Currently Reading The Poisonwood Bible: A Novel (Perennial Classics) By Barbara Kingsolver see related

Thoughts on stars of the Southern Hemisphere

Was it just me, or did the stars in the Southern Hemisphere just seem particularly bright that night?  Was it really the stars or was it really the person who we looked at the stars with? 

Beautiful as they may be, these stars just don't belong to our half of the planet after all.  Will they continue shining while my memories of you fade in melochanly?

Currently Listening New Sacred Cow Freetime see related

a    f i r e f ly    r e b e l s

b r e a k i n g    f r e e    f r o m    t h e    s h a d o w

s t a r s    w a t c h    i n    e n v y

Currently Reading Atonement: A Novel By Ian McEwan see related

Coming back from Hong Kong.....

I got into a conversation with someone who used to mean (and still does, in a way) a great deal to me.  He asked me if I was still the same person after coming back to Toronto from exchange.  I said I was and I wasn't. 

To be honest, I don't know how much I have changed because of the exchange experience.  When I came back to Toronto, my room was exactly the way I left it, and it's been the same mess ever since.  I still play the songs that I used to listen to since high school when I am driving.  I still like to watch Chaplle or 24 with a bottle (or two) of beer after work. 

But I know something inside of me has changed, and I don't know if it was my exchange experience or it was just a part of growing up.

The exchange experience made me realize how big the world really was...how there was so much more than what was just right in front of you.  It made me realize how previleged I had been.  It made me realize how I was capable of doing things that I never thought I would be able to do. 

At the same time, it also humbled me.  It made me realize how self-centred, arrogant, and childish I could be sometimes. 

And for all this, I thank those who have comforted me, laughed with me, yelled at me, held me, made me cry, and listened to me in that five months of my life.

Currently Listening Bleed Like Me By Garbage see related

A dream....

In this one particular lazy summer afternoon, I had a brief dream. 

A long, winding road stretches before us.  Gentle hills covered in summer green rise above the horizon.  Down below, the beaches with white sand and blue ocean remind me of the starry night we shared.  I can feel the warmth of your body despite the tropical heat, and from the rearview mirrors of the moped, I can see you staring ahead so intensely and carefully, making sure that your lack of experience in riding a moped would not hinder our safety. 

In this moment, we are traveling in the same direction at the same speed.  My body pressed against yours, my heart your heart.

Then I wake up, only to find ourselves thousands of miles apart from each other.  Your heart no longer next to mine.  What was a flash of reverie to me turned out to be a moment of weakness for you.  And I am left alone in this lazy summer afternoon, not knowing what to make of my dream or of you.

Currently Reading The Waste Land (Norton Critical Editions) By T. S. Eliot see related

Thoughts on my last day at Kuta....

May 11, 2006.  Kuta Bali, Indonesia.

Kuta, to me, looked like the backdrop of a Sketchers ad.  I thought this was the way being 21 should be.  The sky looked so blue and infinite, and the steady rhythms of the waves almost tricked me into thinking that this was constancy.  But of course I knew it wasn’t. 

Kuta, to you, was the purgatory.  The seemingly limitless blue sky was imprisoning, and the steady rhythms of the ocean waves were merely a reminder that your life at Kuta was constancy.  And I guess what really broke my heart was that you and I both knew that it was.

I was lying on the beach with some of the closest friends that I made on exchange.  On my left was Bic, the girl from Cali, sipping a bottle of Fanta with her eyes squinted from the sun.  On my  right was the French dude Benoit, busy peeling off his sunburned skin and listening to his iPod.  I couldn’t tell if Leo was taking a nap or just daydreaming, for he had his shades on, lying motionlessly on the lawn chair he rented (the smart Chinese guy was the only person with enough Rupiah left).  Everything was so casual, like it was just the way it should be.  Yet I could sense there was some sort of tension among us, because after this trip, we would all be going our separate ways, and Kuta would soon be nothing more than a dream.

It was my last day in Indonesia, the third last day of my Hong Kong exchange experience.  I had 15,000 Rupiah left (the equivalent of approximately $2 CDN), but I wasn't worried.  I was secretly tormented by the inevitable goodbyes that I would have to say, but I was too proud to show it.  I was giddy about the upcoming phone interview with an accounting firm that I always wanted to work for, but I was scared at the same time. 

I thought this was the way being 21 yeas old should be - being spontaneous, reckless, passionate, proud, ambitious, and scared all at once. The sky looked so blue and infinite, and the steady rhythms of the waves almost tricked me into thinking that this was constancy.  But of course I knew it wasn’t. 

I began to think about life in Canada, and it just seemed so distant and surreal to me.  Yet the beach at Kuta, which looked like the backdrop of a Sketchers ad, didn’t seem any more real to me either. 

All of a sudden, I felt so lost, and that was when I saw you.  

You were so small I almost missed you amidst the beach crowd, what with all the Western tourists in colourful bikinis and hawkers flashing their gold teeth and merchandise.  You were wearing a white cotton shirt (that now looked more grey) with orange shorts that had the pattern of pink flowers.  The basket you were holding on top of your head, filled with merchandise, was almost as big as your little body. Judging from the round, smooth contour of your jaw and the slightly pudgy cheeks, you could not be more than 8 years old.  Your demeanor was timid and sweet, yet when your eyes looked into mine, I saw resentment in the timidity and sorrow in the sweetness.    

When you approached me, you said nothing, and your evasiveness made me scared to look at you.  I knew I could not give you what you wanted, for I had spent my last few Rupiah on things I didn’t even remember.  Nonetheless, I still tried to read your face from the corner of my eyes.  I couldn’t decipher anything. All I saw was emptiness and detachment. 

I reached in my purse and all I found was a Happy Meal toy that I got from my last dinner, and that was the only thing I could give you.  I could literally feel my hands trembling when I gave the little toy chipmunk to you.  You showed no sign of gratitude, but I could see your little fingers clinging onto it very tightly.  Then you just walked away without looking back. 

I’ll never forget about your eyes.  They were so empty, yet so packed with pain that someone like me would never be able to understand.  But mostly, it was the way you looked at me and the rest of the beach that haunts me to this day. 

Kuta, to me, was a Sketchers ad.  It was a playground for me to experience the kind of youthful love, friendship, melancholy (however unfounded), vanity, and self-indulgence that only came with privilege.

Kuta, to you, was the purgatory.  The seemingly limitless blue sky was imprisoning, and the steady rhythms of the ocean waves were merely a reminder that your life at Kuta was constancy.  And I guess what really broke my heart was that you and I both knew that it was.