Homecoming
3 Dec
Not many know about my return home. My mum knows, my brother and his
family know, and two friends also know too. And I asked them not to
tell. As far as everyone else is concerned, I'm still home in montreal,
going about my routine...
A main part of the reason why this trip is done in (almost complete)
secrecy is because I'm saving up and building up the suspense and the
curiosity till the day I surprise my friend.
Another is because I'm always wary not to advertise too much nowadays
where I'm going, because people might just have the wrong impression of
me. Yes, I travel a lot. Yes, I have the means to do so and don't have
to think too much about money and obligations like work, but I travel
mainly to visit family, and not to go on so exotic vacation and indulge
in luxury. And to me that's always a reason to travel, or at least I
tell myself so.
My brother insisted on picking me up at the airport. Not just in the
car, but he insisted on going inside to the arrivals terminal to greet
me as I come out. The last time someone did that was my ex, in
Vancouver, and it is a welcome, wonderful feeling.
I saw them almost immediately, and they greeted me with a smile. My
sister-in-law stood next to my brother, who had a little baby his arms.
"Hello! Who's this?" I asked jokingly.
My nephew, my beautiful, beautiful nephew, whom I've only seen in
pictures and videos. Now, for the first time, I was seeing and stroking
softly on the cheeks for the first time in his life, for the first time
in my life. My heart lit up in a way I never imagined possible. Right in
front of, the source of joy in many people's lives, especially that of
mum's. I smiled and stroked his thin hair while he looked at me with
big, curious eyes.
I gave my brother an semi hug, awkward as he had my nephew, and I gave
my sister-in-law three kisses on the cheeks. "Welcome home to Holland!"
she wished me. I looked around the terminal building... At the big
Heineken advertising in the distance, at the bouquets of tulips at the
florist, the pungent smell of coffee in air, mixed with a cacophony of
chatter in Dutch In the background. All these familuar sights and sounds
of home, triggering memories of my youth and childhood to flood gently
flow back. Home again, after a year and a half away...
Best of all, it felt wonderful to be reunited with family...
03 December 2011
London calling
LHR-AMS
3 Dec
What to do when you have two hours to kill at the airport? I guess you could wander around, walk all over the terminal building(s)... Or you could make a mad dash to downtown London and then back again. And I chose to do the latter.
I got off the plane, and was half expecting my ex to be lurking around. Luckily he wasn't. So I made my way from terminal 3 to terminal 1 (just do that I could 'disappear' off the radar and make it harder to track, if I was being tracked...) then to terminal 5 to get my boarding pass for my onward connection. It was on the train between the terminals that I got the idea. 15 minutes to downtown London on the Heathrow Express, which runs every 15minutes. So the longest it would take is only half an hour. I'd be pushing it, but i could do it. And there is one place I've been wanting to go back, and that's my alma mater: SOAS.
So i took the chance I had an hour or so from the moment I boarded the train. Heathrow to Paddington, change on the Hammersmith and City line to King's Cross / St Pancras, transfer on the Piccadilly Line to Russell Square. I know these routes off of my head. I can picture the colours and the tube trains and connecting stations.
So many familiar places, signs, buildings... The streets, smells, the crinkling and creaking sounds of the tube. A decade ago I went to London to study. And look at me now, ten years later. How far have I come? I felt like I've come full circle to be back where I was then, and that I've grown and matured so much...
How strange it felt to be standing in front of the very building I entered almost everyday for three years. There is a sign that marks the entrance to my university. The symbol is of a big green tree in full bloom. Knowledge and wisdom thriving through time. A school originally established to train diplomats and colonial officers at a time when the sun never set over the vast stretch of the British Empire. Today, it is a breeding ground for critical studies of the developing world, for staunch opponents of the existing (oligarchical and oppressive) economic and political world order.
Those three years spent at SOAS certainly stimulated my mind and thinking, fertilised the left leaning tendencies and great interests I take in the lives and affairs of the world at large, as seen from non western-centric point of views. There were banners and weather-worn posters on the walls and lamp posts on campus. Protests, activist movements were, and still apparently are, the norm at this little college in the heart of London.
I took a picture and quickly turned around. 10am. The gate closes at 1120. So I rushed, the same route back. I filed into the crowded tube station at Russell Square, waited for the elevator to take dozens of other waiting passengers 15 storeys underground. Luckily I managed to hop onto the eastbound train to Cockfosters before the door closed. I caught my breath briefly before I rushed and rushed up the long flight of escalators at King's Cross to transfer on the line toward Paddington station. 1010am. Train leaves in 10 minutes. If I missed it, I would be really pushing it with the time. I still needed to get through security, and who knows how long that will take.
1018... And the tube slowly, slowly pulled into Paddington station. Why does everything seem so slow when you're in a hurry? Why do I get myself into hairy situations (or perhaps adventures, however you'd like to see it...) like this, when I could have been sitting quietly at the airport terminal and just waited to board the plane? Even the check in counter man told me there's not enough time to go anywhere, and told me to just stay put and wait for the plane.
But I like a bit of excitement, I guess.. I want to do things that are against the grain and unpredictable, and totally crazy even, things when you look back will make you smile, and somewhat proud, and think: "Did I really do that??" I mean who in their right mind would go to downtown London and back in one hour just to pose in front of the university where they used to study? I would. And I did.
1019, I grabbed my carry on with my two hands, snaked through the crowd who were taking their leisurely time. Up and down the flights of stairs I ran, simultaneously eyeing quickly the monitor which displayed train departure times and destinations...
Heathrow... Yes! Heathrow Terminal 5. Platform 6. In 2 minutes. There the train was. I could see it.
I set down carry on, and let it roll. The four wheels grumbled loudly behind me as I dashed down the platform. Is this it? Is this the train? Get onboard. Just get onboard!
So onboard the train I jumped. And within a minute, barely with the time catch my breath, the intercom sounded. "Mind the doors, mind the closing doors. Heathrow Express to Terminal 5".
I was onboard. Sweaty, hot,out of breath, my heart racing rapidly, but I was finally on board. And in my camera were the classic shots of me and of a teddy bear posing in front of my alma mater.
Well done. Mission accomplished...
3 Dec
What to do when you have two hours to kill at the airport? I guess you could wander around, walk all over the terminal building(s)... Or you could make a mad dash to downtown London and then back again. And I chose to do the latter.
I got off the plane, and was half expecting my ex to be lurking around. Luckily he wasn't. So I made my way from terminal 3 to terminal 1 (just do that I could 'disappear' off the radar and make it harder to track, if I was being tracked...) then to terminal 5 to get my boarding pass for my onward connection. It was on the train between the terminals that I got the idea. 15 minutes to downtown London on the Heathrow Express, which runs every 15minutes. So the longest it would take is only half an hour. I'd be pushing it, but i could do it. And there is one place I've been wanting to go back, and that's my alma mater: SOAS.
So i took the chance I had an hour or so from the moment I boarded the train. Heathrow to Paddington, change on the Hammersmith and City line to King's Cross / St Pancras, transfer on the Piccadilly Line to Russell Square. I know these routes off of my head. I can picture the colours and the tube trains and connecting stations.
So many familiar places, signs, buildings... The streets, smells, the crinkling and creaking sounds of the tube. A decade ago I went to London to study. And look at me now, ten years later. How far have I come? I felt like I've come full circle to be back where I was then, and that I've grown and matured so much...
How strange it felt to be standing in front of the very building I entered almost everyday for three years. There is a sign that marks the entrance to my university. The symbol is of a big green tree in full bloom. Knowledge and wisdom thriving through time. A school originally established to train diplomats and colonial officers at a time when the sun never set over the vast stretch of the British Empire. Today, it is a breeding ground for critical studies of the developing world, for staunch opponents of the existing (oligarchical and oppressive) economic and political world order.
Those three years spent at SOAS certainly stimulated my mind and thinking, fertilised the left leaning tendencies and great interests I take in the lives and affairs of the world at large, as seen from non western-centric point of views. There were banners and weather-worn posters on the walls and lamp posts on campus. Protests, activist movements were, and still apparently are, the norm at this little college in the heart of London.
I took a picture and quickly turned around. 10am. The gate closes at 1120. So I rushed, the same route back. I filed into the crowded tube station at Russell Square, waited for the elevator to take dozens of other waiting passengers 15 storeys underground. Luckily I managed to hop onto the eastbound train to Cockfosters before the door closed. I caught my breath briefly before I rushed and rushed up the long flight of escalators at King's Cross to transfer on the line toward Paddington station. 1010am. Train leaves in 10 minutes. If I missed it, I would be really pushing it with the time. I still needed to get through security, and who knows how long that will take.
1018... And the tube slowly, slowly pulled into Paddington station. Why does everything seem so slow when you're in a hurry? Why do I get myself into hairy situations (or perhaps adventures, however you'd like to see it...) like this, when I could have been sitting quietly at the airport terminal and just waited to board the plane? Even the check in counter man told me there's not enough time to go anywhere, and told me to just stay put and wait for the plane.
But I like a bit of excitement, I guess.. I want to do things that are against the grain and unpredictable, and totally crazy even, things when you look back will make you smile, and somewhat proud, and think: "Did I really do that??" I mean who in their right mind would go to downtown London and back in one hour just to pose in front of the university where they used to study? I would. And I did.
1019, I grabbed my carry on with my two hands, snaked through the crowd who were taking their leisurely time. Up and down the flights of stairs I ran, simultaneously eyeing quickly the monitor which displayed train departure times and destinations...
Heathrow... Yes! Heathrow Terminal 5. Platform 6. In 2 minutes. There the train was. I could see it.
I set down carry on, and let it roll. The four wheels grumbled loudly behind me as I dashed down the platform. Is this it? Is this the train? Get onboard. Just get onboard!
So onboard the train I jumped. And within a minute, barely with the time catch my breath, the intercom sounded. "Mind the doors, mind the closing doors. Heathrow Express to Terminal 5".
I was onboard. Sweaty, hot,out of breath, my heart racing rapidly, but I was finally on board. And in my camera were the classic shots of me and of a teddy bear posing in front of my alma mater.
Well done. Mission accomplished...
Hide and seek
Hide and seek
Just prior to landing at LHR. Circling the airspace above heathrow for over twenty minutes already, and still waiting for permission to land...
I'm a bit anxious, to be honest. I don't know how it never crossed my mid until last night when I went to see my friend off at the airport that we would be arriving at London Heathrow at around the same time. He would be flying in from Toronto, whereas I would land around an hour or so later from Montreal. I have a feeling he'll probably try to reach me or even call me as soon as he lands, and when he does he'll get the message that my phone is off. Which may add to his suspicions that I'm flying. Maybe he'll just stand at the gate and wait for me to get off to surprise me...
If he does that, then so much for my surprise of showing up at his doorstep in a few day's time... It's been hard keeping this secret operation a secret. Inquisitive as my friend is, he's been asking lot of questions about what I'm planning, what I'll be doing while he is away. I've been vague, but at times, just to whet his curiosity and get him wondering, I've been dropping hints here and there. In fact, if he had to look carefully, on the calendar in his office, I had written "LHR" in red ink on 2 December, the day of my flight. And on a piece of paper he had used to explain to me the reasons why airlines charge different rates for routes, and how indirect routes are always cheaper than direct ones. As he likes to call it, I've been talking in "riddles and rhymes" and at times giving misleading signals about what I'm doing over the next few days...
So it'll be interesting how the next four hours till my onward flight to AMS pan out. It'll be a game of hide (and seek, if he's onto something and will try to seek me out...). I know he's inside the terminal building, probably walking around, or maybe waiting outside my arrivals gate to see if I'll walk off the plane. I'll have to be ever vigilant, and swiftly move through the terminal buildings unseen and unheard. One thing I can't do, which I've always wanted is go to the arrivals lounge, as I heard great things about it. But chances are, my friend might be there too. So I guess I'll have to spend the next few hours on the move, wander around the airport so I can't be traced or found. I mean what are the chances of two people bumping into each other in a five big terminal buildings with thousands of departing and arriving passengers and dozens of flights taking off and landing in the next few hours? We may be in the general vicinity of one another, but if I play it right, I can sneakily slip onto my connecting flight undiscovered...
It's like a game of cat and mouse, and I'm the mouse (literally, i was born in the year of the mouse/rat). It's a game, not just confined to a little board, but on a large, worldwide scale, involving planes, and great distances. And that's the excitement and fun part of it all...
Hiding and seeking, half way across the world, with boundless possibilities and places to hide. Great big and little surprises and clever strategies trying to outsmart the other person.
Oh, the devious plot is coming together...! It's so sweet and clever when things finally come together!
Just prior to landing at LHR. Circling the airspace above heathrow for over twenty minutes already, and still waiting for permission to land...
I'm a bit anxious, to be honest. I don't know how it never crossed my mid until last night when I went to see my friend off at the airport that we would be arriving at London Heathrow at around the same time. He would be flying in from Toronto, whereas I would land around an hour or so later from Montreal. I have a feeling he'll probably try to reach me or even call me as soon as he lands, and when he does he'll get the message that my phone is off. Which may add to his suspicions that I'm flying. Maybe he'll just stand at the gate and wait for me to get off to surprise me...
If he does that, then so much for my surprise of showing up at his doorstep in a few day's time... It's been hard keeping this secret operation a secret. Inquisitive as my friend is, he's been asking lot of questions about what I'm planning, what I'll be doing while he is away. I've been vague, but at times, just to whet his curiosity and get him wondering, I've been dropping hints here and there. In fact, if he had to look carefully, on the calendar in his office, I had written "LHR" in red ink on 2 December, the day of my flight. And on a piece of paper he had used to explain to me the reasons why airlines charge different rates for routes, and how indirect routes are always cheaper than direct ones. As he likes to call it, I've been talking in "riddles and rhymes" and at times giving misleading signals about what I'm doing over the next few days...
So it'll be interesting how the next four hours till my onward flight to AMS pan out. It'll be a game of hide (and seek, if he's onto something and will try to seek me out...). I know he's inside the terminal building, probably walking around, or maybe waiting outside my arrivals gate to see if I'll walk off the plane. I'll have to be ever vigilant, and swiftly move through the terminal buildings unseen and unheard. One thing I can't do, which I've always wanted is go to the arrivals lounge, as I heard great things about it. But chances are, my friend might be there too. So I guess I'll have to spend the next few hours on the move, wander around the airport so I can't be traced or found. I mean what are the chances of two people bumping into each other in a five big terminal buildings with thousands of departing and arriving passengers and dozens of flights taking off and landing in the next few hours? We may be in the general vicinity of one another, but if I play it right, I can sneakily slip onto my connecting flight undiscovered...
It's like a game of cat and mouse, and I'm the mouse (literally, i was born in the year of the mouse/rat). It's a game, not just confined to a little board, but on a large, worldwide scale, involving planes, and great distances. And that's the excitement and fun part of it all...
Hiding and seeking, half way across the world, with boundless possibilities and places to hide. Great big and little surprises and clever strategies trying to outsmart the other person.
Oh, the devious plot is coming together...! It's so sweet and clever when things finally come together!
YUL-LHR
YUL-LHR
Another flight, another night spent on the plane. I know I promised myself I wouldn't travel, but here I am flying away again...
At least the flight is pretty empty, and I can stretch out over two seats, and hopefully catch a wink before the five hours or so is up. I feel like I haven't really slept much over the past two weeks or so. Just rushing here and there, and at night working till late in the morning, either on my thesis, or over the last couple of days, on the special scrapbook for my ex's birthday. The lack of sleep, the tiredness and red eyes are all worth it, for finally i have (almost) completed my thesis and therefore also the degree I began over three years ago.
It means a heavy burden off my shoulders, and time to move onto something else... the tiredness, lack of sleep and red eyes are worth it also if only to see the beautiful surprise on my friend's face when he pieces together the little surprises and clues to realise what I've been planning (plotting!) all these months, if only to make him smile again, especially after a lot of hurt and pain I've caused him, especially what we've both endured in recent times.
Of course, I'm not just going to surprise him at his house. I'm also journeying to see my brother and his new family, and importantly see my nephew for the first time. How special is that.... I used to get so excited and become so touched by my godson, but imagine now I have a baby in my own family, a baby who is related to me, and in some distant way, a part of me.
This afternoon, I rushed to the bookstore to pick out some gifts for my nephew. At the baby section, I just grabbed these colourful and beautiful and cute books. I didn't even look at the prices, and just put them all into my basket. It ended up costing over a hundred dollars, but I didn't think too much of it...
Because it's for my nephew... Because I want him, even though I've never even met him yet, to have the best of everything, and since the day i learned if his existence, i vowed silently that I'll try and provide what I can to give him a boost in life (on top of what my brother and sister-in-law provide to him, of course.) Since my brother asked me the other day to pick out some English language books, I've been browsing online for them and getting excited myself by all the possible things I could get for him...
And soon, I'll deliver it all into my nephew's hands.
Another flight, another night spent on the plane. I know I promised myself I wouldn't travel, but here I am flying away again...
At least the flight is pretty empty, and I can stretch out over two seats, and hopefully catch a wink before the five hours or so is up. I feel like I haven't really slept much over the past two weeks or so. Just rushing here and there, and at night working till late in the morning, either on my thesis, or over the last couple of days, on the special scrapbook for my ex's birthday. The lack of sleep, the tiredness and red eyes are all worth it, for finally i have (almost) completed my thesis and therefore also the degree I began over three years ago.
It means a heavy burden off my shoulders, and time to move onto something else... the tiredness, lack of sleep and red eyes are worth it also if only to see the beautiful surprise on my friend's face when he pieces together the little surprises and clues to realise what I've been planning (plotting!) all these months, if only to make him smile again, especially after a lot of hurt and pain I've caused him, especially what we've both endured in recent times.
Of course, I'm not just going to surprise him at his house. I'm also journeying to see my brother and his new family, and importantly see my nephew for the first time. How special is that.... I used to get so excited and become so touched by my godson, but imagine now I have a baby in my own family, a baby who is related to me, and in some distant way, a part of me.
This afternoon, I rushed to the bookstore to pick out some gifts for my nephew. At the baby section, I just grabbed these colourful and beautiful and cute books. I didn't even look at the prices, and just put them all into my basket. It ended up costing over a hundred dollars, but I didn't think too much of it...
Because it's for my nephew... Because I want him, even though I've never even met him yet, to have the best of everything, and since the day i learned if his existence, i vowed silently that I'll try and provide what I can to give him a boost in life (on top of what my brother and sister-in-law provide to him, of course.) Since my brother asked me the other day to pick out some English language books, I've been browsing online for them and getting excited myself by all the possible things I could get for him...
And soon, I'll deliver it all into my nephew's hands.
02 December 2011
Rush, rush, rush
Everything so last minute, so rushed. Trying to catch my breath, trying
to find a moment of calm amidst the hectic moments of worry and
insecurity.
I sent my friend off last night, and tonight I'll be at the airport again to send myself off. I promised myself I wouldn't travel until January, but a number of reasons "make" me now sit in the metro with two pieces of luggage on my way into school early in the morning. Or at least, they are reasons I tell myself can justify me Jetting away again...
My ex, even though he's my ex has so often expressed hope that I could go visit him at his home. And somehow, I feel if I don't visit him now, I probably will not get a chance in the future. I know the situation between us is complicated, and perhaps it's completely naive and foolish of me to travel across the globe to jut surprise him, especially how he's hurt me in some ways over the past few months and weeks... But he's special to me, and even as just a friend, I would do anything to make him happy and smile. I would (literally) travel the world to show that he means a whole lot to me...
Then theres my nephew, who turned three months, and yet I've not even had the chance to visit him. What a terrible uncle I am! Three days from now is sinterklaas, the Dutch Christmas, so what better time is there to pay him a surprise visit?
It will be hectic today. Need to drop off my suitcase at the office, then head to the hospital for a few hours of volunteering. then rush downtown to get some last minute gifts for my brother and his family. Then at around four in the afternoon I have a thesis meeting with my supervisor. After that, I need to rush to the airport to catch my flight.
So many things all at once! I'll be so relaxed and relieved once I'm on board the plane tonight....
I sent my friend off last night, and tonight I'll be at the airport again to send myself off. I promised myself I wouldn't travel until January, but a number of reasons "make" me now sit in the metro with two pieces of luggage on my way into school early in the morning. Or at least, they are reasons I tell myself can justify me Jetting away again...
My ex, even though he's my ex has so often expressed hope that I could go visit him at his home. And somehow, I feel if I don't visit him now, I probably will not get a chance in the future. I know the situation between us is complicated, and perhaps it's completely naive and foolish of me to travel across the globe to jut surprise him, especially how he's hurt me in some ways over the past few months and weeks... But he's special to me, and even as just a friend, I would do anything to make him happy and smile. I would (literally) travel the world to show that he means a whole lot to me...
Then theres my nephew, who turned three months, and yet I've not even had the chance to visit him. What a terrible uncle I am! Three days from now is sinterklaas, the Dutch Christmas, so what better time is there to pay him a surprise visit?
It will be hectic today. Need to drop off my suitcase at the office, then head to the hospital for a few hours of volunteering. then rush downtown to get some last minute gifts for my brother and his family. Then at around four in the afternoon I have a thesis meeting with my supervisor. After that, I need to rush to the airport to catch my flight.
So many things all at once! I'll be so relaxed and relieved once I'm on board the plane tonight....
01 December 2011
29 November 2011
Surprise
Surprise
28 nov
I was confused. Dumbstruck. Suspicious. Too much happening suddenly too unexpectedly and all at the same time. I went downtown today, even though it was a Sunday, because my friend has been asking me to come help him pack up his things to move away. I sat in the office a while and waited and waited, and suddenly at six in the evening he rang me and asked me to meet him at his apartment. So I went, and another friend with a car was there too. Instead of packing things and tidying up his apartment, he went to get a Christmas tree from his storage space, and said we needed to be quick, as another friend was waiting for us at my place. Waiting for us? At My place?
To decorate the christmas tree? How come I'm only hearing about this now? I became suspicious and kept asking what was going on, but my friends were vague or elusive in their replies. Suspicious as I was, I also felt somewhat 'bad', because my house was a complete mess, as I've just been too busy with my work and the surprise gift for my friend I've been working on. And also because of my still healing thumb, I've not been able to do much housework, especially the dishes (not that normally my house is that clean either...).
And I felt bad also because i've been trying to invite this other friend to dinner at my place for a while now, but he never had the opportunity. And now suddenly i hear he's waiting at my door, whereas I have not much to offer him on terms of food... We loaded the car and headed to my place. Barely had we unloaded, this friend who was already waiting for us to head back called me and told me to go to the supermarket to meet him. I went to the supermarket, but was so eager to get back. I needed to cook and try to make my house at least half decent to receive guests, but for the next half an hour or so I wandered around the aisles with this friend who kept on looking at various products and telling me how things are cheaper where he lives, or telling me the ingredients of this or that foodstuff. I was very anxious. It took great effort to eventually drag my friend out of that supermarket, and if I weren't rushing home, he would have wanted to go to another store to look at prices...
Anxious I opened the door. My ex was sitting on my couch talking on the phone. I felt a bit hurt, as I assumed he used the time I was away at the supermarket to quickly chat with the guy he is seeing. It was only when I got into the kitchen did I realise everything come together. My dining table had been placed in the centre. On it were various foods and a chocolatey cake, and gathered around the table were my friends.
"Surprise!!!" It sure was one, but I still could not figure out why, until my ex pointed to the cake and drew attention to the fact that written on a piece of chocolate in white icing was my name and "space lawyer". It was all because a few days earlier, after much time spent slaving away, I finally (almost) finished my thesis. I was overwhelmed by the surprise and how so many people made the effort to come to my place (as messy as it is...) to shower me with wellwishes and congratulations.
I kissed my ex on the cheek when I realised what he had done to coordinate and clandestine organise all this. I was very touched, because just trying to get people to come together and do things clandestinely takes a lot of effort and time. I know that. "I hope one day I can do something like this for you..." I said. The irony was, I was also busy planning and coordinating a number of surprises for his birthday, and he managed to pull something off before me. The whole evening, we ate and chatted, and my friends wrote me a lovely card with all sorts of touching personal messages inside.
As happy and overwhelmed as I was, I later admitted perhaps it was all a bit premature, as my supervisor had not even reviewed my thesis, and being the oh-so-confident person I am, I wasn't sure whether what I have written was of good (or any!) quality. Together with a number of friends, we did eventually put up the Christmas tree to usher in the holiday season. This year, it will be the first time I'm really putting in effort to celebrate ever since I arrived in Canada.
And as the tree became more alive and colourful with lights and tinsels, I began to feel warm deep down inside and was looking forward to celebrate Christmas in the company of people I care about and love... At the time, though, seeing the tree also reminded me of how precious and how very fleeting those moments of being together, moments when all of us can gather under one roof, are going to become rarer and rarer as slowly people begin to move on in life, and move away...
That night, my ex stayed the night, as expected when we have gatherings at my place with our common friends. We lay in bed and chatted late into the night. Just friends, who used to be beautiful lovers. Just friends, between whom the intimacy and strong physical and emotional attractions seem to have been waning slowly. By choice, and I respect that choice, even though I cannot fully understand why, even though he tells me it's so hard to resist me. I leaned to one side and told him how lonely I feel at night, and expressed how strange it feels that within a matter of weeks, days all that intimacy has vanished. He told me not to lament what I don't have, but to treasure what I do have. He leaned over and stroked my body, touched my arms and hands, as if to prove the contrary.
True, I have a lot... Wonderful friends who would gather from everywhere to surprise me, I have a loving cat, a warm home and means to sustain myself and pursue my goals and dreams. I have so very much, too much perhaps that I do not always treasure or remember all that I have, or have had...
But I am human too, and I have been too deeply touch by love, spoiled by affection and attention that I yearn for it, that I at times suddenly wake up at night and lie awake for a while because i am afraid of the enptiness next to my bed.
My ex can tell me to treasure what I have, not miss what I don't have. Normally I would and tend to think like that, but coming from him, as well intentioned and genuine as the words were, it sounded strange. Are those the words of someone who has someone, who seems to have it all? Words from someone who has a best friend, a "soul mate" as he calls me now, in whom he can confide, and who also has a special someone he can sleep with and be intimate with at any time? I should just count my blessings, dispel whatever sadness I may feel looking at the Christmas tree that was put up in my living room, exorcise whatever beautiful memories of the way we were or potential futures of the way we may be...
But for once in my life, close to Christmas time, I feel a little sour and bitter that everything on the outside, all that decoration, all that tinsel, all those beautiful lights, is so wonderful, so magical, and yet on the inside there is a void, an emptiness that echoes deep with yearning and affection. But we can never have it all.
Nothing is ever perfect. The world is just the way it is. And it is, or you must see it as, perfect that way.
I was confused. Dumbstruck. Suspicious. Too much happening suddenly too unexpectedly and all at the same time. I went downtown today, even though it was a Sunday, because my friend has been asking me to come help him pack up his things to move away. I sat in the office a while and waited and waited, and suddenly at six in the evening he rang me and asked me to meet him at his apartment. So I went, and another friend with a car was there too. Instead of packing things and tidying up his apartment, he went to get a Christmas tree from his storage space, and said we needed to be quick, as another friend was waiting for us at my place. Waiting for us? At My place?
To decorate the christmas tree? How come I'm only hearing about this now? I became suspicious and kept asking what was going on, but my friends were vague or elusive in their replies. Suspicious as I was, I also felt somewhat 'bad', because my house was a complete mess, as I've just been too busy with my work and the surprise gift for my friend I've been working on. And also because of my still healing thumb, I've not been able to do much housework, especially the dishes (not that normally my house is that clean either...).
And I felt bad also because i've been trying to invite this other friend to dinner at my place for a while now, but he never had the opportunity. And now suddenly i hear he's waiting at my door, whereas I have not much to offer him on terms of food... We loaded the car and headed to my place. Barely had we unloaded, this friend who was already waiting for us to head back called me and told me to go to the supermarket to meet him. I went to the supermarket, but was so eager to get back. I needed to cook and try to make my house at least half decent to receive guests, but for the next half an hour or so I wandered around the aisles with this friend who kept on looking at various products and telling me how things are cheaper where he lives, or telling me the ingredients of this or that foodstuff. I was very anxious. It took great effort to eventually drag my friend out of that supermarket, and if I weren't rushing home, he would have wanted to go to another store to look at prices...
Anxious I opened the door. My ex was sitting on my couch talking on the phone. I felt a bit hurt, as I assumed he used the time I was away at the supermarket to quickly chat with the guy he is seeing. It was only when I got into the kitchen did I realise everything come together. My dining table had been placed in the centre. On it were various foods and a chocolatey cake, and gathered around the table were my friends.
"Surprise!!!" It sure was one, but I still could not figure out why, until my ex pointed to the cake and drew attention to the fact that written on a piece of chocolate in white icing was my name and "space lawyer". It was all because a few days earlier, after much time spent slaving away, I finally (almost) finished my thesis. I was overwhelmed by the surprise and how so many people made the effort to come to my place (as messy as it is...) to shower me with wellwishes and congratulations.
I kissed my ex on the cheek when I realised what he had done to coordinate and clandestine organise all this. I was very touched, because just trying to get people to come together and do things clandestinely takes a lot of effort and time. I know that. "I hope one day I can do something like this for you..." I said. The irony was, I was also busy planning and coordinating a number of surprises for his birthday, and he managed to pull something off before me. The whole evening, we ate and chatted, and my friends wrote me a lovely card with all sorts of touching personal messages inside.
As happy and overwhelmed as I was, I later admitted perhaps it was all a bit premature, as my supervisor had not even reviewed my thesis, and being the oh-so-confident person I am, I wasn't sure whether what I have written was of good (or any!) quality. Together with a number of friends, we did eventually put up the Christmas tree to usher in the holiday season. This year, it will be the first time I'm really putting in effort to celebrate ever since I arrived in Canada.
And as the tree became more alive and colourful with lights and tinsels, I began to feel warm deep down inside and was looking forward to celebrate Christmas in the company of people I care about and love... At the time, though, seeing the tree also reminded me of how precious and how very fleeting those moments of being together, moments when all of us can gather under one roof, are going to become rarer and rarer as slowly people begin to move on in life, and move away...
That night, my ex stayed the night, as expected when we have gatherings at my place with our common friends. We lay in bed and chatted late into the night. Just friends, who used to be beautiful lovers. Just friends, between whom the intimacy and strong physical and emotional attractions seem to have been waning slowly. By choice, and I respect that choice, even though I cannot fully understand why, even though he tells me it's so hard to resist me. I leaned to one side and told him how lonely I feel at night, and expressed how strange it feels that within a matter of weeks, days all that intimacy has vanished. He told me not to lament what I don't have, but to treasure what I do have. He leaned over and stroked my body, touched my arms and hands, as if to prove the contrary.
True, I have a lot... Wonderful friends who would gather from everywhere to surprise me, I have a loving cat, a warm home and means to sustain myself and pursue my goals and dreams. I have so very much, too much perhaps that I do not always treasure or remember all that I have, or have had...
But I am human too, and I have been too deeply touch by love, spoiled by affection and attention that I yearn for it, that I at times suddenly wake up at night and lie awake for a while because i am afraid of the enptiness next to my bed.
My ex can tell me to treasure what I have, not miss what I don't have. Normally I would and tend to think like that, but coming from him, as well intentioned and genuine as the words were, it sounded strange. Are those the words of someone who has someone, who seems to have it all? Words from someone who has a best friend, a "soul mate" as he calls me now, in whom he can confide, and who also has a special someone he can sleep with and be intimate with at any time? I should just count my blessings, dispel whatever sadness I may feel looking at the Christmas tree that was put up in my living room, exorcise whatever beautiful memories of the way we were or potential futures of the way we may be...
But for once in my life, close to Christmas time, I feel a little sour and bitter that everything on the outside, all that decoration, all that tinsel, all those beautiful lights, is so wonderful, so magical, and yet on the inside there is a void, an emptiness that echoes deep with yearning and affection. But we can never have it all.
Nothing is ever perfect. The world is just the way it is. And it is, or you must see it as, perfect that way.
Pointless
Mum sounded very tired when I called. It was twenty past ten her time,
not too late, but not too early either. I had just woken up, and my
phone was the first thing I grabbed.
Tomorrow she needs to go back to the hospital. It's been another two weeks already. The doctor said the cancer index declined, but not by much. It may mean that the drug is losing its effect, which means it may be pointless to keep on doing the treatment. It's just more agony and physical torment for mum to continue, if the drugs are not effective any more... And if they're not effective, what else is there left? How many more types of chemotherapy can she undergo?
"I'm so tired," she said, "I want to stop..." I didn't know what to say... Do I encourage her to stop, and run the risk of the cancer spreading and then eventually cause her so much pain and suffering before ultimately killing her...? Or do I tell her to continue with the treatment, to keep on fighting, to keep on returning to the hospital every two weeks, to get so weak and lethargic and exhausted...? What did I tell her? I'm not sure what I told her...
I really don't remember at all, so it must have been very unremarkable.
I think I told her to take care. I think I told her to hang on there. Not whether she should stop or continue, but just to be strong. How much do my words help her?
Tomorrow she needs to go back to the hospital. It's been another two weeks already. The doctor said the cancer index declined, but not by much. It may mean that the drug is losing its effect, which means it may be pointless to keep on doing the treatment. It's just more agony and physical torment for mum to continue, if the drugs are not effective any more... And if they're not effective, what else is there left? How many more types of chemotherapy can she undergo?
"I'm so tired," she said, "I want to stop..." I didn't know what to say... Do I encourage her to stop, and run the risk of the cancer spreading and then eventually cause her so much pain and suffering before ultimately killing her...? Or do I tell her to continue with the treatment, to keep on fighting, to keep on returning to the hospital every two weeks, to get so weak and lethargic and exhausted...? What did I tell her? I'm not sure what I told her...
I really don't remember at all, so it must have been very unremarkable.
I think I told her to take care. I think I told her to hang on there. Not whether she should stop or continue, but just to be strong. How much do my words help her?
28 November 2011
Hospital visit
An elderly lady walked alone by herself down the long, lonely corridor.
Yet with her softy trembling voice, the vacant hospital corridor, at
least momentarily, did feel so lonely after all...
She slowly limped on her cane, yet instead of lamenting her condition, her voice filled the air with song and joy. Her beautiful voice, moving, heart melting, praised the lord, praised life... We should all praise life, praise the health we have and take for granted.
I walked with the patient I was accompanying today toward the taxi in silence. The hour long ordeal and the effects of the local sedation was a lot to bear. All I could do was be next to her, give her an arm to hold onto in case she gets too dizzy or faints as we slowly walked to her home in silence. Her eyes were still moist from tearing, for the procedure was extremely uncomfortable, unbearable.
Imagine sliding a long, thin tube down your nostril and into the air ways and pockets of your lungs. Imagine having liquids inserted into your lungs as the doctor conducts biopsies of "suspect" tissue. Imagine the gagging sensations, the numbness in your nasal area, and having a hard time swallowing even your own saliva because of the great deal of discomfort... Imagine it happening to you.
She entered her small one bedroom apartment, and sat down on a sofa. The place was cluttered, and on the sofa were all sorts of blankets and pillows. A fragrant scent hung in the air, the smell of an elderly lady. There were pictures of her two sons and their respective families, but they have long since moved away, leaving her behind. Even the husband abruptly left her, over ten years ago, due to illness. There were pictures of her in an impressive and colourful dress, with her face elaborately painted and made up. The lady explained she explained she took part in many Chinese opera singing competitions, and on one side of the living room were the award banners that proved her successes. She said she lived alone, and when she is ill there is really no one to take care of her, as her family are all on the West Coast.
While we sat and she talked a bit about her family and her life, she held onto the piece of gauze around her mouth which the technician had given her just before we left the hospital. She was small, and thin, and a few years younger than my mum. Occasionally she'd cough and was unable to speak more than a few words. I noticed the gauze was moist and stained with blood. Normal, the doctor explained, for they had to slice bits of the lung for samples. If she starts coughing blood, then she must rush to the emergency room immediately. And I told her if she needs any help at all, she can call me.
Softly, she asked me to sit, for she had something to tell me. The lady got out her purse and started getting out folded bills. "I can't take this," I said outright, "I'm doing this as a volunteer..." For free, not expecting anything in return, only wanting to give something for so much society, and this world at large, has already given me. But the lady would not stop shovelling the money into my hands. She explained how it was agreed that the community centre I volunteer at takes $5 whereas the volunteer translator gets $15. It's an incentive system they came up with to get more people to volunteer, which I personally find bizarre, because it's not exactly volunteering at all. But on top of that, she wanted to give me another $20 as a "reward". I was stunned, but she said she felt really grateful for all I've done for her...
She said not to argue with her, as her throat was aching and she was in great discomfort. So I didn't. I took the fifteen dollars, and placed it in my wallet. I smiled at her, but my mind was wondering which charity I could donate the money to. The twenty dollars I also took, not wanting her to strain herself too much from trying to do more persuading. I took the bill in one hand and with the other put it on the arm of the chair I sat on. She thanked me again and again and again.
I didn't wish to offend her, so a few hours later I called her to ask how she was feeling. I was relieved when she said she ate some congee and was resting. I told her about the money. She saw, she said, and protested, but I joked that if she insisted giving me money, I won't accompany her to the hospital anymore. She laughed, and again repeated how grateful she felt for all I've done.
What did I do really? A few hours of my life to help an elderly lady go get checked up... A few words and sentences translated so she knows exactly what is happening and what she needs to do while the doctor conducts the bronchoscopy... Told her not to worry to much, not to think too much, and reassure her that the procedure will soon be over... It's not much, it's what any fellow human being should do for any other human being in need, even if the other person is a complete stranger.
She was tired and physically drained from the entire ordeal. I sat on the side on a little stool as the doctor pushed the bronchoscope deeper and deeper into her lungs. Now and then, the doctor would give instructions, like to breathe harder, to breathe through the mouth, and I would proceed to translate so the lady could understand. She lay there for at least half an hour or so, writhing uncomfortably, breathing laboriously. It took a while before the sedation came into effect, for the nurse (clumsily?) poked her arm many times before a suitable vein could be found to administer the anaesthetic. This caused the lady much pain and cringed expressions on her face. I could only try to calm her from time to time by saying that the procedure will be over soon, and gently pat her on the leg. In her eyes were tears, from fear perhaps, from the discomfort definitely.
Once finished, the doctor took off his gloves and scribbled something on sheet of paper attached to a clipboard. They encountered some anomalies, he said, and further testing and biopsies are required to confirm what he suspects may be malignant.
I think the lady suspected it already, she expressed to me her fears the first time we spoke on the phone to make an appointment. A follow up appointment was scheduled for the next week, when more conclusive results will be available. She asked if I could accompany her, but I could not, for I would be abroad. And perhaps it is best that I am not there...
She slowly limped on her cane, yet instead of lamenting her condition, her voice filled the air with song and joy. Her beautiful voice, moving, heart melting, praised the lord, praised life... We should all praise life, praise the health we have and take for granted.
I walked with the patient I was accompanying today toward the taxi in silence. The hour long ordeal and the effects of the local sedation was a lot to bear. All I could do was be next to her, give her an arm to hold onto in case she gets too dizzy or faints as we slowly walked to her home in silence. Her eyes were still moist from tearing, for the procedure was extremely uncomfortable, unbearable.
Imagine sliding a long, thin tube down your nostril and into the air ways and pockets of your lungs. Imagine having liquids inserted into your lungs as the doctor conducts biopsies of "suspect" tissue. Imagine the gagging sensations, the numbness in your nasal area, and having a hard time swallowing even your own saliva because of the great deal of discomfort... Imagine it happening to you.
She entered her small one bedroom apartment, and sat down on a sofa. The place was cluttered, and on the sofa were all sorts of blankets and pillows. A fragrant scent hung in the air, the smell of an elderly lady. There were pictures of her two sons and their respective families, but they have long since moved away, leaving her behind. Even the husband abruptly left her, over ten years ago, due to illness. There were pictures of her in an impressive and colourful dress, with her face elaborately painted and made up. The lady explained she explained she took part in many Chinese opera singing competitions, and on one side of the living room were the award banners that proved her successes. She said she lived alone, and when she is ill there is really no one to take care of her, as her family are all on the West Coast.
While we sat and she talked a bit about her family and her life, she held onto the piece of gauze around her mouth which the technician had given her just before we left the hospital. She was small, and thin, and a few years younger than my mum. Occasionally she'd cough and was unable to speak more than a few words. I noticed the gauze was moist and stained with blood. Normal, the doctor explained, for they had to slice bits of the lung for samples. If she starts coughing blood, then she must rush to the emergency room immediately. And I told her if she needs any help at all, she can call me.
Softly, she asked me to sit, for she had something to tell me. The lady got out her purse and started getting out folded bills. "I can't take this," I said outright, "I'm doing this as a volunteer..." For free, not expecting anything in return, only wanting to give something for so much society, and this world at large, has already given me. But the lady would not stop shovelling the money into my hands. She explained how it was agreed that the community centre I volunteer at takes $5 whereas the volunteer translator gets $15. It's an incentive system they came up with to get more people to volunteer, which I personally find bizarre, because it's not exactly volunteering at all. But on top of that, she wanted to give me another $20 as a "reward". I was stunned, but she said she felt really grateful for all I've done for her...
She said not to argue with her, as her throat was aching and she was in great discomfort. So I didn't. I took the fifteen dollars, and placed it in my wallet. I smiled at her, but my mind was wondering which charity I could donate the money to. The twenty dollars I also took, not wanting her to strain herself too much from trying to do more persuading. I took the bill in one hand and with the other put it on the arm of the chair I sat on. She thanked me again and again and again.
I didn't wish to offend her, so a few hours later I called her to ask how she was feeling. I was relieved when she said she ate some congee and was resting. I told her about the money. She saw, she said, and protested, but I joked that if she insisted giving me money, I won't accompany her to the hospital anymore. She laughed, and again repeated how grateful she felt for all I've done.
What did I do really? A few hours of my life to help an elderly lady go get checked up... A few words and sentences translated so she knows exactly what is happening and what she needs to do while the doctor conducts the bronchoscopy... Told her not to worry to much, not to think too much, and reassure her that the procedure will soon be over... It's not much, it's what any fellow human being should do for any other human being in need, even if the other person is a complete stranger.
She was tired and physically drained from the entire ordeal. I sat on the side on a little stool as the doctor pushed the bronchoscope deeper and deeper into her lungs. Now and then, the doctor would give instructions, like to breathe harder, to breathe through the mouth, and I would proceed to translate so the lady could understand. She lay there for at least half an hour or so, writhing uncomfortably, breathing laboriously. It took a while before the sedation came into effect, for the nurse (clumsily?) poked her arm many times before a suitable vein could be found to administer the anaesthetic. This caused the lady much pain and cringed expressions on her face. I could only try to calm her from time to time by saying that the procedure will be over soon, and gently pat her on the leg. In her eyes were tears, from fear perhaps, from the discomfort definitely.
Once finished, the doctor took off his gloves and scribbled something on sheet of paper attached to a clipboard. They encountered some anomalies, he said, and further testing and biopsies are required to confirm what he suspects may be malignant.
I think the lady suspected it already, she expressed to me her fears the first time we spoke on the phone to make an appointment. A follow up appointment was scheduled for the next week, when more conclusive results will be available. She asked if I could accompany her, but I could not, for I would be abroad. And perhaps it is best that I am not there...
27 November 2011
Weaker
What's wrong with me now...? I thought I was strong, I thought I could get by and be over with all this mess. I thought I could do without him... My heart is empty and aching inside.
But today, for some reason, I long to see my ex. I want to spend time with him, as we used to do. But it simply cannot be. It simply is so unhealthy and I feel so weak...
But today, for some reason, I long to see my ex. I want to spend time with him, as we used to do. But it simply cannot be. It simply is so unhealthy and I feel so weak...
Cut off
She said it was a mistake, in retrospect. A three year relationship, and then two years as best friends. But those two years they were "together without really being together"... calling one another a lot, tell each other the deepest and most personal things in their lives, and at times sleeping next to one another.
"It stopped me from moving on," she told me. If she could do it all over again, she would cut off all contact for six months, or as long as it takes. Just cut off ties. It's better to hurt for a month (or so), then let things linger on. It's better to be lonely and feel that strong longing for a little while, then to be left lingering and wondering whether you will get back together again.
She told me I should move on, try to deal with the important things in my life. Imagine using all that time and energy I am 'wasting' thinking about my relationship with my ex, and how productive I could be if I could divert all that energy and time to something else... I feel it, and I fear it too. I too fear that I will be the one left alone and longing still at the end of the day, whereas my ex can (and has been able to...) get into another relationship and still be comfortable benefiting from whatever it is I am able t and willing to provide him as a friend, as a best friend, as an ex who still cares deeply about his wellbeing.
I care about him, and I think he cares about me too. But he left me, and now is with someone else. He tells me not to worry, to be patient, but at the same time, seems has that comfort and security of a relationship, whereas I have nothing. Do I not deserve better? Do I not need love and assurance and care, especially with all the things I'm facing right now? Why does he imply I should wait for him, when he is already out there and so quick to move on to something new, whereas I'm at home feeling miserable and alone?
There will come a point when I will just stop all this, and cut ties with the fetters of the past which has been holding me back for too long...
"It stopped me from moving on," she told me. If she could do it all over again, she would cut off all contact for six months, or as long as it takes. Just cut off ties. It's better to hurt for a month (or so), then let things linger on. It's better to be lonely and feel that strong longing for a little while, then to be left lingering and wondering whether you will get back together again.
She told me I should move on, try to deal with the important things in my life. Imagine using all that time and energy I am 'wasting' thinking about my relationship with my ex, and how productive I could be if I could divert all that energy and time to something else... I feel it, and I fear it too. I too fear that I will be the one left alone and longing still at the end of the day, whereas my ex can (and has been able to...) get into another relationship and still be comfortable benefiting from whatever it is I am able t and willing to provide him as a friend, as a best friend, as an ex who still cares deeply about his wellbeing.
I care about him, and I think he cares about me too. But he left me, and now is with someone else. He tells me not to worry, to be patient, but at the same time, seems has that comfort and security of a relationship, whereas I have nothing. Do I not deserve better? Do I not need love and assurance and care, especially with all the things I'm facing right now? Why does he imply I should wait for him, when he is already out there and so quick to move on to something new, whereas I'm at home feeling miserable and alone?
There will come a point when I will just stop all this, and cut ties with the fetters of the past which has been holding me back for too long...
Departing for...
I told mum I'm going away, but not details. The past week or so my mind has been tormented, and I just need to get away from
P.S....
I saw only a little bit of the movie, but I could not continue watching it. I stopped at the scene where the recent widow receives a package containing the voice recording from her late husband. He recorded a message, knowing that he was going to die from his brain tumour. He wanted to surprise her, to make sure she continues living even after he is no longer around... He wants her to be happy, to find herself, to laugh and smile and dance and to move on, to live the life he could not...
And that was enough to make my eyes tear. Already fragile, for some reason I have been this way for the last week or so, I could not bear to watch the movie again, even though it is such a beautiful and moving movie. The topic is very personal... cancer, losing a loved one, and also losing the love of your life. The grief, the pain, the void left behind must be so immense, so very intense...
I remember when I watched it last, I thought to myself, if I were to be in a long and committed relationship, I would like to be the one to leave first... Because from experience I know I have great, great difficulty dealing with loss. Loss not just in terms of a person who disapears from this world forever, but also loss of a loved one who for one reason or another is no longer, or can no longer, be part of your life... Loss and grief are such powerful, overwhelming emotions that I just at times cannot grapple with...
I would like to be the one to go first, and I imagine, just like the deceased husband, I would make preparations for my loved one(s) if I knew my day was coming soon. I know I can be good at making secret plans, good at leaving notes and personal messages behind for people to discover. Because it touches me and makes me smile to know, to think, that someone will discover my little note or personal message and be warmed by the discovery and by what I have written. I touches me deeply to be able to touch people, somehow, in my own little ways.
And I hope my words, perhaps even my voice, or the small things that I leave behind, will continue to reassure my loved one(s) of my love, my eternal care for them, even after I am gone...
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