“Home isn't a place, its a feeling”

“Maybe you had to leave in order to really miss a place; maybe you had to travel to figure out how beloved your starting point was.” 

― Jodi Picoult, Handle with Care


I am lucky.

I am lucky, because I have more than one place I can really call home.
I am lucky because I have people in many places I can call family.
I am lucky because I have friends, some since my tender childhood and some that came later in my life that never left my side, wherever we are in the World.
I am lucky I grew up in a beautiful countryside my children are able to experience every year.

Charles, my eldest friend and I, in my parent's garden.

When I moved to the Philippines, it was a natural move. I felt it was the next step I had to take. It was not hard, not heartbreaking, not challenging. Just natural.
I was not escaping a hard past, a relationship or a terrible country.
I was exploring and taking a step towards my independence and most importantly, I was making my own choice.
My parents raised us to be free to choose what we wanted to be (even though now, they may have doubts it was ever a good idea: it was, really).

Once I moved here, I never thought I could feel the need of coming back home.
I am happy here, I built my life here, grew my family here.
And even if I loved my country for the beauty of it, I left a country that was going through an economic crisis and where opportunities for people my age were not really great.

Playing at the park in France

I was never homesick. Just extremely happy to go home every year and enjoy great time with family and friends, amazing food and beautiful road trips. I was enjoying being a tourist in my birth country.

I felt like I had the best of both Worlds.
And I still do.

Once I gave birth to Alia though, things started to shift very slowly.
I rediscovered France with another eye.
I started feeling a pinch of homesickness every time I would think about something I used to do or eat at her age and how I wanted her to experience it.

Daddy Yo, Alia and Gaia in Anilao

The first two years of Alia's life, we kept going to France and visit only for a month. But when Daddy Yo went to work abroad for the first time, Alia and my pregnant self went to visit my parents. I was planning on staying a month but when complications with my pregnancy came, I had to extend another month. When it was time to go home, I realised it was the first time since I left my birth country that I stayed such a long period there. And on top of that, we did not travel around like the other years, we mainly stayed in the home I grew up in. It gave me a great amount of time to see friends and hang out with family.


When Daddy Yo went to work abroad for the second year, I thought: I really enjoyed being in France for two full months! Usually, we were only staying 4 weeks, travelled around for 2 full weeks and had very little time to see all the people we wanted to see. We would manage to squeeze in one dinner or lunch with every person we wanted to spend time with, which was not enough to really get to enjoy their presence and catch up with them.

So that second year, I decided to stay two months again. And the end of these two months came so quickly. Of course, it was awesome as we were going to visit Daddy Yo where he was working, so it was one more family adventure. But, all these trips and plane alone with two children wore me out. I went home exhausted and kept on being sick. Dengue virus was the last warning my body was giving me to make me understand I was tired and needed a little rest.

Playing in a wooden playground near a pond in France

This year, we took the decision to only go to France. No visit to Daddy Yo, which was a big and hard decision but a wiser one. And I asked my parents if they minded adopting me and the two girls for three long months. It felt amazing to be there. My mom was freshly retired so I had extra hands to help. My sister and I never had such a great bonding and she spent some great time with her two nieces. We got to spend so much time with my family and I got to spend much time with childhood friends, old and new friends. I even received, over a weekend, one of my very best friend who was visiting her in-laws from Australia. I have not seen her for 9 years and our children (who are the exact same age) met for the first time. They instantly became such amazing friends, it was heartwarming to see!


We had the opportunity to enroll Alia to kindergarden for the two last months of school year, so she could have activities and improve her french. Schools in France are free and mandatory so any child with a French citizenship is welcome anytime to join a new school. It has been a great experience for her! She is now speaking fluently in french to me, had a great time visiting the farm, playing with kids of the village where we live, getting to know the customs in France.

First day of school with warm clothes, new language, new classmates: Fun time!

School fair in Alia's school

I also spent some quality time with some very dear family members who are sick.
I may live on the beach and enjoy life where I am, but as an immigrant living far away from my own country, I am missing things out. This includes being present for your loved ones when they are going through hard time, sickness, problems, depression, or are just getting old. And it sometimes feels so heavy and challenging. I do sometimes feel like I am not fulfilling my role of friend, grand-daughter, cousin, niece...

 



We got to enjoy quality food, organic vegetables, good quality meat, amazing cheese. Food that I am not scared of putting in my daughter's body thinking of all the hidden antibiotics and GMO that might make them pubescent too early. Alia and Gaia took some poney lessons, rode the carousel endlessly, ran in the fields, went to the cinema to see beautiful indie children movies, visited a farm, baked with my sister, made a fire in the chimney when it was cold, jumped in the inflatable pool when it was hot, ran around and played with friends, mowed the lawn with their grand-dad, gardened and planted and watered flowers (and picked a lot on the way), played piano, learned how to behave in a restaurant, enjoyed food, food and more food, had a road trip in Switzerland to visit more family...

    

                                                        

I was also in France during a very painful time for all of us. Terror attacks.
The past ones that happened, I was in the Philippines. I felt lonely. It was just an awful event that had happened in the news for most people around me. And even if I could talk about it with Daddy Yo or a few other people, it kept on following me every second of the day for weeks.
It happened in my streets, to my friends, friends of my friends. I was far away. I could not hug them. I could not join the protests and the walks and reflect on what happened in the streets of the district I called home for 6 years in Paris.

A fire in the chimney to warm our hearts and soul

When the attacks happened on July 14th and a few days after again, it felt horrific and scary. But as weird as it sounds, I was surrounded by people who would talk about it and share my feelings. It did not drive me as crazy as the attacks of November and January 2015 because I could unload what I felt with people who felt the same way. I was there and I could share my pain. And my pain was lighter just by sharing it.

Yes, I have the best of both Worlds. And I want to keep it this way.
But it can also be challenging to jump from one World to another.
This is when you realise you can also be homesick for people.

The beautiful Eiffel Tower a few days after the attack in Nice, France.

Are we there yet?

"Each day of our lives, we make deposits in the memory banks of our children." Charles R. Swindoll

Playing in the park in Chartres

This past years have been challenging in many ways as Daddy Yo went to work abroad for the low season. It is the third summer I am spending alone with Alia and Gaia and of course, it is not a reason for us to stop the adventures! Last year, we went to visit my family in France then Daddy Yo in the USA. It was the first time for Gaia to go out of the Philippines, so it was quite an adventure for her! This year, we travelled to France and Switzerland. 

This is about me, the two girls, a big luggage, a couple of passport and too many airplanes.

Being a single parent is hard. I mean, you always have the perks of it: 

No one to fight over the movie to watch at night.

No one to fight over that last piece of chocolate or cheese after the children are gone to bed.

I am in charge of the menu, which means more healthy meals! (wink wink Daddy Yo!)

I am in charge of bedtime by myself, which means kids are going to sleep early and are not over excited and over stimulated right before sleeping (wink wink Daddy Yo!)

I am in charge of activities and daily schedule, which means I do not have a bad surprise when coming back from the shower seing kids painting on each other with textile paint.

Rolling down the hill

But it also can be overwhelming at time. And frustrating. Very frustrating.

I have very little break time. The kids are asking for my undivided attention at all time. Both of them. At the same time. Over different things.

One wants to breastfeed while the other one wants a cuddle. One wants to sit on my laps so the other one wants too. One is sick and needs me a lot more. The other one wants the same. One wants me to feed her, so I end up not eating with two children on my laps, feeding both of them.

Snack time!!!!!!!

And I am here in the middle. Pouring my love on them. Playing good cop, bad cop. Not having anyone who can step in and take over when I am ready to explode. And there are times when it gets to a point when I am craving to get my body back for an hour, a day. When no one will ask for me, touch me, grab me, climb on me, bite me, pull me, hang on my leg… It is a weird feeling when it seems your body doesn’t belong to you anymore. Not an single second of the day. 

Even at night :)

When Daddy Yo is here, we can share this. If one girl need me, he can take care of the other one. If I put one girl down for a nap, he will do something with the other one. They can share their needs between both of us. It seems a small, petty thing, but after 6 months of being more than their everything, it is hard for me. We may have a nanny but they don’t want them as they want their parents, of course. At least I am glad for that! They can still make the difference! 

I love them as much, maybe even more as the bonding is of every minute and we carry each other everyday. But It is also weary some days.

I first spent 3 months in France. And it never felt better being home than this year. 

The vibe, the choice of food from the market, the variety of activities for the kids. This year just felt good and I will get back to why it felt so good in the next post.

Poney ride in the countryside and around the lake.

While there, I had my parents and sister to share the attention of the kids with. And most important, my childhood friends, sister and parents to talk to at night. Once the girls were asleep, I would sneak out of the room and sit with my childhood friends and sister over a beer. Or sit on my parents bed and watch a movie or talk, talk and talk. After being a mother all day, it feels nice to feel like a child again, sometimes. Curled up on the foot of their bed. 

Sliding in Jardin du Luxembourg,
Paris

After we travelled back to Boracay, that was the hardest part to adjust to. Once the girls are asleep, it is me, myself and I. 

Long, silent evenings. 

No one to share the hard day I had with two sick children, or the homesickness of being back from my hometown, or the tantrums I had to deal with other than waiting for Daddy Yo to wake up over the computer and chat with him for a bit while he gets ready to work.

But it still is nothing, these challenges, compared to the gift and magic of having well travelled and adventurous children. 

To get to explore the World and our own limit with them, see their eyes get filled with excitement and slowly understand the World unfolding in front of them. 

To see them open their heart, their mind to so many different people and culture. And to never forget how it is to be a child. 

Because we all can. Just kneel down and look through their eyes. There is just love for us and amazing adventures awaiting.

A stroll in the French countryside under the rain.

If you travel with young children by yourself, talk to them, always. 

I kept on telling them: We are a team. It is us against the rest of the World. It is gonna be hard for me, this trip as the only adult. So you guys gonna have to help me. Check on each other, check on me as much as I will check on you. Never leave my side. Never leave your sister's side. Be patient as much as I will be. This is one long day and then, it will be over. Let's hold each other's hand and work through it as a team. 

And guess what? It works! Yes, kids are smart and sensitive enough to understand all of the challenges. They can adapt. They can be the best team mates you would ever imagine. Just give them the chance to be. You might be surprised! 

Now, Alia's favorite mantra is "Family hug! We are family! Gaia, it is you and me forever!". 

When they are not hitting each other, arguing over a toy or my attention, this is them, learning that sisterhood is above everything else.

Sister love in Baler, Philippines. Credit: Sabs Bengzon

Hiraeth

I come from everywhere and nowhere.

I call home a few places: Chartres, Paris, Boracay. And Algeria. But not the country of today; the one who used to be, long time ago, who is not anymore. The one I never knew and will never know.

According to Geiriadur, Welsh-English / English-Welsh dictionnary, "Hiraeth is a Welsh word for which there is no direct English translation. The University of Wales, Lampeter attempts to define it as homesickness tinged with grief or sadness over the lost or departed. It is a mix of longing, yearning, nostalgia, wistfulness, or an earnest desire for the Wales of the past."

This is a concept hard to grasp yet a fascinating word all together.

How can one long for a home that was never home? A time one never knew?

It is hard to explain yet very real. I know this feeling well, actually. How peculiar it sounds, thinking about it.

My family is pretty big. And by this, I mean my direct and extended family. Yes, in my family, extended family IS family. Grand children of cousins are cousins. Great great uncles are uncles. Third degrees cousins are the same as first degree cousins. And some of my family members were patient and brave enough to research on the roots of our family and managed to go back as early as the 15th century.

And there we were, jews from Andalousia who went through the expulsion of all Jews of Spain by King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella in 1492.

My family escaped to North Africa and settled in what is known now as the country of Algeria. 

They spent five century there. During the 20th century, France colonised Algeria and my great uncles fought for this foreign country during the First World War. My grand father was born way after them as my Great grand father had about 13 children (the last one was born when he was more than 70 years old).

The book "80 letters from Abraham Ben Meir to his
five sons mobilized during the war, 1914-1918."
by Andre Chouraqui. 

My grand father left his country to study and become a doctor in France. The second World War came and my grand-father worked in the French villages to help people. He met my grand-mother, a catholic young woman, daughter of a steel worker. She never really went out of her village, was years younger than him but was bolt enough to marry a Jew at the nose of the Nazi. 

Fortunately, a relative of my grand-father told him he was in a list of Jews supposed to be arrested. He had to plan a quick escape back to his home country. My grand-mother, young and very adventurous, followed him in the Free Zone in South of France, crossed the Mediterranean Sea and ended up in Oran, Algeria. 

Oran before 1962

Three children were born there. My mother was the youngest. They had a beautiful childhood. The sea was breathtakingly beautiful, they were living all together with their cousins, grand-mother, uncles and aunts. The sundays on the beach, grilling fish with the family. The seeds of fruits they were using to play marbles.

But when my mom was 4 years-old, the Algerian War started against the French. Nasty, scary. Every day, the impacts of bullets in the walls, the death threats in the street, the killings in front of anyone, anxiously waiting for my grand-father when the curfew started but he was still taking care of patients, the bombs. This one bomb that exploded right next to my mom while she was biking, throwing her on the ground while my grand-father ran to check if she was still alive.

Oran, 1962

When my mom was 12, they had to leave the country. The War was still going on and it was not safe enough to stay any longer as the Jews were attacked as well. As France colonised Algeria as early as 1830, my mom was born officially French. The easiest solution for them was to move to France. My mom was the first one to leave, joining my uncle who was married to a Swiss woman. She left everything behind, in the middle of the night. She could not bring her teddy bear, nor say goodbye to her friends. She left behind her mother, father, sister and brother who were older and had things to fix before leaving. 

She spent a trimester in Geneva at her cousins' before meeting her parents in Paris, their new home. Since then, our family is in France. I am part of the first generation of our family, born in France. And my children are already born some place else.

But to go back to this word, "hiraeth". I always felt my roots were in Algeria. I always felt part of me was so strongly North African. During family meetings, we will always talk about Oran, Ain Temouchent, Tlemcen, the towns and villages in Algeria where we are from. We would always cook the food from there. 

A beach in Ain Temouchent

Since many years, it's an untold custom in the family to try and find the perfect recipe of this orange pie my mom, uncle and aunt were eating when they were small, the one Madame Pedro was baking. None of us ever tried the original, but we talk about it almost like our own childhood memory. We heard them talk about their childhood so much, the fond memories, that this is also part of us. We miss it as much as they do. 

And it is sad because it is not a safe place anymore for us to go and visit. But it is home. My great grand-father, Abraham Baba Ben Meyer, old man with a white Sarwel and a headwrap like the Ottoman time, is buried there. As my great-grand-mother, Ramona.

This man on the photo, Baba, even my mom never met him. He was born in 1848 and died in 1929. He was speaking Judeo-arabic, a dead language today. But we talk about him as if we all knew him. And I carry this place and this people in me. 

Baba is inside each of us, standing proudly. He had a dozen of children, 54 grand-children, more than a hundred great-grand children. We stopped counting. 

My children are far from Andalousia, Algeria and France. They are born in yet another continent. But I do hope they will carry Baba inside them as much as we all do in this side of the family. Because it is home to me.

 

And my heart expands in a magical way

“Before I had my child, I thought I knew all the boundaries of myself, that I understood the limits of my heart. It’s extraordinary to have all those limits thrown out, to realize your love is inexhaustible.” — Uma Thurman


So, I'm 7 months and half in my second pregnancy now.
And that has been a crazy roller-coaster. I guess that's why I have been so private about it.

First of all, it was not planned. At least, not this year. So, at first, I literally freaked out thinking it was too early, not prepared. I was looking at Alia, thinking she was still so small.

Alia introducing her sister Gaia Mayari!

But thanks to my awesome husband who reassured me we will always find a way, i started seeing all the good sides of it: sure, most of my friends already have the second one, so it's nice if our second one is not too far apart. They will grow up together, like our first ones did.

Plus I always said I will have my two kids before 30 and I got pregnant the second time around on my 29th year. So, the universe remembered what I wanted.

And, yes, Alia and our second one won't be too far apart as well. So it's nice for them.

Plus, let's face it, i'll be done with pregnancy and diapers faster this way!

Yes, I always wanted two kids, maybe 2 years apart. But once I had Alia, I had this fear: how can you possibly love more than one human being so much, unconditionally, deeply? How can your heart get split in two?

Now, I understand. Your heart doesn't split. Your love for one doesn't shrink.
Your heart gets bigger. It expand. It grows.

After eight weeks of morning sickness, being on my knees in front of the toilets every single day, laying on my couch feeling nauseous every second of the day, not being able to smell or eat or move much, I went to France.

I got blessed that morning sickness stopped for a few days, allowing me to take my three planes without having to run to the toilets onboard. I was alone with Alia, on a night flight. That was my biggest worry. But everything went fine. We arrived in France: I had lost a few kilos and had a big deficit of iron. It made me look like a gothic teenager more than a blooming mother-to-be.

When finally, my appetite slowly came back, we found out I had Toxoplasmosis. This silly bacteria you get from cats, unwashed vegetable and fruits or uncooked meat. Silly because, if you are not pregnant, this bacteria is nothing. You get it, you probably won't even notice, you are immune, end of the story. But if you are pregnant, real damages can be passed onto your baby's brain and eyes.

In the Philippines, it's not a common thing. So, they don't test you for it. In Europe, it is. The test is mandatory in France when you are expecting.

Normally, if you get it while you are pregnant, they will give you antibiotics until the end of your pregnancy to protect your baby. In my case, we had no idea when I contracted it. Therefore, we didn't know the risks the baby could be contaminated already.

As a prevention, I started to take some antibiotics. And we ran some tests to date the bacteria. And I had to change our tickets and stay one more month in France.

There was three scenarios laying in front of me.
Either I had it before getting pregnant, and our baby was safe.
Or I had it just when I arrived in France, and I would continue my antibiotics treatments.
The third one kept me awaken a few nights. If I had it during my three first months and the baby's brain was contaminated, I could do a amnio-synthesis to check the baby. Then I could have an IRM made a few months later and see the damages on the baby's brain. In France, you can choose to have a medical abortion at any time, in the worst cases. Do I need to say more?

We spent a month waiting for all the results. A month away from Daddy-Yo, freaking out alone in Sri Lanka. A month not saying to Alia she may (or may not) have a little sister in a few months. A month of not knowing if my baby was ok.

Until the news came: I got the toxoplasmosis right before I got pregnant. Our daughter was safe.

We found a name for her, of course. Gaia Mayari. Gaia: Earth, City of Light. Mayari: Goddess of the Moon in the Tagalog Mythology. A strong name for a strong girl.

Now, Daddy-Yo is still working in Sri-Lanka, missing his girls as much as we miss him. We got to see him for ten days for my 30th birthday. That was heaven!

Small celebration with Island family

Being by myself, pregnant and caring for a 2 and a half year-old is a roller-coaster.

It taught me I am strong. It taught me I am weak. It taught me I always need to improve my patience. It taught me that my daughter, Alia, is an amazing human being. Even more than I thought she was (and I thought she was pretty damn amazing already, believe me!)

She was the one stroking my hair and cheek while I was vomiting in the toilets. She was the one bringing water to me. She is the one asking if my tummy is "ouchy" and if "baby inside" is ok. She is the one hugging me out of nowhere while we are eating dinner. And kissing me in the morning to wake me up. And sleeping on my shoulder at night.

Very soon, Daddy Yo will be home and we will be a family again. Actually we never stopped being one. Being away from him so long taught me that when you find the one, even though you fight and argue sometimes, distance only makes you stronger.

"Everything you can imagine is real"

It's been ages I haven't wrote even though I thought about it every single week.
Our beginning of year was crazier than we even expected!

Alia, in Vigan, enjoying the crowd watching her show 

Here we were after Vigan, going to Caliraya (for a "no-kid" weekend) then back to Boracay for a couple of days only, before flying again to Manila and picking up my parents. We flew directly to El Nido, Palawan in a beautiful place we rented for a week. Between days chilling in the swimming pool and boat trips discovering the beautiful beaches around, we didn't have time to get bored! Unfortunately, Alia got sick and ended up with 39.9° of fever in the middle of a boat trip we had to cut short to rush to the nearest clinic. The day after, she was fine! And it was the end of our Palawan holidays.

Tatay and daughter time in the middle of the kites for Daddy Yo's first competition

Visiting Vigan by night on a horse-drawn carriage

Alia still managed to visit the secret lagoon, where she had to jump off the boat, swim in open sea for a 150 meters, pass under the rocky mountain to end up in a hidden cove with an amazing white sand beach! She was less scared than me and enjoyed the swim back and forth so much!

We got to see Sea Turtles swimming around the boat, great places you can only access by boat and stay in a really relaxing place, away from the noise, the crowd and the bars.

Alia, at the hidden cove, after the long swim!

El Nido, view from our room...

Back in Manila, we had to think again about our plans to celebrate her second birthday under the tents in Malasimbo Festival. As she was feeling better but had a slight fever again when we arrived in Manila, we decided it was safer to cancel our musical trip. We don't want to risk anything when we are camping in the middle of nowhere!

So here we were, going back to Boracay earlier than expected to celebrate Alia's Indian second birthday! We had a fun little barbecue party with her and our closest friends and an afternoon of fun outside with the kiddie pool and the water hose.

Indian cake for an indian party!

After a week and half with my parents, enjoying Boracay and the house, we finally had some time for us. We cancelled our trip to Puerto Princesa, as we believed Alia needed to enjoy her friends and stay a bit home: our little trail-blazer needed some rest.

Enjoying our "no-kid" weekend with friends

We then, planned the next part of our adventure year.
As Daddy Yo really wanted to work for a season abroad and got an invitation in a really cool kite school in Sri Lanka, he booked his tickets for 3 months there.
I and Alia decided to visit my family ahead of time this year so I could spend my 30st birthday at home.

So here we are, in France! Missing Daddy Yo every single day and we know he does too. But I am thrilled he's realizing one of his wish of spending a season abroad and enjoying it!

Alia becoming a country girl but doesn't forget to put lipstick on first

Due to health issue, I had to extend my trip to another month. It's been a long and rocky road but now, I'm all good and happy. Homesick. But grateful the worries are behind me!

All I want for Christmas

The end of the year has been a very weird one.


I always love Christmas time. It is about getting together, cooking, finding the special thing to offer to your loved ones.

We started Christmas by a really nice get together with all the moms, dads and babies of our Baby Boomers group. And I hosted it. It was like a storm just passed through my house again! But how joyful was this day!

All moms came with something to grill or cooked. I baked loads of cinnamon biscuits that we hang in the Christmas tree. We had an exchange gift for all the kids to enjoy this special day.

We ended up with 13 moms, 6 dads and 16 kids in the house.

The day was so hot and sunny, we set up the little pool and the inflatable slide. The kids were running around, playing with water, the parents were enjoying the laughter and the wine.


On Christmas day, we welcomed Daddy Yo's family for the first time in our house. His parents, sister, brother-in-law, niece and nephew. And of course, our closest Island family: Bogs, Lian and the kids.

Lechon for dinner!

Mostly Alia's gifts of course..

Live music

Astro tatay got an astro bag!

My sister-in law and Lian, my partner in crime

After spending the all day cooking, I ended up a little off. I realized I missed my family for Christmas.
It's been 7 years since I spent my last Christmas with them, in my parents place.

We usually all gather there, in the countryside, cook all together and set up a buffet.

We eat foie gras and seafood and drink wine around the chimney then open the gifts under the big pine-smelling tree standing in the veranda.

You can guess the cold outside but you cannot feel it as the whole house is warm from love and burning wood.


There is that smell of Christmas that I missed this year. The wood. From the fire and from the tree.


When everyone is satisfied, some go to sleep and some stay around the fire drinking more wine and talking until we all cannot stay awake anymore. Everyone will go back to its bedroom or mattress thrown on the floor.

In the morning, we will all wake up slowly and meet in the kitchen to finish the night's left over.
Foie Gras, fresh juice and tea was my Christmas breakfast until I moved here, in the Philippines.

We will all get ready and play with the kids. Then, we will take a walk in the countryside before eating some more. After lunch, some will go home. Some will stay for an extra couple of days.

When we are together with my family, we always try to extend every minute or hours to keep that warm feeling in the air.

Then, the house is quiet again. But the smell of the wood is there.

This year, i was not there with them again. And it was the last Christmas we got with my uncle, Gilles.
He left us suddenly on the morning of the 31st, his amazing wife by his side, as always.

Next Christmas, I will be in France, with my family. I want Alia to experience the warmth of the winter in our house. I will miss my uncle's bad jokes. But I will be with them. And I will smell the wood.