Life has begun

The big boss approached me at my workstation. He shook my hand and greeted me with a smile: "Happy birthday. But wait. Aren't you supposed to be on a trip? I know you always travel on your birthday."

(Tell-tale signs of a Maleta Girl: Even the big boss knows about your travel habits.)

He was right, of course. I was supposed to go on a trip to Bali during the #SG50 four-day weekend - my birthday trip for my 32nd year on earth. But fate had other plans.

Life - the real life, that is - had begun indeed and its first lesson in reality was: "You don't always get what you want in the way that you want it."

Maleta Girl, interrupted

Me: "So in exchange for the flight that the airline has cancelled, you're gonna give me a voucher worth 1240SGD under my name to be used on a one-time booking?"

Customer service agent (CSA): "Yes, ma'am."

Me: "From Singapore, what is the farthest destination that Jetstar flies to?"

CSA: "Australia."

Me: "That's a long flight and you're expecting me to fly on a budget airline." (When he heard my statement, one of my officemates whispered to his teammate: "She's scolding someone again." I wanted to laugh out loud at his remark. Even with the intentionally flat tone I was using during my phone conversation, he could guess I was arguing with someone on the other end of the line.)

CSA: "It depends on the customer preference, ma'am."

Me: "That's not acceptable."

CSA: "Ma'am, we can also issue the refund in two separate vouchers."

Me: "600+ each?"

CSA: "Yes, ma'am."

Me: "Which destination do you expect me to fly that's worth 600? That's just too expensive for a flight."

The agent could have told me off and say: "You had paid 600+ for this round-trip flight to Bali and now you're complaining about a travel voucher that's worth the same amount?"

But before she could say anything to that effect, I told her: "The most fair option for us (passengers) is for you to refund the monetary value."

CSA: "I'll put you on hold, ma'am. Let me just ask our expert."

CSA: (after a few minutes) "Ma'am, we can request for the refund to be divided into vouchers of more economical amounts."

Me: "Ok. But for how many months will those vouchers be valid?"

CSA: "Valid for six months."

Me: "I work for a living, you know. How do you expect me to be travelling to that many destinations in the next six months?"

Me: "I would like the monetary refund instead."

CSA: "Ma'am, those are the options that we can give you."

Me: "I would like to speak to your supervisor."

CSA: "Ok, ma'am, I'll check for a supervisor who is available."

While I was put on hold, my other boss happened to pass by my workstation and asked what my call was about. I told her that I was asking for a refund from the airline for my cancelled flight. She was thinking that the airline would not refund it and that they would only give a voucher of the same amount in exchange.

But I wasn't ready to give this up. Not like this. I was not going to take any more crap from anybody - not on my birthday month. No.

There were just so many things that have already gone wrong. I felt like I've made one too many wrong choices that led to this point. Plans of a birthday trip to Istanbul and Cappadocia did not materialize. Going to Bali was plan B and initially, I wasn't exactly happy about it. It took me a while to find my enthusiasm for Bali. I had thought that maybe, this was the time to finally give Bali the second chance it deserves. I have long wanted to go back to that place anyway - to meet Ketut Liyer and to see the Tegallalang Rice Terraces.

And then, just a day before the scheduled departure, Jetstar dropped the bomb on me: "Due to volcanic activity near Denpasar, your flight from Singapore to Denpasar has been cancelled."

To say that I was disappointed was an understatement. I was sorely disappointed. I was furious. I felt helpless. I was furious that I felt helpless in that situation. I felt that I had to, somehow, regain a semblance of control over the matter. By hook or by crook, I have to win that fight for a refund.

CSA: "Ma'am?"

Me: "Yes."

CSA: "My supervisor is going to process the monetary value refund. It will be credited back to your credit card in 30 days."

True to their word, I did get the refund in less than 30 days at that - faster than my travel insurance provider could even process my claim. As of press time, I still haven't got any reimbursement from ACE Travel. This is precisely why my mother had, for the longest time, discouraged me from getting any kind of insurance plan - because insurance companies could potentially let you go through hell before they compensate you. Then again, the battle against ACE Travel is a battle I'll save for another day.

Right where you are

The morning of the supposed flight to Bali, I woke up to another bad news: Jane's father, Tito Carlo, had been rushed to the hospital earlier that morning and was confined in the intensive care unit (ICU) of the Khoo Teck Puat Hospital (KTPH). Lizlie used to be Jane's housemate and had known Tito Carlo very well; she said she would visit him at the hospital.

Lizlie: "O, may pagkain ka dyan ha." (Yeah, she says that to me like I'm a young kid she's leaving in the house and I won't be able to fend for myself. LOL.)
Me: "Huh? Eh sasama kaya ako sa ýo. Magkaron man lang ng silbi ang pagkapurnada ng Bali trip na 'to, no."

Life lesson no. 2: Where you are is exactly where you ought to be. Make the most of it.

Sure, it was rather unfortunate that I got stuck in Singapore on a four-day weekend. I might as well make myself useful and be here for a friend in her time of need. 

So off we went to faraway Yishun.

The three-tower KTPH in the Yishun Central Area overlooking the Yishun Pond looked anything but the public hospital that it is. By far, it is the best looking hospital I've seen in Singapore (and I've already been to five hospitals in the last four years). Whereas the surroundings of the Philippine General Hospital straightaway reflect the lamentable conditions of its patients, one could only imagine what anxiety, despair and grief look like behind the immaculate walls and overall cleanliness of KTPH.

Jane was teary-eyed but she retained her graceful composure as she re-told the story of their harrowing morning. The whole family was supposed to fly back to Manila that night. Tito Carlo had intended to go for a health check-up once they reached Manila. Unfortunately, he suffered an attack at around 4:00 AM. Jane rode with her father in the ambulance going to KTPH. That turned out to be their last ride together.

Sadly, Tito Carlo died the day after my birthday. I sincerely pray that the family will find comfort in the assurance that their beloved father is truly in the best place now, the place where the best fathers are blessed to be in the presence of the Greatest Father in all of eternity.

At least there's cake

Because of the cancellation of the Bali trip, I wasn't feeling particularly excited about celebrating on my actual birthday anymore. I was planning to stay at home and sulk in my bedroom (or if I felt like it, maybe bake myself some cupcakes). But Ge who is celebrating his 30th birthday on the same day that I celebrate my 32nd wanted to go on a stay-cation so I scrapped my sulk mode plans. We booked an overnight stay at Carlton City Hotel. Over fried chicken, lumpia, spaghetti and the birthday cake from his wife Apaule, we welcomed Ge into the exclusive Dirty 30s Club.

My own birthday started with my housemate Mike knocking, more like banging, on my bedroom door that Wednesday morning. When I opened the door, there was Lizlie holding a chiffon cake with candles all lit up. I had already blew the candles when they realized Mike hadn't been able to take photos so they lit the candles again and I got myself another chance to make another birthday wish. Haha!

Happy birthday morning

I spent the rest of my birthday in the office, only the second time in the last four years that I've spent this day, working. That I have a fun bunch of officemates is such a comfort when August isn't going according to plan. For tea time, my teammates organized a sweetness overload surprise for the August babies. They got us a birthday ice cream cake and a dozen doughnuts.

Life lesson no. 3: Things don't always go as planned. But at least, there's cake.

And then there was Bali. Again.

If it had pushed through, this month's trip to Bali would have been my second - my chance to replace some memories I have of the island.

There are memories of my first trip in Bali that I've never really talked about with a lot of people, partly because I wasn't actively blogging about my trips back then but mostly because I wanted to leave the story in the past where it truly belongs now.

Soaking up the sun at Mt. Batur. Bali 2010.

If you've read the book or watched the movie "Eat, Pray, Love", you would remember that the protagonist Elizabeth Gilbert met the second great love of her life in the last leg of her journey of self-rediscovery in Bali. Five years ago in Bali, I had also met someone, albeit not the great love that my 26-year-old self was expecting.

Back then, moving on from a what-could-have-been was a tedious process that I had to go through mostly on my own. These days, thanks to the proliferation of #hugot lines in social media,  the brokenhearted finds a support system available at his/her fingertips - some sort-of reassurance that he/she is not the only lonely person in the planet.

As for me, aside from the occasional companionship of friends, during that time, I had found both respite and reprimand in the book "Eat, Pray, Love". Even now, if, for whatever reason, I feel like crying, I am always reminded of Elizabeth's guru's advice "not to fall apart all the time or else it becomes a habit." The book had easily become one of my favorite non-fiction works.

It took me almost a year to finally be able to flush all the hurt out of my system and get over that phase of my life. What I discovered for myself was that it is not true that when you get over someone, you forget him/her. I still remember the person and the things that happened in the past but only as matters of fact now.

While I did make some conscious choices to avoid remembering the person while I was in the process of moving on, not going to Bali was not one of those choices. I could have returned to Bali anytime during those five years but between then and now, I've already become a different person - I gained new friends who became my travel companions to other places; and through them, I discovered that Bali was just scratching the surface. There was a whole lot of the world that I still haven't seen.        

I fell in love again. I broke my heart again.

Admired the Eiffel Tower from atop Cathedrale de Notre Dame. Held a real snowball up in one of the mountains of Austria. Stood right below the Pope's balcony window as he recited the Angelus. Attended a Catalan mass in Barcelona. Got lost somewhere in Germany. Danced among cherry blossoms in Tokyo. Ate the best kimchi in Seoul. Walked the streets of the old town in Edinburgh. Loved more of Australia. Lived a slice of la dolce vita in Maldives. Rode a boat alongside dozens of wild dolphins in Bohol.

I've met a few other people here and there. I have had more of those would-be relationships that didn't work out. I had felt disappointed, though these had not exactly left me heartbroken anymore.

And then there was Bali again. Rather, there would have been Bali once again.

Before she came to Bali, the broken woman, Elizabeth, had gone to Italy and explored the art of pleasure, eating the best pasta and gelato in the world, and then she went to India to learn the art of devotion, praying through the practice of yoga and meditation.

At this point in my life, advanced I may be in age, I am still, in fact, at the Italy phase of my "Eat, Pray, Love" journey. I am pretty much enjoying, finally, what this world can offer me - doing what I want and travelling to where I can.

"Pray for a good husband." "Pray harder kasi." "Mag-Novena ka kay St. Joseph." I've probably heard all versions of this admonition in the last six years. Still I haven't been able to move into the India phase of the journey. In theory, I know what prayer could teach me. Prayer teaches humility. In prayer, one admits to the Lord that it is only Him who can grant one his/her heart's deepest desire.

The problem is: I don't know if a husband is my heart's deepest desire. I thought it is. Yet for the longest time, I haven't been so sure.

I keep looking for that moment of desperation which would drive me down to my knees to beg God for him. But all I found along the way were other more urgent and more important things to pray for - the terminally ill parents of friends, friends who got axed from their jobs, friends whose application for work pass repeatedly got rejected, my own job security, my financial obligations, my family's daily safety and deliverance from the symptoms of their own ailments.

And then I couldn't find unselfish reasons for wanting to have a husband by my side. I want to be taken cared of. I want someone to take charge and mean it when he tells me: "It's alright, I got your back." I want to be someone's first priority. I want to be loved. The list of I-want-this and I-want-that just grows the older I get. Why did it become all about me?

Out-of-the-calendar girl

If I were God, I am not gonna give a husband to a selfish woman like me. Lord, have I really become selfish?

I would have wanted to end my birthday post on a more positive note. But the reality is that I might be stuck in "Italy", unable to move to "India". Until I do, "Bali" will be nowhere in sight.

It's funny how a trip that never happened could leave me re-evaluating my life.

Hello, 32 and beyond. Life has begun.