The doctor was measuring my blood pressure when he asked me the second time, “Why do you need this physical examination again?”
I hesitated for a while because of the pressure he’s exerting on my right arm then I said, “I need it to go to China”.
For the first time I saw his eyes twinkle when he heard “China”, and, with a faint smile, he said, “Where in China?”
“In Qingdao,” I said. I pronounced it as “Kingdaw” then.
“Where is that?”
I thought that, for a doctor, he asked too many questions and should have made money being a lawyer instead.
“I think it’s the place where they make Tsingtao Beer,” I said, trying hard to sound like traveling half-way across the globe was a common thing for me.
Barely able to hide his smile, he said “I got lost in China when I went there five years ago because some roads have Chinese names and I could not remember how to return to my hotel.” He said that he asked everyone in the street where his hotel was but he could not understand them. He was lucky to have talked with some store owners who knew English who helped him out.
Then he talked about how beautiful and spacious China was and how it recently opened up its economy to the world. Then there, in his swivel chair, he began talking like he was in a trance, more like talking to himself, while re-living some pleasant forgotten past unearthed in his treasure chest of memories. It was obvious he wanted to go back.
For a moment, I thought he forgot I was even there. When I stood up after his long monologue, he suddenly woke up from his euphoria and said, “You need to exercise, you’re gaining weight. Maybe a nice long walk in China will do you good.”
I thought that, by allowing my good doctor to remember some of his happy memories, he would give away this one medical consultation for free. But no. I still paid P150 pesos. Great.
I got all my requirements ready and went to the Chinese embassy in Makati City to process my visa. Getting the visa was a breeze. Only a few standard questions were asked and the nice lady on the other side of Window 3 said I could get it tomorrow. They gave me 60 days.
I was to leave the Philippines on September 21, 2008 and arrive in Qingdao on the same day. The e-ticket sent to me said I would take a connecting flight in Hong Kong, then take a two-hour flight to Qingdao. The whole airplane trip did not take more than six hours.
My foot felt very heavy when I left home on that cold September morning. It would be the longest time that I would be away from my wife, Bhel, and 5-year old daughter, Kate. But I bit my lip and swallowed hard. “This is for them, this is for them,” I said to myself, trying hard to control the tears building up on my eyes.
We already cried the night before, it was an orchestra of sobs and sniffs like your regular Korean television soap opera. But this was not television, this was very real. I only hear about stories like this on tv, about overseas Filipino workers going away to work abroad and not coming back until after two years. But I pulled myself back to reality. “This is only 30 days, what is 30 days anyway?” I said.
My Dad helped me take my baggage to the tricycle which will take me to nearest street corner where I could get a taxi.
There, I took a cab to the airport and was lucky enough not to have been charged extra fare. My baggage was heavy but I know it did not reach 20 kilos. On the plane, I met some Filipinos going abroad to work as sea men, and another wanted to start a business in Bahrain. Talking with them made my flight less cumbersome and it made me forget my own emotional baggage.
I arrived in Hong Kong earlier than usual and I should say that the international airport was spectacular. It looked somewhat like the international airport in Bangkok, Thailand. After waiting for three hours, I took the flight to Qingdao. Looking around the plane, I noticed that almost all the passengers were Chinese. There were some Europeans, Americans, and Africans. I figured I could say absolutely anything using my native language and no one would even care. But I controlled my naughty imagination and kept quiet during the duration of trip.
I arrived in Qingdao after less than two hours. I tried to control my awe and amazement. The airport was huge. I said to myself, “How could a city, which survive on beer-making alone, build an airport this big?” Of course, I did not know much about Qingdao then.
Thereafter, I searched for my baggage in the seemingly endless row of bags and plastic suitcases. It was very easy to find. There in the handle of my suitcase was a purple key chain given by my daughter. She said the night before I left, “Dada, ilagay mo itong key chain sa bag mo palagi ha” (Dada, always put this key chain in your bag, okay?).
I searched for the exit and searched for anyone connected to the Seminar who would take me to the hotel. There in his jeans and light blue gray polo shirt was a man, about three inches taller than I was, holding a card board saying “Seminar on IP System and Protection”. I wasted no moment trying to get his attention.
His back was turned to me when I approached, so apparently, I thought, maybe, he did not know how I looked, or that he was not aware I was a participant.
I gently tapped his back, just like a lost boy looking for his long lost father, and slowly said “Hi, I’m Emmanuel Domingo, from the Philippines.”
With a ready and jolly smile, he introduced himself, “Oh, Mr. Domingo, welcome, I am Mr. You Liming.”
I don’t know what came over me but, from out of nowhere, I immediately felt assured that everything was going to be okay. Mr. You was very kind and courteous and even offered to help me carry my baggage.
I went outside the airport with Mr. You and the atmosphere that greeted me told me that this was going to be an experience I will never forget.
After feeling Qingdao’s chilly, cold afternoon air, the gentle breeze of the wind that whispered in my ear, and the wide, blue, open sky that seemed to stretch till eternity, I quietly looked around the airport and the continuous arrival of bustling people and said to myself, “This is it, finally, I have arrived”.
Does Maya love Ice Cream? Just look at her smile and you would know the answer. Maya (Novilia Mayasari in real life) works at the State Secretariat of the Republic of Indonesia. Her name is Novilia because she was born in November. She is not very secretive about her age but I will not write it here for privacy purposes, hehe. 
Google yourself!
12 years ago
