Transit

There is something inherently muddled about travel. The crossing from day to night in an unnatural amount of time, the awake but unfocused mind and the push and pull of vague emotions.

My sense of restlessness and loss is always heightened when I travel alone which; I guess is the only way I travel now. If I were to try conjure up a reason, I would attribute it to the futility of mindless purpose that characterizes traveling. Traveling is always about getting from one point to another. A to B to C to D. The reading, the eating, the thinking, the aimless wandering, the drifting from chair to chair, the waiting for gate after gate to open, all of it driven by lackluster wants, all of it meaningless. The entire process is like a bare and ghastly version of life. The exception is that in transit, one cannot pretend that any of the filler activities undertaken have real purpose.

In transit as in life, we are constantly preoccupying ourselves with petty distractions and drivel, waiting for the next step, striving for the next goal. Meanwhile though, we are caught, stuck behind gates which open only to lead us to another impasse.

I fear that I am not really moving anywhere.

Photography on Trips

It's odd, but I do feel the social pressure to document my trip a little. I remember that I used to take photographs, write and observe to a ridiculous extent. Time however has proved that the extensive documentation serves no purpose but to remind myself of the type of person that I used to be. Now, instead of finding my camera a necessary delight, I find it quite tiresome. I'd much rather stick my hands in my pockets and stride unencumbered down the streets of wherever I happen to be with my head looking up instead of through a camera lens. Instead of trying to capture the moment for future reliving, I'd rather just enjoy it there and then.

Perhaps its because of the nature of photography. To take good shots requires great concentration and an eye for composition. Its terribly annoying to be looking around at everything trying to ascertain if it makes a good picture. Worse still if I don't, because then all my pictures would stir up in me a rising discontent and dissatisfaction which rather taints my enjoyment of the day.

So I choose to leave my camera behind, and I rarely regret doing so.

Durham

Spitalfields

Where Monica Ali's Brick Lane was situated...

Today's trip to the Geffrye Museum

Kenwood House

London has been a blur of cold air, the metro, red buses and the muddy waters of The River Thames. It is beautiful, but for the last few days, I just kept feeling like something was missing. There was a disconnect somewhere.

Therefore today, I tried to find the England that I have always imagined as a child. I grew up reading Austen and the Bronte sisters; the England in my head has always been a mass of green, dotted with stately estates and acres of parks.

The Kenwood House. I even managed to see an incredible self-potrait of Rembrandt.

Wanderlust

I am so glad that I made the decision to go off to Phuket. Truth is, I just need to get away from everything for awhile. I miss being a stranger in a foreign land, the cloak of anonymity, seen as loneliness by some is a sort of comfort to me. I like wandering streets knowing that I'll never see the faces around me again.

All that said, I must admit though, the wanderlust in me has somewhat been quenched. I sense a change of heart, a pulling towards security, a stable home, a job and a family. I kind of realise that I don't want to lead a life stumbling around the world. Its not the kind of life that will bring me the most satisfaction. However, this means that there are other factors that I must take into account. I think I will soon come to the point where I have to gamble with what I personally want as opposed to what is best for stability.

Belongings

I really do not know how to pack. After moving around on my own for so long, my possessions no longer have a place in Singapore. Instead, they have attached themselves to my homes away from home. With regards to material possessions, I have literally nothing of use to me in Singapore. All the clothes that I wear, my toiletries, my camera equipment and my favorite books follow me around wherever I go.

I must admit that the above phenomenon is a result of me never spending more than a month in Singapore at a time. In Shanghai, I always had a place to stay at during the holidays. This meant that I never had to go home if that was what I wished. Here, I suddenly am faced with the prospect of 4 months at home and having to pack up all my belongings into two bags for storage. Without a place of my own overseas, I suddenly feel kind of homeless. Also, I am faced with the prospect of having to bring, under a baggage limit of 25kg, all that I need to live on for 4 months. Its insane. I don't even know if I have a place to stay should I choose to come back a couple of days earlier. To compound to that, the building that I am supposed to live in, isn't even completed.

What keeps me feeling safe and grounded while I am alone overseas has always been the knowledge that I have a tiny little space to call my own. A bed, a chair and all my lovely books waiting for me. Now, I'm adrift.

Ramblings

Living overseas though lonely, has its perks. Sometimes I miss a particular person so much that it feels as if I am walking with a shadow of that person by my side. The shadow accompanies me on my solitary journeys down the mountain to class, it accompanies me as I search for TV shows to fill up my nights and it smiles with me as I relieve our shared moments.

The strength gained from enduring that is the perk. The self discipline taken to overcome the pervasive quiet, to acknowledge the distance and to ignore the shadow as often as I can.

I have always liked that I have two separate worlds. One in Singapore, another overseas. I always took the utmost care to make sure that those worlds do not mix. I guess its the feeling of security I get from the knowledge that if something went wrong in one world, I could always hide in the other till things righted themselves again. Therein lies the problem with the shadow, it seems to be the only thing that can cross over. The shadow though firmly planted in one world, is empowered by my yearnings and leaves footprints all over this other world of mine. It takes away my security blanket and messes up my clean, split up frame of mind.

My sister said recently that "I could have made him happy if he just made the decision to be happy". I am perhaps more like JM than Grace. I choose to be unhappy because I know that happiness any other way is not going to be fulfilling. Is it okay to want something even if you have a deep suspicion that it won't bring you joy? Still, as long as I have time, my desires will take first priority.

EMERY!