June 12, 2008

Years later

I left the Philippines when I was in my early 20s.

I'm still here in the US. Never did I plan to ever leave the Philippines. When asked if I'd ever move to the US in my younger years, I was always quite vehement in saying, "no, I'd rather stay in the Philippines."

I was sent here due to a family emergency. I was on a mission. (Yeah, like I am some kind of superhero. Now I'm a person of no importance to those I helped! But I digress...) Most people thought and assumed that I went here because of my then-boyfriend, now-husband. Partly true, but he was in the West Coast. I, on the other hand, was in the East Coast. How many states were in between us? A lot. And he was still studying, so honestly, if I went here because of him, wouldn't it make sense for me to head where he was? I went where I did because I had a mission, remember?

I played babysitter (unpaid, mind you!) for my two nieces. It was fun, but eventually, I tried my luck at finding a job here. I did. I went back home for a quick trip to gather up my stuff. Imagine, the entire time I've lived here, I only went back twice. Sad but true. I've been willing to pay for the airfare even if they cost an arm and a leg, but the number of vacation days made it impossible.

Anyway, since moving here, I got engaged and married. Worked in two different companies. Learned a lot about and from people all over the world, thanks to living and working in New York City. Visited places I've read about and tasted different cuisines, all in one big country. Not bad really. And my idea of getting treated as a second-class citizen and/or discriminated? It was really more of an unusual thing, thank goodness! (Let's hope it stays that way.)


To be continued...

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