It takes me hours to pack my bag. First, I have to choose my clothes – deciding on which colors to carry, which textures and how thick they will have to be. Then, I have to fit each to be sure (who knows how much weight I’ve put on or if instead of looking like a classic I look outdated). Lastly, I have to figure out how everything fits into my luggage to a total of 20 kilos max. More recently, I have reduced this successfully to 15 kilos to reduce my sacrifice and to convince myself that life is worth living.
The 15 kilos will have to include all other paraphernalia, both personal and official. This means giving up on most things I will normally live with and settle for multi-purpose items. This also means that I am courting conflict with my office, which as much as possible will make me carry as many books as they want to send out.
I arrive feeling haggard and empty-headed (not light-headed), but I’m always told I don’t look like it, so I’m immediately barraged with inquiries on logistics and files and whereabouts of whoever. This drags for the entire duration of my stay in whichever place.
I travelled twice with a friend who pulls me out to see some places and put the camera to use. When I travelled with some other people, I took the initiative to steal a couple of hours at least to take some pictures for people to see when I come home. But each ‘going out’ has a price, of course, lest I am perceived as a tourist instead of a worker. After all, I am just a work horse and it is not fair that the organization is losing money on me.
In the meantime, I am away from home – from my normal clock, food, and social support group. Looking back, it is difficult for me to be away from people that are important to me because I am always the one to reach out, initiating the emails and the chats, adjusting my time and schedule with theirs.
Because I went away, I am socially expected of further obligations – to hand out something from the place I’ve been that they have not been, to show photos of the sceneries, to tell stories. Now, the gifts don’t matter much, the photos will have to look like you really had a good time, and the stories will have to be either good and happy or dangerous and exciting.
No one wants to hear a sad travel story, like how you are discriminated for being Filipino (not even for being Asian, but for being Filipino), or like how you are treated as a servant by a supposedly rights-conscious group, or like how you miss being home. When a Filipino travels, it is perceived as a privilege and only a complainer will not see it as one. Who cares about home and your normal life, anyway?
Indeed, force multiplied by distance equals work.
The 15 kilos will have to include all other paraphernalia, both personal and official. This means giving up on most things I will normally live with and settle for multi-purpose items. This also means that I am courting conflict with my office, which as much as possible will make me carry as many books as they want to send out.
I arrive feeling haggard and empty-headed (not light-headed), but I’m always told I don’t look like it, so I’m immediately barraged with inquiries on logistics and files and whereabouts of whoever. This drags for the entire duration of my stay in whichever place.
I travelled twice with a friend who pulls me out to see some places and put the camera to use. When I travelled with some other people, I took the initiative to steal a couple of hours at least to take some pictures for people to see when I come home. But each ‘going out’ has a price, of course, lest I am perceived as a tourist instead of a worker. After all, I am just a work horse and it is not fair that the organization is losing money on me.
In the meantime, I am away from home – from my normal clock, food, and social support group. Looking back, it is difficult for me to be away from people that are important to me because I am always the one to reach out, initiating the emails and the chats, adjusting my time and schedule with theirs.
Because I went away, I am socially expected of further obligations – to hand out something from the place I’ve been that they have not been, to show photos of the sceneries, to tell stories. Now, the gifts don’t matter much, the photos will have to look like you really had a good time, and the stories will have to be either good and happy or dangerous and exciting.
No one wants to hear a sad travel story, like how you are discriminated for being Filipino (not even for being Asian, but for being Filipino), or like how you are treated as a servant by a supposedly rights-conscious group, or like how you miss being home. When a Filipino travels, it is perceived as a privilege and only a complainer will not see it as one. Who cares about home and your normal life, anyway?
Indeed, force multiplied by distance equals work.
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