These Kishemon chronicles are dedicated to the people who prayed for my return and to future Kishemons who will be surfing the net in the attempt of preparing themselves for the trip.

THE FLIGHT

I have this recurring fate of being held up in airports. This time it was because of my dummy ticket that needed to be exchanged for the real one before I can check in. My co-worker, Kuya Melvin, and I waited half an hour for the agency guy to arrive and give us our real tickets. When he finally showed up, he easily handed over Kuya Melvin’s ticket but looked at me and said in a confused tone, “You ticket also? I have only one. One boy. No girl.” Then he asked me if I was willing to fly the next day.

I was all set, all packed. I did not want to fly the next day. I shook my head stolidly. Thanks to the guy’s sense of responsibility, he made a way to get me in. After making a lot of calls and engaging the entire airport staff, the authorities allowed me to fly that day. When I made it through immigration, I was the last one in.

LESSON 1 – It is essential for you to dress smart and look appealing for you to be properly entertained in case of emergency. It is also quite necessary to smile and pretend that you’re liking the casual flirting of any airport staff who is detrimental to your entry of the plane. Giving your number is needed to seal the deal.

Kish Air was a cramped mini plane that smelled like a funeral-dental cabin.

LESSON 2 – Seat numbers on the tickets are not followed. Haste and a bit of aggression is needed to secure your preferred seat.

Kuya Melvin is a pro in the Kish experience. He was good enough to coach me and guide me through everything.

LESSON 3 – It is alright to take pictures of yourself as long as others are not looking.

The trip was short and uneventful except for the countless moaning of “ang baho naman dito!” (it stinks in here!). The stench was beyond bearing that upon touch down, everyone fled so fast.

Just before the sliding doors of entry to the airport is a little changing room where abayas readily awaited us. All women were expected to conform to the Muslims dress code. Airport security deliberately inspected our attires while we were lining up for entry. One is allowed to wear casual clothing as long as it covers one’s hair, arms, legs and, most importantly, butt. To be safe, I grabbed one abaya and tried so hard to ignore the looming thoughts of germs and probable skin disease of the former user. It wasn’t that bad though. The garments were washed.

LESSON 4 – To avoid looking like a giant penguin, bring your own conservative clothes. Bring tops that are long enough to cover your butt. To save you from the inconvenience of patong-patong and looking like a walking clothe-spin, bring coats or dresses to be worn over jeans or long leggings.

THE ARRIVAL

Entering Kish Island was hassle-free. No questions asked and no whistles blown. A mini van was waiting outside to take us to our hotel. Everyone on the plane was there for one purpose, to exit and to get a new visa. So together, we got on the van and patiently waited for the driver to bring us to our resting place.

Khatam Hotel was not an inch of a hotel. It was more of a sophisticated camp site. It was a huge villa-turned-headquarters for people of all races and culture. It’s like the waiting areas in clinics or hospitals, only they had beds and rooms.

The first thing I saw as I stepped off the bus was this black guy sitting lazily by the gate, smoking a tobacco. Sudden fear rushed through me as I contemplated on the thought that in a few days, I may be like him, bored to death as I desperately anticipate my visa. The place spelled weariness and the people smelled like monotony.

Upon entering my assigned room, the sight of the comfort room reminded me of my public high school’s. It was impossible to feel clean even after an hour-long bath.

My room had 10 beds all in all. Everyone was Filipina. Some had been there for 14 days already.

There was a part in the room where it looked like someone committed suicide. It was eerie and creepy.

My bed was a squeaky mattress in the middle of chaos. For the next days, this was to become my haven.

Some rooms had more than 10 beds. Some had dividers, some just curtains. The common denominator is congestion and bed mites.

LESSON 5 – Bring your own towels, sheets and paraphernalia for survival. Bring books, journals, ipods and anything that could fill your days. Don’t be fooled by the word hotel, think public hospital.

I was told that I was lucky I got to room with Filipinos. When roomed with foreigners, one is advised to prepare for war. Indeed, the desperation and boredom of the place is a breeding ground for tension and cat fights. At the same time, it is a nest for casual lovers and outright flirtation.

LESSON 6 – The food in the canteen is cheap but it’s better to bring your own packed or canned goods. Bring more than necessary. Sharing is the secret to survival.

Breakfast is free but this is all you get – a hard boiled egg and a semi-edible bread.