Nestor “Nono” Felix worked in various capacities for an international NGO for more than 25 years before retiring in 2011. From 1997 to 2010, he was the corporate planning and M&E (monitoring and evaluation) manager covering Bangladesh, Cambodia, China, India, Indonesia, Laos, Nepal, the Philippines, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, Thailand, Timor Leste and Vietnam.

His work also took him to other countries to attend corporate seminars for training and skills development and forums for policy making and networking. These included Canada, UK, US, and regions between point A to point B, like the Silk Road. This travelogue is a reflection of his journeys, capturing the essence of diverse cultures, landscapes, and the indomitable human spirit.

As a Filipino national with a keen observant eye, his perspective is firmly rooted in his culture and heritage, but profoundly enriched by the myriad experiences across continents. He is never at a loss for words to make an incisive commentary about the day’s moments. From savoring fish and chips in London, making friends with workshop attendees from Israel and Palestine in Ottawa, joining a safari in Kenya, surviving a 24-hour flight from Thailand to Bolivia, to experiencing racial discrimination in Minnesota, and many more, each destination has left an indelible mark on this traveler from Bicol.

This collection of memories is not just a chronicle of places Nono Felix visited but a testament to the personal connections made, the lessons learned, and the beauty found in the most unexpected corners of the world.

We thank Nono Felix for his generosity in sharing his travelogue with our readers. It is dated January 2024 and his experiences date back to the mid-1980s and 2010s, but the articles nevertheless are timeless. There are 17 chapters, and we plan to publish the travelogue over the coming 6 months. The second of the travelogue series finds the author in Kenya, Thailand and Bangladesh.

The header collage image features Masai people (credit: Masai Mara Kenya) and traffic congestion in Dhaka, Bangladesh (credit: Maciej Dakowicz photography).

Kenya

From Manila, the Emirates plane touched down at Dubai airport after midnight. I was on my way to Nairobi, Kenya for a workshop, and the layover was several hours. So I went around the “best retail airport in the world” instead of spending time at the airport hotel. The glittering airport showcased high-end consumer items. And, for a while, I thought I was in Manila because Tagalog was spoken in every nook and cranny. There were Filipinos among the guards, cleaners, salespersons, airport staff, store managers, et al.

In Nairobi, I stayed in an old tourist hotel. In the morning, the lobby was crowded with Caucasian tourists, although there were some Chinese and Japanese couples. At the café, travel agents were briefing their clients going on a safari.

I arrived the day before the workshop with sufficient free time. So I went to the local market and along the way dropped by a museum, and learned that Indians from South Asia were among the early traders in Africa. There were many antique Indian bric-à-brac in the museum.

As part of the workshop, we visited an interior village where we met with some project beneficiaries. But I was distracted because I kept on stomping the earthen floor. The orange soil fascinated me to no end. One of my childhood dreams was to visit tribal areas as described in Life Magazine. This was after watching the John Wayne movie Hatari shot in the jungles of Africa. The film was also memorable to me. It was the time I went home topless because my shirt was stolen inside the cinema. I took off my shirt because the blower was not enough to ventilate the jampacked movie house. It was slung over my shoulder.

Of course, we found time to join a land safari and were gifted with the sight of giraffes, zebras, elands, elephants, exotic birds, etc. And we passed through a Masai tribal area on our way back to the hotel. Although I looked forward to going on a safari, I was not thrilled every time the beasts showed up not too faraway. I was more interested in getting close to the world famous Masai tribes-people known for their bright robes and spears. But the car zoomed past their abodes (Enkajis), which were made of branches, and a mixture of cow dung and urine.

I enjoyed the night we were brought to a palatial restaurant for dinner. It was overflowing with tourists from all over the world. There was an out of this world exotic dancing from men and women on a wide stage. Each one of them looked like Adonis or Venus. They would put to shame John Travolta and Jennifer Lopez in sexy dancing. But I almost ran away when I learned we would try grilled crocodile meat, etc.

Thailand – through the 1990s

For over a decade, I regularly traveled to Thailand for work in the Bangkok office or as a stopover on my way to other countries. Counting the exact number of times I journeyed to Thailand isn’t something I can easily recall off the top of my head. I have to flip through the pages of my passports, which accumulated over the years. Of course, I no longer remember the number of Philippine passports I used and renewed. The last time I organized them, the stack could fill a shoebox.

In a brief span of time, immigration officers in both Thailand and the Philippines had grown accustomed to my presence. A glance at my youthful face prompted them to stamp my passport, often accompanied by a broad smile that seemed to say, “Ah, it’s you again.” Within the confines of airline lounges reserved for business class passengers and gold card holders, there was no need for me to present my boarding pass or my Star Alliance gold card. The attendants stationed at the entrance were already familiar with my preferred spot, which was a step away from the cornucopia of food and beverages.

Although my flight booking was always an economy class seat, my status as a frequent flier got me upgrades to business class. Later, I discovered that this was primarily because the economy class was fully booked or even overbooked. Lucky frequent fliers were given these upgrades to accommodate economy passengers in cases of seat shortage. The business class cabin wasn’t always at capacity unless it was during peak travel seasons. Despite this, I would have readily relinquished my upgrade, for I often felt out of place in the business class. In the company of businesslike individuals, my jacket atop jeans and a t-shirt made me feel rather small. But, there was that unforgettable flight back from London during which I found myself seated just one space away from Miss Universe Thailand. Throughout the trip to Bangkok, I was fortunate enough to bask in the captivating fragrance that surrounded her.

It is now impossible for me to remember the number of times I arrived at or departed from the Bangkok airport. I checked in and out of both luxurious and more modest hotels, joined tea and coffee breaks during workshops and meetings, and savored Tom Yum Kung or Pla at street-side food stalls. I spent countless early mornings and late afternoons on weekends in the Benchasiri Park Garden, indulged in exquisite Thai foot massages, etc. I generously shared my Star Alliance mileage points with colleagues embarking on holidays, took Tuk-tuks to the vibrant night markets of Patpong, and enjoyed many more experiences.

One particularly vivid memory in my mind was the time when government protestors commandeered the new Suvarnabhumi International airport as their base of operations. Families, supporters, and relatives sought refuge

in the check-in and waiting areas for an extended period. This led to the cancellation or diversion of international flights to a military airfield previously used by the Americans during the Vietnam War. In the face of discomfort, heat, and inconvenience, departing tourists expressed their appreciation for the meticulous organization of bus rides from designated pick-up points in Bangkok. And the efficient handling of passenger traffic at the military airfield overseen by Thai Airways staff and the local police.

During that period, I was en route to the Philippines, fortunate to encounter no rebooking issues. However, there were no direct flights available, and my route required an overnight stay at a luxurious airport hotel in Kuala Lumpur. The cost of this accommodation was equivalent to several days’ worth of stay at a comparable hotel in Bangkok.

My longest stay in Thailand was almost a year in Khon Kaen in the northeast, an hour’s flight from Bangkok. It was during the late 1990s when I oversaw the preliminary testing of a corporate system on planning, monitoring, and evaluation. Staying without a resident or work visa, I shuttled between the Philippines and Thailand almost every month. I then seized the opportunity to take a night bus trip back home to Bicol, which was more than three times longer than the direct flight from Bangkok. But the effort was justified by the profound reasons that compelled me to make the trip.

Thailand – 1997 through 2010

Between 1997 and 2010, I traveled to Bangkok from Manila almost every month. I reported for work in the Asia regional office of my INGO employer for a week or transited to other countries where I would stay for also a week. Unless required for one reason or another, I made it a point my monthly international travel lasted no more than two weeks.

Today, I have to scan more than ten expired passports page by page to know the number of times I visited Thailand. And there is no way to find out how many times I stayed in hotels, joined meetings, workshops, etc., savored Tom Yum Kung and enjoyed exotic foot massage, brought with me unwashed cabin blankets for laundry, and gave away valuable Star Alliance mileage points to colleagues and friends .

One time in Bangkok, anti-government protesters commandeered the new international airport. Flights were either canceled or diverted to air fields outside Bangkok, including those used by US forces in the Vietnam War. On TV, it was clear foreigners wanted to leave Thailand at the first opportunity. They did not mind the massive crowds in the designated waiting areas outside the airport for international flights. They were grateful for the free bus rides from pickup points. On the day I was flying back to Manila, there were no direct flights to the Philippines. Mine was via Kuala Lumpur and the connecting flight was on the next day. The room rate of the Kuala Lumpur airport hotel was excessive. It would deprive anyone paying with personal money like an ordinary tourist a good sleep. At the front desk of the hotel, an Indian transit passenger who looked like a development worker remarked that it was alright to indulge oneself once in a blue moon.

On another trip, a colleague and I went out for dinner at a famous seafood restaurant in Bangkok. Going back to the hotel, we saw female colleagues who begged off from dining out with us at the hotel restaurant. They said they were on diet and would have something light. We were ready to brag about our sumptuous meal but decided against it a step away from their table. They were “dieting” on seafood soup, sauteed fish, prawns with garlic and butter, and fried rice with crab. There were also saucers of glutinous rice with sweet mango.

In the countryside, it was obvious poor Thai families were better off than their counterparts in other countries. They were small landowners with farm animals, implements, and equipment; and living in houses made of strong materials with electric household appliances. And some of them had children enrolled in Bangkok universities. There was then the question whether development organizations should continue to work in the country, which was economically progressing compared to other Asian countries.

Bangladesh

In the capital city of Dhaka, I preferred guest houses because I did not experience stomach trouble in any of them. In hotels, I never checked out without suffering from some kind of gastrointestinal disorder. In my favorite guesthouse, dinner was seldom without grilled king prawns. I never left the country without savoring the delectable dish.

On one visit, I was with Bangladeshi colleagues traveling by van to the northernmost part of the country hundreds of kilometers away. Air travel was suspended because it was the height of the monsoon season. Along the way, the wide open fields were brownish with raging floodwaters. Overhead were dark clouds all the time we were on the road. The tacit agreement was to remain silent with eyes closed or doze off all the way. We were only up and about at lunchtime at a roadside eatery in what looked like a water world. I thought I was en route to Manila from Naga. I was about to order my favorite “longsilog,” a combo of fried rice, fried egg and pork sausage, which was a mortal sin or something like it in Muslim Bangladesh.

On another visit, there was a wintry cold spell, the worst to hit the country in decades. There were cases of death from hypothermia, particularly among the elderly. In a hillside village, Bangladeshi colleagues and I were shivering outside a dilapidated day care center. Children in worn out sweaters were rendering a welcome song and dance in the freezing weather. On our way back to Dhaka, I thought about the children immobile for hours inside the old and cold classroom with an earthen floor.

Every time I was in Dhaka, I would join the group lunch of the country office staff. We ate with our hands the Bangladeshi way. Most of the time, we would have fried freshwater fish, lentils, vegetables, and aromatic rice. After lunch, there was tea with condensed milk, which was new to me, but I liked it.