Saharan Christmas

Happy Holidays Greeting straight from Northern Sahara Desert ! ! !


May your Christmas:

be as bright as the dazzling Saharan sunshine,

be as joyful as those chirping desert birds hovering among the pine trees in our garden nearby,

and be as white as those spots of clouds dotting the Ghani field (my workplace) skyline.


Merry Christmas!!!

Living Among Desert Foxes

In my previous blog entries, I have made many references to Ghani field as my place of work yet I failed to give you sufficient description of it. So for you to have a better understanding of the place where I’m in, here is the blog that will treat you to a virtual tour of Ghani field. Okay, let's proceed.

Ghani field is in the middle of the desert though not like one that resembles a topography normally associated with fine sand dunes. Geographically, its terrain is rough and uneven at the most. Multiple hills in varied sizes constitute the landscape accentuated by low lying areas intermittently surrounded by small ridges. Immediately above one of these low elevations lies the Ghani Main Station or the main processing plant.

By the way, Ghani is just one of the five oil producing sites of the company called Veba, a firm jointly operated by Calgary-based Petro-Canada and the Libyan government-owned National Oil Company. It has one main station and three satellite stations collectively capable of producing 50K bbls/day making it the largest oil producer among the five sites.

Each station functions as processing plant which houses giant machineries, vessels, manifolds, and other equipment required to process the crude oil further. Here, crude oil passes through different stages before flowing into the waiting giant storage tanks in unrefined state, though now ready for pipelining into bigger storage tanks located about 200 miles away in Ras Lanuf terminal by the Mediterranean coast.

Lining up by the side of the main station are work shop buildings. The craftsmen that occupy these structures are the company’s troubleshooters. First is the Communications, the department responsible for telephone lines, radio signals and TV channels. Next is the Technical Maintenance workshop which troubleshoots power plant, power lines, electrical appliances, computers, air-conditioners and everything that has to do with electricity. The third building is the Production workshop which serves as the home base for welders, sandblasters, painters, unskilled laborers, etc. Next to this building is the Garage workshop where all pick-up trucks and cars are sent for repair. The petrol station in the front yard is also under the garage section’s responsibility. The last workshop called General Maintenance handles all kinds of generators and compressors.

Strewn all over Ghani field with a distance reaching as far as 30 miles in diameter are oil wellheads feeding the four stations with crude oils sucked from way beneath the desert surface. The wellheads are equipped with either Lumpkin pump (the most familiar as it has this image of a metal beam moving up and down), Water Injection Pump or Submersible Pump mechanisms as a means to easily extract the crude oil from beneath the earth surface. Multiple pipes and an array of manifolds serve as the flow lines between the wellheads and the stations.

Located about a mile away from the main station, in small plateau a little bit higher in elevation than the main station’s is the accommodation camp. I appreciate the very person who did the planning of this area for his good foresight by choosing the camp’s ideal location with a very good view of the plant site and the camp’s immediate environs.

The camp occupies about 20 hectares of flat land with a cluster of 14 accommodations blocks(concrete & otherwise)each containing 20 rooms, and five assembled trailers containing two rooms each. Construction of two more concrete blocks of the same capacity is underway and this will bring to a total of 16 blocks upon completion.

Each room measures at an average of 4 by 4 meters in floor size and has its own bath room, bed, air-conditioning system, cupboard, portable refrigerator and telephone. Subscription to Satellite TV channels is paid for by the company though each individual employee has to provide his own TV set. Here in Ghani you can watch Marimar (Filipino soap) for free, haha. (I occupy one of the rooms in trailer block though the rooms here are smaller in size but they are just as nice since they are equipped with the same facilities and household equipment as those in concrete blocks.

The camp has efficient potable water facilities that would make the officers of Manila’s water companies die of envy. As for electricity, the camp’s power supply comes from giant generators powered by four Tornado and two Ruston turbines fueled by diesel and gas extracted from crude oil. The camp also has two large standby Caterpillar gensets utilized when power outage occurs.

Aside from free lodging, the company also provides free (but not so good due to the same weekly menu being repeated many times over) meals, laundry service and medical assistance to its employees. A building about 20 meters away from the accommodation blocks houses the mess hall and laundry room. Not far away on the left side is the Ghani clinic with two doctors working alternately after every one month.

As for recreation, there are sport facilities comprising tennis court, swimming pool, basketball court and football field. The recreation club houses billiard and snooker tables. The new and bigger recreation club whose construction is to begin soon will feature a mini-cinema and a gymnasium.

Standing beside the mess hall building and fronting the main parking area is the main office building. This is the place where the Area Superintendent (the field’s chief executive) and I, his secretary, hold office. A two storey structure, this building also houses such major departments as Operations (Production, Technical and General Maintenance), Reservoir and Production Engineering, Drilling, Area Facilities Engineering, and the Radio Room.

My brother Benjoe, by the way, is one of the three Radio/Telephone Operators manning the Radio Room. His job, among other things, is to give weather information to pilots during aircraft’s take-off and landing.

Along the main road heading to main station about half a mile from main office building is the Fire Station building. Officially called Loss Prevention and Environment Department, the fire station has one Mercedes and one Kenworth fire trucks. It also has its own accommodation block for the exclusive use of the whole fire station crew. The Pinoy crews here cook their own meal, Filipino style, so I visit them once in a while or more specifically when I’m invited to come for a drink and dinner.

As regards transport, the Ghani Airport is located about 15 miles away. The company’s 50-seater Dash-8 and the two small Twin Otters land here every Monday, Wednesday, Thursday and Saturday transporting the employees in and out of Ghani field. Pick-up trucks, mostly Land Cruisers, numbering in more than a hundred are the local means of transport.

Bye for now.

From Mediterranean then to Caliraya soon

In contrast to my present pastime that is tennis of which I am just a mere spectator, in the sport of windsurfing, however, I myself am (or was) the player.

As most of my Tripoli-based colleagues and friends (Eric Bleza, Darwin Tinea, Cesar Principe, Dondon Oraa, etc.) already know that most of my barkadas (Reflex co-members) and neigbors in Cavinti haven't yet, I have been (at least in the cyberspace for now) into this windsurfing thing for some time now. I hope that my ‘kabayans’ would not think of me as making an impression of being ‘pa-sosyal’ in the event they see me being in the company of a group of windsurfers having a good time in Caliraya sometime early next year.

Let me point out that windsurfing is more than just a recreation. It is also about camaraderie among people who share interest in the beauty of nature. I was first introduced into this sport in August of 2003 when Ed Maduli, my officemate and the only Filipino member of the windsurfing group in Tripoli, took me to Regata beach, urging me to try to experience the fun and the thrill of riding the waves in Mediterranean on a windsurfer, and the awesome feeling of being far out in the sea where there’s nothing but just you, the surfing gear, the wind and the water.

Unknown to Ed, I wasn't exactly ignorant about windsurfing. I told him that back in the late 80’s when each time the Reflex Club (our community group in Cavinti) was on picnic in Caliraya, we always had fun watching from the shore the foreigners showcasing their different windsurfing skills out in the middle of Caliraya lake and jeering at them each moment some of them would fall down hard into the water. Their show was awe-inspiring. Imagine them sailing at about the speed of speedboat with just the force of wind powering their sail.

From then on, I have fantasized the idea of becoming a windsurfer even for just a dream, not knowing that two decades later I would set foot in Libya where I would be given the opportunity of learning this sport unexpectedly. So when Ed asked me to come with him to Regata during one non-working day, I did without much prodding and literally transformed that dream into reality.

I was full of excitement and enthusiasm during my first day in Regata, all the more so when told that the water during August usually remained calm for most hours of the day, thus favorable for a first-timer like me. The VAOS group led by master-surfer Mr. Heuritsch along with veteran surfer Mr. Horner, with a bunch of beginners, namely, Mr. Schnek, Ms. Sanaa, and Ms. Isabela, was already in the water by the time we parked by the shore the Peugeot 806 we were driving. I noticed Ms. Sanaa, who was returning from her trip offshore, seemed having a hard time steering her sail as evidenced by the wrong direction she was heading. Mr. Schnek was as well having some problems with his balance as he dropped into the water frequently. About a hundred meters far out the shore, there was Ms. Isabela. It seemed she lost energy as I saw her simply swimming back to shore with her board and sail in tow.

Not long after, Mr. Heuritsch, our HR Manager cum surfing tutor, began with his lecturing on windsurfing lessons. Since he was doing this to me for free, he skipped discussing the most basic, such as how to gear up the sail or matters relating safety, and instead proceeded on demonstrating what I should do in actual practice. From him, I learned that one’s body must be positioned straight up, chest push forward, to prevent back pains when hauling the sail out from the water. When reaching for the sail, one must grab the boom by the right hand first then by the left immediately after. So simple huh? No. it’s not in practice.

For beginners let alone first timers, maintaining balance atop the board was never easy. I’ve had to fall over as many times as I attempted climbing up on it. I don’t know how many hours and days I was in this situation before I finally got used to the proper body positioning and then eventually managed to steer and maneuver the board and sail finally successfully.

If this was in Philippines, this experience might surely not have happened. For how could I afford parting with my hard-earned money in exchange for a luxurious pastime that costs over a hundred thousand (in pesos), not to mention the car you would need to transport the expensive equipment. Were it not for our company’s generosity (by lending me its spare gears ) my windsurfing passion would remain just a dream.

Ed, my surfing buddy, by the way, has eventually managed to buy a second hand at first and then later a brand new one a few months after I transferred to another work assignment so faraway from the beach. I assumed that after all these years he has already nearly perfected his gybing and tacking skills.

Since having assigned here in Ghani field, only once that I had been to Regata beach again. It was last January while I was in transit back to the field from vacation. It was still winter time when the waves were unusually big and the water was still so cold, a condition not suitable for windsurfing but just perfect for sightseeing. A photo op (haha) and a cup of cappuccino was all that we had during that Regata trip.

As I mentioned earlier, the only association I have right now to windsurfing is through the internet. I signed up for membership to Caliraya Windsurfing Fleet Yahoo Group so I could keep track of the news about the different activities and competitions the group has been undertaking. So far I’ve been entertaining myself in just looking at the photos the group has just posted. There are plenty of their pictures taken during the recently concluded windsurfing competition held in Terrazas De Punta Fuego in Nasugbu, Batangas.

When I get home for my next vacation, I would be meeting the group members in person for the first time. Cavinti is just a few kilometers away from Caliraya where they meet once in a while or more precisely when the wind forecast becomes suitable for them to windsurf. I know that most of them come from a well-to-do families judging by the brand of cars and by the brand of board and sail they are using. But these won’t deter me from meeting them as I have the impression that they are kind and accommodating enough.

Months ago one member emailed back asking that I let them know when I get back to Cavinti again so I could be with them.

Wish me luck!!!

The Calm After Sandstorm

Although pulburon, or sandstorm, or desert storm (whichever way you call it) causes annoyance by showering us with irritating dust, dirtying our accommodations and leaving behind mounds of earth materials on our surroundings, it has its favorable effect on us, nevertheless.

Actually, the people here, particularly the Pinoy craftsmen slaving in the industrial areas, always feel glad with the occasional sandstorm occurrences for they know a pleasant weather condition will emerge the following day.

I don’t know about the science behind this phenomenon but this is really what happens in my nearly seven years of existence here in the Libyan desert. A changing weather pattern caused significantly by the intermittent occurrence of sandstorms.

This means rising temperature will be reversed in the process resulting to an atmosphere as pleasurable as what you might feel when having a walk by the Caliraya lakeside next to the spillway or when having a stroll and smell of fresh air atop the peak of the Japanese garden in Talaongan. Or indeed when trekking that stretch of dirt road from Patahan in Luisiana to Patola and then all the way to Calminue in the highlands of barangay Cansuso in Cavinti, Laguna. (The names of places mentioned here are some of the scenic spots in my province in the Philippines).

Here in Ghani field, most of the Pinoys subcontracted to Veba (the oil company) work in the open areas among the heat-emitting machineries and gigantic oil storage tanks or out there in the oil rigs where they are exposed under the blistering sun. So the sudden drop in temperature is a welcome relief to them.

Before I end this piece, let me just say that my personal association with such words as sandstorm, Sahara desert, Libya, Africa, Mediterranean, Tripoli, Benghazi, etc. actually began when I was in Grade Six, when we were being exposed to the world and its many places of interest through our Social Studies subject under Mrs. Dalisay Delos Santos.

These words bring back memories of the amusing and informative daily guessing games which Mrs. Delos Santos would engage us in. We would trade questions about countries, the US’ 50 states, capitals, US’s Presidents, etc., and in every occasion my male classmate Rolinel Benerayan (now lives in Britain) would pester my female classmate Frecie Lubuguin (now lives in US) by singling her out to answer the same question over and over again throughout the school-year. That was fun then.

Well, have to end it here for now. It’s time to catch the live telecast of Nadal’s playing against Nalbanian on Madrid Masters. (Note: This blog entry was written and initially posted in my friendster blog a month ago).

Pulburon

It was late afternoon on Monday (15/10/07). The scene outside our office building has turned gloomy. Dust particles seemed evaporating. An impending sandstorm was looming in the horizon. In a short while, it would be raining…. of 'pulburon'. (Pulburon is a kind of powder milk candy popular among Filipino kids and resembles the color and appearance of sandstorm dust).

Then it came.

As viewed through our office window, strong wind began beating hard, lashing mightily on trucks and pick-ups on the road, and sending clouds of dusts into the air, blurring the immediate surroundings to near zero visibility. In their pick-up trucks, after another day of grueling work (and dollars, so they say), oil workers (locals and expats) arrived one after the other, jumping out of their vehicle and dashing off to hide in the comfort of their accommodation blocks, well, after having immersed themselves in 'pulburon'.

Thankfully, after an hour or so, this mid-October sandstorm has weakened by the time we were readying ourselves to attack the mess hall (our eating place here), of course for the dinner of the day and not because of the incompetent chef though he himself may be attacked one day if he does not mend his awful cooking ways (haha).

As I was about to lap up the smoldering broiled 'lapu-lapu' (kind of fish) served with lemon- soy sauce dip, the thundering storm has resumed with its pounding this time with a mini tornado-like force, pummeling the mess hall’s window panes and doors, and depositing next to them mound of dirt, dust particles and pile of dried leaves windblown from both the nearby tennis and basketball courts.

Moments passed and our mess hall invasion was over. Although each tummy was now full of mess hall stuff, we had to move quickly along the shortest route possible back to our individual shelter to avoid the swirling pulburon from being ingested as an extra pang-himagas (dessert in Filipino).

Back in my room after having my usual trip to the shower and now reading the day's Inquirer printouts, while watching pretty Pauleen on TV dance to 'Kagat-labi' tune(Filipino Channel), I felt the pounding continued, though it was much much stronger than it was minutes back. My accommodation trailer felt as though it was shaking, and I thought I heard the bolts securing it from its concrete base creak a bit as if their strength were being tested to the limit.

Hammering heavily on my modest dwelling, dust particles of the tiniest size have begun permeating into my room like water seeping through even the smallest of openings. Then after a little while, the satellite failed and as a result lovely Pauleen disappeared. Since I was in no mood to read, I decided to call it a day and prepared to sleep.

As for the 'pulburon', tomorrow morning Sameer, our Moroccan houseboy, as usual would have his hands full with vacuuming works to get rid of the annoying 'pulburon' now piling up little by little in every corner of my room.

To be continued.

The Pueblo; Our Summer of 1989's Magdapio Adventure

Finally after so many past attempts and unnecessary long delays, the place we frequented during many past summers has now become a public recreation site called Pueblo El Salvador Ecotourism park.

The old Naculo Falls' dirt track branching off to national hi-way in Tibatib has now been paved. Likewise, the connecting path that leads to the famous Magdapio Falls (Pagsanjan Falls, as it is known to many) located downriver is now barricaded with metal handrails and the steep descent is now installed with metal stairs giving people easy access to the falls with a minimal pay and an equally minimal effort. So the trip to the famous falls is now practically and literally a walk in the park.

But I guess not so many people have known about the existence of this trail and what lies in there long before our municipal government thought of developing the place as it is now.

Since during the time of our forefathers, this old trail leading to the falls and the valley's floor has already been frequented by few adventurous people, partly, for animal hunting purposes and mainly for the beauty it offers.

As you walk through it you will find that it is all pristine forest all around. The place is abound with big grown trees, tangled vines dangling on them where some monkeys perform acrobatics, noisy birds feasting on lansay trees, and monitor lizards (bayawak) that people intermittently come across with.

Halfway through, you will get fascinated by a lone giant tree standing on the middle of the trail blocking passers-by. It is so big that you have to carefully inch your way when passing through it as either side is deep ravine that, in case of a misstep, could swallow you to eternity. Here is also the perfect place where you can view the other waterfall located just above the main one.

A few meters ahead, on the right side, there’s the deep gorge where the waters of Lumot river flow. With its deepness, the gorge’s floor surroundings chillingly offered visitors amazing bird’s eye-view of the river with its blue waters flowing gently along large boulders.

At this same point, in the left gorge, partly hidden due to heavy growth of trees, there’s the main waterfall generating a thundering noise and, with its mists, creating a spectacular rainbow-filled scenery.

It was in the summer of 1989, when we first entertained the idea of going there. The thought of not having seen Magdapio Falls in person at the time was enough for us to take the challenge and see it for the first time.

Back then, the trip to Magdapio via the Tibatib trail was more exciting and challenging than it is today. Minus the paved surface and handrails, Art Arroyo, Poklay Antiporda, Darwin Tinea, Warren Umali and I hiked the narrow path into the gorge by clutching on vines and old ropes to the amazement (and annoyance, due to small falling rocks) of the crowd watching from the river ground.

Our descent was not particularly easy as we had to look after Poklay who was the youngest and the most nervous among us. High up on the steepest part of the trail in a point where you cannot yet see the crowd at the bottom but only hear their voices, we almost surrendered. The steep descent just immediately below us was the most difficult stage and the most frightening. But perhaps because of our strong will to succeed and to think we were almost there, we persevered. Thanks to the guts, boldness, fighting spirit of us all, and the ingenuity of Art & me (being a son of a farmer), we, clutching on a vine and forming a single-pile pyramid, managed to make Poklay pass through this stage, and eventually all the way down the river ground without suffering any injuries. The gathering crowd at the river met us with their admiring stare.

Our little but exciting and challenging adventure did not end there. On our way home, we opted to swim downstream the more than three kilometers stretch of the river. All five of us, each with a bamboo pole, took our version of ‘shooting the rapids’ starting from the boats’ waiting area near the foot of the falls all the way to Kawa-Kawa, near the border of Cavinti and Pagsanjan. Along the way, we occasionally met lots of tourists of different nationalities in bancas taking photos of us with their cameras.

Rowing the bamboo pole was easier along the rapids itself where the water moved very fast you just have to ride on the current in a free-flowing process. But that was not the case when rowing on still waters and there were many of them on that stretch of the river. There, the movement was slow. You have to propel the bamboo pole by the strong kick of your legs and by the swing of your hands. That trip downstream took us almost two hours to cover that stretch of the river interrupted by as many as eight rapids in between eight still waters.

Tatay Fred recently emailed me some photographs showing the family on picnic at the newly opened park. Those photos brought back memories of our adventure, thus the reason for coming up with this blog entry.