the Insane Trip

My struggle

It has not been easy. It has been almost 5 months, and I miss Phuket every single day of my life.

Welcome Back, Dear Self

4 weeks seem to go by real fast, it’s almost unbelievable.
I recalled the statement of certain friends uttered a few months back, that I look as if I’ve left something here. I guess I have. This place feels like second home to me, but only because I’ve met good, kind people. Without them, I’m just another pathetic tourist who could utter only a few basic words of Thai. I’m blessed to have known them. I’m lucky to have been in their care. Thank you, Sakie, for the personal care of you and your friends.

Thais, warm? Definitely.
Big drinkers. Yes, that as well. *laughs*
One even said that they’re second to the Irish. Uh-hum, perhaps. The Russians would beg to differ, but I dunno.

The getaway has been simple. Nothing too crazy.
I haven’t gone to Patong for a shopping trip at all, not even once.

It’s just like living someplace else for a month. You think about the rent, the bills, what to eat, you go to the market to choose what vegetable to consume at dinner time, how you want the fish to be cooked - things like that. You then enjoy the meal time and drinks with friends. I’ll miss this.

Going home, it’s back to me observing people leading what they deem to be cool lives, wearing pretty clothes, sipping on expensive beverages, showing people that they’re able to afford (supposedly without much worry) to eat at fancy looking places with fancy prices of food with subpar taste, questioning and toying with the traditional values of a relationship showcasing dramas with storylines that Hollywood would envy, all while wearing jovial expressions on their faces. They’re cool, modern, independent and capable. They’ll record their lifestyle and upload it on Facebook.

I’ll listen while we talk of our races, of how Malay or unMalay one is, I’ll listen while each race talks of the general feeling of paranoia that one is out to get the another, yada yada yada. Here, people are all just Thais. Back home, I’ll be forced to identify myself as whatever it is that’s stated on my IC, and conform to what’s expected of me from that identification. We’re not just Malaysians.

I’ll watch while we succumb to all those. Hey hey KL, here I come. I’m yours.

_

My Last Phuket Picnic

It was a charming evening. A perfect last day.
We went to the noodle shop and after one month there, the lady with the sweet smile finally realised I’m not Thai.

Not that I mind.


Sakie and I were at the laundry shop and was just about to leave when Kevin spotted us, and while passing us by in his car, managed to shout “Pai nai?”

God knows how he and Sakie communicated because I don’t recall Kevin disclosing information as to where he’s going with Nuchi. It doesn’t matter, because I was taken to the road I love so much. It’s my second time on that road, only this time I had no idea where we were headed to.

A lovely water reservoir with hills decorating it, a dramatic sky in the distance for a picturesque day. People lying down on their mats, people walking their dogs, joggers with their mp3 players in hand, a few hawkers selling mouth watering food. We picnicked in that beautiful setting. I was at awe.

Perfect.

_