18 years of Marriage

18 years ago, on March 8th, 2003, on now famous Siargao Island, I married my darling Mirasol. I can remember so many details from that time. The island hadn't yet been discovered by mass tourism, so my friends and family from England had the waves and epic scenery all to themselves. While the wedding ceremony itself went really well, the first part of the reception was somewhat chaotic, with a large number of hungry, largely uninvited, revelers sitting in seats allocated for the bridesmaids and close family. Anyway, after they ate or stole what they wanted of the one water buffalo, eight pigs and numerous other items on the menu, most of our invited guests got a fair share of food too, and the impromptu disco got everyone up off their seats to dance it all off. 

Looking back at that time brings a mixture of sadness and happiness for me. Happy because I married the girl of my dreams after a romance in a place that can only be described as a tranquil paradise. That can't ever be taken away. However, somewhat naively, I always assumed Siargao would remain a backwater. Therefore, I saw no necessity to buy a piece of large piece of land and believed we had plenty of time to save up a block of money for an extended life there. Sadly, I was wrong on all counts. That's where a tinge of sadness and regret creeps in.

Almost a year after our wedding, Mirasol moved to UK in spring 2004, where we saved for five long years living in the small coastal town of Cromer. To cut a long story short, we eventually moved back to Siargao in late 2009, but rampant inflation made everything ridiculously expensive. The land we had bought in 2006 was small and inappropriately located, and buying new land and building a house decimated our fund for what was supposed to be a seven-year stay. Also, the island itself was changing rapidly and already on an unstoppable path towards its fate as the Philippine Bali.

Maybe I already knew all these facts in my heart. In fact, I had completed a TESOL course in the spring of 2009 in anticipation of needing to work in a flexible industry like ESL, where I might be able to raise money quickly. I even tested the waters by sending my CV to a contractor, called Skyline Global Solutions, in the summer of 2009. Remarkably, they said I was a perfect candidate and suggested I fly to Riyadh immediately, but it took a few years and financial strife before I found myself in the Kingdom.

Three years later, in the summer of 2012, I left my wife and two-year-old son behind in the UK and embarked on my first season in Saudi Arabia. Trapped in the middle of the desert without access to my passport, I gritted my teeth through eleven months of loneliness and despair, buoyed only by pioneering sand boarding in the dunes of the Al-Nafud. After almost a year apart, it almost felt strange to be married - we had to get to know each other all over again. 

After another couple of years in the Philippines, we were broke again, so I decided to return to Saudi in the autumn of 2015 determined to solve our financial problems for good. In particular, I wanted to establish a solid source of revenue in the Philippines. Perhaps tonight's 18th wedding anniversary celebration in Khafji's swankiest restaurant, Lebanese Story, makes it seem like we've done it, but appearances are deceptive, aren't they? 

While we're definitely a bit richer after more than five years of riyal-collecting, the pandemic closed our Airbnb forever a couple of months ago. Therefore, in some ways, it seems like we're about to repeat a cycle which began in 2009 - fly back to the Philippines, live off savings, and, eventually, run out of money. Of course, there are possible alternative narratives. Maybe our Bitcoin and Ethereum investments will come good, or Mirasol's business ideas could take off.

Whatever happens, it was a blessing to be with my wife and son tonight. We've survived eighteen years of marriage and we're convinced only death will part us. Maybe that's the only success we need right now, especially in a world as uncertain as the one we're all currently living in.