Provo, UT — We’re getting ready to leave Provo today and drive all the way to Las Vegas. Vegas will be our third stop in this 10-day roadtrip to LA. From LA, we’re flying down to Cebu in 19-hour flight, the longest in the history of Ruffolo travel.
The longest we’ve had was 14 hours from Guangzhou to LA last year with 22-month-old twins and my pregnant belly.
On June 16th, we’re flying with three children — nearly three-year-old twins and a nine-month-old baby — and 12 luggage pieces.
If you think that’s too much, think again.
We still have about 20 to 30 boxes in our storage unit in Kalispell, Montana. Jeff’s 1965 Volvo is also there. We had a garage sale last weekend with the Filipino women and we were able to earn $150 from various items we’ve sold. I am more than thankful to Ate Lynn who has been very accommodating in my requests to help me dispose of items that we can’t bring back to Asia.
It’s going to be 300 plus miles to Vegas. It’s going to be a long, hot, humid drive. If we drive straight, we should be there in five to six hours but as you may know, a roadtrip with the rugrats means several stopovers and breaks for diaper change, food and drinks, and stretching.
Around this time last year, we were in Montana. In Kalispell, to be exact. I was still pregnant with Jeff Junior. Legs cramps and insomnia were my major challenges.
I often ask myself why I keep a record of this family’s trials and triumphs. There are two major reasons why I do so.
One, this is my diary. I used to keep a physical diary as a kid because I want to record everything that happened in my life. When I was a 10-year-old girl living in the little village of Libas in a province called Leyte, I used to spend some afternoons by the sea and write poems. I wrote one entitled The Sea which I can still remember word for word up to this day. I go back to my writings from time to time. It’s not always a pleasant experience. It’s awkward, really. But I like to freeze and record those moments of my life when I am honest and free. I have very little room for pretentions.
Second, I like to write. I write as fast as I talk. It’s liberating to me. I could have easily committed suicide with my depression if I wasn’t writing. Having this blog kept me disciplined because I have deadlines. There are books to be reviewed, opinions to express, thoughts to share…
I don’t like the gypsy life.
Not anymore.
Especially with three kids in tow. Especially when it entails traveling to different timezones. Especially when it involves packing and unpacking suitcases of three other people.
I hope this will be the last move but I know this won’t be. Jeff is at the stage of his career where he is on the move for greater things. As his partner, it is my responsibility to support him even if it involves long exhausting hours of discussing which footwear to keep or give up.
Yesterday, my home country is celebrating Philippine Independence Day. Today, we are selling our 1999 Dodge Caravan, a blessing of a vehicle which allowed this family of five to travel to places in the one-plus year we’ve resided in America. Today, I think I can also look forward to freedom.
Freedom from isolation and depression. Freedom from guilt. Freedom from hurting myself. Because in a few days time, I will be back in my continent.
While studying Chinese language and culture between 2009 and 2010, I learned that the Mandarin word for Asia is 亚洲 (yazhou). The Chinese character “ya” means inferior or second. Zhou means continent. I went on to tell one of my Chinese friends that with literal translation, we, Asians, actually consider our continent as inferior, subordinate, second. Inferior to whom? Subordinate to which country? Second to…?
I have never felt that way for this continent. The other continents are wonderful but Asia is home. I can always travel to the other “zhous”. But it will be difficult to leave Yazhou.
Whether we live in China or the Philippines in the next years, I’ll be alright. Eating with chopsticks or my bare hands will always be fun than with a fork and a knife.
