I was a typical young adult when I decided to take a chance at going abroad for work. I had my own list of achievements and work experiences that, I knew, would come in handy if and when I eventually would want to find another job.
So, with that optimism in mind, I decided to take my chances and apply for a job abroad -- a job that wasn't really my expertise, I admit, but something I could easily learn, or so I thought.
I applied for a nail artist - salon girl type of job for a budding salon in Oman. I was accepted since I gave them pictures of nail art designs I playfully did with family and friends.
So, I was scheduled immediately for my visa and then my flight. It was my first time to ride an airplane and frankly, I was a bit nervous to do so since I figured that I might get lost in the process.
Fortunately, that was not to happen. After about a couple of hours, we landed in Bangkok, Thailand to wait for the connecting flight bound for Muscat, Oman. After about half a day of waiting, we were summoned back to ride another plane that would make a brief stopover at Karachi, Pakistan before finally landing in Muscat.
Several hours later, I finally found myself at my destination. I was with fellow overseas workers who were also bound for their Oman-located jobs. The atmosphere was abuzz with excitement with different languages being spoken all at once.
As we got off the plane, I was met by the heavy humidity and the very warm temperature that is not really typical of my hometown. As you know, the Philippines, being a tropical country is mostly warm all throughout the year. However, I was blessed to be born and located in the northern-most region where it was cold most times.
The waiting area of Muscat International Airport was overflowing with people. Most were overseas contract workers such as myself who hailed from the different countries in Asia. Most common among them were Filipinos, Indonesians, Ethiopians, Pakistanis, Bengalis, and Indians.
The air was completely heavy with the mixture of Bookor and sweat. This was far different from the normally odorless waiting area of my own country's airport. Clearly, it was time for me to adjust to a new culture and weather.
Not to be ignored were the different attires people were wearing. The natives were mostly wearing black and white outer garments of which I would later come to know as the abaya (for women) and the thobe (for men). Ethiopians and those of other African nations usually wore colorful dresses and matching headscarves. Filipinos, such as myself, were wearing typical western clothes like t-shirts, jeans, and normal sneakers or sandals. Indonesians can usually be identified by their hijabs as they usually wore an inner scarf aside from their usually colored one.
However, I did not really see these differences during that first time I was in the airport. What I actually saw was the usual cacophony of people usually seen in a public place such as the airport.
Then, as I was waiting for my bags, a pretty Filipina approached me asking for my name. After I gave her my name, I was instructed to join the other Filipinas obviously there for their employment contracts as well.
We were all instructed to carry our respective suitcases and follow the lady to the small car waiting outside the airport.
The car we were to ride in was really small and in addition to the suitcases each employee had, there was little room for us, three Filipinas, at the backseat of the car. However, that was okay even if I was starting to feel uncomfortable due to the fact that the Filipina secretary, Taya, who met us earlier inside the airport was a little bit bossy.
However, I wasn't really allowed to complain since I realized that this was a new life for me. I decided to try my luck in a blue-collared job that required obedience and servitude in the strictest sense since Oman was obviously a conservative Muslim country where it is to be expected that people should follow each rule provided.
