Two Homecomings

Old 'Gehls' Night, Manila, The Philippines

This was the happy homecoming. All the ladies you see here are between 51 and 52 -- former schoolmates of mine, some from primary school and secondary school, some only from secondary school. They love reunions and, actually, so do I; it's just that I live far away, the same as those who live in the US and Canada. There is a big reunion coming up -- our 35th High School batch 79 Coming Home -- but, of course, that is out of the question for me and the other emigrés.

Many expressed their relief that we were not on the MH17 flight.

It was a fun evening and we yakkety-yakked more than ate. There was a constant readjustment of tables as more guests arrived, loads of screaming in recognition of an old friend, a flurry of exchanges the whole evening "since we last met", cameras on full working mode the whole time. I must have gone around at least three times, shooting. An evening of endless musical chairs, laughter, explanations, catching up, even planning for the future. I was the only one who brought my partner since I don't have any family here who will entertain him while I'm out, and, anyway, he had already met some of them last reunion (5 years ago). So hubby was the only male present ... hahaha!

There was an ocean of food on the table and at the end of the evening I counted no fewer than 15 doggie bags with remainders. The evening had been organized for me and for another who is based in Pennsylvania; I'd arrived at 3 a.m. from Siem Reap, she will be leaving for the States later today. We got one of the doggie bags but what a doggie bag it is -- fried rice, stewed pork, grilled chicken, some salad.

This isn't the best shot there is, but I guess it's okay ...

The moment we got back to our B&B, we turned on the tv to watch the other homecoming. No Dutch channels here the way we could access them in Cambodia, but there was CNN broadcasting live from The Netherlands the very sad homecoming of the MH17 victims -- 40 for now, the rest tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. We saw the military reception and heard the Last Post, we saw the 40 hearses, we watched as the black column drove on the A27 and A2 on its way to Hilversum where the process of further identification will take place (DNA matches, etc.), we felt proud as we saw our fellow Dutchies line the other half of the highway and the viaducts and bridges to pay their last respects. Most were silent, some were wailing. We stayed awake as long as we could, content that, somehow, we were there.