works, how come mothers only have two hands?" ~ Milton Berle (Sahara Desert, Morocco)
"You're living THE life!", some people remarked on our social networking accounts. At least, an ideal life for a vagabond. Probably we really are, but I assure you we've earned it the hard way. Every phase of my earlier backpacking years led me to where I am now. All the travel mishaps and heartbreaks molded me into a tougher backpacker chick who's ready to take on the world.

Join me on my jaunt down memory lane and you'll see how.

Clueless

When I was in college, a nasty split made me sign up for the outdoor organization. It's something I was long deprived of, because the ex disapproved. Yes, back then I followed commands. But soon after I was unleashed from my longest exclusive-dating relationship ever, I followed my heart.

Doing the "connection cave" in Sagada about a decade ago. A joe hot on my trail. Must be those denim shorts.
With borrowed hiking sandals and a borrowed backpack (plus P1,500 in my pocket) I invited myself to their Sagada trip. They welcomed me with open arms, and introduced to me the muddy yet awesome world of trekking. I got acquainted with my adventurous side. Also, I garnered a new set of unpretentious pals... And a foreign admirer.

Dazed And Confused

It was sort of my rock n' roll era. I was in my early 20s, and the beach to me was synonymous to swimming in copious amounts of alcohol, not swimming in the sea. I used to visit party central Puerto Galera on every vacation leave, and sometimes even on an ordinary weekend.

A gazillion Mindoro Slings after, almost passing out on the sand. With strangers who became my friends, most of whom are now globe trotters too.
Evenings were spent bootyshakin' with trannies or skanking with dreadheads by the reggae bar. Or swaying to djembe beats in front of the bonfire. Whatever it was, sure as hell I'd end up heavily inebriated. I had ugly nightcaps that consisted of toilet hugs and/or bar fights. Don't get me wrong, I still consider those the good ol' untroubled days but I hated the feeling of emptiness I had every time I was home bound. I longed for... Cheesiness ahead... A more meaningful life.

Soul Searched

Like a junkie who submitted to rehab, I was admitted to a new outdoor group whose members were weekday yuppies and weekend nomads. All of whom, except one, I met for the first time on their Maricaban Island camping trip. I had a royal welcome, meaning, I was provided a tent just for myself.

Once more, I surrounded myself with people who sought refuge in the mountains and on remote beaches. Maricaban Island, Batangas.
I fell in love with nature more than ever. I reclaimed inner peace, which I kept in my grasp during trips thereafter. My unsatisfiable hunger for new experiences forced me out of my comfort zone, and I eventually morphed into the suicidal solo backpacker.

Room For Two

The solo backpacking period was short-lived for I found a possessive backpacking buddy. And this buddy became my fiance after he said yes to the theatrical marriage proposal I did on stage a now defunct famous reggae joint in the Philippines. That guy was the admirer who followed me around Sagada five years back (yep, that's why I'm covering that pretty face).

My fave hangout, park across Rijksmuseum.
I followed him to the Netherlands where he resides to meet his folks and see his world. It was my first time to travel overseas, and I experienced culture shock in a good way. The trip sparked my interest in visiting other foreign lands and immersing in different cultures. It also shattered my engagement into pieces.

Modern Day Hobo

I came. I saw. I conquered. I got broke.

Approaching my thirties, I was still working odd jobs, just long enough to fund the next trip within my home country. But when I craved for journeys to distant countries that require long-haul flights, I tried my luck being an overseas Filipino worker. It was the only way to finance my vice.

Abu Dhabi Heritage Village, making the most out of my one day per week off.
I worked as a receptionist for a hotel in U.A.E. and lived in a house with fellow Pinay workers. While I saved up my salary for the round-the-world trip I was planning that time, they sent most of theirs to families back home. I sent cash to my 'rents too, but not as much as they did. It was a humbling experience.

It was also in the desert that I met my sole mate. I gave romance on the road another try. We simultaneously quit our jobs to do backpacking together in Southeast Asia. Consequently I shelved my solo RTW plan.

That Excess Emotional Baggage

Within just nine months of dating, my sole mate proposed. We got hitched a little over three months of engagement, and I got knocked up just weeks into our married life. It was a darn frenetic year. And along the way, I realized my spirit was no longer free. Though it ain't chained either. More like, grounded.

Luna, our little globe crawler. It's her turn now. New South Wales, Australia.
Because I couldn't (and will never ever) give up backpacking, we traveled with our newborn in tow. But as you could imagine, our needs have evolved. There may be certain restrictions when traveling with a baby, but there are valuable lessons us parents learn as well during this process.

Freedom, turn here -> Travel (Walk this way and you'll never be the same again.)
Like selflessness. Let me tell you, the joy we see in our daughter's eyes is simply... As that credit card ad goes... Priceless. I am now a full-blown backpacking mum. And though I lost a part of my carefree self, I don't really mind. Because in retrospect, I lived and am still living an awesome life. Travel made me an accomplished person (at least to my standards) I never thought I'd become, and it taught me finally what a meaningful life is.



This is Pinay Travel Junkie's entry to the Pinoy Travel Bloggers' March 2012 Blog Carnival themed "Leap of Faith: When Travelling Changed My Life".

To be hosted by Reiza of Wander If You Must.



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Al Ain Desert Day Jaunt: The Uninvited Pinay

Our four-wheel drive vehicle jounced along, raising dense clouds of russet dust in our wake. I hardly spoke to Shervin since we left U.A.E. University. Well, except for a few whispered one-liners. That trip exuded an uneasy vibe. The apathetic-bordering-hostile treatment I received made me feel almost unwelcome. Even though I felt like going home, the fearless Filipina in me persuaded me not to.

Nobody asked me to leave anyway...

The usual desert safari mishap.
Three years ago, when the hubby and I were still steadies, we joined a desert safari organized by a bunch of Emirati I.T. uni students. They invited their professors in U.A.E. University for a weekend day jaunt, and though Shervin was a research lab assistant, they asked him to come along as well.

They dubbed the event "Family Day". And as its name suggested, the professors brought their families with them. Shervin and his Indian research lab partner Chandan turned up at the meeting place, a parking lot across one of the uni buildings, with Shervin's dad (who happened to be visiting from Iran) and me in tow.

First order of business, reducing tire pressure.
I counted about three other females. None of them older than ten. It dawned on me that family day in some (if not all) Middle East countries, basically pertains to the get together of the families' male members. And in this particular case, a few preadolescent daughters.

Families were grouped into four and were assigned respective 4x4s. Shervin, his dad and I were whisked to our vehicle and were introduced to the student on the wheel. And before driving out of the uni grounds, another student hopped in the passenger seat. He's uhm, the heir to the section of the desert we were visiting.

Shervin's dad clinging onto the door handle and his son's leg while the vehicle was tilted in a 45° angle, which I don't think can save him in case we flip over.
A few minutes into the ride, a ball of conversation rolled. I was excluded from the exchange of introductions. And I took that as a hint to remain silent. Cause you know, I'm not the type who'd say "Ahem, ahem. Ana Gay (I am Gay).", without being asked. It kind of felt unfair because amongst the three of us non-Emiratis, I spoke the most Arabic words and phrases.

For a day, I was an interpreter. Actually more like, eavesdropper-slash-informer, for our hosts either spoke between themselves or on the phone with the other students driving.

Milk freshly squeezed from the camel's bosom.
As soon as we screeched off the paved road and into the vast desert, the vehicles parked for tire pressure reduction. Such procedure shall give tires a bigger surface area, which helps reduce the downward pressure of the 4x4 on the sand. Nearby, Emirati lads who popped out of sandy nowhere and who were seemingly on an ATV race, paused to watch.

In a matter of minutes, we were bashing dunes. And it was more exhilarating than I expected. I suppressed the urge to shriek like a cowering passenger on a roller coaster, and held my newly purchased DSLR tight (yes, a fruit of my OFW stint). The wild ride lasted for almost half an hour. How exhausted I was from all that stress. Just imagine yourself on a roller coaster doing continuous rounds for the same amount of time, not entirely fun right?

The corner where "the lady" was asked to sit in.
Sometime in the middle of the dune bashing and settling in the picnic area that was set for us, we passed by a mini camel farm where we had a taste of freshly squeezed camel milk. It didn't taste bad, but the foam on top of the milk smelt too camel-y. You know, that type of odor that reminds you of a farm, but not in a fond way.

Hence, I was looking forward to our late afternoon tea. I needed to shoo the memory of its scent away. But come tea time, I was not served tea. We assumed it was against their customs. So I munched on local pastries instead while the students and their professors prayed in the tent.

And it was all golden.
After which, they all joined us at the screen-fenced sitting area. One of the professors requested, "Can the lady please sit in the corner so we can extend the sitting room?". And so I did.

The students laid plastic sheets on the ground to serve as placemats for the gigantic platters of food. Each platter contained a mountain of fried rice, vegetables and one whole roasted sheep. The desert safari experience surely left everyone famished. As soon as the food hit the plastic mats, we all dug in. No individual plates, no cutlery. We ate with our hands in a communal platter, exactly how the former nomads did just a few decades ago. The Egyptian professor beside me offered the "best bits" and pulled ligaments here and there and chucked them to my side of the platter. So sweet.

A blurry image I was initially fearful to take a snapshot of.
Tea was once again served as the diners concluded their meals. I was served tea this time and learned that the bloke probably just didn't feel like serving me. Emirati men are generally friendly (I know this oh so well for I worked as a hotel receptionist in Al Ain) but too prim when they're with the elders. This could also be the reason why they acted as if I didn't exist. A behavior so different from what I had gotten used to, like random Emiratis calling out "Kamusta ganda" (how are you beautiful)" to me as I strolled along deserted streets.

The water from the buckets in the makeshift comfort room was limited, and there was no soap. Shervin's dad's solution to our sticky fingers was to rub them in sand. It amazingly worked, though cannot get rid of the smell. And believe me, you would want to get rid of that.

The happy, shiny gate crasher.
As the breeze became nippy, we clambered into our four-wheelers for the last time. The vehicles queued for a convoy. Finding one's way out of the desert is never an easy task, especially in total darkness.

No more dune bashing this time. Just a calm cruise toward the city lights.


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Modern Day Hobo: Life Lessons From The Desert

"Fi gurfa?", he asked in an impatient tone.
"Mafi.", I bit my lip feeling a bit restless.
"Lesh?!", a question I was anticipating.
"Uhm...", not sure how to explain myself. "Full. Baden."
"Okay, shukran.", and he stalked off.

I heaved a sigh of relief. I nervously glanced at my Moroccan boss who was eyeing me from afar. She nodded her head without the slightest smile, which I assumed was her way of saying 'good job'. I sat down. At least the front office staff has chairs here unlike in other hotels, I thought. A quick look at the calendar reminded me that it has just been a few days since I first stepped on the Middle East, yet there I was pretending to be fluent in Arabic. In less than a week I memorized enough words to get by, learned how to read numbers in Arabic writing, and was taught by colleagues how to stand my ground even when guests become too demanding.


Me and one of my life teachers, the desert.
The hotel that employed me was in United Arab Emirates, not in Dubai nor in central Abu Dhabi, but in Al Ain City which is located more than a hundred kilometers away from the other two. Deep into the heart of the desert, sharing a border with Oman.

Let me pause this story for a moment to share with you a flashback of a much earlier date. About three years ago I got fed up being a customer service representative for an overseas telecommunications company, stationed in a cubicle, talking to sixty different strangers a day. The job left me feeling hollow every time I logged out of the phone. However awesome I did with my tasks, I felt unimportant knowing that even if I'd be absent the next day, sure as hell someone could fill in for me.

You could call me Jill of all trades, master of none. It's pathetic to admit, but I got an inkling that there's no 'right job' for me (unless there's someone who'll pay me just for backpacking, with an emphasis on just) because I am not highly skilled on any field. So with this sad notion, I decided to apply for a job overseas. I thought, if I'm going to have another unfulfilling job, might as well live some place distant with a different environment. It would be a good opportunity to fully explore a country I have never been in.

A newspaper ad lead me to an interview by the owner of the hotel himself. Well, technically, his translator. Out of ten applicants, I was the one chosen even if I had no experience with front desk. "If I am customer, what do you do to me?", was the only question I had to answer. However vague it was, it only took me a millisecond to think. My reply (with an exaggerated American accent) must have been impressive, or it could be have been my crisp suit. Beats me.

The visa processing only took a couple of months. My immediate resignation was thankfully accepted, and with the help of a lending company I was able to pay my placement fee. Finally I was set free to a new world as an OFW (overseas Filipino worker).

And so that is how I landed there. My workplace for six months (I had a contract for two years, but I quit early to do backpacking in South East Asia). Most shifts that I covered alone, when not insanely busy, I was usually spaced out. Lost in my sentiments and realizations. Living in U.A.E. taught me a lot of things about life and about myself which I wouldn't have learned had I visited the country as a tourist.


Top: 1. Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle. Sneaking food in a drawer cause we didn't have a lunch break. 2. Mo' Money, Mo' Different Problems. A group of uni students invited the whole faculty for a desert camping trip out of the blue. One of the students owned that particular part of the desert. 3. Work hard, party harder. Dancing to a Jamaican band's beats in Dubai. Bottom: 4. Unity in Diversity. In a service van with other workmates from various countries. 5. There's no place like home. Spent the New Year's eve with kabayans in Dubai whom I've never met before.


1. Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.

I came to U.A.E. with the hopes of seeing architectural marvels Burj Al Arab and Burj Khalifa, a ski resort in the desert, camels, oases, and well, Emiratis. While other expatriates or migrant workers or uhm, modern day hobos, came primarily for the job.

You prolly have heard about laborers pushed to work beyond their limits under harsh conditions, with ridiculously long shifts day and night (the desert in the summer is a topnotch hostile place), and sleeping in uncongenial spaces. It is a fact and I have witnessed it.

One shift in our hotel lasts eight hours (six days a week), without a lunch break. Let me clarify that we weren't encouraged to starve to death, in fact, we were allowed to eat at our station. I'm just saying a few minutes off duty is humane ( but since we didn't want an extra hour added to our shift, we didn't pursue a complaint). In consolation, we were provided with free fully furnished and spacious accommodation. Mind you, other employees who don't have such benefit and opt for cheap accommodation could only get bunk beds at rundown apartments (without even a space for a closet).

2. Mo' Money, Mo' Different Problems

My then boyfriend (the hubby now) worked as a robotics lab assistant in a uni which only accepted Emirati students. The massive (for its student population) swanky building only had one cafeteria. Beside the cafeteria, is a jewelry shop. Yep, inside a campus. My wild imagination suggests this scene on a normal school day: Student heading to another room for her next class thinking "Hmm, I should go buy a new diamond pendant for Programming 101. Totally suits the next subject".

Folks, mo' money doesn't really mean mo' problems to me. Richer people just have different issues. Because IMO, there's no bigger problem than not having money for meals.

3. Work hard. Party Harder. Fill up the Balikbayan box.

In that order. I never thought that the trait of generosity can be infectious. If you're surrounded by breadwinners, you subconsciously learn to be selfless. However in my case, I know how important it is to leave something to myself. It just keeps me sane. But yeah, I sent a Balikbayan box home. Two boxes in fact. Corned beef, chocolates, bottles of lotion, souvenir shirts and stuff.

4. Unity in Diversity

Filipina front desk officers and waitresses, Bangladeshi guards and chefs, Indian and Sri Lankan housekeepers, Omani executive assistant, Moroccan day shift manager, Egyptian night shift manager... That's how diverse the hotel's manpower is. It is amazing how people from different cultures work together to get things done.

I miss Mohammad who tips me off when arbab ('boss' in Arabic) is arriving so I could stash my manicure kit (yes I do my nails at our station sometimes), Muneer who fries fish and chips for us (though we're not allowed to eat food from the hotel kitchen), Dinesh who sneaks a can of soda out of the mini bar for me, Mr. Tamer and Ms. Rajah who cover our arses when we get in trouble for arguing with our guests.

We were all expats. All of us left our respective countries and families to pursue more decent jobs. There's no other people who would look after every one of us but each other.

5. There's no place like home.

This is one truth that I never really get to think about when I'm a tourist in a foreign land.


Al Ain's one of those places that I took for granted. I never fully appreciated its beauty when I resided there. For six months I was constantly infuriated by the fact that my passport was kept by our employer. It made me feel enslaved in some way. Still, I hope someday I get to revisit the city's buzzing streets, smell the freshly baked Arabic bread and spices sold by bulk, see the shops selling perfumes in fabulous bottles and over the top jewelry... I really hope... To meet again one of my life teachers, the dressed up desert that is U.A.E.

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9 Countries for 2009: 'Best Of' Snippets

If you can't play the video, it may have been removed because of its soundtrack. You can view it here instead.
Part 1 of Pinay Travel Junkie's Best Of 2009 video. 'Best Of' may not pertain to the best choices in town, but they're the most unforgettable for me. Places I have been to and experiences which I found life changing (though my life didn't really change much).

Trip stats for 2009 here.

Disclaimer: Obviously, the songs used for the video aren't mine. Credits go to:
1. AC/DC - Highway To Hell
2. Me First and the Gimme Gimmes - I Would Walk 500 Miles
3. Mungo Jerry - In The Summertime

What's on your 'Best Of 2009' list?

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Forget Climate Change

Smoke gobbling Manila. View of Malate, Paco and Sampaloc from Burgundy Westbay Tower's Roofdeck.
Streets of Manila turn into war zones every New Year's Eve. And the annual theme: Forget poverty, forget climate change.

Considered as one of the happiest people on the planet, the Filipinos greeted 2010 with a bang. Literally. Despite catastrophic Typhoon Ondoy's visit in 2009 (PLUS a few Christmas fires and sunken vessels), they lit up fireworks and spent as much as they can on Media Noche as if the past year was their most prosperous. That's the unfaltering faith of every Juan.