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The end is the beginning is the end

I’m packing to go back to Paris to pack.

Our Roma stint is coming to an end; here I am on my knees, packing again. The sky changes drastically from day to day. Yesterday I was downtown in shorts and a sandals, and today it’s raining and gray. There seems to be no consistency to this year’s weather; well, when has weather been consistent anyway?

I’m really looking forward to being back in Paris, never mind that the weather still isn’t anywhere near the 20s. I don’t care. I cannot wait to be back home, to smell that familiar smell of the entry hallway, to reread my books. I can finally hang out with Lila at the park next to our place and hopefully have a chat with some of the people in our neighborhood. I can’t wait to meet up with friends. And to eat a proper baguette again.

So, we’re going back to Paris, only to leave it again.

It’s always a funny thing, all this coming and going in life.

Currently listening to:
Beck
The Information

2010 05 28 Life in Italy Comments (2)

Pronto

I feel really silly thinking back on all the bitching I did when I was packing stuff to take with me to Qatar. Because now, with a child in tow, it’s much, much harder. So much harder that I’ve had a headache for the past couple of days.

Again, the malle, our big blue trunk, is sitting in our living room waiting to be filled. Am I filling it with stuff? No. I’m slumped against comfy pillows, blogging while watching tv shows I don’t really want to watch (I’m watching MacGyver reruns; as you can see, my procrastination has reached epic proportions).

Before you judge me, let me defend myself: it’s really hard to pack when you don’t know how long you’ll be staying in another country. Here is a transcript of a conversation several months ago:

Jul: Hey. We’re moving to Rome.
Kala: Rome! How exciting! When?
Jul: I dunno… in a month maybe. Not sure.
Kala: How long are we staying?
Jul: I dunno… still have to figure that out.
Kala: Are we taking Lila?
Jul: Are we tak… OF COURSE WE ARE! She’s our child!
Kala: Where are we going to live? In a flat? In a flat in the city? Or near your office?
Jul: I have no idea actually.
*moment of silence*
Kala: So what do you know?
Jul: That we’re moving to Rome.

This is the longest I’ve been alone with the kid, and it’s driving me up the wall. The flat seems so empty, especially in the evenings. I miss my Juju. Lila on the other hand simply seems puzzled as to why her other slave is missing.

Currently listening to:
Beirut
Gulag Orkestar

2010 03 16 Life in Italy Comments (9)

To recap

We returned from South Africa to an apartment whose entire floor surface was littered with all the crap Julien and I had accumulated for the past two years.

After a week of head-scratching, we managed to fit everything into 3 trunks to be shipped, 4 luggages to check in for the flight back to Paris, two backpacks and two laptop cases to carry with us in the plane. We said goodbye to friends (another post on this) and bid our goodbyes to 2 years in Qatar.

We left 30°C Doha and arrived in 2°C Paris. It was a Friday night, and the peripherique was packed. It took us one hour and an extremely talkative taxi driver to get from the airport to the 15th arrondisement, as we were crashing at Julien’s cousin’s flat for a week until a room at the aparthotel we’d be staying in would be available.

After a weekend that comprised of an exhibit (From Miro to Warhol), concert tickets (Black Angels, December 8th) and various cocktails with friends (overpriced Mai Tais, chardonnays and a strange banana rhum cocktail at a snotty cafe close to the Eiffel Tower), it was time for the dirty work: apartment-hunting.

I have a lot of stories to tell about apartment-hunting, but I leave that for another post; needless to say it included 90 euros worth of phone credits trying to book appointments for apartment visits, nonstop walking under the rain and cold, numerous cups of dégueulasse McDonald’s coffee in order to use their Wifi, and a surprisingly huge number of apartments viewed that I would never dream of living in.

We are now in a hotel near La Defense. We wear creased clothes straight from our luggages. We spend our two day weekend lazing around, hanging out at FNAC, getting lost in the streets, checking out the Christmas markets. We cross our fingers for a good apartment to come our way soon, and look forward to the exciting possibilities life will bring us in the following months.

Currently listening to:
Metric
Live it Out

2008 11 30 Life in France
Travel Comments (11)

I’ll be away for awhile

Because in Qatar, it takes the same amount of time to switch phone and internet lines to a new flat as is does to apply for a new line and internet access. And as I remember, it took us 3 weeks to get connected. So this means internet cafes and Arabic keyboards. Again.

Meanwhile, lots of things have been happening. Nice parties with matching hangovers the next morning, dancing till 3am. Went to the French embassy yesterday evening to celebrate the French National Day, and it was a beautiful celebration indeed because of the open bar, the saucisson and jambon cru.

We moved into a new flat, really swanky and lovely and huge, with a magnificent view of the sea, floor-to-ceiling windows, the works.

I received the French nationality and if all goes well I’ll be in Paris soon with my friendMakis to reclaim the Philippine nationality.

There is also an anniversary to look forward to, and hopefully a trip to Oman.

And maybe, FINALLY, the possibility of a dog or a cat. I can hear Julien sighing already…

2007 07 15 Comments (6)

Spring and by Summer Fall

Certain things have changed in Aix. When we passed by the residence we used to live in a few days ago, a whole bus depot had been constructed just at the entrance of the gate – the grass and hills and flowers had been replaced by buses and lines of people.

I used to walk from our old apartment to centre ville – approximately 20 minutes downhill – all the time, since buses only passed by my stop twice an hour. So I would walk, along with my mp3 player, through the rain or the snow or under the heat of the sun. Twenty minutes’ worth of music (I would always include The Flaming Lips’ Fight Test because it’s such a great song to walk along to) and steady downhill walking. When I’d pass the little Casino grocery store, I would know that I had fifteen more minutes of walking. The Auto Ecole and Pizzeria would tell me that there was 8 more minutes left. By the time I’d reach the bar at the corner of the street, I could count ten steps before finding myself smack in the heart of centre ville, where I would then start to dawdle, enter shops, run errands, take my time.

I knew that road, that city so well that it was almost a shame to leave it. But then we eventually have to abandon what’s familiar because it has become too familiar. I do miss France from time to time, but then I’ve moved on to the unfamiliar, complaining but enjoying it, and that’s just the way it works.

23Currently listening to:
Blonde Redhead
23

2007 06 10 Life in France
Travel Comments (9)

Getting there

By the time my plane rolled down Doha International Airport’s runway, I had been asked 19 times if I were Filipino. 19 times, just at the Bahrain and Qatar airports. 19 times I answered Yes, and the follow-up questions were: 1: “Have you come straight from Manila?”, 2: “Ah, what’s your job in Doha?”, and 3: “So, what, are you staying with an aunt or something?” I fell, weary and bleary-eyed, into the arms of my husband, who in a span of three months had grown thinner and wild-haired, for he hadn’t had a haircut ever since I bid him goodbye at the airport. The ride to our apartment offered me a glimpse of what would be my home for the next couple of years: large, imposing, gaudy-looking houses (or should I call them mansions?), minarets looming in the horizon, and terrible driving.

Our apartment though is not bad at all: a newly-built, mustard-yellow or pale orange- coloured building (I had a debate the other day with the taxi driver) in a little street just off the main road, whose highlights are a car repair shop, a tiny Arabic grocery store, a Fruit Juice stall (fruits are a big deal here, apparently), a laundry shop, and what is most probably another Arabic grocery store, but I can’t be sure, since it’s closed all the time.

Curiously, the highlight furniture of our apartment is a huge liquor cabinet, the heavy glass and wood kind, with spotlights no less, meant to display and highlight your wine bottles to your future jealous house guests (who haven’t yet obtained their liquor licenses). A very ironic piece of furniture, in a country where pork and alcohol is banned; albeit acceptable considering that our building is for expatriates only. Alcohol is served in hotel bars with a 17.5% tax on top of the cost of the drink, which is not far, really, from the prices in France.

A huge TV sits balefully in our living room, feeling snubbed since we are anti-TV, although I do watch Arte and Al Jazeera from time to time.

There is a mosque just outside our building window. Every day at 4:45 am, the minaret plays holy prayers of the Qu’ran. The first morning, upon hearing the prayer, I started in bed, my body clock awry, blinking in confusion. I could hear prayers from other mosques, their tones blending into a gradient, like the sun that was starting to set. I found it beautiful and exotic and was transported to another world; a reminder that I am now living in a Muslim country, where it is polite to cover up even in the heat of summer, or where holding hands and a harmless peck on the cheek in public is something to be avoided, if only to show respect.

So yes, that first morning, filled with wide-eyed wonder, I found the prayers beautiful. The next day I was slightly irritated, especially since a cellphone from the building across (under construction, as is common here in Qatar) starts to ring just after the prayers, ring tone the unfortunate tune Lambada, its midi-cheerfulness echoing in my brain like nails being scratched along the length of a blackboard. By the third morning I was ready to scratch someone’s eyes out. By the fourth morning I got up automatically and started to read, as if my body just got used to it. I think now that my mind and my body and my soul can and will get used to anything. Maybe it’s all a matter of perspective, or the choice between allowing ourselves to listen to some things, and to ignore others. I still get up when the prayers start. It’s pretty loud.

All of a Sudden I Miss EveryoneCurrently listening to:
Explosions in the Sky
All of a Sudden I Miss Everyone

2007 03 12 Life in Qatar Comments (7)

Eclipse

There is a total lunar eclipse scheduled tonight, and it is reported to last for 73 minutes. If you are in Europe, Africa and Western Asia you should be able to see the entire event.

I could see the full moon from my window earlier, as we were getting ready to land in Bahrain. I kept on thinking about how the world keeps on throwing us into these ridiculous situations, leaving us to figure things out. The world is probably laughing at all of us, along with our friendly lunar eclipse moon.

I’m sitting in the Bahrain Business Class Lounge and it is beautiful; these lovely sofas flanked by canopies, soft yellow light, hardwood floors. Five years ago, I remember being in the very same airport — sitting by the gumball machine in front of Duty Free at 4 in the morning, bug-eyed and dog-tired, flying back to Manila from France, writing in my journal, uncertain of the future. I can’t believe how long ago that was. I was only 23 years old, and the world was mine.

I didn’t see the gumball machine. Somebody must have figured out it wasn’t a very strategic location. In any case, I have about 2 hours more to kill before boarding my plane to Doha. Here I am, still writing in my journal (sans pencil and paper), still uncertain about the future, but ten times more ready for anything because I know I’ll have my Juju with me. And yes, the world is still mine.

+++

PS. I’m taking advantage of alcohol while I still can, since I still don’t know how long it will take till I get an alcohol license in Doha. I am half drunk from the buffet. Apparently, once a bottle of wine or champagne is half-empty (or half full, for you positive birds out there), they take it away and replace it with a new one. Crazy bastards.

2007 03 03 Travel Comments (14)

Not very effective

Jesus, the apartment is a mess. This is because I am the world’s worst packer. Now that the cartons have been delivered, my method is to empty closets and cabinets and dump them on the living room floor… then watch a movie. The other method I have is to pull all the books off the cabinets, scatter them on the floor, leaf through them one by one, and then take a bath. As you see, this is not Effective Packing Behavior.

As a result, everything we own is now lying on the living room floor. I enjoy folding the moving boxes, but I can’t seem to put things in them.

It was only 3 months ago that we arrived, and our apartment looked like this:
pic

And now it’s back to this:
pic

Yesterday evening though, I decided to seriously haul ass, and managed, with much difficulty and three cups of coffee, to get most of the books into boxes. So this
pic

is now this
pic

And I am feeling proud of myself.

To celebrate, I have removed all the contents of the kitchen cupboards and dumped them on the kitchen floor.

EmpireCurrently listening to:
Kasabian
Empire

2007 02 22 Stuff that happens to me Comments (10)

Bring me a day full of honest work and a roof that never leaks and I’ll be satisfied

When we learned that we’d be moving, we couldn’t go online to get any information about the country, because at that time we didn’t have internet access (and as a result almost lost our minds). We had to satisfy our curiosity with the only book in our home that mentioned Qatar: a crummy Altas Illustré de la Terre.

(Oh, believe me, I have been acquainted with Qatar in the past. My memories of the place are not fond at all. Read this and you’ll understand.)

After much straining, (it’s really not a good sign when, trying to find a country in an atlas, you have to hold the map directly under a hundred-watt light bulb and still go “Where is it?”) I found it: appendaged to Saudi Arabia, right smack in the Gulf, surrounded by the United Arab Emirates, Oman and Kuwait, and facing Iran.

My soon to be neighbors.

But Qatar, it seems, is a very open country compared to its neighbors. Sure, there’s no pork, and being a Muslim country you aren’t in for any random public displays of affection (I guess condom machines in subways and street corners, a sight I’ve gotten used to in France, is a thing of the past), but from the sites I’ve been visiting people can get away with shorts and sleeveless shirts, something I am thankful for considering the temperatures rise up to 50°C in the summer. It doesn’t sound so bad. In fact, it seems exotic.

My Arabian Peninsula Lonely Planet arrived in the mail the other day, and I’ve been reading all about the country. I cannot really put into words how excited I am to leave. I keep on thinking about how great it will be to discover a new culture, to meet new people, to live out a portion of life in a place so foreign, to see a bit of the world, especially while we’re still young and reckless. Okay, very reckless.

***

Finally, this big blue metallic container, which has been a dominating presence in our living room for the past few weeks, has been taken away and is hopefully being shipped as I write this.

I had a very hard time wondering what to put in there. I mean, how do you decide what to take when you know you’ll be gone for the next 2 years? My first instinct was to fill the malle with my clothes, but since it’s winter here, I still need most of my clothes. So, I put in the most important items I could think of: my rollerblades, my tennis racket, 2 cans of tennis balls, and my cocktail shaker (thanks, Makis).

Gradually I threw in some other stuff in there – some shirts, bande dessinées, video games, music, our Egon Schiele poster, dvds, and books. Lots and lots of books.

***

I need book-music-and-dvd suggestions. I need to keep myself occupied once the Discovery Phase is over and during the job-hunting period. Any interesting books you think I should read? Any interesting movies you think I should see? Any good albums you think I should hear? (Nuts – this is where you come in!!!) Leave me some comments and suggestions whydontcha, people, please, so I can get them while I’m still here. So far, Lonely Planet mentions 2 bookstores in Doha, and the phrase “limited selection” keeps on popping up after “English books“.

2007 01 06 Comments (8)

2007 will be a Very New Year

In the very near future, I won’t be living in Paris – or anywhere in France – anymore. I will be in Qatar, joining him, finally. I’m scratching my head, wondering whether Qatari immigration will let Bruno the Plant pass through. Also, I’m having a hard time deciding what to bring and what to put into storage. 200 kgs isn’t much, when you think about it.

2006 12 07 Comments (22)