Like Clockwork

Since I moved to Al Barsha almost three months ago, I had unconsciously fallen to a morning routine, so precise in fact that I only need to look at the people around me to know what time it is.

Alarm starts ringing at 5:00 am, after which I tumble grumpily out of bed to cook rice in my baby rice cooker (it can only hold 3 cups). If I feel extremely industrious, I put my laundry in the washing machine for 50 minutes. I then collapse in my bed for another few minutes before I finally "wake up" at 5:45 am, cook my food for breakfast and for work, eat, watch the Bold & the Beautiful rerun (my morning guilty pleasure), take a bath, get dressed, and hang my clothes. I shut the door of my room either at 6:50 or 7:00 am.

I hail a cab for a 5-minute, 10-dirham ride to the Mall of the Emirates Metro Station. I can catch either the 7:01 or the 7:11am train. Maybe I should not be surprised that other people succumb to the same morning routine as I do. If I catch the 7:01 train, I will be on the same train as the light brown-haired girl who works at the Dubai Aquarium. If I catch the next train, I would be sharing the ride with an African Muslim girl wearing a fancy pair of shades, a tall skinny girl who works at the Dubai Mall and a blonde European girl in a suit who listens to her iPod while reading a magazine or an Economics book. If I see the oriental guy who always wears a white shirt & black pants to work (and he apparently works at the Burjuman Centre) walking, that means it's about 7:05 and we will both have time to catch the 7:11 train.

At 7:23, the train stops at the Dubai Mall/Burj Khalifa Metro Station. I reach the bus stop some 3 minutes later. After about 5 minutes, the bus takes about 15 minutes to reach my stop at the Palace Hotel, after dropping workers in the Dubai Mall. I know it is already 7:45 when I see the tall Japanese woman dressed in chic black clothes waiting at my bus stop. Sometimes there was even enough time in between to exchange polite smiles with her. Everything works like clockwork, at least in the morning. I wonder if they also feel disoriented as I do when I miss the train I usually take. There is comfort in seeing the same faces, taking the same places in the train and knowing you're right on track to start another day.

Brellie

My red violet umbrella sat briefly on the table, waiting for me to finish scribbling on a receipt to get petty cash. "What are you bringing a brellie for?", asked one of my colleagues. I was stumped for five seconds. Brellie? Oh, umbrella! It was another lightning bulb moment (but at the same time I was telling myself how fancy that term was). My turn to respond: "Why? It's hot!" She and another colleague giggled as if I said something absurd. "Oh, other people would just bring out the olive oil and put it on their skin!"

Suddenly it occurred to me that I was talking to people who rarely have the opportunity to enjoy the sunshine - either because it's too cold or it's just too darn rainy and gray (or grey as they spell it). Of course they would only use the umbrella for rainy days!!! I felt I had to explain myself. I told her that we Filipinos use brellies not only to shield us from the rain but from the sun's rays too. I shared that we don't want to get our skin too dark or our hair too fried. Unlike us though, they seem to revel in the sun's mighty glow and consider it as a perfect opportunity to get a little color, if not a tan. No wonder they love Dubai so much!

Here in Dubai, it is the umbrella that distinguishes us Filipinos from the rest of the expats (although the Indians seem to be catching on the practicality of toting one - or maybe they have Filipino friends/girlfriends). Owing to its dual purpose for us, it is no surprise that when there is a sudden downpour, Filipinos are most likely the ones to remain the driest (I have observed this when I took the bus one rainy afternoon). While everyone is rushing to the nearest shed for cover, Filipinos calmly dig into their bags (and there are some men who do this as well) and dish out their folding brellies (Come to think of it, they all seem to be the folding kind as I haven't seen big umbrellas in the streets of Dubai). In the summer, when the rays are too piercing for comfort, we do the same. Or maybe it's just plain Pinoy vanity. Some of us have to protect our newly-treated hair or our newly-bleached skin, you know.

Slipping

Just when I thought I finally found the strength to put everything behind me, I stumble yet again.

I have failed miserably.

I am disappointed with myself.

I must be punished for not sticking to my promise.

Yet I feel grateful in a twisted sort of way. Today the doors of communication opened just enough for me to have the opportunity to throw back the words he said to me.

I am too honest for my own good. Is that something I also need to apologize for?

I only had the truth to answer for his "sarcasm". Once again, he did not believe them. Or was he just fishing and using my answers to stroke his ego again? Is this another trap that I led myself into?

I feel like gagging. My chest tightens at the thought of what I had just done.

I wish somebody would intervene and pull me out of this rut. Taking the first step must have taken all my strength already. Maybe if someone would just continuously talk and spend time with me, I may not have to think about the void that he chose to leave. I already tried seeking solace in solitude. I cannot go on like that forever because I like connecting with people.

I am scared, really scared.

I hope today will be the last time.

I hope I can forgive myself for what happened today.

I hope that tomorrow when I wake up, I will not have to silence my mouth, mind and heart.

Good Friday

*This is a belated post.

It is finished. Allow me to use one of the Seven Last Words as a jump-off point for my blog entry today. After my self-imposed two-month no communication with someone, I think I have now finally come to terms with the fact that we have reached the inevitable end. Taking one last look at the empty profile (this person has practically hidden everything from me - find someone else to stalk, he said), I say goodbye and with one click, he was officially gone from my Facebook list of friends.

It was not always like this. There have been countless "goodbyes" in the past. I never understood why he wanted to stop the friendship altogether. It upset me so much that I ended up dissolving in tears most of the time. Then the goodbyes were disguised into "the need to step back", "we will still talk but not as much" and "it's not that I don't want to be friends with you but I just can't". Yet after each agreement to set a considerable amount of distance, everything went back to where it once was. Unfortunately, the circumstances only served to bring us together. With each trial that came, each one was there for the other, offering comfort even though sometimes it was not even physically possible. Perhaps, remaining in contact served as an escape from reality. The conversations served to retain a sense of normalcy in an otherwise chaotic existence. In the real world, we both had our demons to face - work and the lack of it, stress around the home, etc. In the virtual world of text and online chats however, we could revert to our crazy, annoying and yes, our flirty selves and derive simple pleasure from random conversations and cheeky banter.

Perhaps it was a mistake for me to think his constant presence was commitment - that we were eye to eye in valuing the friendship that we had. Perhaps it was naive of me to trust that he would be able to separate the Roma who played along with his game in the past and the Roma who was genuinely a friend to him. I thought it was enough that I stood by him even though he had repeatedly treated me badly. I looked at him with love and compassion. He looked at me with lust (or at least that was what he was trying to project).

And so after seeing him for the last time on New Year's Eve, he said goodbye. I said until then. Since it was the New Year, it was high time that we finally keep our promises and that to me meant keeping my silence and not keeping in touch. Lo and behold, he started communicating again, days after saying goodbye. I thought it was okay to revert to old ways and make him my sounding board again. I told him how sad I was that another batch of people from work whom I've considered my friends already were leaving work. I might as well have been talking to a totally different person. Suddenly, I was being called obsessive, pathetic and having a thick skull for I allegedly could not get the idea that he does not want to be my friend anymore. He told me to take a long hard look at myself in the mirror. All I saw was him. For every accusation that he hurled at me , I saw him doing the exact same thing. Why then must I take the sole blame for everything?

It was then that I realized that nothing was ever going to change if I let this person remain in my life. He was simply too proud to acknowledge responsibility for what had happened, too proud to admit that he needed help in staying away from me, too proud to admit that the game he initially sought out to play turned out to be anything but. I needed to get out to finally protect myself from all the hurt that he has caused and could still possibly cause. I have told him before that I will remain his friend for as long as he wants me to. The fact that he finally said it and that he asked why I consider the people I work with as friends when they were only workmates were the last straws. Thus began the real journey to goodbye.

I read in a book that 60 days is enough time for someone to decide whether it was still worth talking to the estranged person. I figured it was worth a try. If he can't cut ties with me, then I will, if only for my sanity. I wanted to make sure that I was finally okay to do it, sans tears.

The next 60 days were tough - I was battling with disillusionment, betrayal and sadness. I could not believe that someone you cared for deeply would say those things. These feelings would hit me like a traitor and I ended up crying at odd times. My friends could only watch in helplessness. They knew I only cried when I was angry or sad. This time it was both. I lost a friend after all and it was never easy for someone like me. I needed space to grieve and thus shut myself from the world.

I still miss him but I only need to recall the words that he said to make those thoughts of reconnecting vanish. It will be a long time before I can say that I have completely healed from this experience. They say the first step is always the hardest to make. I am glad to have finally made mine and I hope that this will be the start of better things to come. In death lies the hope of rising again. My redemption will soon come, I just know it. It was a good Friday indeed.

Go get married!

I was asking an associate director about the Canadian immigration process. In the middle of his long explanation, he stopped and exclaimed in his signature passionate way, "Why are you thinking about this? Go get married! Then you'll have peace of mind!" I started laughing heartily...the suggestion was absurd but it does make sense. Getting married is the most convenient route to changing passports. Very wise words from an old wise man but that is not a road I am prepared to take just yet! ;)

Postscript:

I do realize that it's been 366 days since I last wrote an entry here. I think I'll start blogging on a more regular basis, chronicling random conversations and observations. My mind is filled with things to write every morning as I half-walk, half-run towards the train platform. After all, these little snippets are part and parcel of my Dubai odyssey. :) To the ones encouraging me to write again, your prayers might just have been answered! :)

Good Vibes and Bad Vibes

It's lunchtime. You look forward to savoring those oven-fresh pizzas whose delicious aromas have been teasing your nose for quite some time now. Your teeth cautiously sink into the tip of the slice. You chew for a while and then you go mmmm....

Suddenly someone storms into the room and launches into a litany of sorts..."Eating in the meeting rooms should not be allowed because it might give the clients the wrong impression. The reception smells of garlic and cheese! What will they think if they see you chatting and eating take-away? You know very well that it is hard to look for new projects..Who knows, this company might close down in a few months..." With each sentence I could feel my anger rise. Finally, I told my friend that I'm about to cry. The person comes back and says we can eat at the back, near the staff entrance. She notices I'm getting all upset and apologizes for it. By then, we decided to move to a different place outside the office. I continue eating my pizza in silence, tears flowing down my face like you would see in some cheesy videoke...hahahah! I laugh at the absurdity of it all but at the same time it felt great that I was finally able to release the negative vibes.

It was back to my cheery self after that, but I somehow feel that there was clearly something wrong with the message I'm getting. 1) That person seems to be throwing her weight around much to the chagrin of the people around her. Whatever happened to respecting the unpaid one-hour break? 2) It is certainly unprofessional for someone to be saying stuff about the possibility of the company closing down as that person is not in the position to say stuff like that. Funny how the lack of tact can cause so much trouble. Nevertheless, I will speak to higher authority about this and hopefully it will not fall on deaf ears.

Dinner was the complete opposite of what happened earlier at lunch. Kuberan and Punitha invited Claire, her husband Chris and me to their house for some Malaysian fare. Conversation was great, the food was good, the house was warm and homey, and the people were very very nice and friendly. It was a great way to cap a crappy day. The energy around was so positive that I feel blessed and grateful to be in these couples' presence. I surely wouldn't mind coming around and spending time with them!!!

I am glad to have survived another day. I just know that things will turn for the better. I'm keeping my fingers crossed and trusting that the universe will conspire with me. ;) For now, I'm just happy to be getting some sleep. Good night! Tomorrow is another day. :)

Strange Saturday

Today I managed to do three batches of laundry and hand washed my favorite purple top. That means I spent roughly three hours doing those. I'm amazed at how many pieces of underwear my flatmate uses in a week.

Today I took a picture of the seafood oil and garlic pasta that i made yesterday. I just thought I would take one last shot before I gobbled everything up.

Today I had one last chat with someone who was going back to his homeland after a brief stint at work. It is a pity to see a free spirit go, but well, that's life. I wish him the best as he embarks on a journey of a lifetime.

Today I told my nephew that I was getting bored. He asked me to just go home. Easier said than done.

Today, another friend asked if I can meet up with her at the mall. I readily agreed since it's been a long time since I last saw her. She also brought me pasalubong: postcards, a magnet, a keyholder, coins, bills and a poster of one of Argentina's national parks. We spent two-and-a-half hours talking about each other's lives and sorting mine out. It's refreshing to have a different perspective amidst all the clutter in my mind. Finally, someone is coming to my rescue. One of the best gifts anyone can give is the gift of time. Muchas gracias, mi amiga Marcela!

Today another friend called me up (he was probably doing that to pass time..hahaha!) and subjected me to a barrage of questions (Why does it seem that all you do is laundry and ironing during the weekend? How much does that flatmate of yours pay you for his laundry? etc., etc!) After which he proceeded to make his opinions known (I think you should charge more for the amount of work that you do for him. You should be going out more often. etc., etc.!) It's strange to be talking to this person again like old times after a brief hiatus.

Today I had a disturbing realization (after the barrage of questions) that I'm relatively living a hard life compared to what I was used to in the Philippines. I almost cried. (Echoes of "What is wrong, Roma? and "Why are you feeling sad?" ring through my mind.) I am not, and will never be, used to living with so many people in one place. Right now, 18 people share a 3-bedroom flat with a large hall. That's a challenge considering that I am only used to living with my mom in a small house. Rent takes up almost a third of my salary and yet the space i have is very small. To earn a few extra dirhams, I took up the task of doing my flatmate's laundry for AED125 and selling Etisalat recharge vouchers to my flatmates.

Today some cheeky bloke made a crazy proposition that scared the hell out of me. It was so bizarre! I sincerely hope he is just winding me up.

Today I encountered a cab driver who knew a lot of Filipino words (sira ulo, kanan tapos derecho, kaliwa, unang kanan, salamat, walang anuman, kumusta ka). I was not prepared when he said this: Ikaw ay maganda (You are beautiful). I say a polite thank you. He said it again. Experience tells me to be suspicious but well, the guy was just probably trying to flatter me. Nice try though. Made me smile nevertheless. Sometimes compliments (genuine or not) come from the most bizarre places.

So much for complaining that my life has suddenly become predictable and boring.