After being on an intense, hormone fueled rampage that brought out everything that bothered me to the obvious dissatisfied forefront, needing to be dealt with now, I boarded the flight to Malaysia with a heavy heart and a throbbing head. Utter exhaustion was mine even before the journey started. Well, true travelers rest while they travel.
Hormones only makes one utter things that otherwise keep lurking under the surface. I suppose this brain fever has one use, to bring about the conversations that if not had and dealt with would spread like poison inside, a cancer, becoming too powerful. I would always choose discomfort and pain in the moment of facing the truth rather than a slow demise of something wonderfully magical. It’s worth the efforts, it’s worth it all.
Leaving the arms of my lover and going across that band from where I cannot see his dear face, which was the hardest part. The knowledge of his exhaustion as well with the emotional onslaught we were/ are going through just makes my pride in him shine more. We will endure, and learn and keep loving better and giving more.
This is about impressions of airports, cities and people. The sky of Kuala Lumpur entered my sleep blurred vision like a teeming sack of fires. The lights kept going out after flickering for a while and I could only liken it to bonfires lit on farmlands. Definitely not what I had imagined that sky to look like. My fancy had taken me there long before with the impressive swooping glimpses of the lightest Petronas towers and a city that was a floor of diamonds. This was however, different. Not any less interesting, just different.
The only comment to be made of KL airport is that they need to make sure that their charging ports actually work,, that there are some sleeping lounges and that their female staff don’t merely push another female traveler aside , gently of course, but use words to display that intention.
I have to say that on this flight, somehow, I have been attracting attention. Suspicious one that is. Always get the interested / attracted one, but this is rather new. Maybe I looked too carefree, the “I don’t care anymore” attitude that I have been carrying around in my soul may seem a bit destructive. Even in India, three times people actually just stopped me to ask to see my passport, not sure if I look like a confused combination of nationalities as well. Had to open my bag for inspection as the security wondered why I had copious amounts of vegetables in my hand luggage too. But all fun and games, all in all, to relieve the tedium of a 24 hour + long journey dotted with airport stays. However, my aimless wanderings up and down the Chennai airport strip did make a few security guards ask me what was up, they directed me towards food, where to rest and one also gave me his phone to make a much needed phone call home when my roaming failed to activate. It still hasn’t, it won’t.
My first glimpse of my country was different this time around, as the golden hazed , mystical sky let go of our wonder of an aviation machine ( I half expected to see some phoenixes or golden unicorns) as the sun rose high above the cloud line, and there was a moment where the plane hung, between the blanket of the clouds and the atmosphere below, the shards of pristine light filtering through, the sun seeming like it was almost level with me, or I was almost with the sun…and the land below unfolded.
I was sitting there wondering at how we have actually managed to fly. How absolutely amazing the realization is, when you pause to really think about it, and feel that sensation, let your little brain grasp the enormity of that fact. See if you don’t get goosebumps.
|Temple near the Chennai airport|
Think we can’t overcome other things?
Saying a teary farewell to the Australian shore had been raw and emotional, even though I shall see it again soon. The blue coasting stretched under me as the city just rose and was left behind, before that I could trace the path of the rivers, find the roofs of my old university, that Jetty where I’ve walked hand in hand with my lover, and then, to my delighted surprise ,I saw the place where we first met, laid out on the ocean like a blooming flower , and then it wasn’t hard for me to follow the path of the coast to find the area where we always go to try and make the dog swim.
They are now my life, of this I am certain.
As I was mentioning, the shore of my motherland, was as dramatic as you would expect such a great country to be. Laid out in a great patchwork pattern were one of the world’s most fertile plains, which feed more than a billion peoples. Each village distinctively traceable with their own patch of land, worked by its people diligently. Connected by pounded dirt roads that snaked around. Watching how the land lay by air is indeed a pleasure. I could find the national highway that I have been driven on before to get to Chennai on a study trip as an architecture grad and saw how the dirt routes connected to it, a way I didn’t expect. The farmlands were bordered with coconut palms and little cars raced on the big six lane tarmac highway.
There were water bodies and giant homes, sheds and modernist apartment blocks. Lush green that is so rare on the Perth horizon. Indeed, in fertility, this land doesn’t disappoint. Anything that touches it comes to life.
There were some mines, I believe, with winding dirt roads going inside the bowels of the earth, and large craters and cliffs, where I could see the shades of the red and brown loam. Amazing geological formations that I wouldn’t have fully grasped the full configuration of on foot. Things of beauty and awe.
The city started slowly, and then become full all of a sudden. Little match box homes flanked on the sides with coconut palms, this was the real Chennai. Little roads that snaked in and out, making streets that were alive with activity early in the waking city. Homes were painted in flamboyant colours. I actually saw one house that was sun-ray yellow. That is the only colour that I could honestly describe it with. Sunshine. There were hues of blues and greens, ocher and pink. No Grey and white here.
I found the airport staff a lot more polite here than Malaysia. I didn’t think that possible but it is true. They are actually much friendlier and nicer, even if they do not have supposed western refinement of manners of saying “thanks” a lot and yes, in India, people will cut queues and it is rather frustrating. The idea of letting others go first is actually faster has a lot of time to wait before it gets accepted.
How is it that the delayed announcements in airports never really sound sorry, even though they vehemently declare their regrets? (Applies to public transport too?)
Now I await the final leg of my journey, rather impatiently to be quite honest. Since the morning phone call that I made to my mother from a kindly security officer’s phone, there had been no other contact and I cannot wait to be in their arms. And to talk to my lover too who hopefully has been contacted by my mother.
My face was lit with a constant smile a whole half hour before the plane landed. I then forgot that I was actually on a domestic plane and was pleasantly surprised when I could just walk out of the airport without the excruciatingly painful wait of customs. I could see them from the glass. Since before the landing my heart had started its excited palpitations. Similar to the ones I had when my man came back from the long work trip, but those were just a bit harder.
Love reunions. The best things in this world.
The first impression that one gets here is, why is every tenth person on the road suicidal? From a drunk looking bicyclist coming opposite to the main highway traffic at night to the shooter riders thinking somehow that turning in on a road in front of an oncoming 4x4 is simply a brilliant idea.
Home, home. The place where I grew up. After my homes in Australia, the first sensation is that everything is much smaller. The second thing one notices is the dust. It’s on everything. There is classic combination of having too much stuff and not having enough space here. The thing I do usually is to De clutter and it seems like a everyone else is catching up. Just takes a day to get used to it again.
But the love I feel for every single room, every little seat, all the books and plant, and the comfortable nooks, yes, it stays, no matter how dusty.
Outside much seems to have changed. A little piece of green heaven has been destroyed, but another has been grown. The little public park has, after all these year, acquired a dust bin. Its top half broken. There is much to clean and arrange in the home and I don’t feel like moving.
“That’s how you deal with your faults, you make them your features, your strengths. Your specialties.” “You be proud of them and learn/own them” Just uttered by my brother and edited by me. That is true.
Last night was beautiful. It is beautiful to be with my folks. Cuddling with my brother is always good. We slept and he warmed my cold hands in his. He has lost weight but grown a bit taller. We shaved his little goat beard and mustache. The love doesn’t go away, it’s so mesmerizing. Brother is still my baby, as he came and lay on my lap. He may have turned 18. Still my baby. His complaint is my bum isn’t as big as it was because when he tries to kick he can feel the bone. You come back and it’s all there, waiting for you to pick it up where you left it. No awkwardness. It’s all yours. I know it’s not like that with everyone but I and mine, yes it is, and hopefully that stays.
If anything, my lover has taught me more, he has taught me how to love better. To conquer my faults and be my best version. He may not know this, but he is admired, someone I think brings the best out ( and the worst, sometimes).
That’s what good love is about. You learn to be better person because you want to be the best you can be for them. It makes us all better.
Just as my brother went downstairs for me to get the phone for me without my having to ask, even though he was playing his game, as he knows I am in much pain today. (He has me sitting near him while we both work on our own things) We are used to being close. Doesn’t mean we can’t stay apart, but we do like to be together. That’s how I’ve learnt to love, caring and close. Learning that if we are 100% truthful, we all are reliant on each other to a certain degree. We do what the other needs us to.
This trip promises to be beautiful. There is a certain charm to all this. Even the ear splitting music (annoying!) coming from the next door neighbour’s function. Plus I get to say, ‘hey puppy!’ to all the stray dogs and miss my pups.
Love till next :) stay safe.