Changing Plans

Ah, what to do, what to do... One day I am sure that I need to go this way, and then I realise that it wasn't the right thing, just at this moment, after all. On to the next, but where will this lead? 

I know, that once I know what I want I can work on it, go for it, the problem is, what do I want? And since I don't have a clue just now, how can I find out? 

Is it just me who is feeling this way, lost somewhere between all the different ways of life I see around me, grazing other people's worlds but unable to build a world of my own? Everyone else seems to have found a place, know where they are going, have a sense of direction. I feel bewildered by all the possibilities, unable to decide which is the right one for me. 

I want a bit of everything... always have, which is why I chose to see the world, try out different things, different ways of life... Which is fine for a while, but sometimes, as just now, I feel I am lacking a sense of direction. I need to have something to work towards. And even though I am aware that it is just me who has to make the decision, why is it so damn difficult to decide?

All of this would not be a problem, if I just wanted to go on the way I have been so far. But that much I know, I need something a bit more steady, a bit more consistent, something that I care enough for to stay even if it gets annoying... How do I make that decision?  

"Comes the Dawn..."

"After a while you learn the subtle difference
between holding a hand and chaining a soul.
And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning,
and company doesn't mean security.
And you begin to understand that kisses aren't contracts,
and presents aren't promises.
And you begin to accept your defeats, 
with your head up and your eyes open,
with the grace of a woman,
not the grief of a child.
And you learn to build your roads on today,
for tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans 
and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
And you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So you plant your own garden,
and decorate your own soul,
instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure,
and that you really are strong,
and that you really do have worth.
And you learn and you learn,
with every goodbye you learn."

This poem has been my travel companion for many years now. When I first came across it I was travelling through New Zealand, and found it in the guestbook of the hostel in Kaikoura where I was staying. I did not know who wrote it, the book didn't say. It doesn't matter anyway, whoever wrote it, she spoke to me.

But after years of living in different places, doing different jobs, trying out different things, travelling, meeting people, making friends, and leaving again, the poem has not lost any of its meaning, for me.

Isn't it strange how these things go? You spend time in a place, build your own little world, populate it with people around you, and make friends. Some friends you think you will keep forever, even over huge distances, and some you think are just there for the time being, until you drift apart. But somehow I keep on being surprised on how things turn out, how people I thought were not really that much of a friend have grown close to me and been around for decades, while others I thought were really close vanished soon after. I have given up on expecting anything, after all, a few thousand, or even just hundred, kilometers can make a huge difference. Some friendships survive, others don't. There's no telling which is going what way. 

So, I have just turned another corner in life, have met wonderful people, have missed other wonderful people I had met before, and am now back with some of them that have grown very close to me. I have had new experiences, and learned a lot, from all the people and situations I have come across. I have no idea where it will all go from here, what awaits at the next step, and who I will meet along the way. And I am trying to just let it flow where it may take me, and see who will float beside me. I know that I will learn with every step, I might even one day have an idea of where I want to end up. I will meet new people, miss others who I have met before, and meet some of them again. Some will stay around, some will not. I only hope the things that brought us together will keep us together, over distance and time, and all the changes in life that lie ahead of us.

 

Leaving Places

What is it about leaving places? How come all things suddenly happen right at the last minute? When you made the decision to leave you had your reasons, were maybe even longing for the moment to move on to the next step.  And then things come creeping up on you...

After having been in Malaysia and not getting anywhere with figuring out how to find customers for the little business venture we had envisioned, and my funds running low, I was ready to move on, come here to Japan again where I am now, and see if some job, teaching or other, might come my way, and if not, just get back to London and find a job there. I had made a few very nice friends, in addition to my lovely old friends that I had come to work with, had seen beautiful things, eaten amazing food, and even learned a few words in Malay at last. But since it all didn't seem to lead much of anywhere, I started getting impatient. As did my bank account. 

So it was time to move on. And rather than going right back to Europe I wanted to go see my family in Osaka again, and stay with them for a bit, before probably settling down in Britain. The decision was made, the tickets purchased, and the last trip to the beach, this time round, was planned. And I was looking forward to move on.

But, of course, all these things happen right then. The place someone tells you about that is just so amazing that you would love to go there right this minute. Or the trip your friend plans and would have taken you along with, if only you had been around. Or you meet this really lovely man that appears to be the perfect fit, if only you had met him under different circumstances. Or you hear about this job opportunity that seems to open up all of a sudden, now that you had given up on the business. Or all of the above. As in my case. Bugger.

How come that I attract these things and opportunities right at the point when I have decided to turn into a different direction? What is it that changes? My attitude, knowing that it is all gonna be over soon? Is it simply that things don't seem to matter much anymore since I am going to leave anyway, and that that makes me so much more relaxed? Does that mean I should simply not care about anything anymore, and just have things come my way, whatever they may turn out to be? 

To a certain extend I think this is actually true: When you are relaxed you are in a much better position to judge and act on whatever comes along, while obsessing on one plan will make you blind to many opportunities that may be not quite so obvious. Much like squinting your eyes, where you will have only limited vision, as opposed to looking around with relaxed eyes and taking in the whole picture, where you may even discover something of interest from the corner of your eyes.
So, is that the answer? Give up caring? I am pretty much for just letting things flow, see what happens, there's no way you can plan what happens anyway, as things have a way of turning out different to what you had expected. If only I could switch off that little nagging voice, society's conditioning that I've been fighting all this time, that tells me I got to settle, get a man, house, kid, dog, pension plan, or else it is all gonna go downhill from here... Mostly I don't care, things have a way of working out somehow. But sometimes, just sometimes, I actually believe these voices and get scared. Something to work on...

 

      

Picturebook of Tioman III - The Story of the Flying Man

I have experienced Malaysians as such as a very friendly people, regardless of ethnic background. On Tioman as well. Mostly you would have a nice chat with the people you meet, whether travellers or people who live there, and some of them even had a beautiful smile waiting for you. If they didn't want to have too much to do with someone they just kept themselves to themselves; I haven't really seen much of any kind of confrontation. 

All the stranger was the behaviour of one Malay guy there. I haven't seen this kind of behaviour otherwise during my time there. Actually, he was a nice person, working at one of the chalet places, and has always been very helpful and efficient, more than many others. But after he'd had a beer or two he would completely change his personality. In a bad way. Some people just should not be allowed to drink...

One really nice bar had just recently opened near the place where I was staying, and I ended up there for a few beers almost every night. The guys running it were lovely people, and you had a beautiful view of the sunset from their little stage construction where they had placed a couple of chairs. And they already seemed to draw in a regular crowd every night. One of them was this guy. 

After a few beers he would start making his rounds and chatting with the girls here and there. The more beer he had, the handsier he would get. Mostly it would not go above the usual London pubcrowd level that I was used to, so an evil stare would usually do the trick, for me at least. He would further try to chat up some of his favourites, one by one, and inevitably they would get annoyed and send him off, when he would mostly shout a few moderately rude abuses and move on to the next. At this point, if this was London, he would probably have been denied any more alcohol, and most likely been banned from the establishment, no discussions, no buts, no ifs. But not here...

For some unknown reason he had picked out a woman I had been hanging out with, and decided he had to make sure she knew what he thought of her. Without provocation he would regularly come by and call her old fart, gradually getting worse in his choice of words, and then adding a few gestures as well to drive home his point. She tried ignoring him, then talking back, then moving to the opposite side of the place out of his way... and inevitably he would follow. Until she had too much, stood up and pushed him. Imagine, a fairly strong European woman, and a skinny little Malay guy. He went flying over the tables in the most beautiful impression of Looney Tunes I have ever seen! I can still see it, it was as if the whole thing was shot in slow motion. His long hair sailing, legs slowly rising, arms flailing while he tried in vain to keep his balance... A most satisfying sight after an evening of most unpleasant disturbances throughout by that guy. 

As slow as that had seemed, he was up again in a flash though, ready to fight back, but if  nobody had dared to interfere or say anything before, now they all sprang into action in the blink of an eye, and held him back. A bit of a struggle, a few more ugly words, but they dragged him away, and got everyone to calm down again. They did not send him off though, so he would come over every now and then again, start saying something, but now someone would usually hush him, and this time he would listen. 

When she had calmed down too, and sat down, the first thing she said, with a satisfied sigh, was "That felt good." I think most of us would agree, I at least found it hard to hide the grin when she sent him flying...   

Picturebook of Tioman II - My Roommates

Tioman, being a Malay area, i.e. I haven't seen any Chinese there who love their dogs, is therefore full of cats all over the place. They don't actually live there as pets, but they are always around, especially where there is food. Every restaurant has been taken over by a few of them, and they are very territorial: If a newbie tries to get in on the spoils, the older ones will quickly step in and chase them away. And then continue to make sure that you notice their presence by walking by, ensuring to brush against your leg or foot, or meow at you, demanding their rightful share of your food. You recognise the dons of the area right away, they are the ones that strut around well-fed, and have shinier fur than the others, while the newbies are usually skinny little things that try to sneak their way in from somewhere around the back. In the evening you would hear the occasional fight, and I've seen stacks of boxes fly through the air as a result of such quarrels, and I would never ever want to get in the middle of a real beach-cat fight. They mean business!

Cats are the kings of the place. Well, as long as no monkey comes along that sets them running. But until then, your place is theirs. The first morning I came out onto the veranda to meet my first roomie, an old lady, black and white, and constantly sleeping, preferably on the table. I sat on the chair next to her, she just opened one lazy eye, checked that I didn't appear to be dangerous or otherwise annoying, and went on sleeping, undisturbed by me putting my book and water bottle on the space left next to her. A little later my other roomie arrived, a young grey little male cat, very thin, but other than most of the older ones with shiny healthy fur, and no visible eczema. Since I had left the door open he just marched right in and investigated my things. Apparently nothing was interesting enough, because he joined me back on the veranda soon after, checked that I didn't have any food hidden on the table, and then rolled up on the doormat and took a nap. 

These two I would see every day from now on. The old lady, except for one occasion where she sat on the railing with her eyes open, would always lie around somewhere on the veranda, fast asleep, just forcing a lid half-open every now and then when I made a noise. I've never once seen her walk onto the veranda, she would always just magically appear and be asleep already. One more thing was remarkable about her: She would sleep with her tongue out, as if she was making a face at me. It was a hilarious sight. The little one would come by, sit somewhere, clean himself by contorting his body in the most impossible ways to reach every spot, which actually looked as if he was doing yoga... maybe he was, cat yoga. If I had food he would make loudly clear that part of that was his share, and then munch it over the doormat, which I found quite clever, as the one time when he chewed on a crisp on the naked floorboard half of it fell through the gaps and landed underneath the veranda in the dirt. Since then he would always carry his precious treasures to the mat. And at last he would roll up, preferably also on the mat and pushed right into the doorstep, so that usually he would end up in comical positions while snoring lightly in the sunlight.

And then I would take out my book, put my feet up, and the three of us would relax to the sound of the waves lapping on the beach right in front of us.

      

Picturebook of Tioman I - Monkey Breakfast

I'm sitting on the veranda of the chalet I stayed at, right by the beach, just separated from the sand and water by a concrete path, for all intends and purposes the main street in Air Batang, and a few coconut palms. A soft breeze from the sea stirs the air and cools me down a little. It is early morning, and I am reading my book and waiting for the restaurant to open to get a coffee. The two kids staying next door are still asleep, having left half-empty packs of nuts and empty beer and coke cans on their table outside. A monkey family comes by, on their morning stroll in search of a bite here and there. One of the thousands of cats on the island gets in their way and is chased away with angry snarls and a short pursuit, just to make sure it gets the message. My two flatmates, a young grey male with a crooked tail and a black-and-white old female that likes to sleep with the tongue out, look up warily, but the monkeys have no interest in them at all. Instead, they immediately close in on the garbage. The nut packs are the first of course, expertly one of them rips it open a little more and they all fish out the last nuts in the pack. Another checks the drink cans for remains,  and takes extra care that no drop of the beer is wasted, that seems to be a favourite not only of humankind... They examine each piece of garbage they can find, even go through the plastic bag that is stuffed with empty bags of crisps and more cans, and check under the veranda for anything that may have fallen through the space between the floor boards. 

I find it fascinating to watch them. How expertly they handle all the items, how they bring the cans to their mouth and tilt their heads, and then come back down and look at me with that what-are-you-looking-at stare, just like humans. How they pick up nuts and remove the shell and then put them in the mouth, with two fingers, just like humans. And then they swing themselves off the chair or table backwards, legs extended at weird angles and in almost impossible contortions, and you notice that as yet there are still a few differences between us after all, while you watch them walk lazily away on all fours or climb up the nearest palm to the powerline over the path, making their way to the next veranda with a hopeful yield of left-overs.

Smoke Gets in Your Eyes

It is 4 am now... not unusual these days for me to still be awake at this hour, the translation I work on usually keeps me up through the night, since I work better at this hour. Not quite 2 hours ago a strange smell tore me out of the little world of that story, you know, the smell of burning plastic or cables... I could not tell where it came from, so I started checking the electronics in the room for heat, and tried to follow the smell, but other than it being stronger in the middle of the room I couldn't locate anything. Blue flashing lights outside caught my attention, and a look out of the window showed a police car, parked a few doors down. And a lot of black smoke, which billowed out from under the covered walkway under this office. Well, black smoke is rarely a good thing, right? I couldn't make out where the smoke was coming from, but since the police car was at the other corner of the building, and the firetruck that just then arrived also stopped at that corner, I figured that that was where the origin was. And since the smoke got worse, and started creeping in through the windows too, so much so that my eyes started to burn, I figured it'd be a good idea to get out too. You never know... 

Interestingly after that decision I turned fairly automatic... grab the bag with the passport, I also took my laptop and the phone, take the stairs not the elevator, cloth for the nose... which I needed, as the stairwell was pretty thick with smoke, too much to breathe without coughing, but little enough to see without problems where I was going.

It was the garage on the next corner that was on fire. By the time I got there a fairly decent crowd had already assembled on the other side of the street, some of them looked like they had just been thrown out of bed... which I guess was the case. Thick black clouds were billowing out of the ground-floor part... upstairs on the top floor lights were on, and I just hoped the firemen actually checked if all people were out of the building, I wouldn't count on it though...

The main reason for that distrust was, that one of the kids who works down in that garage was there, right with the firemen in their fire suits and protective gloves, while the kid was wearing nothing but shorts and flip flops. I guess he stayed upstairs of the shop, and came down when he noticed the fire. He was trying to open the shutters for the guys. In shorts and flip flops... the firemen KNEW the fire inside must be fairly strong, they were spraying the shutters to cool them down, and there was no overlooking the thick smoke escaping through the little space over the shutters. Why on earth would they let that kid even stand so close? I mean, it wasn't like there was some trick to opening those shutters, so what kept them from just taking the keys from him and opening the shutters themselves, and get the half-naked kid out of harm's way? Isn't that one of the first things you learn as a fireman, make sure that lives are out of danger before you try and save what you can from the inanimate environment? And it wasn't just the keys, they also let the kid try and push the shutters up into the holder for them where they weren't too damaged already... I mean, really? Potentially scolding hot metal, and they let that kid try and push it out of the way? Ah, I am just too European for this country, possibly even too German, since I don't really know much about firemen in most of Europe other than there and in Britain, and both of those would in my experience not have put that kid in danger. But he seems to have gotten out alright, though he appears to have hurt his hand slightly...

The shutters partially out of the way, we could see a jolly good fire going on inside. I might have a fairly decent firebug streak in my blood, I have always found fire fascinating and one of the prettiest things on earth. And scariest... The flames leaking out of a shop door and lashing up the building are certainly very pretty. When it's just a few doors from where all your current belongings are, you start to think what else these flames are, as in a potentially destructive force of nature, that can make you homeless in two seconds flat. If not worse... 

But the firemen managed to bring it under control soon after, and started walking into the shop to check further. Well, one walked in, another still kept spraying; if that was on purpose I don't know. 

Another of the shorts-clad guys that was standing around walked up the stairs to the floor above the garage... nobody stopped him. I'm no expert, but that also seems pretty unsafe to me... Nobody secured the building, they never even roped off the part of the street, so that a few cars that were passing just drove over the firetruck hoses that were being used... I can't imagine that that was included in the original idea of the builder... 

Ah well. They extinguished the flames, the smoke stopped floating all over the place, the smell of burning rubber subsided, and as far as I could see it was only the shop that was destroyed. It looked really bad, black and melted equipment, and I could see a motorbike skeleton, and with the waterspray all over I wasn't sure if there was a car further inside too... I hope the shop owner has insurance, else this will be a devastating blow. But else the damage was contained. So kudos to the firemen for getting here quickly enough to keep the fire from spreading any further... even if I would not want to depend with my life on these guy.

Having written this it is turning onto 5 am... I threw all the windows open when I got back in, and I kind of imagine the smell has almost gone... or I just don't notice it anymore... The smoke seems to have gone from the room, too, looking around it seems to be fairly clear. My eyes are tired, but somehow after all this I don't feel like sleeping just yet. Which is why I started writing this down... Well, I'll see if I can't get my friend Holmes and one of his adventures to get me to sleep... no offense, Sherly!