Dear mouse,
This is the 35th in the series of the Family Tree Project that I launched to leave basic life lessons and work ethics for my grandchildren who would never know how their grandmother, biological or adoptive lived before their birth or age of reason.
NOW: I receive e-mails about stories of women with cancer. I know the good intention of my friends but I rather dwell on positive things. As you may have noticed in my memoirs, I inject humor because without it, as my friend Jon told me, it is not me.
PAST
Pushing the heavy cart away from the heavy human traffic, I waited for my lady boss who’s picking me up. My mother and siblings were all in the East Coast except for one who’s in San Diego. I called up a friend of mine to see me at the airport. He said he can’t. I made tampo na because he just got a windfall from the class suit that was pending when he left the Philippines. I took care of the documents and follow-ups.
I did not realize that his residence was a 12-hour drive to SFO. I thought, it is just like Manila where there is only one international airport and people can just come for welcome and goodbyes. Tanga ko talaga. FOB kung baga.
My lady boss arrived shashaying with her dark glasses (nabugbog ba ito?), stilleto shoes and black outercoat. She’s sexy and I wondered if she could help me load my luggage to her car.
Kiss-kiss-kiss. “How’s the trip?” as she yanked the large suitcase, held it for a while and loaded it inside the car trunk. Her car is a big American car which car trunk can accommodate a balikbayan box, a large suitcase, a small suitcase and a passenger–lying down.
I was there standing and said nothing but wow. In five minutes, all luggages were loaded and we’re ready to go. She’s a traveler and she’s used to packing and hauling large suitcases.
She instructed me to get inside the car. My lips were turning blue and my knees were shaking.
Obviously, the leather jacket was not a complete protection from cold.
We proceeded to San Francisco. Yes Virginia, you read it right. San Francisco. SFO or San Francisco International Airport is not in San Francisco. It is in South San Francisco which is not a part of the county of San Francisco. Confusing? Me too, I was confused.
We had our breakfast in a hotel in Union Square. Class. We ordered fried egg and shrimp over rice.Parang tosilog lang sa atin.
After the meal, she distributed her cards to the Filipino hotel personnel. Did I leave the Philippines? Dami pa ring Pinoy.
She said that I should do the ritual of a newbie to US–kiss the ground. hahahha
She brought me to the Golden Gate after picking up a gay friend of hers to do the picture taking.
She slowed down when we were already at the bridge. The bridge is not golden, it was pinkish.
It should have a new name. The Pinkish Bridge.
I could not believe it. The bridge that adorned my notebook is now a reality. Huge, imposing and real.
Picture-taking galore. I’ll send them to the Philippines. I will make inggit to those who made my life miserable so I have to leave. hehehe. The best revenge to the people who caused your “fall” is to let them know that you’re enjoying yourself. My lady boss brought a polaroid camera. I believed she was a girl scout when she was a grader. Laging handa. Click, pose, click, pose.The pictures came out developed after a few minutes, kunting paypay sa left, kunting paypay sa right. Voila….
Accck, my hair were all over my face.
Tip # 1
If you want to have photo-ops near the Golden Gate, wear something in your head. A hat, a cap or a bandana.
I saw one Chinese tourist, she used a plastic shopping bag to wrap her hair. Genius. It’s windy up there and if you’re not having picture for shampoo adverts, better take my advice.
After enjoying a short moment of being a tourist, I have to come to reality that it was my FIRST DAY as an OFW.
So we proceeded to the Office in the downtown San Francisco. We parked the car in the garage parking and walked a few blocks. Sus ginoo. And the Semana Santa hasn’t started yet. Kalbaryo na ang nilalalakad ko.
I stopped at the corner of the street, asked my lady boss to take my picture.
The street name Sutter was not captured in the picture. My boss obliged with the question “why” written on her face.
I like to send it to the Philippines with a note, I am now here in SF downtown. Silly me, there is no landmark in the picture.
At least when I see that picture, I am reminded of my first day as an OFW and FOB
–Overseas Foreign Worker and Fresh off Boat. hahaha
The Ca t
