"California, here I come!" (US Trip recollection, Part I)

Can you believe how much shit must I go through just to secure my US visa? Because I requested for a work visa instead of a tourist visa, matters became complicated. It was good enough that the company took care of everything, but still what was bad was the waiting time. Waiting for the interview schedule and then waiting for the passport to be returned by the US Embassy. What was especially worse was the waiting for the passport to be returned. I felt like I was in limbo. Will I go? When do I go? And to top things off I had to reschedule my flight many times over.

But finally, I got news that my passport has been returned on that Monday, April 23rd 2007. After yet another flight schedule rearrangement, it was finally decided that I was to leave Manila on April 26th 2007. 3 days were good enough time for me to prepare for logistics, but 3 days were not a good enough time for me to be mentally-prepared to leave Manila. It was not that I wouldn't be coming back, but leaving a place that I've grown accustomed to to live in another place for about 2 months brought a tinge of sadness to the whole matter.

However, going to the US was something of a lost hope to me, considering that if I go there by my own, I would be left penniless. Getting a US visa after 9/11 seemed to me like a rather uneasy affair as well. Personally, I used to dream about going to the US when I was younger. Why? It's America! Who wouldn't wanna be there? San Francisco, Hollywood, New York (not to mention all those vending machines!). But I lost sympathy and respect for the great U. S. of A. after Bush junior took the wheel. So, I wasn't really hoping much regarding traveling to the US unless I get paid for it. Which was exactly the case this time. That was why, I was so looking forward to coming here at the time that the matter of leaving Manila, a place where I have grown to like, was not a big deal. I was the lucky son of a bitch (no offense, mom).

So, on that Thursday night, April 26th 2007, my driver dropped me off at Ninoy Aquino International Airport in Manila. I was a little giddy and nervous about going to the States. You know how it is: airport security checks, whether or not they'll accept my visa and passport, whether or not they will strip me down to complete nudity for security checks, whether or not they will send me back to Manila without my clothes on and make a damn fool out of me and and so on and so forth. And I was going there alone. That was the second time I had to embark to a foreign land on my own without any companion whatsoever. I was a little bit unsure of myself, but I kept telling myself that, hey, the embassy okay-ed my visa and I got all the docs that I need. My luggage was packed neatly and I got everything I need. So, nothing to worry bout.

Security checks at Ninoy was as annoying as ever (thanks to the US). Good thing I came prepared. No belts was on me, and I made sure that the pair of shoes I was wearing was easy to slip into and slip out of. Had to take out my laptop from my backpack, but that was to be expected. Soon enough I was boarding the Philippine Airline plane heading off to San Francisco. The flight wasn't so bad, it only lasted for about 1o hours which was an hour earlier than expected. I had to sit between two old coots (oh how I hate NOT having an aisle seat), and one of 'em even had her one foot up on her seat. It ain't your house, lady, and you ain't here alone! Have some manner, please. It wasn't a big deal though, it was just me not liking uncouth behavior in public spaces. Aside from that, thank God that I didn't have to make more than 2 toilet visits during the journey. Did I mention I hate NOT having an aisle seat? I slept like a baby almost all the way through. Phew.

I woke up seeing the sun through the window of the plane. If I didn't know any better, I thought it was morning. It was 7 pm in the evening, however, and the sun was still shining bright as if it's only 3 pm in the afternoon. The first sign that I was in foreign land.

Soon after that the plane landed at San Francisco International Airport. I was finally on foreign land. My first impression of SFO was that Changi Airport in Singapore was still way better in matters of interior design-wise and the availability of shops. The affair at the immigration was far better than I expected it would be. They didn't whisk me away to an enclosed room for interrogation or did such thing. All they did was took my photograph (the immigration booth was equipped with web cams) and asked for my petition documents. The immigration officer even said "Welcome back", as if I was once lived in the US. Trouble free immigration, very much unlike what I had in mind and what I heard from other people's experience. Probably because my Visa was published in the Philippines, not Indonesia.

The air was really cold outside, and in the parking garage I almost thought that the garage was air-conditioned. Another definite sign I was in foreign land. You see, I always associate cities with hot weather. The reality that was San Francisco hit me like a wall of cold air.

The driver who picked me up was a tall Caucasian. At first I thought he was an American until he opened his mouth and started talking. His English was rather stiff, and he had an accent. I later found out from him that he was a Russian. Divorced, with two kids. Told me to be careful with women, because they were liars and only love you for your money and not who you are. Asked me how old I was and told me that I was still young and try not to rush into marriage because that's the way women trapped us. Enjoy life while you're still young, he said. Be careful of women, he warned me. I took his words to heart (with a grain of salt, no doubt).

There were other things we talked about. Asked me how much people like him (a driver) make in the Philippines a year. I told him that I didn't have an exact figure, but at least I could tell him that drivers in the Philippines in general make a lot less than he does in the US. Told me that in the US, it was all about the money and nothing more. Not a very encouraging words for someone who just set foot on a place he's been dreaming of going to, but understandable and actually made sense to me later on. All I had to do is to turn the TV on and see all those ads for consumer goods and other stuff and I understood what he was talking about. In any case, the most important thing about visiting a country for me is not about buying stuff, but seeing new places. And I would dearly love to see the US. And what better place to do that than California, right?

My first impression of California, visually, was that there were lots of highways. Lots. And they are massive in size. So much space! And the bridge where I passed through (which I would later found out called Bay Bridge) were so big and long. And the second impression of California, for me, was that it was such a big place. So many highways, so many massive structures. At least, space is one of the things these Americans can afford to spend. So...spacious, California was. Other than that, due to the sun already setting, I didn't see much else except the city lights.

Client's office was in Concord, but I was to stay at a small town 45 minutes from San Francisco (and only 10 minutes from Concord) called Pleasant Hill. Arrived at Summerfield Suite, the hotel-slash-apartment where I will be spending most of my resting time for the next (then planned) 2 months. Told my driver sorry for not being able to tip him (since I didn't have a denomination smaller than USD 100 at the time), but he said that it was okay because it was already included in the fee. Took my two luggages and a backpack inside with me. A colleague went down to see me and make sure that everything was taken care of while I was registering my name and my stay there at the hotel.

Went to my room, number 207, and realized that the place was smaller than my apartment back in Manila. No matter, as long as I have the place all to myself. It has everything that anyone would ever want in an apartment (you know, the obligatory TV, a kitchen modest in size but generous in cooking equipments, a bed, sofa, table, sink, a cupboard to store clothings, a bathroom, and, thank God, internet connection) and I was content. Tired from the 11-hour journey, it didn't take long for me to doze off comfortably on the bed. Couldn't wait to see how the client's office looks like the next day.

It was April 26th 2007, Pacific Time, and I was happy. Later days would prove to be quite trying (especially during the first few weeks), but at the moment (and in retrospect) the only thing I could think of was: one of my life's dream had come true earlier than I'd expected.