Leaving the rural Hokkaido, I began travelling to the city again. Not to be trapped in shopping, but to go to Disneyland! It was all a fun trip but the main event that came to my attention was the trip TO Disneyland, it seemed uncomfortable... We were moving through a dark and full passage to the train. It struck me the difference between the place I was just at that morning and the situation then. There in Hokkaido they had people rarely speak a familiar language to you, but you feel that it's a genuinely kind place. But in the city was difference, no money, no attention.
The atmosphere in general was incredibly different too. There was a shiny yet warm look to it in Hokkaido, silence was everywhere but it was more of a comfortable silence. Hardly anyone was around too. In the city was worse, no peace of mind, noise practically everywhere, claustrophobia poisoning your mind everywhere.
My view really seems dramatic I'm sure, but these words in my mind, really changed my view from the past. Throwing out all expectations I thought I had, thinking all the little things were insignificant, but yet they weren't.
An early start to the day. 6am I was already up and ready to go. To Siem Riep where I was bound. Considering how draining the day before had been it felt good to get a fresh start in a new place, it was just what I needed. I set off in a small, and I mean small! Poor ventilated and smelly taxi the hotel had requested I got. Just 7 short hours in that sketchy taxi and I would be there. Siem Riep is famous for the amazing Angkor Wat, so amazing which has said to be ‘greater than that of the pyramids’. That was what I was going to find out, was it really that amazing? I had completed the 7 hour journey and the driver kindly dropped me off at my hotel which I had booked months ago. I lugged my bags to my room and dumped them on the floor. I took what felt like a 5 minute power nap, woke up at it was already 5:30! I got my things together and set off to get my pass into the said to be ‘amazing temples of Siem Riep’. A Tuk Tuk was of course waiting outside the hotel and he had barely put up a fight, it was a great way to start the fresh new week! We stopped at an area where we received a passport like pass for a limited time to go around the temples. I had taken the 3 day pass as I felt that was plenty of time to see all the ‘amazing’ temples. However on the way to this are I felt like having a stretch, big mistake! I stretched my arm and hit a man who was riding on a motorbike. I couldn’t count the amount of times I had said sorry. Lucky for me he forgave me and laughed, the driver however found the situation extremely hilarious and wouldn’t stop laughing, I felt extremely embarrassed. We drove on, into Angkor Wat and he said he would wait for me. The sun was about to set and the temple looked beautiful. I didn’t actually go into the temple I just stayed outside. There were floods of people walking out and it was a perfect photo opportunity. Looking at the temple it felt nothing more than an old ruined building yet I felt there was more, something more than the history. I couldn’t wait to find out.
In the morning I packed my bags and checked out of the hotel then walked to legoland. Despite the fact that its 8:10 in the morning, the lego-themed park was starting to get crowded.
Inside Legoland were aquariums, famous landmarks and animals made out of thousands of pieces of lego, rides, a water park and many other things i didn't yet see.
There was a lego boat ride where you can control your own lego boat (as in sit in it and steer it around a course and look at lego animals) it seemed quite interesting to me so i gave it a try. It was a waste of time. You didn't really have to control anything as it was already dragged along the course and all you have to do is turn left or right. I didn't pack a swim suit so I couldn't go to the water park but I did go on the Pirate 360 ride. It was very fun and nerve wrecking. Everyone was screaming their lungs off, arms in the air. A middle aged man was trying to make everyone stop screaming but noone bothered to listen to him and went on screaming anyway. But I did, he was just a seat in front of me. He seems like an unfriendly person.
On the way to the airport I saw houses that were very different to the houses I saw in Coppenhagen. The houses were actually clinics, boutiques etc. In big cities they will normally be in buildings but I guess its different here in the country side.
When I finally arrived at the Billund airport, getting ready to fly to Istanbul and begin my 8 day trip following a Singaporean tour. I met a girl about the same age as me at the airport who was apparently following the same tour. It all started when she was asking for directions to Starbucks and also asking if I was following the tour. Her name was Caitlyn. She is going to Turkey for the holidays (its apparently one of the few places she wanted to visit before she died) Our flight was at 11:00 am so we were sitting at Starbucks the whole time.
Entry 5 Do people actually care about the time? Or the place
I awoke, finally free from the torture which were stomach pains. There may be no other sensation better than this, aside from eating a good donut or outer space. (Maybe)
Since I was in a state of bliss, I almost didn’t notice that Aunt Pris and her son were packing a suitcase, so I asked them.
They said that we were going to meet up with my Uncle Hou and Aunt Valerie. I said oh. She quickly added that there would be food. I said oh again.
As a result of a bribe, I am now sitting in their SUV/Van and writing this because I am bored and drawing things because I am bored.
When we finally reached Sunny Ridge, the Strawberry farm, I immediately felt that this was a souvenir shop in front of a farm. It was a one-story building covered with grapefruit-colored tiles and inside, it felt like they decided that ‘Oh, it needs to be more country-like’ and tossed in some wooden décor. I think there was hardly anything edible there aside from strawberry jam. Everything else were strawberry plushes, promotional magnets, even larger strawberry plushes, magnetic strawberry plushes, cushions, etc.
The only thing I would have bought was the Jam (I know from experience that it was very smooth even when refrigerated) but Stef decided to buy 4 magnetic plushes ‘2 for me to keep, 2 for you to bring back.’ I wasn’t paying for them however, I’m just the deliveryman. [Right now, they’re sitting on a hook with hands conjoined.] On the back door there was an exit leading to the farm itself, where we could pick our own strawberries in a specified area.
As I stepped out, I noticed that it was vast. The shop was on a higher area than the farm itself, and that gave me a spectacular view of all the strawberries. The view was like an army of strawberries plants, who have polished their products and kept their leaves green, and it was almost like looking at one of the wonders of the world. Whichever way you turned, there would be strawberry, except when you turned to look at the back of the store.(cont.)
I eagerly climbed down the long flight of stairs, got myself a basket and began picking. There isn’t really much to say, but I found a strawberry about the size of a 6-year-old’s hands. There wasn’t much else to do, so we went to the outdoor café. Compared to the store, the café was a whole new deck of cards. The café was furnished by picnic tables and stools the color of dark chocolate, with a nice shine to them. Above us were several arches, crisscrossing each other, which was also the preferred place of several stalks of ivy. There were also potted plants and simple topiary around us, making the whole place feel like a picnic within a large garden.
Despite the looks, the menu was quite puny. They only served desserts, tea and breakfasts. Seeing as it was about 2 PM, I decided to order a strawberry gelato and a chocolate dip. The dip arrived first, so we started on that first. It tasted like something that would go on a cake, to be honest.
I remember while I was eating that, I found the massive strawberry I mentioned earlier. Everyone on the table stared skeptically. I dipped the strawberry and ate it in 2 bites.
The gelato arrived later, and I started on it as soon as it arrived. It conjured an image of a pink avalanche, bombarding my tongue with flavor and texture. It was not icy hard, but very creamy, like peanut butter which enhanced the taste of sweet strawberries with a tang of sour. Within the gelato were several pieces of strawberry as well, which had been frozen until it was like a gummy bear. If it was legal to marry food – Oh wait yes it is – I would be down on my knee with a ring. Funny how someone married a horse but I can’t marry another guy.
Before we knew it, it was 3 PM and we had to leave to meet up with our relatives at a Motel.
We met at a decent-sized motel, which had a very nice view if you walked along the road for a bit.
We booked some rooms, met up with my relatives which I should introduce you to. Uncle Hou: I normally I call him ‘Ah Hou chek chek’ or just ‘Chek chek’. He’s a graphics designer. Also my father’s cousin. Aunt Valerie: I call her ‘Nana Ee Ee’. I believe she stays at home. My mother’s sister. Ryan Tan: It’s a baby boy.
We caught up with each other, then proceeded to have a paper plane competition with the massive amounts of scrap paper the motel had, which I won with my own design. Stef bugged me about teaching me how to make those for the rest of my stay.
We ate a dinner with roast chicken and potatoes. It was nothing to really write about. So we went up, I did origami then went to sleep. Any typing done after this is a very sleepy me.
Goodnight.
Entry 5.5 Dark Room
I feel depressed. Why should I even bother to live in this world where money is our life and people every day are dying A whole buncha people are suffering from abuse and bein oppressed because they wanna do what they want to We’re expected to do our best when we feel like shit and hardly anyone cares
Entry 5.75 Darker Warm side of pillow
You know what, it’s because these things I feel like I got’ta turn my life around. If I can’t get married in one country I will make a country where I can. If I can’t dress like a girl and feel pretty I will make a place where I can. If I cannot turn into a lamp then I cannot commune with the lamp gods. I am sorry Lampbert. I have failed you.
Entry 5.275 Morning Room
As you can see, night me is stranger than day me. I don’t worship lamps.
I awoke on the bus, officially in Agra. But the happiness didn't sink in then. A still image of that small town we passed stuck to my mind. Why was it in that condition? But most of all why wasn't anything being done? The other's on the bus had not seem to give much care, so i pushed it to the back of my head for the time being. Leaving my thoughts un answered..
As i got of the bus i took in the atmosphere. The roads were loud and busy as ever, auto's honking around demanding to be let through. Men on cows strolling away with their lives, as they caused road blocks. Stall after stall of all kinds of selling's. Shoes, shoe repairs, punjabi shops and there colourful material clothes hanging on the outside, colouring the streets.
Before the heat could take me whole i decided to find shelter in a small tea shop. That consisted of 2 benches on the outside, and a small hut with the tea maker on the inside. Lined up on 1 of those benches was a group of middled aged men, and on the other bench was swarmed with teenage school boys. Who clearly seemed more focused on the new specimen that had walked in aka Me then there books. As i slowly made my way to the tea maker i could feel eyes scanning me head to toe. Eyes peeped from books, and laughs and smirks being shared. I let my insecurity sink.
They must have noticed the clothing immediately. Crazy neon shirt with spikes on the border of the bottom neck line, and shorts which were most unusual for people living here to be wearing. Then hair let loose and all over my face, not properly tied back into a plat as one of the school boys examined.The same boy he let out a loud chuckle and pointed at my human sized backpack. I stayed in the shop for a while, as i ordered my meal of a vadai. Delicious donut like food but with a savoury twist. Gulping down the remains i tipped the tea maker, nodded a farewell to my ever so wonderful watchers and walked my way to the hotel.
After walking through the doors of the "Raja hotel" i could already feel pampered. It truly was a grand hotel, with chandeliers swarming the ceilings and beautiful almost gold tiles covering the floor beneath me. After going up the rather spacious elevator i made my way to the room, and decided i earned myself a luxurious nap for the journey ahead...
To my dismay as we sailed into the dock, the majority of the people here were tourists, not the scholars I had expected. Their bright clothing and loud voices were unlike the more plain robes and quiet talks that the scholars of Canbur usually had. The Ranger touched down with a soft thud. We set off to the relativelyt well known "Museum of Canbur: The starting of this Great Nation". The entrance was grand, with marble pillars holding up the roof. Inside were hordes of noisy tourists lining the halls. Entry was free, we could walk in and out whenever we wanted. This was likely a reason for the packed halls. The artifacts on display were the odd pottery piece and weapon fragments as well as an entire fishing boat, which was the main attraction. These were the only things different from my own history textbook from school. Otherwise everything was the same, every other artifact was catalogued in my textbook and every article was exactly the same, word for word. It was an advertisement of the "Greater than thee" propaganda of Canbur to other visitors and their own citizens. My Uncle shared a similar view. We both left with distaste. As we left a man, dressed in the plain robes of a scholar approached us.
"You two don't look like you enjoyed this monstrosity of manipulation." He gestured to the museum. "Would you like to see the real history of Qutri?" My Uncle and I met eyes. The look in his eyes were asking me whether I wanted to go along with this, as we both knew Edward and two of his men were here to help us out if we got into trouble. Of course I wanted to see the real history of my ancestors and the realities and hardships they suffered. I looked again at this man. He looked young, his face smooth and red. His body was swamped with his robes and from his voice he was at least twenty. Looking back to my Uncle, I nodded. This all took place in less than ten seconds.
"We will go with you." My Uncle told him.
"Good! Let us go to my father's place." He turned and started walking, both of us followed suit.
He told us that his father was a more faithful historian as well as a collector of Qutrian artifacts. He had no bias and wrote no plaques, he spoke to the few visitors that still came, explaining what the artifacts were and the story of the first settlers. At first they invited tourists in, but they didn't care for the history, all they wanted was to take an image with a capture box then be on their way. His father's lineage dated back to the first settlers and the heirlooms that survived from the many generations past were part of the artifacts on display. He himself had three other siblings, of which he was the youngest. The rest went off to Zion, Yorleans or one of the other major cities to work. He was the only one to stay with his father, to take charge of the museum. His mother had no mention, so I assumed that either age, ailments or at least something had taken her away from her family.
After we had walked for nearly twenty minutes, we reached a large manor house, it looked like it was ancient. In the very least it was over a hundred years old, or maybe even older. Yet, it was sturdy, strong in appearance. The three of us walked up the steps leading up to the large door of the manor. Our new friend stepped up to use the knocker. It made a loud clack against the wooden door. A moment passed before the door opened with a new face greeted us, with me looking up at him. He was almost as tall as my Uncle, who stood at a towering 1.9 meters tall. His face was weathered and wrinkled with age, his beard long and grey, his hair meeting his beard, both of which were fine and well looked after.
"Oh! Welcome back son, I was just going to get lunch ready." His voice was smooth, deep, comforting. A voice you would want to hear consoling you. He looked past his son, to lay his eyes on us. "You've brought visitors? Please, come in, sit with us and eat."
We all went into the house. Even now, the smell of food was filling me, making my mouth water. The smell was of frying meat, freshly baked bread and something I could not identify. We entered the kitchen, a girl stood there. She wore a plain dress, her light brown hair flowed over her shoulders. She turned the meat over a fire whilst doing so she turned around to see who was there. Her face was young as well as pretty. She nodded at us before turning back to the fire.
"That is my niece" the Old man told us. "Clerise, bring more bread from the oven, get two ,more sets of cutlery too." "Yes Uncle." Clerise said softly, not turning around. "Alright, let me show you to the table."
The old man led us to a large table, made of mahogany. He pulled out two chairs to let us sit.
"Oh, pardon me, where are my manners. I've yet to introduce myself. I am Otar and this is my son, Kazahn." "I am Cain, this is my nephew Joel." "Well Mr. Cain, the food will be brought shortly so please, in the mean time just stay here and we will talk. Kazahn go help your cousin, I shall talk to our guests."
We sat down on their chairs, Otar being at the head of the table, his back facing the kitchen, with Uncle and I being seated at his left and right, respectively.
"Well, what brings you to this part of Canbur?" Otar asked my Uncle. "Well, I am bringing my nephew here around on a journey around Canbur and so, with Qutri being the oldest known settlement here I decided to stop here for a day and..."
I listened to them talk when the food came. There food was simple yet delicious. The bread had a crisp shell and fluffy and soft inside. It was sweet but also went well with the broth. From what I tasted, I assumed that it was a mix of produce from the sea and the local mushrooms growing in the nearby forests. It was a earthy taste, leaning towards salty. What was the main course was the meat. Fresh Auroch from the markets, the skin was thin and crispy like crackers while the inside was tender and juicy. Whilst eating this wonderful meal I thought about the events leading up to now. I experienced the desperation of the peddlers in Yorleans and saw a man die. Many people died in Zion too, but where I had spent my life death was uncommon to be seen. No bodies or evidence but everything was nice and clean. However in the slums where I rarely went, only when I was sent by my father to deliver packages to his friend who lived there, working in a pawn shop. There in the slums, bodies were at the sides of the streets, dead from disease, starvation, dehydration or the not so uncommon stabbing. Yet to see a man die is an entirely different matter. You can actually see a man's eyes lose their light, leaving only a blank stare. I thought about death while I ate my food.
After we had finished the meal, we went on the tour around the rear of the house, a large open area where all the artifacts were housed. It was definitely a broader range than what was at the museum, there were Idols, whole weapons, armor, shields, bowls, cups, pots, arrow heads and more. As we wandered around all the while Otar was telling us the history of these artifacts and the Qutrians themselves.
They came here over three thousand years ago, a stayed here for one thousand years before starting an epic campaign of conquering and colonization. That is what the textbook tells us. What they didn't say was that for the first hundred years, the Qutrians were barely able to cling on to life. From where they came from their crops could not grow well because of the less than nutritious soil, but the natives taught them how to add nutrients to the soil by adding small fish, then planting the seeds of the crops on top of them. During the conquest the first to be annexed were the very people who helped save their lives, not so positive if you ask me. As the Qutrians spread out, they performed near unspeakable atrocities to the conquered. If that was put in a textbook, it wouldn't even get near to being published. After the tour, we left, giving Otar our thanks. He too thanked us before going back into the house.
On the way back to the Ranger, it was peaceful. As it was getting late all the tourists have already either left or went to their lodgings. The two of us went back to the Ranger for a simple dinner after we started on our way towards the small river town of Inhlet, where we were going to take a cruise up river.
I woke up in my hotel room at 7am, full of energy. I went to go get my camera and my jacket. We all met up downstairs to eat breakfast. After that we all got in the bus and off we were, to the Aparthied Museum.We arrived there around 7:30 am. The tour guide took us on a tour around the museum. It made me sad to see the things that the people here had to go through. There were a bunch of exhibits, all showing the daily life of a black person during those times. I could tell that i wasnt the only who was felling bad. Every one had a grim expression on their face as we walked past each exhibit. We stopped halfway through the exhibit to have a break. They served us tea, coffee and sandwhiches. After the things i saw i wasnt hungry anymore.
When we continued our tour around the museum, we saw the happier side. We saw when nelson mandela was set free and how everyone reacted. There were so much happy faces. It said after nelson mandelas speech to become president, almost everyone voted for him. After that, South Africa became a democratic country, which meant that everyone had their own freedom of speech and there was equality. Everyone seemed happier when they learned this. We ended our tour at 9:30. The experience was great and it really made you think about the world.
On our bus ride back to the hotel i saw things that were unbelievable. Maybe i didnt notice it on our way here because i wasnt paying attention but now i saw. There were townships. House made of old wood, cardboard and anything they could find. They were commonly reffered to as shacks. I was shocked. How could anyone live like this? Why hadnt the government done anything about the situation? I pushed the thoughts to the back of my mind as we reached the hotel. I went to my room and packed. We were leaving to durban next, in about 3 hours. We went back to the bus and left to the airport. Our flight was at 1pm. I bought some souvenirs from the shops and then went to get something to eat at Starbucks. Before i knew it, it was time to go again. As i got onto the plane i tried to get the images out of my head but i couldnt. I got to my seat and put my headphones on. Maybe all i needed was a nap.
I was finally going to the place that I have dreamed about for years. A Snow Mountain. I have read about it dozens of times. Imagining the cold wind cooling your face, rosy cheeks, hot chocolate near a fireplace, thick woolly sweaters with cats on them and doing those amazing flips on skis and snowboards. Pure white heaven. I’ve had dreams about snow and the sun, but the cotton snow would melt into hot grass. I finally packed and got on the bus with Tae Hyun (Travel buddy) and we set off. The bus ride was super long, all I did was look out the window desperately gazing for one spot of snow, I also flipped through a few pamphlets, mesmerized by the amazing mountains and wildlife. We finally arrived and IT WAS AMAZING! I ran to the rental store and demanded a pair of skis and a snowboard, the man studied me head to toe “fine, come.” He pulled me into a room and measured my feet “PFFT!” he laughed “Chinese people’s feet are so big!” he giggled wandering to the “Big sized” area of the store. He returned still giggling like a 3 year old who just heard the word poop, with ski boots 2 inches too big, a matching set of skis and a snowboard. We rode the ski lift all the way to the top the mountain and OMG! IT WAS HORRIBLE! Everything looked 10 times bigger. Tae Hyun was of course rubbing in my face that he is a professional snowboarder, started to do flips and jumps and there was just m, slowly gliding the side of the slope right next to the dark forest. I was minding my own business until BAM! Some guy tossed a truck load of snow at my face and caused me to blindly tumble down the side of the slope into the forest to the point where I felt alone, lost, tired, hungry. I nearly collapsed in terror, all I could feel was the cold air pressing against me making it harder for me to walk as I thought to myself “who is ever going to find me? What is going to happen to me when I’m gone?” I walked as far as my legs could carry and collapsed. Feeling a warm towel on my head I woke up with a pair of big beady eyes 2 cm away from my nose. Widening my eyes in shock and fear “it” spoke “HEYY! SHE’S AWAAAAAKE ♪♪!!!!” Tae Hyun and a nurse entered the room and quickly checked the temperature. “You collapsed only 5 meters away from the ski lodge” I could see the fear in Tae Hyun’s eyes when I woke up. He felt scared and thought it was his fault I got lost. I just gave him and “it’s okay” look and went back to sleep
Entry 5 Lake Bunyonyi was on our list of where to go because it was where our parents met and eloped. We lost our parents 15 years ago. The accident involved a drunk driver, some sort of explosion, and a cliff, and the rest of the story still remains unwritten. Our family had shared very few memories together, and I guess this was our way of somehow making it up. We never got a chance to hear stories of how they met, or their wedding, or our first words and steps. All we were left with was our mother’s travel diary. It may have been a flimsy notebook, but we were following in her exact footsteps which gave us a connection to the person she was. Our hotel was on Bushara Island, but we took a tiny, rickety, green row boat to Kyahugye Island to do our research. The island was more of a hill, it’s peak bathing in the buttery sunlight and it’s foothills accommodation gruesome sea monsters and bushels of water weeds and algae. We ate at “Dambawe Diner” and afterwards we hiked up to the little white chapel situated in a tea plantation. “Come in my children! What can I do for you?” said a large voice coming from inside the warm and dim Reverend’s quarters. Sitting at a large oak table was a hunched over figure with small tufts of curly white hair on his head, and a friendly face lined with deep crevices. He wore a grey suit with a shirt that was once white, and his whole body hung, supported by a metal chair. “Hello, um, Reverend Lubega Is it?” I murmured, unsure whether to shake his hand, nod my head or even curtsey for him. “That is me. What do you come for children?” He said humbly. “We were wondering if you know anything about our parents. Jack and Stella Roseman, we, um, believe that you married them, Sir.” Said Esmé politely, handing him the faded wedding picture. He examined the picture with a tear in his eye, and before we could realize he was out of the study, marching to the top of the hill. We followed him to the stone circle that lay at the tip of the island. I could see the whole of the lake, it’s crystal waters, tea fields, grain fields, and hundreds of small villages. “Th-there,” he said gasping for breath and pointing at the circle, “That is where I married them.” “It’s stunning here…” whispered Esmé. We all shared a moment of silence. “Do you see that small island over there girls, with only one tree?” said the Reverend, pointing to a flat island with a stingy tree on it, “That is Punishment Island. When I were a young man, pregnant and unmarried women would get put there to starve, it would teach the other girls a lesson! They don’t do that anymore, but old lady Miss Kabengwa, my neighbour, is one of the few survivors.” The Reverend thought these methods were normal, after all he had been born and raised with these teachings, but later that night Esmé and I discussed how wrong we found the punishment. Back at the office, we sipped tea whilst hearing about our parents. “They were very in love.” Told the Reverend, “They were so very young, and the day I married them my wife told me it would never work out! And that I was doing a sin. But I had faith and so did God. Ah, I always wondered what happened to them…” “Well they were so happy in the end. Thank you for everything, you have no idea how much this meant to us, but it’s getting late and we should probably go home.” I said gratefully. “My daughters it made me very happy. I do believe I have something for you,” mumbled the reverend tip toeing into his cupboard. “Ah yes, here they are. You’re parents wedding vows children, you should take these.” He said giving us two orange pieces of soft paper, ripped around the edges. Back at the camp we read and re read the vows. In that moment we felt so close to them. In our hands, we held a solid, physical memory.
I woke up at about 9, by the hassle all around me. My parents had their suitcases wide open, being stuffed with all sorts of clothes and other stuff we brought with us, but they weren’t too quiet with it. My brother, on the other hand, was stuffing his pockets with all the PSP games he’d brought. What was going on? It suddenly hit me. We were going back. But how could that happen? Only 6 days ago we had come, so leaving without notice seemed illogical. Nor were the return tickets due till Tuesday next week. So what was happening? ¬- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Not an ideal place to meet. Not at all. In fact, waiting for a bus to take you through Paris, Italy and Switzerland on a tiny bridge in the suburbs of Paris was dumb. Yes, my dad had finalised the tour, and everyone knew about it. Except me. I wasn’t too happy to be told last. Nor was I too happy to not be woken up to get ready earlier. I felt so empty about this. No one had told me. As if I weren’t there at all. I forced my mind to stop thinking about this. I forced myself to think about what was coming. Italy. Switzerland. The places. The food. The other stuff. Yet that too started to rise doubts in my mind. “We’re waiting for a tour bus on a bridge. Why so?” “Why in the suburbs. Why not in the city?” A distant loud noise stopped me from going paranoid. It sounded like a car crash. My dad went to investigate, bringing back the news that our bus had crashed. My sudden reaction was to run and see for myself. As it turned out, it was only a backlight. Then my mind’s dark side came back. “Could this happen again? This time ... more serious?” ¬- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - We sat in the bus on our way ti the heart of the city. Where we’d come from. Honestly, they could have just picked us up from there. Talk about inefficiency. We’d met the majority of the people with us. They seemed fine. Though they were no children. I mean there was one, yet she behaved like a 40-year-old, so she didn’t classify as a kid according to me. Yet what interested me more than the lack of kids and the pink bus-carpet was the man who sat in front of me. Not that he was strange. He was just so quiet. So mysterious. He had a dark beard, which covered his face like fungus on a fallen log. It sat there seemingly innocent, but deep inside sucking out all life. His eyebrows were thick and met in the middle of his eyes, forming almost a shield. A shield to hide those dark eyes that seemed to have seen much. Seen too much, perhaps. He sat there staring out of the window as if scanning the place for something hidden. Yet he did not look like a tourist. Not like someone who would travel to places, take pictures, and preserve memories. Almost as if he was forced to go. Who was he? What was wrong with him? Why is he so secretive and silent? Just the some things I wanted to know about him. Just the some things I would find out about him.
With the trees towering above me, I felt minuscule compared to the extensive and enormous woods surrounding me. Having no particular tracks had its disadvantages and I soon got foolishly lost. Stumbling along, i tried my best not to trip on pinecones, leaves and potholes. I felt a huge sense of relief wash over me when I came to a clearing after countless hours of traipsing though the forest on a sore and swollen ankle.
My relief soon disappeared, however, as the strangeness of the place crept upon me. I felt a chill spread down my spine and a gust of wind drowned in my throat like a fish that had lost its gills.The energy dropped and was reflected by the weather. I felt as if I had stepped into a freezer that had automatically locked on the inside. I noticed a big concrete block. i walked over to inspect it more closely and I realised it was a memorial. It turned out that a British airforce plane had been shot down in World War Two and this was where it had landed. All 8 crew members perished. It was no wonder this spot had freaked me out.
i perched down on the icy ground and leant against the cool concrete, and imagined the scenario. The small plane bravely flying into enemy territory dodging bullets in the darkness. The plane being hit and the pilot losing control. The wild plummet down and the shocking collision as the flimsy aircraft smashed into the trees, then bounced to the unforgiving ground and burst into flames. I imagined them in the night; the flicker of the flames slowly burning them alive. I imagined the devastated families who would not have known what had become of their loved ones. It made me think, really think, about the brutality and futility and the complete pointlessness of war, and the thousands of lives that were wasted as a result of it.
I found my path home eventually, all the whilst thinking about the innocent men whose lives had been snatched away for a war that was caused by greedy, stupid politicians, but which was fought for, and paid for, by individuals, just like me. When I arrived back to the warmth of my home and family, I asked questions. It turned out that long after the war was over, some locals had stumbled across the wreck in the forest. Over a period of years, a memorial was constructed in acknowledgement and remembrance of the lives lost there. A special service was even held and the families of the deceased were invited from Britian to attend. This all left me pondering how and why people can be capable of such kindness and but also such cruelty.
I woke up feeling stodgy, despite the cloud like bed, and so decided to go to the beach. I had heard so much about this beautiful beach, with its crystal clear water and snow white sand white sand, so it was impossible not to go. I flipped open my suitcase, grabbed my swimming stuff, speed-walked down the hotel staircase and out into the hot daylight. Through the crowds of tourists and down the many stone steps I walked, desperate to dive into the sea. Then I arrived and my feet hit the sand. Ah, it's perfect. I slowly looked from left to right. The sea really was crystal clear. It's blue with bursts of silver and green, the sun bounces right off it, the ground below the surface is covered with smiling fish, oh, and look, there's a naked man. I quickly looked away. Wow. I kept walking and just about tripped over another naked body. I walked the other way...another. No one told me this was a nude beach. I needed to get out of here. I was walking back up to the small town, after my traumatic event at the beach, when I came across a dog-eared, dull, little poster pinned to the wall of a tacky orange tourist inn. “Visit Delos for a day!” It read, “See the birthplace of the great God Apollo! Just €7 there and back! More information at front desk!” Below the writing was a black and white picture of Delos. It looked tiny, it looked dead, it looked eerie, it looked calm, and it looked like the perfect escape. The lady at the front desk told me that the next boat out to the island was at 11am. “Yes, yes next boat is here in 2 hours!” she replied when I asked. “Thank you, and also what time does it-“ “Delos is a good island, yes, take your friends!” she interrupted. “Very nice place to take you and more people!” “I’m here on my own, actually” “REALLY?” Why was she so surprised? “Yup” I answered “But WHY?” “I don’t know. I didn’t feel like travelling with people?” Well don’t I just sound like the most entertaining person “Aw, poor little girl! Don’t worry, don’t worry! I will find someone to go with you, yes!” Thanks, that’s totally what I wanted. “Don’t you worry, it’s no problem! Don’t worry! Yes, I will do it, just for you!” If she says ‘don’t worry’ one more time I think I’ll explode. She got up from behind her desk and hurried me out the door. “Don’t you worry!” she said again. “Don’t you fret your pretty little head!” I wasn’t planning on it. I spent the next 2 hours at a little coffee shop, watching everything go by. By the time the alarm on my phone went off, that I had set to remind myself that I was going to a tiny deserted island, pins and needles had attacked both of my legs. Slowly but surely, walking like a new born giraffe, I made my way to the boat yard. There were people EVERYWHERE. I walked along the metal, floating jetty in search of the boat I was due on. Please don’t be that one; there are about 1000 people getting on that thing. Oh phew, good. No, please not that one either; I’d say there are at least 10000 people. Oh good. No, no please not that; the whole of Greece must be getting on that boat. This continued for ages. At the end of the jetty there was a little, roof-less, wooden boat with 2 other people sat in it, and in front, a man shouting “Delos! Delos!” Oh phew, good, I’m getting on that one. The 2 other people on the boat were Hella and Finn; Hella from Germany, Finn from England. I know this because those were the only words exchanged during the boat ride there, amongst a few polite smiles of acknowledgement. “I’m Hella, by the way” she said in her thick German accent, breaking the awkward silence. “Finn” His accent was clearly British. “I’m Julia” I don’t think I really have an accent. “Where are you from? I can’t quite pin-point your accent!” asked Hella “I’m from South Africa” “I would never have guessed!” I smiled at her and agreed that most people don’t guess it, and then that was it. We all stared forward at the blue horizon, anticipating our arrival at Delos.
ENTRY 5 We were waiting aboard the bus while the driver went to get some more petrol before we drove to Cambodia. As my eyes lazily scanned our surroundings I noticed a group of little girls sitting in the grass all with little wooden dolls. Each of the dolls had worn smiling faces, pink frilly dresses with more holes than frills and long black plastic hair. The little girls were all smiling, chatting and rhythmically brushing the hair of their dolls with a surprising gentleness for their age.
Then I noticed something or someone I should say. There was one little girl who sat apart from the others. She didn’t have a doll. She had what looked like some kind of rocket. A small wooden one with cracked and fading fire engine red paint. She was throwing it around in the air and tossing it about with her hands. Although she was not part of the group they didn’t seem to be excluding her. She seemed to have chosen to be by herself and despite the absence of a playmate she seemed happy.
Looking at her was like looking at myself when I was her age. I liked different things to other children mostly but I did have things in common. I had always had friends but I had always liked be alone that little bit more. It sounds like a sad soppy story but it wasn’t. I liked people and enjoyed company but I also didn’t care if I was alone. I wondered if she got the same frustrating questions everyday that I used to get “Why don’t you like us?” “Why are you such a loner?” “What’s wrong with you?” I used to hate it. Some day’s school felt like an interrogation room. There were some days that I wanted to be with people but nobody understood why I was so changeable. Most still don’t. But I guess being misinterpreted made me feel like I was no open and shut case. Like I was more than your typical story. That there was more to me than people thought. When I finally snapped back to reality I realized the girl was only about 9. And I had gone down this long nostalgic road that had been sparked by a total stranger whose biggest concern would probably be would there be dessert tonight?
Cameron: ‘Yo Earth to Frodo’ (Frodo was the nickname he bestowed upon me due to my obsession with Lord of the Rings. Also because of my big feet). Me: ‘Huh?” Cameron: ‘You totally zoned out there. Were you even listening to my new plan to get a girl?’
It was the afternoon and we were in a taxi going to the Grand Palace. Over the horizon we saw it, it was magnificent, with golden domes, jewels and gems. The massive palace was surrounded by what looked like ants until I looked closer and realized they were people. Annie, Claire and I stepped out of the taxi, we stood speechless and in awe of the palace. I suddenly felt very small again, like a little child about to explore a playground.
The Grand Palace was built in 1782 by King Rama I to serve not only as his residence but also his offices. We paid the admission fee and walked through the entrance. Our jaws dropped because the palace amazing, words can't describe how amazing the palace looked. With ceilings that appeared like the sky, endless and covered with clouds of patterns and jewels.
There were what seemed like hundreds of doors all beautifully carved with intricate designs. Swirls curling like fingers calling you, no, luring you inside to find out what are behind them, what stories of the royal family were created in those very rooms.
For a few hours we wandered about the palace, once even getting lost in a restricted area (which resulted in us getting into a dispute with the security guards). Annie and Clare chattered about things like what it would be living here while I stayed silent already imagining the stories in my head.
On the palace compound there are other buildings including Wat Pra Kaew a temple holding the Emerald Buddha Statue. The temple looked like a smaller version of the Grand Palace. The temple was dim only lit by several candles. In the center was the Emerald Buddha that illuminated the whole place. The Buddha statue was decorated with a golden headdress, tall and pointed at the tip. Following what the locals and other visitors did, we used incenses and bowed our head to the statue which was to worship and pay respect.
There were many locals and travelers praying and worshiping the statue although most of the Thai locals looked out of place against the regal statue because they wore simple, worn-out clothes and slippers. One lady stood out to me, she wore a white-yellow stained shirt with a sarong cloth draped over her shoulders. I don't know what it was about that lady but she looked so at peace and happy while praying to the Emerald Buddha.
Why was she so happy? I could tell she was poor because of the way she was dressed. But what was it about praying that made her so lively and happy? I looked around and only saw travelers and poor-looking locals. Where were the richer Thai people? Didn't they pray too? All these questions buzzed around my mind.
We left the palace compound and called a taxi. Claire and Annie continued to talk but my mind still raced with questions. We drove past the Grand Palace again. How much wold that palace cost? I thought to myself. The palace went out of my view and the landscape filled with slums and worn down shops. How could something so magnificent and regal exist so close to these humble and worn buildings? How could there be a palace worth fortunes while so many others lived in poverty? And why were the poorest people with the least to offer the ones who would give everything in the name of religion? Why? I noticed a beaded necklace similar to the one I saw before.
"What are those beaded necklaces used for?" I asked. "Oh! It speaks," Claire said with a smirk. "Why were you so quiet today?" Annie asked. "Just thinking a lot... So what are they used for?" I repeated. The taxi driver stopped at our hotel. "Necklace?" he said and pointed it. I nodded. "For Buddha praying,"he answered then smiled.
I had seen those necklaces in almost every taxi we rode. Was it just a coincidence that all the poorer taxi drivers were religious? Even though they were poorer, why were these people so happy and content? Was it because of religion? And if it was, Why weren't richer people religious too? What was it about religion that made people happier? I looked out my hotel window and I could just see the slums in the darkness, all grey and crowded. I don't know what happened but I suddenly realized what it was. It was hope. People need something to believe in, something to give them hope.That was religion because it gave them the hope that someone, somewhere is looking out for us. I smiled, content with myself for working it out. I closed my eyes and was finally able to sleep.
I sat on the edge of my bed, straing through the window, yawning and stretching while watching the powerful, bright and bright sunrise. I’m still in my casual attire from yesterday for some odd unknown reason.
I climbed back down and made the English’s daily essential, tea. I qeuestioned why this was one of the essentials and why this was one of the main ‘traditions’ of the country and has become one of the most well known ‘symbols’ of the country itself. What was so special about this particular beverage? Why do people enjoy this drink so much, why do they need it? The most simplest things matter, there is a certain way and art to the making of tea, why the milk before the tea? These simplest things matter and it was surprising because why do they take making just a simple cup of tea so seriously?
It was a tradition to most and an essential to many after questioning this, I couldn’t drink tea in peace anymore not without asking myself this.
“Am I drinking this tea the ‘right’ way?”
Purely by the fact that its taken quite seriously here, I’m afraid that people would look at me the wrong way if I drink the tea the wrong way. It sounds quite bizzare but that might just happen in England. A drink could change a country this much? What could something else do, something mych bigger? I sat for an hour watching the surprisingly little traffic this part of the city has. After a shower and a change, I walked around the hotel looking for somewhere to eat, It was midday and it was so cold, stinging till the bones, so I just settled with a smll restaurant that caught my eye, Apparently they specialize in ‘fish n chips’ like every other English restaurant. The restaurant was quite crowded and you could hear the chatter and smell the sweet smell of tea and the ‘fish n chips’ of course. I was fortunate enough to inf a seat near the back, wooden tables and chairs, enough to satisfy my needs as I don’t have much of a choice. A large bald headed man who seems to be the waiter came and asked what I wanted to order. As I was ordering I was thinking to myself why would you let a big bearded man take your order? I was quite petrified whilst ordering, scared if I might frustrate him with my own stupidity.
My lunch arrived, a big plate of ‘fish n chips’ and a cup of tea. The dish was serve on paper and it was so greasy, I thought it was going to clog my arteries after im done with it, the grease made it shine and sparkle as it hits the dish which you might think would make the dish look better but it doesn’t it just makes me want to avoid it entirely, I don’t usually eat healthy but this was just too much. The tea was terrible to, I asked myself “how do you mess up tea?” It was so sweet that I thought I would be diagnosed with diabetes after I was done with it. It was too milky because I could barely taste the tea itself. Why was this place so crowded anyways? Is this the way they liked their ‘fish n chips’ and tea because I don’t want any part of it.
I awoke staring at the ceiling, I began to ponder… “Where are my roots?” I had wondered upon this many a times, although something always seemed to get in the way, and somehow distracted me. I have always wanted to find out. Today was the day I HAD to find out, I knew that I had roots in Africa and South America; however I didn’t even know a little information about my ancestry. Meanwhile I could hear Tio Juan (that is Spanish for Uncle John) struggling to make breakfast. Then there was a huge clang. I guessed he was having trouble with the pots and pans, so I decided to go downstairs and lend him a helping hand. As I made my way downstairs, I thought to myself “What if I find out something that should have been kept lurking in history…” This worried me a little, but in the end I decided to go along with plan. “Tio, donde soy yo verdaderamente desde?” I asked with an inquisitive tone, “Por que… lo preguntas?” I suddenly stopped in my tracks I wanted tell him that there was a longing inside to find out who I am, but it would have sounded really cheesy, so I murmured ”Por que yo conozoco las raices.” Suddenly Tio looked at me liked I had gone crazy or something. “Tengo que averiguar!” I yelled as I stormed out the room, I was determined to find out, once I’ve rolled the dice, no one can stop me from moving around the board. Tio yelled back “Claro, Claro!”
I woke up in the hotel room with a profound sense of déjà vu. I looked over at Tanzia and was disappointed to see that she was in the exact opposite position of sleeping that she was before. She was lying on her stomach, and to my surprise, completely on the bed. As I looked around the hotel room, I saw that it was very much like my room at home, pretty mainstream with a desk and two beds. I grinned to myself as I remembered that earlier in the day me and Tanzia had declared a prank war on each other. Tanzia had put a whoopee cushion underneath my pillow and I recalled with perfect clarity, the expression on her face. A look of triumph. I vowed a solemn oath to prank Tanzia to the best of my efforts. She may have won the battle, but I will win the war. I jerked out of my state of mind by Tanzia snorting and rolling over in her bed. With a look of mischief, I grabbed Tanzia’s clothes and sprinkled the itching powder that I had purchased at the airport into Tanzia’s clothes. Sniggering in anticipation for her reaction, I walked into the bathroom, looking forward to the rest of the day. … Walking out of the bathroom and seeing that Tanzia was still asleep, I thought about what had inspired us to go on this trip. So, Tanzia and I were lounging on the sofa in my house, watching an American made film. To my and Tanzia’s utter confusion, the people in the film were making references to things that Tanzia and I had never heard before, things like “peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.” I mean, how do you even get the jelly into the sandwich In the first place? Wouldn’t it fall out? Anyway, after a lengthy conversation and a Google search later, Tanzia and I merely looked at each other and said in perfect unison, “Americans…” Snapping back to the present for the second time this morning by Tanzia shifting, I quickly walked over to her bed and gently shook her awake. … We walked out of the hotel, Tanzia scratching incessantly at herself. “You know, I think that I am allergic to the soap that we used back in the hotel…” the said while itching her elbow. I snickered into my fist as we walked down the street. Tanzia looked at me in disbelief and hissed, “You did this?” I burst out laughing and the people in the street started to look at us strangely. I grabbed Tanzia by the elbow after realizing this and walked down the street at a faster pace. Sniffing, Tanzia just ignored me and did not listen to my sniggers. The effect was still ruined though, by the way she was trying to discreetly itch herself. I took the time in the almost silence to look at the street we were walking down properly. The footpaths were more or less packed with people rushing to get to work in the smart suits and ties they were wearing, The roads themselves were full of cars, although, there were surprisingly no traffic jams, most of them were the yellow taxis ferrying the new Yorkers to various places around the city. The building on both sides on the street were while small by New York standards, were huge by Bruneian standards, they were bigger that nearly every building in the country!
…After about ten minutes of silent treatment from Tanzia, I dared to ask what we might do this fine day. After thinking for a minute, she replied, “I think that I would like to try one of New York’s infamous coffee shops for a taste of their supposedly excellent coffee and pie.” I looked at her in disbelief and shook my head, “You just want to rove for boys don’t you?” She blushed tomato red and looked away. “ha ha! I knew it! But don’t worry Tanzia, go and sate your desires for attention from the opposite gender! I shall support you all the way!” Walking for a surprisingly short amount of time, we came across a decent looking coffee shop, we grinned at each other and walked in. While Tanzia went up to the counter and ordered our stuff, I wondered away to sit at a perfectly situated table with a clear view of the door for Tanzia to gawk at the people coming in. *cough*boys*cough* I sat down on one of the chairs and looked around the shop. The walls were a soothing chocolate brown and beige, the floor the same. All of the tables were round, even the booths and were made out of a nice looking type of wood. Highlights of orange decorated the middle. When I finished looking around, I thought of what the other people might have thought of us. …The customers at the coffee shop were silent as they watched the new comers walk through the door. One was dark haired with brown eyes and was dressed casually with a hint if a British accent. The other was dark skinned with almost black eyes, she was dressed in a tudong and similar casual wear. They whispered among themselves. Although they were careful not to let them see, they were still curious as to what they are doing here in New York. But they stopped after some time, since it was not their business to judge complete strangers. … I jerked out of my mindscape when Tanzia set down our order on the table. I took my share of coffee and cherry pie as Tanzia sat next to me. After about five minutes of meaningless chatter, the door suddenly opened and a guy walked in. Tanzia stared at him while I took in his features. He was Korean, with natural black hair and no contact lenses. He was dressed in a similar way to us, smart, but casual. He also carried a laptop underneath his arm and guessed that he was a writer. I heard Tanzia mutter, Korean…Smirking, I shoved her towards him and smiled sweetly as she glared back at me. I made “shoo” gestures with my hands and sat back to watch the show as they started to talk in Korean. I never did get how she learned it just by watching all of those dramas…
Chapter 5 I think fate wasn't on my side that day. Hiroshima is famous for it's remains of the battle field from World War 2. Hikaru and i came to Hiroshima anticipating the majestic sight of the battle field instead we- or more like I was trying to find a place to stay the night. To no luck every hotel we went to rejected us, i was getting more and more frustrated with each rejection to top that up, my very annoying travel buddy wasn't helping my nerves at all. "That's why you should have booked the rooms before hand! Don't you even know the basics when travelling?" he snapped at me, as i came out of the hotel which rejected us. "Cut it out, Hikaru! FYI, that hotel had 1 spare room. 1. How many of us are there? 2. And I sure ain't sharing a room with you. So stop your nagging and help me search for a room or else you can sleep outside while I go back in and sleep in that spare room, huh? How about that?" I snapped at him trying not to waste my energy. "Nah, you wouldn't do that. You're too kind." he said with a grin plastered on his face. Oh how i wanted to shove that grin off his face. "How 'bout i stop being kind?" I said and kicked his leg. Hikaru yelped and hopped around rubbing his leg. I knew he was over reacting, didn't even kick him that hard. "Stop acting like it hurts and help me find another hotel." I said walking ahead of him. "Ops, you caught me." Hikaru put his leg down and started walking along with me. The night was getting colder by the minute which just made me even more worried to think that we wouldn't have a place to stay. "Ah, I wish there was some place that was free.: i said aloud especially so that Hikaru would hear and help me out. "I do have a place though." he muttered and my head whipped to him as he took an address out of his pocket. He had one. He had a place to stay all this time but- I stomped to him and shouted in his face," You had a place to stay all this time and you stayed quiet? Hikaru! Ugh! WHY!?" "I didn't have the chance to bring it up cause you seemed busy." With every word Hikaru seemed to take a step back and i took a step forward. "Hikaru, i have been running around for a place to stay for 2 hours. 2 hours! Here was more than enough time for you to bring it up!" I yelled at him. MY anger rising and almost reaching the limit. "Ok, Ok, no need to get so mad." he shrugged. To say that i was mad would be the lie of the century. I was beyond furious. "Who's the one who made it that way?!" I yelled at him. At this point there were people looking at us so I controlled my urge to beat the life out of him and just snapped the address from him and dragged him to a taxi.
I gave the address to the taxi driver, he took one look at it and the me. "Are you sure, that this is where you wan to go?" "Yeah, why not? Is there a problem?" "No." and with that he started driving, 5 minutes into the drive and he pulled over. He turned to us and said,"Look, I'm saying this for your own good-" "Look, mister if you have a problem in taking us to our destination, we understand. We can just ask for directions and walk there." Hikaru rudely cut him off "That's the problem. You won't be able to find it." " What?" "You see, that house isn't there anymore. It was burned 20 years ago." I wasn't following the driver at all. I felt light headed, but Hikaru was getting anxious to know more. "Could you tell us more about this house?" "Sure. But your friend there looks like she's about to pass out. Looked like you were finding a place to stay I could take you to my house." I ears perked up and I immediately said yes.
The boys kept on talking about the random house which I wasn't bothered about at that moment and I passed out.
Entry 5; Thailand, the only country which is not colonized.....
As I walked on the busy street of Bangkok, I wondered how Thailand is the only country which is not colonized until now. Thailand is a beautiful place and has many questions for people about it to be solved. But the one main question to me was about how it is not yet to be colonized. We were buying stuffs and I thought of how people in Thailand will feel in future if it was colonized. It would be horrible.
The questions still disturbed me though I asked the people in the street shops who had no answers. I still had many questions running in my brain. The thought of how the people are happy about not been ruled by another country made a slight smile in my face.
In the period of colonization, many countries suffered after the western powers took over or colonized them. From then, they were called colonies. But the only country which was not colonized was the Thailand. I was surprised when I first heard that but never had questions of it and if I did have one I have never been as this stubborn to know the answer to the complicated questions.
All the questions bothered me as it also bothered my angry tummy which was starving in hunger. Therefore, we went to a nearby restaurant which had delicious food for us to enjoy. The saucy noodles which was served first was quarter eaten when my father answered the question how Thailand is the only country which has not colonized until now. " I am not sure, I don't know much about Thailand. Maybe you could ask someone who knows more about Thailand," he answered. A sarcastic voice said " a history question to a engineer ha? what a smart girl!!" "Shut up!" I shouted back. But I had to agree to what my sister said and also gave a idea to who I should ask to.
The next morning, we went outside waiting for a van to pick us up because it was the day of " city tour " in where we will be brought to places and is to be introduced and told about by a tour guide. The van was fully filled with tourist from different countries. The tour guide told about the history of the country and I heard attentively and suddenly this really good idea popped into my head.
All the people including my family got down the van. I took a big step towards the tour guide " excuse me, I have this big question going on and haven't found a answer to it. And am confident the answer will be told soon if it was asked to you," I confidently said. " how is Thailand the only country which is not colonized until now? " I asked with the expectation of a good answer. And YES!! I got the answer which was solved. I had a great day ahead with the sharing of my new knowledge to the people around me...
Entry 5
ReplyDeleteLeaving the rural Hokkaido, I began travelling to the city again. Not to be trapped in shopping, but to go to Disneyland! It was all a fun trip but the main event that came to my attention was the trip TO Disneyland, it seemed uncomfortable... We were moving through a dark and full passage to the train. It struck me the difference between the place I was just at that morning and the situation then. There in Hokkaido they had people rarely speak a familiar language to you, but you feel that it's a genuinely kind place. But in the city was difference, no money, no attention.
The atmosphere in general was incredibly different too. There was a shiny yet warm look to it in Hokkaido, silence was everywhere but it was more of a comfortable silence. Hardly anyone was around too. In the city was worse, no peace of mind, noise practically everywhere, claustrophobia poisoning your mind everywhere.
My view really seems dramatic I'm sure, but these words in my mind, really changed my view from the past. Throwing out all expectations I thought I had, thinking all the little things were insignificant, but yet they weren't.
An early start to the day. 6am I was already up and ready to go. To Siem Riep where I was bound. Considering how draining the day before had been it felt good to get a fresh start in a new place, it was just what I needed.
ReplyDeleteI set off in a small, and I mean small! Poor ventilated and smelly taxi the hotel had requested I got. Just 7 short hours in that sketchy taxi and I would be there. Siem Riep is famous for the amazing Angkor Wat, so amazing which has said to be ‘greater than that of the pyramids’. That was what I was going to find out, was it really that amazing?
I had completed the 7 hour journey and the driver kindly dropped me off at my hotel which I had booked months ago. I lugged my bags to my room and dumped them on the floor. I took what felt like a 5 minute power nap, woke up at it was already 5:30! I got my things together and set off to get my pass into the said to be ‘amazing temples of Siem Riep’. A Tuk Tuk was of course waiting outside the hotel and he had barely put up a fight, it was a great way to start the fresh new week!
We stopped at an area where we received a passport like pass for a limited time to go around the temples. I had taken the 3 day pass as I felt that was plenty of time to see all the ‘amazing’ temples. However on the way to this are I felt like having a stretch, big mistake! I stretched my arm and hit a man who was riding on a motorbike. I couldn’t count the amount of times I had said sorry. Lucky for me he forgave me and laughed, the driver however found the situation extremely hilarious and wouldn’t stop laughing, I felt extremely embarrassed. We drove on, into Angkor Wat and he said he would wait for me.
The sun was about to set and the temple looked beautiful. I didn’t actually go into the temple I just stayed outside. There were floods of people walking out and it was a perfect photo opportunity. Looking at the temple it felt nothing more than an old ruined building yet I felt there was more, something more than the history. I couldn’t wait to find out.
In the morning I packed my bags and checked out of the hotel then walked to legoland. Despite the fact that its 8:10 in the morning, the lego-themed park was starting to get crowded.
ReplyDeleteInside Legoland were aquariums, famous landmarks and animals made out of thousands of pieces of lego, rides, a water park and many other things i didn't yet see.
There was a lego boat ride where you can control your own lego boat (as in sit in it and steer it around a course and look at lego animals) it seemed quite interesting to me so i gave it a try. It was a waste of time. You didn't really have to control anything as it was already dragged along the course and all you have to do is turn left or right. I didn't pack a swim suit so I couldn't go to the water park but I did go on the Pirate 360 ride. It was very fun and nerve wrecking. Everyone was screaming their lungs off, arms in the air. A middle aged man was trying to make everyone stop screaming but noone bothered to listen to him and went on screaming anyway. But I did, he was just a seat in front of me. He seems like an unfriendly person.
On the way to the airport I saw houses that were very different to the houses I saw in Coppenhagen. The houses were actually clinics, boutiques etc. In big cities they will normally be in buildings but I guess its different here in the country side.
When I finally arrived at the Billund airport, getting ready to fly to Istanbul and begin my 8 day trip following a Singaporean tour. I met a girl about the same age as me at the airport who was apparently following the same tour. It all started when she was asking for directions to Starbucks and also asking if I was following the tour. Her name was Caitlyn. She is going to Turkey for the holidays (its apparently one of the few places she wanted to visit before she died) Our flight was at 11:00 am so we were sitting at Starbucks the whole time.
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ReplyDeleteEntry 5
ReplyDeleteDo people actually care about the time?
Or the place
I awoke, finally free from the torture which were stomach pains. There may be no other sensation better than this, aside from eating a good donut or outer space. (Maybe)
Since I was in a state of bliss, I almost didn’t notice that Aunt Pris and her son were packing a suitcase, so I asked them.
They said that we were going to meet up with my Uncle Hou and Aunt Valerie. I said oh. She quickly added that there would be food. I said oh again.
As a result of a bribe, I am now sitting in their SUV/Van and writing this because I am bored and drawing things because I am bored.
When we finally reached Sunny Ridge, the Strawberry farm, I immediately felt that this was a souvenir shop in front of a farm. It was a one-story building covered with grapefruit-colored tiles and inside, it felt like they decided that ‘Oh, it needs to be more country-like’ and tossed in some wooden décor.
I think there was hardly anything edible there aside from strawberry jam. Everything else were strawberry plushes, promotional magnets, even larger strawberry plushes, magnetic strawberry plushes, cushions, etc.
The only thing I would have bought was the Jam (I know from experience that it was very smooth even when refrigerated) but Stef decided to buy 4 magnetic plushes ‘2 for me to keep, 2 for you to bring back.’ I wasn’t paying for them however, I’m just the deliveryman. [Right now, they’re sitting on a hook with hands conjoined.] On the back door there was an exit leading to the farm itself, where we could pick our own strawberries in a specified area.
As I stepped out, I noticed that it was vast. The shop was on a higher area than the farm itself, and that gave me a spectacular view of all the strawberries. The view was like an army of strawberries plants, who have polished their products and kept their leaves green, and it was almost like looking at one of the wonders of the world. Whichever way you turned, there would be strawberry, except when you turned to look at the back of the store.(cont.)
I eagerly climbed down the long flight of stairs, got myself a basket and began picking. There isn’t really much to say, but I found a strawberry about the size of a 6-year-old’s hands. There wasn’t much else to do, so we went to the outdoor café.
DeleteCompared to the store, the café was a whole new deck of cards. The café was furnished by picnic tables and stools the color of dark chocolate, with a nice shine to them. Above us were several arches, crisscrossing each other, which was also the preferred place of several stalks of ivy. There were also potted plants and simple topiary around us, making the whole place feel like a picnic within a large garden.
Despite the looks, the menu was quite puny. They only served desserts, tea and breakfasts. Seeing as it was about 2 PM, I decided to order a strawberry gelato and a chocolate dip. The dip arrived first, so we started on that first. It tasted like something that would go on a cake, to be honest.
I remember while I was eating that, I found the massive strawberry I mentioned earlier. Everyone on the table stared skeptically. I dipped the strawberry and ate it in 2 bites.
The gelato arrived later, and I started on it as soon as it arrived. It conjured an image of a pink avalanche, bombarding my tongue with flavor and texture. It was not icy hard, but very creamy, like peanut butter which enhanced the taste of sweet strawberries with a tang of sour. Within the gelato were several pieces of strawberry as well, which had been frozen until it was like a gummy bear. If it was legal to marry food – Oh wait yes it is – I would be down on my knee with a ring.
Funny how someone married a horse but I can’t marry another guy.
Before we knew it, it was 3 PM and we had to leave to meet up with our relatives at a Motel.
We met at a decent-sized motel, which had a very nice view if you walked along the road for a bit.
We booked some rooms, met up with my relatives which I should introduce you to.
Uncle Hou: I normally I call him ‘Ah Hou chek chek’ or just ‘Chek chek’. He’s a graphics designer. Also my father’s cousin.
Aunt Valerie: I call her ‘Nana Ee Ee’. I believe she stays at home. My mother’s sister.
Ryan Tan: It’s a baby boy.
We caught up with each other, then proceeded to have a paper plane competition with the massive amounts of scrap paper the motel had, which I won with my own design. Stef bugged me about teaching me how to make those for the rest of my stay.
We ate a dinner with roast chicken and potatoes. It was nothing to really write about. So we went up, I did origami then went to sleep. Any typing done after this is a very sleepy me.
Goodnight.
Entry 5.5
Dark
Room
I feel depressed. Why should I even bother to live in this world where money is our life and people every day are dying
A whole buncha people are suffering from abuse and bein oppressed because they wanna do what they want to
We’re expected to do our best when we feel like shit and hardly anyone cares
Entry 5.75
Darker
Warm side of pillow
You know what, it’s because these things I feel like I got’ta turn my life around. If I can’t get married in one country I will make a country where I can. If I can’t dress like a girl and feel pretty I will make a place where I can. If I cannot turn into a lamp then I cannot commune with the lamp gods. I am sorry Lampbert. I have failed you.
Entry 5.275
Morning
Room
As you can see, night me is stranger than day me. I don’t worship lamps.
Entry 5:
ReplyDeleteI awoke on the bus, officially in Agra. But the happiness didn't sink in then. A still image of that small town we passed stuck to my mind. Why was it in that condition? But most of all why wasn't anything being done? The other's on the bus had not seem to give much care, so i pushed it to the back of my head for the time being. Leaving my thoughts un answered..
As i got of the bus i took in the atmosphere. The roads were loud and busy as ever, auto's honking around demanding to be let through. Men on cows strolling away with their lives, as they caused road blocks. Stall after stall of all kinds of selling's. Shoes, shoe repairs, punjabi shops and there colourful material clothes hanging on the outside, colouring the streets.
Before the heat could take me whole i decided to find shelter in a small tea shop. That consisted of 2 benches on the outside, and a small hut with the tea maker on the inside. Lined up on 1 of those benches was a group of middled aged men, and on the other bench was swarmed with teenage school boys. Who clearly seemed more focused on the new specimen that had walked in aka Me then there books. As i slowly made my way to the tea maker i could feel eyes scanning me head to toe. Eyes peeped from books, and laughs and smirks being shared. I let my insecurity sink.
They must have noticed the clothing immediately. Crazy neon shirt with spikes on the border of the bottom neck line, and shorts which were most unusual for people living here to be wearing. Then hair let loose and all over my face, not properly tied back into a plat as one of the school boys examined.The same boy he let out a loud chuckle and pointed at my human sized backpack. I stayed in the shop for a while, as i ordered my meal of a vadai. Delicious donut like food but with a savoury twist. Gulping down the remains i tipped the tea maker, nodded a farewell to my ever so wonderful watchers and walked my way to the hotel.
After walking through the doors of the "Raja hotel" i could already feel pampered. It truly was a grand hotel, with chandeliers swarming the ceilings and beautiful almost gold tiles covering the floor beneath me.
After going up the rather spacious elevator i made my way to the room, and decided i earned myself a luxurious nap for the journey ahead...
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
DeleteQutri
ReplyDeleteTo my dismay as we sailed into the dock, the majority of the people here were tourists, not the scholars I had expected. Their bright clothing and loud voices were unlike the more plain robes and quiet talks that the scholars of Canbur usually had. The Ranger touched down with a soft thud. We set off to the relativelyt well known "Museum of Canbur: The starting of this Great Nation".
The entrance was grand, with marble pillars holding up the roof. Inside were hordes of noisy tourists lining the halls. Entry was free, we could walk in and out whenever we wanted. This was likely a reason for the packed halls. The artifacts on display were the odd pottery piece and weapon fragments as well as an entire fishing boat, which was the main attraction. These were the only things different from my own history textbook from school. Otherwise everything was the same, every other artifact was catalogued in my textbook and every article was exactly the same, word for word. It was an advertisement of the "Greater than thee" propaganda of Canbur to other visitors and their own citizens. My Uncle shared a similar view. We both left with distaste. As we left a man, dressed in the plain robes of a scholar approached us.
"You two don't look like you enjoyed this monstrosity of manipulation." He gestured to the museum. "Would you like to see the real history of Qutri?"
My Uncle and I met eyes. The look in his eyes were asking me whether I wanted to go along with this, as we both knew Edward and two of his men were here to help us out if we got into trouble. Of course I wanted to see the real history of my ancestors and the realities and hardships they suffered. I looked again at this man. He looked young, his face smooth and red. His body was swamped with his robes and from his voice he was at least twenty. Looking back to my Uncle, I nodded. This all took place in less than ten seconds.
"We will go with you." My Uncle told him.
"Good! Let us go to my father's place." He turned and started walking, both of us followed suit.
He told us that his father was a more faithful historian as well as a collector of Qutrian artifacts. He had no bias and wrote no plaques, he spoke to the few visitors that still came, explaining what the artifacts were and the story of the first settlers. At first they invited tourists in, but they didn't care for the history, all they wanted was to take an image with a capture box then be on their way. His father's lineage dated back to the first settlers and the heirlooms that survived from the many generations past were part of the artifacts on display. He himself had three other siblings, of which he was the youngest. The rest went off to Zion, Yorleans or one of the other major cities to work. He was the only one to stay with his father, to take charge of the museum. His mother had no mention, so I assumed that either age, ailments or at least something had taken her away from her family.
After we had walked for nearly twenty minutes, we reached a large manor house, it looked like it was ancient. In the very least it was over a hundred years old, or maybe even older. Yet, it was sturdy, strong in appearance. The three of us walked up the steps leading up to the large door of the manor. Our new friend stepped up to use the knocker. It made a loud clack against the wooden door. A moment passed before the door opened with a new face greeted us, with me looking up at him. He was almost as tall as my Uncle, who stood at a towering 1.9 meters tall. His face was weathered and wrinkled with age, his beard long and grey, his hair meeting his beard, both of which were fine and well looked after.
"Oh! Welcome back son, I was just going to get lunch ready." His voice was smooth, deep, comforting. A voice you would want to hear consoling you. He looked past his son, to lay his eyes on us. "You've brought visitors? Please, come in, sit with us and eat."
We all went into the house. Even now, the smell of food was filling me, making my mouth water. The smell was of frying meat, freshly baked bread and something I could not identify. We entered the kitchen, a girl stood there. She wore a plain dress, her light brown hair flowed over her shoulders. She turned the meat over a fire whilst doing so she turned around to see who was there. Her face was young as well as pretty. She nodded at us before turning back to the fire.
Delete"That is my niece" the Old man told us. "Clerise, bring more bread from the oven, get two ,more sets of cutlery too."
"Yes Uncle." Clerise said softly, not turning around.
"Alright, let me show you to the table."
The old man led us to a large table, made of mahogany. He pulled out two chairs to let us sit.
"Oh, pardon me, where are my manners. I've yet to introduce myself. I am Otar and this is my son, Kazahn."
"I am Cain, this is my nephew Joel."
"Well Mr. Cain, the food will be brought shortly so please, in the mean time just stay here and we will talk. Kazahn go help your cousin, I shall talk to our guests."
We sat down on their chairs, Otar being at the head of the table, his back facing the kitchen, with Uncle and I being seated at his left and right, respectively.
"Well, what brings you to this part of Canbur?" Otar asked my Uncle.
"Well, I am bringing my nephew here around on a journey around Canbur and so, with Qutri being the oldest known settlement here I decided to stop here for a day and..."
I listened to them talk when the food came. There food was simple yet delicious. The bread had a crisp shell and fluffy and soft inside. It was sweet but also went well with the broth. From what I tasted, I assumed that it was a mix of produce from the sea and the local mushrooms growing in the nearby forests. It was a earthy taste, leaning towards salty. What was the main course was the meat. Fresh Auroch from the markets, the skin was thin and crispy like crackers while the inside was tender and juicy. Whilst eating this wonderful meal I thought about the events leading up to now. I experienced the desperation of the peddlers in Yorleans and saw a man die. Many people died in Zion too, but where I had spent my life death was uncommon to be seen. No bodies or evidence but everything was nice and clean. However in the slums where I rarely went, only when I was sent by my father to deliver packages to his friend who lived there, working in a pawn shop. There in the slums, bodies were at the sides of the streets, dead from disease, starvation, dehydration or the not so uncommon stabbing. Yet to see a man die is an entirely different matter. You can actually see a man's eyes lose their light, leaving only a blank stare. I thought about death while I ate my food.
After we had finished the meal, we went on the tour around the rear of the house, a large open area where all the artifacts were housed. It was definitely a broader range than what was at the museum, there were Idols, whole weapons, armor, shields, bowls, cups, pots, arrow heads and more. As we wandered around all the while Otar was telling us the history of these artifacts and the Qutrians themselves.
They came here over three thousand years ago, a stayed here for one thousand years before starting an epic campaign of conquering and colonization. That is what the textbook tells us. What they didn't say was that for the first hundred years, the Qutrians were barely able to cling on to life. From where they came from their crops could not grow well because of the less than nutritious soil, but the natives taught them how to add nutrients to the soil by adding small fish, then planting the seeds of the crops on top of them. During the conquest the first to be annexed were the very people who helped save their lives, not so positive if you ask me. As the Qutrians spread out, they performed near unspeakable atrocities to the conquered. If that was put in a textbook, it wouldn't even get near to being published. After the tour, we left, giving Otar our thanks. He too thanked us before going back into the house.
DeleteOn the way back to the Ranger, it was peaceful. As it was getting late all the tourists have already either left or went to their lodgings. The two of us went back to the Ranger for a simple dinner after we started on our way towards the small river town of Inhlet, where we were going to take a cruise up river.
Entry 5:
ReplyDeleteI woke up in my hotel room at 7am, full of energy. I went to go get my camera and my jacket. We all met up downstairs to eat breakfast. After that we all got in the bus and off we were, to the Aparthied Museum.We arrived there around 7:30 am. The tour guide took us on a tour around the museum. It made me sad to see the things that the people here had to go through. There were a bunch of exhibits, all showing the daily life of a black person during those times. I could tell that i wasnt the only who was felling bad. Every one had a grim expression on their face as we walked past each exhibit. We stopped halfway through the exhibit to have a break. They served us tea, coffee and sandwhiches. After the things i saw i wasnt hungry anymore.
When we continued our tour around the museum, we saw the happier side. We saw when nelson mandela was set free and how everyone reacted. There were so much happy faces. It said after nelson mandelas speech to become president, almost everyone voted for him. After that, South Africa became a democratic country, which meant that everyone had their own freedom of speech and there was equality. Everyone seemed happier when they learned this. We ended our tour at 9:30. The experience was great and it really made you think about the world.
On our bus ride back to the hotel i saw things that were unbelievable. Maybe i didnt notice it on our way here because i wasnt paying attention but now i saw. There were townships. House made of old wood, cardboard and anything they could find. They were commonly reffered to as shacks. I was shocked. How could anyone live like this? Why hadnt the government done anything about the situation? I pushed the thoughts to the back of my mind as we reached the hotel. I went to my room and packed. We were leaving to durban next, in about 3 hours. We went back to the bus and left to the airport. Our flight was at 1pm. I bought some souvenirs from the shops and then went to get something to eat at Starbucks. Before i knew it, it was time to go again. As i got onto the plane i tried to get the images out of my head but i couldnt. I got to my seat and put my headphones on. Maybe all i needed was a nap.
I was finally going to the place that I have dreamed about for years. A Snow Mountain. I have read about it dozens of times. Imagining the cold wind cooling your face, rosy cheeks, hot chocolate near a fireplace, thick woolly sweaters with cats on them and doing those amazing flips on skis and snowboards. Pure white heaven. I’ve had dreams about snow and the sun, but the cotton snow would melt into hot grass. I finally packed and got on the bus with Tae Hyun (Travel buddy) and we set off.
ReplyDeleteThe bus ride was super long, all I did was look out the window desperately gazing for one spot of snow, I also flipped through a few pamphlets, mesmerized by the amazing mountains and wildlife. We finally arrived and IT WAS AMAZING! I ran to the rental store and demanded a pair of skis and a snowboard, the man studied me head to toe “fine, come.”
He pulled me into a room and measured my feet “PFFT!” he laughed
“Chinese people’s feet are so big!” he giggled wandering to the “Big sized” area of the store. He returned still giggling like a 3 year old who just heard the word poop, with ski boots 2 inches too big, a matching set of skis and a snowboard.
We rode the ski lift all the way to the top the mountain and OMG! IT WAS HORRIBLE! Everything looked 10 times bigger. Tae Hyun was of course rubbing in my face that he is a professional snowboarder, started to do flips and jumps and there was just m, slowly gliding the side of the slope right next to the dark forest. I was minding my own business until BAM! Some guy tossed a truck load of snow at my face and caused me to blindly tumble down the side of the slope into the forest to the point where I felt alone, lost, tired, hungry. I nearly collapsed in terror, all I could feel was the cold air pressing against me making it harder for me to walk as I thought to myself “who is ever going to find me? What is going to happen to me when I’m gone?” I walked as far as my legs could carry and collapsed.
Feeling a warm towel on my head I woke up with a pair of big beady eyes 2 cm away from my nose. Widening my eyes in shock and fear “it” spoke “HEYY! SHE’S AWAAAAAKE ♪♪!!!!” Tae Hyun and a nurse entered the room and quickly checked the temperature. “You collapsed only 5 meters away from the ski lodge”
I could see the fear in Tae Hyun’s eyes when I woke up. He felt scared and thought it was his fault I got lost. I just gave him and “it’s okay” look and went back to sleep
Entry 5
ReplyDeleteLake Bunyonyi was on our list of where to go because it was where our parents met and eloped. We lost our parents 15 years ago. The accident involved a drunk driver, some sort of explosion, and a cliff, and the rest of the story still remains unwritten. Our family had shared very few memories together, and I guess this was our way of somehow making it up.
We never got a chance to hear stories of how they met, or their wedding, or our first words and steps. All we were left with was our mother’s travel diary. It may have been a flimsy notebook, but we were following in her exact footsteps which gave us a connection to the person she was.
Our hotel was on Bushara Island, but we took a tiny, rickety, green row boat to Kyahugye Island to do our research. The island was more of a hill, it’s peak bathing in the buttery sunlight and it’s foothills accommodation gruesome sea monsters and bushels of water weeds and algae. We ate at “Dambawe Diner” and afterwards we hiked up to the little white chapel situated in a tea plantation.
“Come in my children! What can I do for you?” said a large voice coming from inside the warm and dim Reverend’s quarters. Sitting at a large oak table was a hunched over figure with small tufts of curly white hair on his head, and a friendly face lined with deep crevices. He wore a grey suit with a shirt that was once white, and his whole body hung, supported by a metal chair.
“Hello, um, Reverend Lubega Is it?” I murmured, unsure whether to shake his hand, nod my head or even curtsey for him.
“That is me. What do you come for children?” He said humbly.
“We were wondering if you know anything about our parents. Jack and Stella Roseman, we, um, believe that you married them, Sir.” Said Esmé politely, handing him the faded wedding picture.
He examined the picture with a tear in his eye, and before we could realize he was out of the study, marching to the top of the hill. We followed him to the stone circle that lay at the tip of the island. I could see the whole of the lake, it’s crystal waters, tea fields, grain fields, and hundreds of small villages.
“Th-there,” he said gasping for breath and pointing at the circle, “That is where I married them.”
“It’s stunning here…” whispered Esmé. We all shared a moment of silence.
“Do you see that small island over there girls, with only one tree?” said the Reverend, pointing to a flat island with a stingy tree on it, “That is Punishment Island. When I were a young man, pregnant and unmarried women would get put there to starve, it would teach the other girls a lesson! They don’t do that anymore, but old lady Miss Kabengwa, my neighbour, is one of the few survivors.”
The Reverend thought these methods were normal, after all he had been born and raised with these teachings, but later that night Esmé and I discussed how wrong we found the punishment.
Back at the office, we sipped tea whilst hearing about our parents.
“They were very in love.” Told the Reverend, “They were so very young, and the day I married them my wife told me it would never work out! And that I was doing a sin. But I had faith and so did God. Ah, I always wondered what happened to them…”
“Well they were so happy in the end. Thank you for everything, you have no idea how much this meant to us, but it’s getting late and we should probably go home.” I said gratefully.
“My daughters it made me very happy. I do believe I have something for you,” mumbled the reverend tip toeing into his cupboard. “Ah yes, here they are. You’re parents wedding vows children, you should take these.” He said giving us two orange pieces of soft paper, ripped around the edges.
Back at the camp we read and re read the vows. In that moment we felt so close to them. In our hands, we held a solid, physical memory.
I woke up at about 9, by the hassle all around me. My parents had their suitcases wide open, being stuffed with all sorts of clothes and other stuff we brought with us, but they weren’t too quiet with it. My brother, on the other hand, was stuffing his pockets with all the PSP games he’d brought.
ReplyDeleteWhat was going on?
It suddenly hit me. We were going back. But how could that happen? Only 6 days ago we had come, so leaving without notice seemed illogical. Nor were the return tickets due till Tuesday next week. So what was happening?
¬- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Not an ideal place to meet. Not at all. In fact, waiting for a bus to take you through Paris, Italy and Switzerland on a tiny bridge in the suburbs of Paris was dumb. Yes, my dad had finalised the tour, and everyone knew about it. Except me. I wasn’t too happy to be told last. Nor was I too happy to not be woken up to get ready earlier. I felt so empty about this. No one had told me.
As if I weren’t there at all.
I forced my mind to stop thinking about this. I forced myself to think about what was coming. Italy. Switzerland. The places. The food. The other stuff. Yet that too started to rise doubts in my mind.
“We’re waiting for a tour bus on a bridge. Why so?”
“Why in the suburbs. Why not in the city?”
A distant loud noise stopped me from going paranoid. It sounded like a car crash. My dad went to investigate, bringing back the news that our bus had crashed. My sudden reaction was to run and see for myself. As it turned out, it was only a backlight. Then my mind’s dark side came back.
“Could this happen again? This time ... more serious?”
¬- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
We sat in the bus on our way ti the heart of the city. Where we’d come from. Honestly, they could have just picked us up from there. Talk about inefficiency.
We’d met the majority of the people with us. They seemed fine. Though they were no children. I mean there was one, yet she behaved like a 40-year-old, so she didn’t classify as a kid according to me.
Yet what interested me more than the lack of kids and the pink bus-carpet was the man who sat in front of me. Not that he was strange. He was just so quiet. So mysterious.
He had a dark beard, which covered his face like fungus on a fallen log. It sat there seemingly innocent, but deep inside sucking out all life. His eyebrows were thick and met in the middle of his eyes, forming almost a shield. A shield to hide those dark eyes that seemed to have seen much. Seen too much, perhaps. He sat there staring out of the window as if scanning the place for something hidden.
Yet he did not look like a tourist. Not like someone who would travel to places, take pictures, and preserve memories. Almost as if he was forced to go.
Who was he? What was wrong with him? Why is he so secretive and silent?
Just the some things I wanted to know about him.
Just the some things I would find out about him.
Entry 5
ReplyDeleteWith the trees towering above me, I felt minuscule compared to the extensive and enormous woods surrounding me. Having no particular tracks had its disadvantages and I soon got foolishly lost. Stumbling along, i tried my best not to trip on pinecones, leaves and potholes. I felt a huge sense of relief wash over me when I came to a clearing after countless hours of traipsing though the forest on a sore and swollen ankle.
My relief soon disappeared, however, as the strangeness of the place crept upon me. I felt a chill spread down my spine and a gust of wind drowned in my throat like a fish that had lost its gills.The energy dropped and was reflected by the weather. I felt as if I had stepped into a freezer that had automatically locked on the inside. I noticed a big concrete block. i walked over to inspect it more closely and I realised it was a memorial. It turned out that a British airforce plane had been shot down in World War Two and this was where it had landed. All 8 crew members perished. It was no wonder this spot had freaked me out.
i perched down on the icy ground and leant against the cool concrete, and imagined the scenario. The small plane bravely flying into enemy territory dodging bullets in the darkness. The plane being hit and the pilot losing control. The wild plummet down and the shocking collision as the flimsy aircraft smashed into the trees, then bounced to the unforgiving ground and burst into flames. I imagined them in the night; the flicker of the flames slowly burning them alive. I imagined the devastated families who would not have known what had become of their loved ones. It made me think, really think, about the brutality and futility and the complete pointlessness of war, and the thousands of lives that were wasted as a result of it.
I found my path home eventually, all the whilst thinking about the innocent men whose lives had been snatched away for a war that was caused by greedy, stupid politicians, but which was fought for, and paid for, by individuals, just like me. When I arrived back to the warmth of my home and family, I asked questions. It turned out that long after the war was over, some locals had stumbled across the wreck in the forest. Over a period of years, a memorial was constructed in acknowledgement and remembrance of the lives lost there. A special service was even held and the families of the deceased were invited from Britian to attend. This all left me pondering how and why people can be capable of such kindness and but also such cruelty.
I woke up feeling stodgy, despite the cloud like bed, and so decided to go to the beach. I had heard so much about this beautiful beach, with its crystal clear water and snow white sand white sand, so it was impossible not to go. I flipped open my suitcase, grabbed my swimming stuff, speed-walked down the hotel staircase and out into the hot daylight. Through the crowds of tourists and down the many stone steps I walked, desperate to dive into the sea. Then I arrived and my feet hit the sand. Ah, it's perfect. I slowly looked from left to right. The sea really was crystal clear. It's blue with bursts of silver and green, the sun bounces right off it, the ground below the surface is covered with smiling fish, oh, and look, there's a naked man. I quickly looked away. Wow. I kept walking and just about tripped over another naked body. I walked the other way...another. No one told me this was a nude beach. I needed to get out of here.
ReplyDeleteI was walking back up to the small town, after my traumatic event at the beach, when I came across a dog-eared, dull, little poster pinned to the wall of a tacky orange tourist inn.
“Visit Delos for a day!” It read, “See the birthplace of the great God Apollo! Just €7 there and back! More information at front desk!” Below the writing was a black and white picture of Delos. It looked tiny, it looked dead, it looked eerie, it looked calm, and it looked like the perfect escape.
The lady at the front desk told me that the next boat out to the island was at 11am.
“Yes, yes next boat is here in 2 hours!” she replied when I asked.
“Thank you, and also what time does it-“
“Delos is a good island, yes, take your friends!” she interrupted. “Very nice place to take you and more people!”
“I’m here on my own, actually”
“REALLY?” Why was she so surprised?
“Yup” I answered
“But WHY?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t feel like travelling with people?” Well don’t I just sound like the most entertaining person
“Aw, poor little girl! Don’t worry, don’t worry! I will find someone to go with you, yes!” Thanks, that’s totally what I wanted. “Don’t you worry, it’s no problem! Don’t worry! Yes, I will do it, just for you!” If she says ‘don’t worry’ one more time I think I’ll explode. She got up from behind her desk and hurried me out the door. “Don’t you worry!” she said again. “Don’t you fret your pretty little head!” I wasn’t planning on it.
I spent the next 2 hours at a little coffee shop, watching everything go by. By the time the alarm on my phone went off, that I had set to remind myself that I was going to a tiny deserted island, pins and needles had attacked both of my legs. Slowly but surely, walking like a new born giraffe, I made my way to the boat yard. There were people EVERYWHERE. I walked along the metal, floating jetty in search of the boat I was due on. Please don’t be that one; there are about 1000 people getting on that thing. Oh phew, good. No, please not that one either; I’d say there are at least 10000 people. Oh good. No, no please not that; the whole of Greece must be getting on that boat. This continued for ages. At the end of the jetty there was a little, roof-less, wooden boat with 2 other people sat in it, and in front, a man shouting “Delos! Delos!” Oh phew, good, I’m getting on that one.
The 2 other people on the boat were Hella and Finn; Hella from Germany, Finn from England. I know this because those were the only words exchanged during the boat ride there, amongst a few polite smiles of acknowledgement.
“I’m Hella, by the way” she said in her thick German accent, breaking the awkward silence.
“Finn” His accent was clearly British.
“I’m Julia” I don’t think I really have an accent.
“Where are you from? I can’t quite pin-point your accent!” asked Hella
“I’m from South Africa”
“I would never have guessed!” I smiled at her and agreed that most people don’t guess it, and then that was it. We all stared forward at the blue horizon, anticipating our arrival at Delos.
ENTRY 5
ReplyDeleteWe were waiting aboard the bus while the driver went to get some more petrol before we drove to Cambodia. As my eyes lazily scanned our surroundings I noticed a group of little girls sitting in the grass all with little wooden dolls. Each of the dolls had worn smiling faces, pink frilly dresses with more holes than frills and long black plastic hair. The little girls were all smiling, chatting and rhythmically brushing the hair of their dolls with a surprising gentleness for their age.
Then I noticed something or someone I should say. There was one little girl who sat apart from the others. She didn’t have a doll. She had what looked like some kind of rocket. A small wooden one with cracked and fading fire engine red paint. She was throwing it around in the air and tossing it about with her hands. Although she was not part of the group they didn’t seem to be excluding her. She seemed to have chosen to be by herself and despite the absence of a playmate she seemed happy.
Looking at her was like looking at myself when I was her age. I liked different things to other children mostly but I did have things in common. I had always had friends but I had always liked be alone that little bit more. It sounds like a sad soppy story but it wasn’t. I liked people and enjoyed company but I also didn’t care if I was alone.
I wondered if she got the same frustrating questions everyday that I used to get “Why don’t you like us?” “Why are you such a loner?” “What’s wrong with you?” I used to hate it. Some day’s school felt like an interrogation room. There were some days that I wanted to be with people but nobody understood why I was so changeable. Most still don’t.
But I guess being misinterpreted made me feel like I was no open and shut case. Like I was more than your typical story. That there was more to me than people thought.
When I finally snapped back to reality I realized the girl was only about 9. And I had gone down this long nostalgic road that had been sparked by a total stranger whose biggest concern would probably be would there be dessert tonight?
Cameron: ‘Yo Earth to Frodo’
(Frodo was the nickname he bestowed upon me due to my obsession with Lord of the Rings. Also because of my big feet).
Me: ‘Huh?”
Cameron: ‘You totally zoned out there. Were you even listening to my new plan to get a girl?’
It was the afternoon and we were in a taxi going to the Grand Palace. Over the horizon we saw it, it was magnificent, with golden domes, jewels and gems. The massive palace was surrounded by what looked like ants until I looked closer and realized they were people. Annie, Claire and I stepped out of the taxi, we stood speechless and in awe of the palace. I suddenly felt very small again, like a little child about to explore a playground.
ReplyDeleteThe Grand Palace was built in 1782 by King Rama I to serve not only as his residence but also his offices. We paid the admission fee and walked through the entrance. Our jaws dropped because the palace amazing, words can't describe how amazing the palace looked. With ceilings that appeared like the sky, endless and covered with clouds of patterns and jewels.
There were what seemed like hundreds of doors all beautifully carved with intricate designs. Swirls curling like fingers calling you, no, luring you inside to find out what are behind them, what stories of the royal family were created in those very rooms.
For a few hours we wandered about the palace, once even getting lost in a restricted area (which resulted in us getting into a dispute with the security guards). Annie and Clare chattered about things like what it would be living here while I stayed silent already imagining the stories in my head.
On the palace compound there are other buildings including Wat Pra Kaew a temple holding the Emerald Buddha Statue. The temple looked like a smaller version of the Grand Palace. The temple was dim only lit by several candles. In the center was the Emerald Buddha that illuminated the whole place. The Buddha statue was decorated with a golden headdress, tall and pointed at the tip. Following what the locals and other visitors did, we used incenses and bowed our head to the statue which was to worship and pay respect.
There were many locals and travelers praying and worshiping the statue although most of the Thai locals looked out of place against the regal statue because they wore simple, worn-out clothes and slippers. One lady stood out to me, she wore a white-yellow stained shirt with a sarong cloth draped over her shoulders. I don't know what it was about that lady but she looked so at peace and happy while praying to the Emerald Buddha.
Why was she so happy? I could tell she was poor because of the way she was dressed. But what was it about praying that made her so lively and happy? I looked around and only saw travelers and poor-looking locals. Where were the richer Thai people? Didn't they pray too? All these questions buzzed around my mind.
ReplyDeleteWe left the palace compound and called a taxi. Claire and Annie continued to talk but my mind still raced with questions. We drove past the Grand Palace again. How much wold that palace cost? I thought to myself. The palace went out of my view and the landscape filled with slums and worn down shops. How could something so magnificent and regal exist so close to these humble and worn buildings? How could there be a palace worth fortunes while so many others lived in poverty? And why were the poorest people with the least to offer the ones who would give everything in the name of religion? Why? I noticed a beaded necklace similar to the one I saw before.
"What are those beaded necklaces used for?" I asked.
"Oh! It speaks," Claire said with a smirk.
"Why were you so quiet today?" Annie asked.
"Just thinking a lot... So what are they used for?" I repeated.
The taxi driver stopped at our hotel.
"Necklace?" he said and pointed it.
I nodded.
"For Buddha praying,"he answered then smiled.
I had seen those necklaces in almost every taxi we rode. Was it just a coincidence that all the poorer taxi drivers were religious? Even though they were poorer, why were these people so happy and content? Was it because of religion? And if it was, Why weren't richer people religious too? What was it about religion that made people happier? I looked out my hotel window and I could just see the slums in the darkness, all grey and crowded. I don't know what happened but I suddenly realized what it was. It was hope. People need something to believe in, something to give them hope.That was religion because it gave them the hope that someone, somewhere is looking out for us. I smiled, content with myself for working it out. I closed my eyes and was finally able to sleep.
I sat on the edge of my bed, straing through the window, yawning and stretching while watching the powerful, bright and bright sunrise. I’m still in my casual attire from yesterday for some odd unknown reason.
ReplyDeleteI climbed back down and made the English’s daily essential, tea. I qeuestioned why this was one of the essentials and why this was one of the main ‘traditions’ of the country and has become one of the most well known ‘symbols’ of the country itself. What was so special about this particular beverage? Why do people enjoy this drink so much, why do they need it? The most simplest things matter, there is a certain way and art to the making of tea, why the milk before the tea? These simplest things matter and it was surprising because why do they take making just a simple cup of tea so seriously?
It was a tradition to most and an essential to many after questioning this, I couldn’t drink tea in peace anymore not without asking myself this.
“Am I drinking this tea the ‘right’ way?”
Purely by the fact that its taken quite seriously here, I’m afraid that people would look at me the wrong way if I drink the tea the wrong way. It sounds quite bizzare but that might just happen in England. A drink could change a country this much? What could something else do, something mych bigger? I sat for an hour watching the surprisingly little traffic this part of the city has. After a shower and a change, I walked around the hotel looking for somewhere to eat, It was midday and it was so cold, stinging till the bones, so I just settled with a smll restaurant that caught my eye, Apparently they specialize in ‘fish n chips’ like every other English restaurant. The restaurant was quite crowded and you could hear the chatter and smell the sweet smell of tea and the ‘fish n chips’ of course. I was fortunate enough to inf a seat near the back, wooden tables and chairs, enough to satisfy my needs as I don’t have much of a choice. A large bald headed man who seems to be the waiter came and asked what I wanted to order. As I was ordering I was thinking to myself why would you let a big bearded man take your order? I was quite petrified whilst ordering, scared if I might frustrate him with my own stupidity.
My lunch arrived, a big plate of ‘fish n chips’ and a cup of tea. The dish was serve on paper and it was so greasy, I thought it was going to clog my arteries after im done with it, the grease made it shine and sparkle as it hits the dish which you might think would make the dish look better but it doesn’t it just makes me want to avoid it entirely, I don’t usually eat healthy but this was just too much. The tea was terrible to, I asked myself “how do you mess up tea?” It was so sweet that I thought I would be diagnosed with diabetes after I was done with it. It was too milky because I could barely taste the tea itself. Why was this place so crowded anyways? Is this the way they liked their ‘fish n chips’ and tea because I don’t want any part of it.
I awoke staring at the ceiling, I began to ponder… “Where are my roots?” I had wondered upon this many a times, although something always seemed to get in the way, and somehow distracted me. I have always wanted to find out. Today was the day I HAD to find out, I knew that I had roots in Africa and South America; however I didn’t even know a little information about my ancestry. Meanwhile I could hear Tio Juan (that is Spanish for Uncle John) struggling to make breakfast. Then there was a huge clang. I guessed he was having trouble with the pots and pans, so I decided to go downstairs and lend him a helping hand. As I made my way downstairs, I thought to myself “What if I find out something that should have been kept lurking in history…” This worried me a little, but in the end I decided to go along with plan. “Tio, donde soy yo verdaderamente desde?” I asked with an inquisitive tone, “Por que… lo preguntas?” I suddenly stopped in my tracks I wanted tell him that there was a longing inside to find out who I am, but it would have sounded really cheesy, so I murmured ”Por que yo conozoco las raices.” Suddenly Tio looked at me liked I had gone crazy or something. “Tengo que averiguar!” I yelled as I stormed out the room, I was determined to find out, once I’ve rolled the dice, no one can stop me from moving around the board. Tio yelled back “Claro, Claro!”
ReplyDeleteAlex's
ReplyDeleteI woke up in the hotel room with a profound sense of déjà vu. I looked over at Tanzia and was disappointed to see that she was in the exact opposite position of sleeping that she was before. She was lying on her stomach, and to my surprise, completely on the bed. As I looked around the hotel room, I saw that it was very much like my room at home, pretty mainstream with a desk and two beds. I grinned to myself as I remembered that earlier in the day me and Tanzia had declared a prank war on each other. Tanzia had put a whoopee cushion underneath my pillow and I recalled with perfect clarity, the expression on her face. A look of triumph. I vowed a solemn oath to prank Tanzia to the best of my efforts. She may have won the battle, but I will win the war. I jerked out of my state of mind by Tanzia snorting and rolling over in her bed. With a look of mischief, I grabbed Tanzia’s clothes and sprinkled the itching powder that I had purchased at the airport into Tanzia’s clothes. Sniggering in anticipation for her reaction, I walked into the bathroom, looking forward to the rest of the day.
… Walking out of the bathroom and seeing that Tanzia was still asleep, I thought about what had inspired us to go on this trip. So, Tanzia and I were lounging on the sofa in my house, watching an American made film. To my and Tanzia’s utter confusion, the people in the film were making references to things that Tanzia and I had never heard before, things like “peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.” I mean, how do you even get the jelly into the sandwich In the first place? Wouldn’t it fall out? Anyway, after a lengthy conversation and a Google search later, Tanzia and I merely looked at each other and said in perfect unison, “Americans…” Snapping back to the present for the second time this morning by Tanzia shifting, I quickly walked over to her bed and gently shook her awake.
… We walked out of the hotel, Tanzia scratching incessantly at herself. “You know, I think that I am allergic to the soap that we used back in the hotel…” the said while itching her elbow. I snickered into my fist as we walked down the street. Tanzia looked at me in disbelief and hissed, “You did this?” I burst out laughing and the people in the street started to look at us strangely. I grabbed Tanzia by the elbow after realizing this and walked down the street at a faster pace. Sniffing, Tanzia just ignored me and did not listen to my sniggers. The effect was still ruined though, by the way she was trying to discreetly itch herself. I took the time in the almost silence to look at the street we were walking down properly. The footpaths were more or less packed with people rushing to get to work in the smart suits and ties they were wearing, The roads themselves were full of cars, although, there were surprisingly no traffic jams, most of them were the yellow taxis ferrying the new Yorkers to various places around the city. The building on both sides on the street were while small by New York standards, were huge by Bruneian standards, they were bigger that nearly every building in the country!
Alex's
ReplyDelete…After about ten minutes of silent treatment from Tanzia, I dared to ask what we might do this fine day. After thinking for a minute, she replied, “I think that I would like to try one of New York’s infamous coffee shops for a taste of their supposedly excellent coffee and pie.” I looked at her in disbelief and shook my head, “You just want to rove for boys don’t you?” She blushed tomato red and looked away. “ha ha! I knew it! But don’t worry Tanzia, go and sate your desires for attention from the opposite gender! I shall support you all the way!” Walking for a surprisingly short amount of time, we came across a decent looking coffee shop, we grinned at each other and walked in. While Tanzia went up to the counter and ordered our stuff, I wondered away to sit at a perfectly situated table with a clear view of the door for Tanzia to gawk at the people coming in. *cough*boys*cough* I sat down on one of the chairs and looked around the shop. The walls were a soothing chocolate brown and beige, the floor the same. All of the tables were round, even the booths and were made out of a nice looking type of wood. Highlights of orange decorated the middle. When I finished looking around, I thought of what the other people might have thought of us.
…The customers at the coffee shop were silent as they watched the new comers walk through the door. One was dark haired with brown eyes and was dressed casually with a hint if a British accent. The other was dark skinned with almost black eyes, she was dressed in a tudong and similar casual wear. They whispered among themselves. Although they were careful not to let them see, they were still curious as to what they are doing here in New York. But they stopped after some time, since it was not their business to judge complete strangers.
… I jerked out of my mindscape when Tanzia set down our order on the table. I took my share of coffee and cherry pie as Tanzia sat next to me. After about five minutes of meaningless chatter, the door suddenly opened and a guy walked in. Tanzia stared at him while I took in his features. He was Korean, with natural black hair and no contact lenses. He was dressed in a similar way to us, smart, but casual. He also carried a laptop underneath his arm and guessed that he was a writer. I heard Tanzia mutter, Korean…Smirking, I shoved her towards him and smiled sweetly as she glared back at me. I made “shoo” gestures with my hands and sat back to watch the show as they started to talk in Korean. I never did get how she learned it just by watching all of those dramas…
Chapter 5
ReplyDeleteI think fate wasn't on my side that day. Hiroshima is famous for it's remains of the battle field from World War 2. Hikaru and i came to Hiroshima anticipating the majestic sight of the battle field instead we- or more like I was trying to find a place to stay the night. To no luck every hotel we went to rejected us, i was getting more and more frustrated with each rejection to top that up, my very annoying travel buddy wasn't helping my nerves at all.
"That's why you should have booked the rooms before hand! Don't you even know the basics when travelling?" he snapped at me, as i came out of the hotel which rejected us.
"Cut it out, Hikaru! FYI, that hotel had 1 spare room. 1. How many of us are there? 2. And I sure ain't sharing a room with you. So stop your nagging and help me search for a room or else you can sleep outside while I go back in and sleep in that spare room, huh? How about that?" I snapped at him trying not to waste my energy.
"Nah, you wouldn't do that. You're too kind." he said with a grin plastered on his face. Oh how i wanted to shove that grin off his face.
"How 'bout i stop being kind?" I said and kicked his leg. Hikaru yelped and hopped around rubbing his leg. I knew he was over reacting, didn't even kick him that hard.
"Stop acting like it hurts and help me find another hotel." I said walking ahead of him.
"Ops, you caught me." Hikaru put his leg down and started walking along with me. The night was getting colder by the minute which just made me even more worried to think that we wouldn't have a place to stay.
"Ah, I wish there was some place that was free.: i said aloud especially so that Hikaru would hear and help me out.
"I do have a place though." he muttered and my head whipped to him as he took an address out of his pocket. He had one. He had a place to stay all this time but- I stomped to him and shouted in his face," You had a place to stay all this time and you stayed quiet? Hikaru! Ugh! WHY!?"
"I didn't have the chance to bring it up cause you seemed busy." With every word Hikaru seemed to take a step back and i took a step forward.
"Hikaru, i have been running around for a place to stay for 2 hours. 2 hours! Here was more than enough time for you to bring it up!" I yelled at him. MY anger rising and almost reaching the limit.
"Ok, Ok, no need to get so mad." he shrugged. To say that i was mad would be the lie of the century. I was beyond furious.
"Who's the one who made it that way?!" I yelled at him. At this point there were people looking at us so I controlled my urge to beat the life out of him and just snapped the address from him and dragged him to a taxi.
I gave the address to the taxi driver, he took one look at it and the me.
"Are you sure, that this is where you wan to go?"
"Yeah, why not? Is there a problem?"
"No." and with that he started driving, 5 minutes into the drive and he pulled over. He turned to us and said,"Look, I'm saying this for your own good-"
"Look, mister if you have a problem in taking us to our destination, we understand. We can just ask for directions and walk there." Hikaru rudely cut him off
"That's the problem. You won't be able to find it."
" What?"
"You see, that house isn't there anymore. It was burned 20 years ago."
I wasn't following the driver at all. I felt light headed, but Hikaru was getting anxious to know more.
"Could you tell us more about this house?"
"Sure. But your friend there looks like she's about to pass out. Looked like you were finding a place to stay I could take you to my house."
I ears perked up and I immediately said yes.
The boys kept on talking about the random house which I wasn't bothered about at that moment and I passed out.
Entry 5;
ReplyDeleteThailand, the only country which is not colonized.....
As I walked on the busy street of Bangkok, I wondered how Thailand is the only country which is not colonized until now. Thailand is a beautiful place and has many questions for people about it to be solved. But the one main question to me was about how it is not yet to be colonized. We were buying stuffs and I thought of how people in Thailand will feel in future if it was colonized. It would be horrible.
The questions still disturbed me though I asked the people in the street shops who had no answers. I still had many questions running in my brain. The thought of how the people are happy about not been ruled by another country made a slight smile in my face.
In the period of colonization, many countries suffered after the western powers took over or colonized them. From then, they were called colonies. But the only country which was not colonized was the Thailand. I was surprised when I first heard that but never had questions of it and if I did have one I have never been as this stubborn to know the answer to the complicated questions.
All the questions bothered me as it also bothered my angry tummy which was starving in hunger. Therefore, we went to a nearby restaurant which had delicious food for us to enjoy. The saucy noodles which was served first was quarter eaten when my father answered the question how Thailand is the only country which has not colonized until now. " I am not sure, I don't know much about Thailand. Maybe you could ask someone who knows more about Thailand," he answered.
A sarcastic voice said " a history question to a engineer ha? what a smart girl!!" "Shut up!" I shouted back. But I had to agree to what my sister said and also gave a idea to who I should ask to.
The next morning, we went outside waiting for a van to pick us up because it was the day of " city tour " in where we will be brought to places and is to be introduced and told about by a tour guide. The van was fully filled with tourist from different countries. The tour guide told about the history of the country and I heard attentively and suddenly this really good idea popped into my head.
All the people including my family got down the van. I took a big step towards the tour guide " excuse me, I have this big question going on and haven't found a answer to it. And am confident the answer will be told soon if it was asked to you," I confidently said. " how is Thailand the only country which is not colonized until now? " I asked with the expectation of a good answer. And YES!! I got the answer which was solved. I had a great day ahead with the sharing of my new knowledge to the people around me...