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Six months

A couple of thoughts and an update.

17 °C
View Crossing back on Zaspirucho's travel map.

Travel is more than an arbitrary change of scenery, its more than just going from here to there.
It is an experience; an adventure.

What is adventure, then?

Once I read Georg Simmel defining it as an experience so outside the normal routine, so different to the usual way of life as to, when finished (because it must finish), constitute a dream-like memory. Once over, an adventure is not much more than a tale ready for retelling and embellishment.

I believe this definition is missing something: an adventure, to be considered such, must risk one's life... It need not do so in a physical way though. In spanish, an affair is often referred to as an adventure. An affair may not risk one's life in any biological sense, but it certainly jeopardizes a way of life. Some adventures are so because in them we discover other ways of life, and wish for a moment there was no reason for going back to ours.

Much has been written about the difference between the tourist and the traveller. The way I see it, such difference lies in the word itself: tourist. A tour, in french, is a circuit, a turn or twist, some circular path. A tour ends where it begins, and so, a tourist will visit a few places, then come back home. A traveller, however, can never go back, she can only go forward.

When the trip finishes the tourist returns home, finding nothing much has changed, falling back to the routine. The views, beaches and drinks become blurry, a simple adventure, a dream. Real life takes over, continues.

But sometimes, it doesn't. An adventure may lead to another, trains may follow each other and what started off as a round trip, well, just goes on. Travelling, as the traveller experiences it, is more of a way of life. It does not simply end. A journey may encompass many smaller trips, tours, arrivals and departures. One may stay still for a week, a month or a year, but soon feelings arise. Some languages have special words for this. Wanderlust, anomie or fernweh but a few. The nostalgia for faraway places and distant friendships is not easily quenched.

I know this, for I am there.

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It's been almost six months since my return to the City. There's been some trying, some good and other awesome moments.
I missed my friends while away, so I gathered some of them to live under the same roof.
For almost two years I spent every full moon at a different place. I've now spent this past ones not only in the same bed, but beside the same person.
Academically too, I am finally where I had projected to be. After a four year struggle, I can finally move on to my thesis, and leave that university phase behind. Wouldn't that be something?

And yet, I can hear the call of the horizon and ache for the road. Soon.

I did say travel is an adventure. And I also said adventures end.
Just, not quite yet.

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Posted by Zaspirucho 21:43 Archived in Mexico Tagged travel mexico adventure city mexico_city update wanderlust fernweh Comments (0)

Volver

Coming back is also part of the trip

semi-overcast 22 °C

I have a bed, a room, a car, and responsibilities to attend to. So I guess I live here now!

I've even got sort of a view

I've even got sort of a view


Everything is the same, yet all is different. Coming to live again in the house we got when the family first arrived in the city, was not exactly as expected. It is not the place it was then. No more bougainvilleas hang from the side, I was surprised to be greeted by tall bamboo bush out front, and the once little lime tree sapling now bears its fruit proudly. It's been about twelve years since that first time, and over three years since I last lived here. No, being here didn't nearly feel so much like stepping into the past as I thought it would.

Coming back, stopping, settling down (for however long) is also a part of the journey, just as the planning phase is too.
Time is different on the road and off it. The feeling of urgency, I have found, is very different to what you find in daily city life. When travelling I knew not the feeling of hurry. Except for the occasional train departure or date of arrival, I could take my time for anything. Writing, drawing or drinking coffee, I spent as long as I wanted or required. Nevertheless, everything had a strong sense of immediacy. A constant "now or never" aura surrounded each action, every castle visit or kiss. The things left for later were forgotten. The museums left for some other time will have to wait for another trip, if ever. It is a life in every breath kind of existence.
City life, however, feels the other way around. It takes so long to get from one place to another, and there are so many things to do, that life passes in a constant state of hurry. Not even the best of books will make time spent in traffic feel less wasted. And yet, not much gets done at a time. Nothing is immediate, but must be programmed days in advance, then confirmed the previous evening and probably that same morning too. If I want to see someone, we must arrange for a meeting during their lunch hour, or wait for the weekend, when they are "free". There is little room for improvisation, for the now.
Projects take long to come through, but then again, they can be done. While travelling, one cannot build. It felt like I was laying down a brick every time I learned someone's name, each time I stole a kiss or heart, or found the right place to spend my time. Yet a brick does not make a house, and when the storm arrives, one needs the shelter... I guess that's what made me come back to Mexico. In terms of country, I feel here as much a foreigner as anywhere else; but this is the place where I have spent more time building a foundation of friendship and love.

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So I arrived, and spread the contents of my backpack on my old desk. Things from here and there, stuff that reminds me of certain people, places or moments. Coins, bills and postcards, even some things that stayed hidden inside the pack for months at a time, even the whole year.
I spread out my trip on the surface, organized it, put it away, then started this new chapter of this journey...

I got a good thing going here

I got a good thing going here


I've been biking a lot this past few weeks. It might not be Rotterdam, but still you can bike in Mexico City. It's my way of dodging some of the traffic, and therefore the ire of the streets; the potholes are just part of the adventure. And it keeps me fit and alert. With the stress, altitude and smog, you kinda need it.
One reason I came back to the city faster, instead of my original plan of moving slowly up from Cancun to Mexico City (a good 2000km via Chiapas), was that my sister needed some help home. But now she's back in Barcelona, for good this time, leaving me in charge of house and cats. It is interesting sometimes to experience the other side too. To be the one that stays behind. But, for how long?

People tell me how finishing their studies felt like a big weight fell off their shoulders... I did not feel such a weight, but when analyzing the costs/benefits of it all, I decided to stay here a while and try to get it over with. So lets see how that goes!

My dear Uni, didn't think I'd see you again so soon.

My dear Uni, didn't think I'd see you again so soon.

Posted by Zaspirucho 13:38 Archived in Mexico Tagged home mexico adventure city living travelling mexico_city beginning the_end Comments (1)

A good week

Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. Just don't stop playing.

semi-overcast 16 °C
View Liberty Goes East & Re-Europe on Zaspirucho's travel map.

Mural in Plovdiv

Mural in Plovdiv


When you journal, the level of detail in the descriptions depends greatly on the time passed between entries. What would be most important in a day, may be but a fleeting comment in a week, or even ignored in a monthly review. Today, and because of the past days, I believe I must not follow this trend, and revisit every day. So this might be a long post.

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Saturday

Last time I saw my wallet was in Istanbul bus station. That’s all I can say for certain. Seven hours later I arrived in Plovdiv, and set out to my usual wanderings. I did not have a place to spend the night there, but it was still nighttime, having arrived there before the sun. Still plenty of time to figure it out.
So I crossed Plovdiv and its old town, walking up to a hill and enjoying the view. It was a cold morning in a new country. I could already see the contrasts. Different shades of green and cats ran away from me. Not in Istanbul anymore! Still unsure whether to spend the night or exit the city and start stretching the thumb, I came down from the hill and resolved to concentrate on the moment: get some food. That’s when I realized my acute lack of wallet.

Now, had I not couchsurfed, hitchhiked and backpacked before, or well, had I not been me, there would have been frustration and fright and negative feelings. I guess. I just took it as fact. “I have no wallet. No money nor way of getting any. This will not stop me.” So I backtracked to a friendly hostel and asked if I could use their internet, and explained my situation. They gave me wifi and breakfast. This allowed me to cancel my cards and assess my situation. I would have to trust in people and goodwill. In fact, I had no choice.

As I wrote and called, next to me sat a family. As it usually happens in this kind of setting, we started talking and eventually I told them of my plight. I got sympathetic smiles and good-lucks. But later, when getting ready to leave, one of them came to me: “We’re going to Sofia—she said—you can come with us if you want. You have a couple of minutes to decide!” Well, it is my personal policy to not say no to this kind of offers and opportunities, and told her so; so of course I came with them. An interesting group they were: a boy of 14, two of 16, a girl of 9 and another of 18. The adults were three old friends, the two mothers and a male. It took me a while to figure out their story, who was son of who, but on the highway, there was plenty of time! And we did not go straight to Sofia either. First stop was Hisarya, the Roman walls and mineral hot baths. In that rainy, cold day, those baths were bliss!

I learned during the day that I had not come in the best of times to Bulgaria. It was Saturday, yes, but not any of them, it was Easter Saturday in the Orthodox Calendar. That’s why the three friends were together, coming from Berlin and London all the way to Sofia, visiting friends and family. That’s why they were out on a road trip! And that’s why, when the day ended, I found myself in Yana’s aunt and uncle’s home. Yana was mother of three of the kids, a yoga instructor and Vipassana student. She took me in with her family, and gave me a place to spend the night. I saw with her another side to Easter: one of joy, community, family and love. I had homemade raki and ate Easter bread with hot cocoa. We clashed coloured eggs. I think I’ve never won an egg joust. We walked with candles in the street, greeted the neighbours on the way to church and back. No one cared whether I believed or not. No one cared whether I belonged or not. And so, in smiles and warmth, I could barely recall that just that morning I had arrived with no wallet from Istanbul.

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Sunday

I left Yana’s house sometime in the afternoon. I did not want to be too much of a burden. And I had a mission. Two years before I had left something in a hostel, and being back in Sofia, it would be a shame if I did not at least ask… So I made my way to the Hostel Mostel, to ask them if, by any chance, my phone was still there.
Of course it wasn’t. It was two years! But wouldn’t it have been awesome to find it?

The good thing was that, on the way there I met some staff of the Art Hostel, and was told to come to their bar. So I got a warm place to hang out and even some food (some Bulgarian meatcake with yogurt!). Everyone I met was sympathetic to my case, I mean, it’s not like I’d gambled my savings. They’d just walked away. While dozing in the bar I heard Spanish, and couldn’t resist the conversation. Turned out to be an Erasmus student and her local friend, wonderful people too. I had already resigned myself to leaving at first light, in the cold, so when I was offered a bed in a dusty spare room I hesitated for a moment. Only for a moment.

Monday

I woke in that spare room after a night of chatting and laughter, and looked around me. No wonder they called this “the dead guy’s room”. Full of books and notes and randomness, some oblivious socialist paraphernalia, other very personal, like a boxes full of letters and postcards. I rummaged through most of it. Took a couple of unwritten postcards from the seventies with me, no one will miss them.
Eventually I left to hitchhike, fashioned myself a sign, and prepared to leave Sofia. A bit over an hour of waiting later, I was joined by Velin, another hitchhiker. He later told me that he had just passed next to me on a city bus, going to his usual spot, but when he saw me there, smiling so happily with my little sign, he just decided to come with me. I quickly recognized in him a friend. Sometimes you do so, just by the look in the eyes, you know to be among equals.

In two rides we got to Veliko Tarnovo. The first a simple, usual ride, with a nice guy, software designer going not too far, took us there and a bit further. The second ride though, was the strangest I’ve ever had. They were lovely people, a very nice and friendly couple. It’s just that I never thought I’d ever be picked up by a deaf couple. I could not talk with them, and although they could read Velin’s lips. All I could do was perform my interpretative dance and smile wide. They even gave us Easter bread. I have no idea what their names are.
In Veliko, Velin asked around and got me a place to sleep in a little funky hotel. For free as well. All in goodwill. Warm shower and a soft bed, wifi and homeliness. I had not touched money in three days.

My bed for the night!

My bed for the night!


At some point during the day Velin had asked me why I hadn’t asked some friend or family to wire me some money through Western Union or something. I had no answer. I realized the thought had not even crossed my mind. So sure I was that I could make it with no money, that I forgot there were other options. I resolved to look into this once in Bucharest.

Tuesday

So well rested, I set out for Romania. A two hour hike got me out of Veliko Tarnovo and into thumbing position. It was a nice day and in some twenty minutes a young road-tripping couple picked me up. They actually drove past me at first, but turned around and came back for me! A delightful ride, we stopped at a little ancient monastery carved in the rock, then they left me on Ruse.

I thought it was a smaller town, but it took me a good three hours to walk through it and get to the Danube. Here it turns out you cannot cross the bridge on foot, so I got a ride from one end of the Friendship Bridge to the other. And then, off to Bucharest! Finally I was in Romania! Gruialand at last. I had wanted to visit Romania because why not, because I’d missed it two years before, and because of some stories by Gheorghe Gruia, my former handball coach. So I was finally there! And with no money or a place to sleep!

I could have probably gotten a place to sleep. I was asked about it and half-offered a place by a Chilean family at the McDonalds (they serve some of the best wifi out there). But I was for some reason betting all my cards at volunteering at a hostel. I had particularly the X Hostel in mind. I met the owner/CEO and everything. But sometimes you go all in and win, sometimes you go all in and lose. Turned out the hostel had been invaded by a roving band of young dutch people. Fifty-some of them. There was simply no place for anyone else! Even the staff were sleeping in the storage room for the week. They did take my backpack for me though, so I was free to roam the streets.

So then, what to do if I don’t have a place to sleep? Well I don’t sleep, of course! For a night or two nothing will happen. I’m a designer after all. All that training in not sleeping did finally pay off while travelling. And then some.
The height of the night occurred when, sitting in a Kebap shop, munching on my travel rations and last Easter bread, a girl sat on the next table. Smile. Then her friend, a long haired, big guy, all in black joined her and they started talking. I could hear English. Eventually we started chatting, then suddenly she offered: “Can I invite you somewhere?” She handed me a flyer, I could make out something about a student discount to somewhere. “Don’t worry, you won’t have to pay any entry fee! I’ll invite you.” I had already said yes before turning the flyer around and realizing what it was I had said yes to.

I’d never been to a Strip Bar before. I've always known that it’s not my kind of place. I have now confirmed it. But if I was ever to enter one, this was the best way to do it. Turned out I was invited to the place by one of the girls, Anna, and I was the only “customer” there. On the way I had told her and Barry the security guard, of my peculiar penniless situation. This did not matter, for as there was no one else, we could just chat and enjoy not being out in the cold. I think I was the first man ever to drink tea at that place. Anna even gave me some bananas to eat, and chocolate—all she could find in the backstage. She performed a bit as well, and pole danced. I was amazed by her ability and strength! Barry agreed, “I’m mostly here for the looks” he said, “This girls can fend for themselves!” I would not like to get in a fight with any of them. Those legs can break you in two.

Barry had once been a martial arts master, and firefighter in the ‘States. After all the misery and pain he’s seen on car crashes, gang fights and fire victims, spending his nights surrounded by topless girls is as good a retirement plan as any. This was not a big strip club, just a little corner bar, with everyone relaxed and happy. Not a bad place to spend some time with nice people. The fact that most of them are topless doesn't hurt either. They even let me have a shower in the massage room. And then it was back to wandering.

No photos there

No photos there

Wednesday

When it was day again I walked back to the X Hostel. Came just in time for the Dutch group’s breakfast. Even helped with some dutch-english-spanish-romanian translation. When there’s big groups, there’s big leftovers. I had breakfast, lunch, and refilled my travel rations. It was delicious. What the staff could not offer me in accommodation they gave in welcoming. If I had money I’d consider staying there. But for now, we're Couchsurfing!

That night I got a place to sleep. A couch, a cat and food. Music too, although it wasn't too much to the taste of Andra, my host. A musician herself, she is picky with what she listens to. I would love to hear her medieval music band. I stayed three nights with her, met her friends, chatted with her boyfriend. They all reminded me of my group of friends in Mexico, talking about music, magic and board games. Sometimes you meet these random people halfway around the world, who come from a completely different background, and yet you realize that you are the same.

Friday

Fearing and caring for me as only a mother can do, my mom offered to get me out of my penniless state, and wired me some euros. She sent them to me sometime Thursday, but by I only could get them on Friday. Gratefully, the first thing I did after getting them was walk into a library-café, sit on a small table by the street window, and buy me some coffee.

How long could I have kept it going? There is an impressive amount of people out there, willing to share all they have with a stranger, just because he needs it. Just because he asks and smiles. I have discovered that my story is an inspiring one: people have approached me just because I look happy, and want to hear the stories that make me smile and dance with no music, even on gloomy days and lonely nights.

That first day in Bucharest, I was approached by a French man. A math teacher, he dreams of leaving his fears behind, grab a backpack and see the world. After some minutes of talking, he put it better than I ever could:

"I saw you there and I had to talk to you. You just seemed so happy, I wanted to know how you do it. Now I understand. You are happy because you are free."

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Posted by Zaspirucho 06:43 Archived in Bulgaria Tagged night adventure city friends family music hostel road romania medieval poor sofia nomad cold luck bulgaria bucharest easter strip hitchhiking wallet learning plovdiv ransack Comments (1)

The three day thing

As this Chapter nears its end.

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It’s been six months since I left Mexico City. Two of those I've been in South East Asia.
As I approached Kuala Lumpur a fourth time, I felt as unready and lost as that first time, six months before. I still don’t know what lies ahead of me. My map is still covered in fog. I cannot see clearly anything past a few weeks, and anything beyond three months is so blurry as to be a waste of time even trying to fathom it.
If all had gone according to plan, I would still be sailing, marveling at the ocean’s vastness and the beauty of islands and sea. It would have been a great time, I know, just a completely different experience to what I've had.
During this two months in Asia I have journeyed here and there, catching barely a glimpse of what the region has to offer. Someday I’ll come back. And in the rainy season too! There is just too much that stayed beyond the horizon this time. Laos, Vietnam, Myanmar, and the North of Thailand. And that’s without looking South. But I am now to enter the silence, to digest all that’s taken place in the last weeks and months. To let sink all the smiles, all the kisses, the hellos and goodbyes.

I've been doing the three day thing this past weeks. Days merged into one, and it felt like I spent more time in vehicles and walking to the next place than actually there. After leaving Angkor and Siem Reap, I passed through Kampot, Kep, Phnom Phen, Sihanoukville and Koh Rong. I kept going deeper into Cambodia, but didn't find the kind of effortless belonging of those early days in Siem Reap…

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I spent a grand total of two days in Koh Rong. It’s a nice yet difficult place to explain… The only reason I went to there in the first place was because I read online that the island was beautiful, yet cheap, and that I could find 1$ dorms. This is not so. The cheapest dorm, at least this season, is 7$, escalating all the way to 60$ thatch bungalows and treehouses. It is not a cheap island. Having said that, it is a gorgeous place, and the people are great. Hippies, locals and expats, most understood my situation as a confused and broke traveler and were very sympathetic. ‘If you want anything cheaper than 7$, you´re gonna have to work for it’ they said. It took less than an hour after setting foot on that pier to get a place to stay. I spent the next two nights on the furthermost point of 4K Beach, a 40 min walk away from town. All they needed was someone to be there, so the place would never be completely alone. So I had a tent, noodles, beer, soft drinks, and red bull in exchange for just being there and keeping an eye over everything; for hanging out on the beach and selling the occasional beer. Basically for doing nothing. Heck I cleaned the place up, even raked the sand and burnt some leaves just to feel productive. It was great. I could have stayed there for days, weeks even... So then I left in the morning. After having camped, danced, walked at night in the jungle and swum in the dreamlike, shiny, phosphorescent blue sea… It just could not get any better than that. Not there. So Bangkok, Padang Besar, Langkawi and Penang soon passed under my feet. And then I was back in KL, back at the beginning.

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Here are some things I've experienced in the last days/weeks:

Stay away from rocky outcroppings, or be ready to limp for a couple of days.

Even small coral can be very sharp, and cuts on the sole of the feet are very, very uncomfortable. Noted, learned.

Sometimes the $1 dorms are amazing and awesome. Other times they mean bedbugs. Flip a coin.

In Siem Reap I stayed at the Garden Village Guesthouse. It was awesome. I made friends and got great memories from there.
In Sihanoukville I stayed at the Utopia Hostel. Don’t stay there. Don’t go anywhere near that place. Just don’t.

Send messages to strangers. Couchsurf. Say yes.

When last I was in Bangkok I contacted on Facebook a girl who lives there. Turns out they have a spare room they are trying to set as a small B&B, so I stayed with Alexander and Abigail for 3 nights, with Petrina meeting me there. It was awesome![/b][/center]

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Wine is best after not having any for months. Even more if it’s free.

One of the nice things of meeting locals (as in people who live there) is that they tend to know what’s going on. And that might just be the anniversary party of a nice, hip bar. I hadn’t had any wine in six months.

Travel with someone. Separate. Meet them again.

We met in KL that first week, then again after our sailing adventures. Now we coincided in Bangkok a third time. We could exchange stories from the time apart, and had someone for a few days we didn't have to introduce each other to, rather build on the friendship. It’s a great relief!

When crossing borders, double check the local time zone.

When Petrina and I arrived in Padang Besar, Malaysia, neither of us bothered to check the local time. As such, we missed the last bus out and got stranded there. Nothing wrong with the place, it’s just not somewhere you want to stay in for longer than necessary.

Smile.

I smiled at a girl in Siam Reap. Our eyes and smiles met again in Kampot. Fancy to meet again, and sharing a cab with her and her brother, in Padang Besar, all the way to Langkawi. Then going out drinking with them in Penang. Who knows, maybe I’ll see her again in KL. Or in Germany someday!

Help someone.

I met a somewhat lost Australian waiting for the bus. I guided her to where she wanted to go, and stuck with her the rest of the day. A nervous little thing, she would have never eaten in the indian restaurant I took her to, nor ridden the bus all the way to the Kek Lok Sie temple. The thing is, I was ready to let the temple pass, but it is one of the best places Penang has to offer. It is beautiful, and its commanding view of the city, gorgeous. I would have missed out greatly and wouldn't even know it. I still don't know who helped out the other more.

This is not Kek Lok Sie Temple. I very smartly forgot the camera battery.

This is not Kek Lok Sie Temple. I very smartly forgot the camera battery.


--

And now I ready to enter the silence. It’s the last adventure in SE Asia for now, and one that’s been long overdue. I've wanted to take part on a Vipassana meditation course for months now, but somehow it didn't work out before now. Most of the centers open for applications several months prior to the course, and it’s been a while since I've known where I’ll be so long in advance… But this time all is set, and I’ll be there for ten days, away from everything, in a new experience. I've never done extended sitting meditation, so I’m not quite sure what to expect. But I feel it will be great.
So, world, see you after the retreat!

Posted by Zaspirucho 22:38 Archived in Malaysia Tagged kuala_lumpur food ocean nature beach travel cambodia meditation malaysia city island beautiful paradise camping asia koh nomad learning Comments (0)

Asia, first stop

Kuala Lumpur

semi-overcast 26 °C
View Liberty Goes East on Zaspirucho's travel map.

The flight over the Pacific was a mere 15 hours. Sleep, movie, dinner, sleep, breakfast, reading, and you're there. As we left rounding midnight, and got to Kuala Lumpur rounding midday, I didn't even get much jet lag. It was the heat that struck me though. The thick, humid heat. I should have expected it, and should be somewhat used to it, seeing it's not so different from the Veracruz heat. But I've never carried a heavy backpack around there, nor used the subway... This marks the farthest I've ever been from home. Just a bit further and I'd be halfway around the globe!

I didn't really research much about my destination. Good thing there's plenty of wifis to hang on to! Most people speak english here though, but you have to get used to their accent. And so, I made it to my cousin's address mostly on my own. I stepped out of the subway to the sight of this:
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It's easy to find your bearings when your reference is more than 400 meters high and glows at night. I walked up and down, wound up in Chinatown. One day I'll see the real stuff, for now, I keep crossing Chinatown gates here and there; this one's the sixth already.

It's a lively place, Kuala Lumpur. With lots of movement and building of skyscrapers and avenues and malls. Luckily, there are a few nice parks as well. In one of them we had a little Couchsurfing event, where people brought local food, and visitors helped with some crackers, drinks, or their food, like the spanish tortilla contrasting with the... local currysome chickenly food. It was delicious. And it happened to fall on Eid al-Adha, so several of them were dressed in their traditional attire! I woke that morning to the chants of the nearby mosque, and finished it with chinatown drinks in company of fellow couchsurfers. Not a bad welcome to Malaysia.

So, on my fourth day, my cousin and her family came back from their trip. They'd gone to Penang, to eat and rest and have a good time. And now I got to see them finally! We had just met once before, but we kept contact since. She does live quite faraway, after all! So it was great to see her daughters and husband. Last time, little Andrea had been a toddler, now she's almost 10! And Carolina is a toddler now. Will I see her again in 10 years? I hope sooner than that!!
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I would like to say that everything is different, being in Asia and all. It is not. Everything is similar, if only with some eastern tint. The food of course, and the language. But you can pretty much live here having no clue of bahasa. And the middle class, we're the same everywhere around. At least in the city; maybe outside of it, things would be different. People keep telling me I should go to the jungle; I'll be there soon enough. As for the people, the Malaysians have to potential to be really beautiful, what with the mixture of Malay, Chinese and Indian heritage. Sadly, they don't mix, and so, well, they're not really beautiful (statistically speaking). And it's getting more radical it seems, with racial issues gaining strength. There's even talking of it being outlawed for non Muslims to say the word Allah. Well Allah.

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I say that three days is enough to get the essence of a place, as Kino taught me, and I find it to be true. The pure essence. Then, if you stay longer, you begin building bonds, developing affection. Run away at the third day, dear traveller, if you want to see the whole world. I didn't, so now have friends in this place. People I'd enjoy meeting again some other time. I met family and friends; I went walking on water with them, and took (a very little) part in the organization of a bikini competition. Too bad I won't be in town for that one!!

For the 23rd I fly to India. Meet up with my Captain, with the ocean, and see the Liberty with my own eyes. A very fitting name for a sailboat.

Posted by Zaspirucho 21:02 Archived in Malaysia Tagged malaysia city asia kl heat Comments (0)

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