09.08.2010
After the morning spent in Federation Square, making use of the free wireless internet to upload pictures and write, and getting haircut in one of the many salons lining the upper part of Elizabeth Street, I decided to visit the Tim Burton Exhibition in the Australian Centre for the Moving Image back at Federation Square. The exhibition is part of the Melbourne Winter Masterpieces and was originally organized by the Museum of Modern Art in New York. Despite only having been opened in August (I believe), the collection of his drawings, cartoons, paintings, sculptures, movie props and costumes has already attracted more than 100,000 spectators and spooks, making it the most successful exhibition in Melbourne so far.
Though the price is a bit steep (19$) and no discount is given to non-Aussie students (which I find kind of unfair), it was worth it – every last cent! Upon descending into his world, a little signs warns you to let your eyes adjust to the dark before going all the way down. A big red and white striped sign “Tim Burton The Exhibition” lets you know that you are now entering his foyer of fantasies. You are greeted by props from Edward Scissorhands, a large hedge in shape of a deer as well as Edward’s glove and suit. On a big screen right above them, excerpts from the movie are shown. In general the exhibition is organized chronologically – Surviving Burbank, Beautifying Burbank and Beyond Burbank. In the first part, Old school papers, cartoons he drew as a young boy, films he shot with an 8mm and even a children’s book he wrote and animated are on display. Moving on, there’s a large collection of his cartoon drawings, which he mostly did while studying at the California Institute of the Arts. While being very dark and morbid, the Tim Burton as we know and love him, the images all have something quite childlike about them. For example, he takes the collocations “He’s giving his eyes a rest” or “They’re enjoying each other” and draws a guy whose eyes are drooping out of his sockets and lying on a sun chair or a couple gnawing on each other’s limbs with a crazed expression on their faces. His art makes you laugh, despite being downright disturbing at times. This section, which also includes the unfinished projects he developed during his 4 year internship with Walt Disney Studios, ends with the “Burtonarium”, a chasm lit by blacklight with little holes on the sides through which you can see glowing pictures of clowns and flowers or models of the Oogieboogieman or the dog from Nightmare before Christmas on display. All the while, circus music (by Danny Elfman, of course) is played and you feel like a little child having a strange almost-nightmare. The centerpiece of the Burtonarium is a sculpture of a carousel with strange cartoon figurines dancing round and round… Finally, we enter his filmmaking days and stand only inches from the original Batman’s mask and Catwoman suit, Alice’s dress and the Madhatter’s hat, Sweeny Todd’s razors and the Corpse Bride herself. My personal favorite, which actually sent shivers down my spine, was standing in front of the “cast” of Nightmare Before Christmas, including an original Jack Skellington and his many heads. I spent the rest of the day singing his woeful song…
After ascending from his wacky world and walking by the Batmobile on the way out, you cannot help but admire this man with the whacked out fantasy for just being himself and inviting the world into his endearing morbid mind.
Note: I heart Jack Skellington. Sweeny Todd’s razors really do look quite sharp.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Chapter 4 "Market, Melbourne and Man, I haven't slept yet"
Friday night in Melbourne. It’s close to midnight and I’m the only person in my 10bed dorm, the only person who dares go to bed already. This, however, is a harder task than it might sound like. In the end, I may as well have gone out and partied the night away (but as already mentioned, my feet were on strike), like everyone else, since our not-so-state-of-the-art-windows let in every sound of the night from at least a block away. I fell asleep to hi-hat beats, base bums and the sound of glasses clinking and people laughing.
At around 10am I opened my eyes, refreshed and ready for a new day. Nobody else in my dorm was. I did feel bad about creating a bustle, getting dressed and packing my bag for the day, surely waking up at least one or two of the sleeping party animals. Karma got me back though. While washing my face and brushing my teeth in the shower room down the hall and leaving the door slightly ajar, someone must have gone to the bathroom and closed it behind them. Of course, it had slipped my mind to bring my key card, as that is not the first thing one thinks about after waking up in the morning. So there I was, locked out of my room with nothing but my face wash and toothbrush. I knocked quietly, but didn’t dare to bang on the door after nobody came to open it. To pass some time, I just brushed my teeth again and waited till the next person had to go to the bathroom. Thankfully, the only other Asian roommate was also arising and getting ready and I caught the door just in time. With very clean teeth.
The agenda for the day was a trip up to the Queen Victoria Market, about 15 minutes from my hostel. As I walked up the empty streets, the sun was slowly but very surely warming up the day and it reminded me strongly of watching spring chase away summer in Berlin or even autumn afternoons in Munich. The market was immense – endless halls filled with endless stalls. It’s open every day of the week from around 6am to 2pm or 3pm, except for Friday when it turns into a night market. Tourists and Melbourners alike come from all over the city to shop for fruits and vegetables, meat and seafood, wines and delicacies and even clothes. The most colorful stand were meant to catch the visitors’ eyes, as they sold souvenirs like boomerangs, didgeridoos, t-shirts, magnets, stuffed kangaroos and koalas and aboriginal art. Some stalls looked familiar, being very similar to some you might find in markets all over the world – the incense and crystals stand, the wooden Chinese massage apparatus stand or the fake soccer jersey stand. Others were definitely more Australia-bound, like the Ugg boots stand or the Australian Fire Opals stand. My feet would probably thank me for the warmth and comfort Uggs would provide at the moment and I’m also sure I would fall in love with them if I just started wearing them, but I just can’t get myself to buy a pair. One, they are big and bulky to lug around the country and two, I get the feeling my feel look like elephant-feet when I wear them, although this is not the case for all the others I see walking around in them here (and everywhere). Between the produce and the clothes and accessories, on a little square, a four-man band called La Rhumba played all morning. A husky voice, a melodious harmony accompanied by Spanish guitar. There never ceased to be a large crowd gathered around them, listening. And at some point, two little children starting dancing in the middle, much to the amusement of the band and the entertainment of the audience. Because I still haven’t really gotten the hang of the prices here, still finding everything way too expensive, my purchases were limited to a new belly ring (because I realized that I’m travelling without a spare), strawberries (250g for 2,50$/1,75Euro) and a bar of choco-mint fudge which just looked too darn good to leave sitting on that beautiful display of at least 30 different kinds of fudge.
Walking back home, I took a long way, looking to pass through the patches of green on my trusty tourist map. The parks are clean and well maintained, usually with a piece of artwork rising up in some corner near the playground or at the entrance. On my walk through one, a most delicious smell came whafting towards me and around the bend I witnessed the first Aussie Barbie (BBQ) of my trip. And they really know what they’re doing – the table loaded with a cooler of cold drinks, all the condiments you can imagine, the meat marinated to perfection, the smell alone made my mouth water and my stomach grumble.
One of my last important things to do (aside from looking for a job and making some travel plans) was to buy a travel guide. I found a travel book shop and now own a copy of the Lonely Planet’s guide to East Coast Australia. And I can’t wait to start reading and planning. My preliminary plan, which actually includes more travelling than working, is to make my way down to Adelaide, up to Alice Springs (because it would just be silly to travel Australia and not see Ayers Rock and the Outback), all the way up to Darwin and then find my way back down to Sydney via the coast. This plan does however require some time and finance management and depends on these to be put into action. Good thing the travel shop in my and every other hostel here in the city offer tours that pretty much cover that route – Melbourne to Adelaide via the Ocean Road, Adelaide to Alice Springs via the Outback…etc.
I decided to pass by the river boardwalk again before finally heading back to the hostel. It was noon, the sun was out and the seagulls were begging noisily for food from the many people enjoying lunch by the murky brown water. I even got offered some sushi by the girl sharing my bench. I was also offered some lessons in Latin dancing by a guy whom I almost laughed out loud at for asking “Haven’t we met before, you know, a few weeks ago…?” Haha, I guess the classics are international and never get old. At least he was the first to guess that I was a mix of something European.
After only 3 days in Melbourne, the city is starting to grow on me. My sense of orientation is also improving, having looked at a map only twice to get back to the hostel. The city centre is made up of a relatively simple grid of crisscrossing streets and alleys. The city is welcoming while still giving off an aura of closed community, it dances to its own beat, proud of its individuality. Melbourne’s personality is vibrant but relaxed, modern yet traditional. On every street you will find people from all walks of life and various different cultures and even more so than in Berlin or any other multicultural city, integration seems a given.
While sitting by the water, taking notes, my trusty silver pen a very good friend in Berlin gave me finally gave up. Always sad to have to retire a special pen that has accompanied me on a journey. Then I realized that the next trusty pen I whipped out of my bag was also given to me by my fellow Pinay soul in Berlin, so either way, she is with me in every word I write. Thanks, Natty.
Back at the hostel, I started my first Skype session sitting in the travel shop by the reception. Despite big earphones and finding a computer all the way in a corner, it is strange having a conversation with anywhere between 2 and 12 people in the same room. Plus, you never know who might understand you, there are quite a few Germans in this town. For example the one who stopped me on the stairs, asked about the internet and then invited to a night out on the town. Glad to not be the first back in bed on a Saturday night, I accepted and got ready. This hot shower was not quite as enjoyable, because the whole hostel seemed to be taking a shower at the same time. I either had freezing water or scalding hot, no in-betweens…
Before hitting the streets, we had dinner in another hostel, where friends of his were staying. I guess for a bit more money one can really get a bit more – a larger kitchen, free wi-fi, more security, carpeted hallways, a bigger common room with more sofas, a pool table… But oh well, I guess I shouldn’t start my trip with big spending. My first “home”-cooked meal consisted of a huge pot of pasta – definitely better than microwavable soups or instant Mac ‘n Cheese. Dishwashing and a few beers later, three guys and I took off and walked around aimlessly for a bit before settling in an open air bar with heaters, spray painted walls and a cable car as bar. From there we headed to a restaurant-turned-bar in a mall, which was comfortably full and played everything from mainstream pop to old school-ish hip hop. While going out for a smoke, I was once again confronted with how small this world truly is. While I’m torturing people with my slowly disintegrating French, one of the guys I was with finds out, by way of talking-to-random-strangers-on-escalators, that one of the guys is German as well. He turn to introduce me and I find myself standing in front of someone who used to go to the German School Manila with me, way back when. Both our eyes popped out of their sockets and we stood there kind of perplexed, like it was all just a strange dream. How random… The night ended at sunrise, with me not able to sleep because by the time I was under my covers, my roommates decided it was time to get up. One after the other in a steady concession they got or (literally) fell out of bed (the guy in the bunk above me landed with a crash) and made enough noise to hinder deep sleep.
Lest I have to say that my Sunday consisted of a truly lazy afternoon and early night. The boardwalk seems to have a magnetic pull on me, because that’s where my daily walk took me once again on that sunny afternoon – passed the bizarre Winterfest including an ice skating rink on which it snows, an Octoberfest tent flying the Bavarian flag and a stand selling “original” Currywurt and Bratwurst with Sauerkraut, street shows by the youngest sword swallowing, fire juggling contortionist, break-dancers, clowns and a large group of youngsters training Parcour.
Notes: Always carry your key card on you, but if you don’t, you will have the cleanest teeth in town. La Rumba. Uggs. Must join an Aussie BBQ. Beer won’t give you a hangover when consumed responsibly. I heart Melbourne.
At around 10am I opened my eyes, refreshed and ready for a new day. Nobody else in my dorm was. I did feel bad about creating a bustle, getting dressed and packing my bag for the day, surely waking up at least one or two of the sleeping party animals. Karma got me back though. While washing my face and brushing my teeth in the shower room down the hall and leaving the door slightly ajar, someone must have gone to the bathroom and closed it behind them. Of course, it had slipped my mind to bring my key card, as that is not the first thing one thinks about after waking up in the morning. So there I was, locked out of my room with nothing but my face wash and toothbrush. I knocked quietly, but didn’t dare to bang on the door after nobody came to open it. To pass some time, I just brushed my teeth again and waited till the next person had to go to the bathroom. Thankfully, the only other Asian roommate was also arising and getting ready and I caught the door just in time. With very clean teeth.
The agenda for the day was a trip up to the Queen Victoria Market, about 15 minutes from my hostel. As I walked up the empty streets, the sun was slowly but very surely warming up the day and it reminded me strongly of watching spring chase away summer in Berlin or even autumn afternoons in Munich. The market was immense – endless halls filled with endless stalls. It’s open every day of the week from around 6am to 2pm or 3pm, except for Friday when it turns into a night market. Tourists and Melbourners alike come from all over the city to shop for fruits and vegetables, meat and seafood, wines and delicacies and even clothes. The most colorful stand were meant to catch the visitors’ eyes, as they sold souvenirs like boomerangs, didgeridoos, t-shirts, magnets, stuffed kangaroos and koalas and aboriginal art. Some stalls looked familiar, being very similar to some you might find in markets all over the world – the incense and crystals stand, the wooden Chinese massage apparatus stand or the fake soccer jersey stand. Others were definitely more Australia-bound, like the Ugg boots stand or the Australian Fire Opals stand. My feet would probably thank me for the warmth and comfort Uggs would provide at the moment and I’m also sure I would fall in love with them if I just started wearing them, but I just can’t get myself to buy a pair. One, they are big and bulky to lug around the country and two, I get the feeling my feel look like elephant-feet when I wear them, although this is not the case for all the others I see walking around in them here (and everywhere). Between the produce and the clothes and accessories, on a little square, a four-man band called La Rhumba played all morning. A husky voice, a melodious harmony accompanied by Spanish guitar. There never ceased to be a large crowd gathered around them, listening. And at some point, two little children starting dancing in the middle, much to the amusement of the band and the entertainment of the audience. Because I still haven’t really gotten the hang of the prices here, still finding everything way too expensive, my purchases were limited to a new belly ring (because I realized that I’m travelling without a spare), strawberries (250g for 2,50$/1,75Euro) and a bar of choco-mint fudge which just looked too darn good to leave sitting on that beautiful display of at least 30 different kinds of fudge.
Walking back home, I took a long way, looking to pass through the patches of green on my trusty tourist map. The parks are clean and well maintained, usually with a piece of artwork rising up in some corner near the playground or at the entrance. On my walk through one, a most delicious smell came whafting towards me and around the bend I witnessed the first Aussie Barbie (BBQ) of my trip. And they really know what they’re doing – the table loaded with a cooler of cold drinks, all the condiments you can imagine, the meat marinated to perfection, the smell alone made my mouth water and my stomach grumble.
One of my last important things to do (aside from looking for a job and making some travel plans) was to buy a travel guide. I found a travel book shop and now own a copy of the Lonely Planet’s guide to East Coast Australia. And I can’t wait to start reading and planning. My preliminary plan, which actually includes more travelling than working, is to make my way down to Adelaide, up to Alice Springs (because it would just be silly to travel Australia and not see Ayers Rock and the Outback), all the way up to Darwin and then find my way back down to Sydney via the coast. This plan does however require some time and finance management and depends on these to be put into action. Good thing the travel shop in my and every other hostel here in the city offer tours that pretty much cover that route – Melbourne to Adelaide via the Ocean Road, Adelaide to Alice Springs via the Outback…etc.
I decided to pass by the river boardwalk again before finally heading back to the hostel. It was noon, the sun was out and the seagulls were begging noisily for food from the many people enjoying lunch by the murky brown water. I even got offered some sushi by the girl sharing my bench. I was also offered some lessons in Latin dancing by a guy whom I almost laughed out loud at for asking “Haven’t we met before, you know, a few weeks ago…?” Haha, I guess the classics are international and never get old. At least he was the first to guess that I was a mix of something European.
After only 3 days in Melbourne, the city is starting to grow on me. My sense of orientation is also improving, having looked at a map only twice to get back to the hostel. The city centre is made up of a relatively simple grid of crisscrossing streets and alleys. The city is welcoming while still giving off an aura of closed community, it dances to its own beat, proud of its individuality. Melbourne’s personality is vibrant but relaxed, modern yet traditional. On every street you will find people from all walks of life and various different cultures and even more so than in Berlin or any other multicultural city, integration seems a given.
While sitting by the water, taking notes, my trusty silver pen a very good friend in Berlin gave me finally gave up. Always sad to have to retire a special pen that has accompanied me on a journey. Then I realized that the next trusty pen I whipped out of my bag was also given to me by my fellow Pinay soul in Berlin, so either way, she is with me in every word I write. Thanks, Natty.
Back at the hostel, I started my first Skype session sitting in the travel shop by the reception. Despite big earphones and finding a computer all the way in a corner, it is strange having a conversation with anywhere between 2 and 12 people in the same room. Plus, you never know who might understand you, there are quite a few Germans in this town. For example the one who stopped me on the stairs, asked about the internet and then invited to a night out on the town. Glad to not be the first back in bed on a Saturday night, I accepted and got ready. This hot shower was not quite as enjoyable, because the whole hostel seemed to be taking a shower at the same time. I either had freezing water or scalding hot, no in-betweens…
Before hitting the streets, we had dinner in another hostel, where friends of his were staying. I guess for a bit more money one can really get a bit more – a larger kitchen, free wi-fi, more security, carpeted hallways, a bigger common room with more sofas, a pool table… But oh well, I guess I shouldn’t start my trip with big spending. My first “home”-cooked meal consisted of a huge pot of pasta – definitely better than microwavable soups or instant Mac ‘n Cheese. Dishwashing and a few beers later, three guys and I took off and walked around aimlessly for a bit before settling in an open air bar with heaters, spray painted walls and a cable car as bar. From there we headed to a restaurant-turned-bar in a mall, which was comfortably full and played everything from mainstream pop to old school-ish hip hop. While going out for a smoke, I was once again confronted with how small this world truly is. While I’m torturing people with my slowly disintegrating French, one of the guys I was with finds out, by way of talking-to-random-strangers-on-escalators, that one of the guys is German as well. He turn to introduce me and I find myself standing in front of someone who used to go to the German School Manila with me, way back when. Both our eyes popped out of their sockets and we stood there kind of perplexed, like it was all just a strange dream. How random… The night ended at sunrise, with me not able to sleep because by the time I was under my covers, my roommates decided it was time to get up. One after the other in a steady concession they got or (literally) fell out of bed (the guy in the bunk above me landed with a crash) and made enough noise to hinder deep sleep.
Lest I have to say that my Sunday consisted of a truly lazy afternoon and early night. The boardwalk seems to have a magnetic pull on me, because that’s where my daily walk took me once again on that sunny afternoon – passed the bizarre Winterfest including an ice skating rink on which it snows, an Octoberfest tent flying the Bavarian flag and a stand selling “original” Currywurt and Bratwurst with Sauerkraut, street shows by the youngest sword swallowing, fire juggling contortionist, break-dancers, clowns and a large group of youngsters training Parcour.
Notes: Always carry your key card on you, but if you don’t, you will have the cleanest teeth in town. La Rumba. Uggs. Must join an Aussie BBQ. Beer won’t give you a hangover when consumed responsibly. I heart Melbourne.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Chapter 3 "Upset feet"
You know that you have spent too much time in Manila, when walking upsets you feet much more than usual. My feet are quite upset at the moment.
I went to bed quite early last night, the first one in my room. This did mean I work up a few times – every time a roommate decided to go to bed. I believe I live in one of the few rooms in this country with a door that cannot, under no circumstances, be closed quietly. Good thing I was tired enough to open an eye, shut it and drift off again. After much needed sleep, I woke up quite early to make a phone call. And it was so cold, I decided to go back to bed right afterwards. I did however have to get up at some point, because I had an appointment at Westpac Bank. I don’t think I have even been in a bank in which all employees looked between my age and max. 5 years older. A very friendly and accommodating bank. The guy who helped me open my account then told me a wonderful story about how he stayed at my youth hostel once and got all his stuff stolen. Just great.
After getting one of my formalities of the day out of the way, I walked. And walked. And walked. I had no idea where I was going and had no goal other than to see the city. Getting lost in a new place is actually one of my favorite things to do when travelling. And my superb sense of direction lead me once around the city, and the few times I did look at a map, I was always in quite opposite places of where I thought I was. The sun was out, the sky was blue and the clouds stayed far away, fluffy shapes on the horizon. I walked along a river and was even able to take my scarf off at some point; but I did feel kind of silly with thin stockings under my jeans, while girls I passed were wearing short skirts and guys were in t-shirts.
I have heard about the quaintness of Australian cities, when compared to cities like Berlin or Manila. And today I got to experience exactly what was meant with that. There is a free rickety tram that drives around in circles around the city, but in the end, everything is walking distance. I ended up in places that looked far on the map and were really just around the corner. And suddenly I was back at the hostel (and my feet were very glad about that). I walked for 4h and can hardly tell you about where exactly I was, because I was too busy sticking my nose into the sun and following the path that looked the nicest. I did however took a mental note of the Tim Burton Exhibition that I must (!) go see and the Melbourne Aquarium. I crossed a bridge lined with big funny metal sculptures that glinted in the sunlight and made me almost walk into people because I was looking up at them. Along one side of the bridge, there were glass panels which displayed a whole array of different countries and list waves of immigration, places where they came from, reasons for coming and numbers of Australian citizens with that heritage. Beautiful.
On my way home I set foot into an Australian supermarket for the first time. An important part of travelling is exploring the colorful aisles filled with unknown brand names and getting a feel for nutritional habits of the country and how they may collide or coincide with your personal taste. Not really wanting to cook for myself and not having eaten a warm meal yet since getting here, I took home a microwavable pasta dish – bland and boring, but warm and filling. Can’t live on apples, pears and granola bars all day. I’ll probably end up in subway tonight, hoping it’s not so much more expensive than the, in my opinion, expensive pre-made sandwiches in 7Eleven. In general, prices for food and drinks in Berlin and Manila have spoiled me and I will probably think everything is expensive travelling the western world.
After my feet decided to go on strike – I could hear them screaming “no more walking today!” and threatening to run amok if I do – I spent the late afternoon getting the rest of my formalities of the day done. I have now officially applied for my Australian Tax File Number and, slowly but surely, have gained an overview over my funds for this trip. Major downside: After being away from home (meaning Berlin) for so long, I have forgotten my pin numbers for my ATM cards and now have to go out in the dark later to make a call to my bank and see if they can give it to me. Cross my fingers.
Note: Melbourne is smaller than I thought. MUST see Tim Burton Exhibition. I am hungry. I’m an idiot for forgetting pin numbers.
I went to bed quite early last night, the first one in my room. This did mean I work up a few times – every time a roommate decided to go to bed. I believe I live in one of the few rooms in this country with a door that cannot, under no circumstances, be closed quietly. Good thing I was tired enough to open an eye, shut it and drift off again. After much needed sleep, I woke up quite early to make a phone call. And it was so cold, I decided to go back to bed right afterwards. I did however have to get up at some point, because I had an appointment at Westpac Bank. I don’t think I have even been in a bank in which all employees looked between my age and max. 5 years older. A very friendly and accommodating bank. The guy who helped me open my account then told me a wonderful story about how he stayed at my youth hostel once and got all his stuff stolen. Just great.
After getting one of my formalities of the day out of the way, I walked. And walked. And walked. I had no idea where I was going and had no goal other than to see the city. Getting lost in a new place is actually one of my favorite things to do when travelling. And my superb sense of direction lead me once around the city, and the few times I did look at a map, I was always in quite opposite places of where I thought I was. The sun was out, the sky was blue and the clouds stayed far away, fluffy shapes on the horizon. I walked along a river and was even able to take my scarf off at some point; but I did feel kind of silly with thin stockings under my jeans, while girls I passed were wearing short skirts and guys were in t-shirts.
I have heard about the quaintness of Australian cities, when compared to cities like Berlin or Manila. And today I got to experience exactly what was meant with that. There is a free rickety tram that drives around in circles around the city, but in the end, everything is walking distance. I ended up in places that looked far on the map and were really just around the corner. And suddenly I was back at the hostel (and my feet were very glad about that). I walked for 4h and can hardly tell you about where exactly I was, because I was too busy sticking my nose into the sun and following the path that looked the nicest. I did however took a mental note of the Tim Burton Exhibition that I must (!) go see and the Melbourne Aquarium. I crossed a bridge lined with big funny metal sculptures that glinted in the sunlight and made me almost walk into people because I was looking up at them. Along one side of the bridge, there were glass panels which displayed a whole array of different countries and list waves of immigration, places where they came from, reasons for coming and numbers of Australian citizens with that heritage. Beautiful.
On my way home I set foot into an Australian supermarket for the first time. An important part of travelling is exploring the colorful aisles filled with unknown brand names and getting a feel for nutritional habits of the country and how they may collide or coincide with your personal taste. Not really wanting to cook for myself and not having eaten a warm meal yet since getting here, I took home a microwavable pasta dish – bland and boring, but warm and filling. Can’t live on apples, pears and granola bars all day. I’ll probably end up in subway tonight, hoping it’s not so much more expensive than the, in my opinion, expensive pre-made sandwiches in 7Eleven. In general, prices for food and drinks in Berlin and Manila have spoiled me and I will probably think everything is expensive travelling the western world.
After my feet decided to go on strike – I could hear them screaming “no more walking today!” and threatening to run amok if I do – I spent the late afternoon getting the rest of my formalities of the day done. I have now officially applied for my Australian Tax File Number and, slowly but surely, have gained an overview over my funds for this trip. Major downside: After being away from home (meaning Berlin) for so long, I have forgotten my pin numbers for my ATM cards and now have to go out in the dark later to make a call to my bank and see if they can give it to me. Cross my fingers.
Note: Melbourne is smaller than I thought. MUST see Tim Burton Exhibition. I am hungry. I’m an idiot for forgetting pin numbers.
Chapter 2 "Aussie Aussie Aussie"
Wait, what time is it? What day is it? Where am I? It is dark outside, the buildings outside the window are beautifully lit and my watch is telling me that it is 6:30pm. My body, which according to the time change, should be thinking that it’s 4:30pm, feels more like 10:30pm. I guess that’s what 18h of travel (with a budget airline) will do to you. The plane to Melbourne was quite large and quite empty. I was all the more grateful as the Malaysian lady and her son (nothing against little children, I do love them, just not on airplanes) who were supposed to sit next to me got up to sit with grandma and grandpa a few rows behind. For some reason, I had failed to check the duration of the flight when I booked it and expected something shorter. As the pilot announced 7h 50mins, I nearly slipped out of my three chair bed. It was too bad that Air Asia no longer had stock of their Comfort Kit (a blanket, an inflatable neck pillow and that thing that covers your eyes). At least I got to sleep for a few hours, slowly drifting off as the mother in the row behind me read a very cute children’s book to her daughter, only to wake up because of a severe case of the sniffles, belt-buckle-pressing-into-my-back syndrome and the sun rising over the clouds. The latter being quite beautiful.
Upon landing and successfully getting through immigration, I got onto a bus going into the city…and fell asleep. Sorry suburbian Melbourne, but I missed you. I tried so hard to stay awake, which probably made it look even sillier to the other bus riders, but my tiredness overpowered me. I awoke because the lady next to me “accidentally” bumped into me while getting off at the main station in the city Southern Cross. I lugged my bags out of the bus and followed the instructions given to me by the hostel’s website. Just as I was asking myself how in the hell my youth hostel could be amongst these grand buildings and expensive looking facades, my mom called and asked if I had found the hostel yet. In that moment, I turned my head and noticed the only old and charmingly shabby looking building on the corner and the colorful sign inviting backpackers to the Nomads All Nations. I had arrived. Of course, the question immediately came up “Where are you from?” and when I made him guess, I got a “Will you shoot me if I say American?” and because I nodded he decided I was Canadian.
My room has five bunk beds, therefore sleeping ten people. Two were still in there when I entered around 11am. I think I have five roommates, but I can’t really be sure till I go to bed. Having already written a To-Do-Upon-Arrival list, I grabbed a map at the reception and went on my first walk in Melbourne – right smack through the city centre and the CBD. It reminded me a bit of the area around Friedrichstrasse in Berlin, mixed with some areas in London. The modern and the old, both equally impressive. Slight elevations, old and new trams, the grandeur of the Strand mixed with the hustle and bustle of Piccadilly Circus and the colorful faces of downtown Berlin. I found the post office, I found a SIM card, I found a pharmacy (seeking aid in killing this cold asap), I made an appointment to open a bank account, I found a yummy roast beef roll and cheap coffee. But still, disoriented and tired, not really here or there, home or away. I think it’ll take me another day or two to arrive. Before heading back home I sat down in Southern Cross station to enjoy the free Wifi and immediately felt like I did when I first got to Berlin, sitting in the Sony Center in Potsdamer Platz, freezing my fingers off just so I could check my mail. Maybe I should take it as a good sign, since, in the end, it all fell into place and worked out just fine over there as well.
Getting on a plane in 30degrees and tropical humidity and getting off in 8degrees and gray wind does kind of affect your body – your toes, for example, they get cold. Duh. The fresh air is heavenly, the wind-chill is not. When I got back from my couple of hours out and about, the only thing I could think of was a warm, no make that a hot shower. And boy did I get it. Every once in a while in your life, a hot shower is one of the most satisfying things once can experience. Today was such a day. And I didn’t even mind blow-drying my hair with the automatic hand dryer in the bathroom. As Woody Allan would say:”Whatever works”. When I got back to my room, a Korean roommate offered me an orange.
Sadly, I have noticed that my German cell phone, which is on some kind of travelers thing, is not receiving any text messages. And my Aussie number also has something against me reading texts from someone I really want to receive them from, because they are not arriving. Damn it.
Note: I like hot showers and oranges. I do not like cell phone providers keeping my text messages from me.
Upon landing and successfully getting through immigration, I got onto a bus going into the city…and fell asleep. Sorry suburbian Melbourne, but I missed you. I tried so hard to stay awake, which probably made it look even sillier to the other bus riders, but my tiredness overpowered me. I awoke because the lady next to me “accidentally” bumped into me while getting off at the main station in the city Southern Cross. I lugged my bags out of the bus and followed the instructions given to me by the hostel’s website. Just as I was asking myself how in the hell my youth hostel could be amongst these grand buildings and expensive looking facades, my mom called and asked if I had found the hostel yet. In that moment, I turned my head and noticed the only old and charmingly shabby looking building on the corner and the colorful sign inviting backpackers to the Nomads All Nations. I had arrived. Of course, the question immediately came up “Where are you from?” and when I made him guess, I got a “Will you shoot me if I say American?” and because I nodded he decided I was Canadian.
My room has five bunk beds, therefore sleeping ten people. Two were still in there when I entered around 11am. I think I have five roommates, but I can’t really be sure till I go to bed. Having already written a To-Do-Upon-Arrival list, I grabbed a map at the reception and went on my first walk in Melbourne – right smack through the city centre and the CBD. It reminded me a bit of the area around Friedrichstrasse in Berlin, mixed with some areas in London. The modern and the old, both equally impressive. Slight elevations, old and new trams, the grandeur of the Strand mixed with the hustle and bustle of Piccadilly Circus and the colorful faces of downtown Berlin. I found the post office, I found a SIM card, I found a pharmacy (seeking aid in killing this cold asap), I made an appointment to open a bank account, I found a yummy roast beef roll and cheap coffee. But still, disoriented and tired, not really here or there, home or away. I think it’ll take me another day or two to arrive. Before heading back home I sat down in Southern Cross station to enjoy the free Wifi and immediately felt like I did when I first got to Berlin, sitting in the Sony Center in Potsdamer Platz, freezing my fingers off just so I could check my mail. Maybe I should take it as a good sign, since, in the end, it all fell into place and worked out just fine over there as well.
Getting on a plane in 30degrees and tropical humidity and getting off in 8degrees and gray wind does kind of affect your body – your toes, for example, they get cold. Duh. The fresh air is heavenly, the wind-chill is not. When I got back from my couple of hours out and about, the only thing I could think of was a warm, no make that a hot shower. And boy did I get it. Every once in a while in your life, a hot shower is one of the most satisfying things once can experience. Today was such a day. And I didn’t even mind blow-drying my hair with the automatic hand dryer in the bathroom. As Woody Allan would say:”Whatever works”. When I got back to my room, a Korean roommate offered me an orange.
Sadly, I have noticed that my German cell phone, which is on some kind of travelers thing, is not receiving any text messages. And my Aussie number also has something against me reading texts from someone I really want to receive them from, because they are not arriving. Damn it.
Note: I like hot showers and oranges. I do not like cell phone providers keeping my text messages from me.
Chapter 1 "Up up and away - Journey through Kuala Lumpur"
Sitting on yet another cold floor of an airport, I had hoped for the best and expected the worst. Kuala Lumpur International Airport, the “other” terminal is the middle man between the two.
Leaving Manila via Clarke Airbase this morning was bittersweet. My stomach in knots, my heart beatin irrythmically from coffee and my eyes puffy from too little sleep, I said bye to mom and Hannah with a feeling of anticipation and insecurity. Almost a year since the idea formed in my head, suddenly D-day had arrived and I wasn’t and still am not 100% sure if I’m sufficiently prepared in heart, body and mind to embark on this adventure. But the closer I get to setting foot on Aussie soil, the more I am getting back into my DIY-mindset. Don’t get me wrong, I love my home in the Philippines and the time I spend there is and will always be cherished, but there is just something about being back home that jostles my independence and makes me want to lean back and enjoy (more than jump up and go go gadget go). On the other hand, after 4 years of vacations that feel too short and scheduling skype-dates, it was relaxing and comforting to be surrounded by family again.
Before being able to board the bright red airplane, I was asked to pay a travel tax nobody could really explain to me, but apparently it is not always an advantage to have dual citizenship (or to be honest about this and show the passport-checking airport employee both the red and the green). Air Asia flight AK663 departed on-filipino-time, meaning just a tad bit late. This gave a small group of Malasian gentlemen the chance to interrogate me on my heritage, my travel plans, my places of residence and my red blotches on my hand (which are still very itchy remnants of a collision with a soft coral diving in Puerto Galera a few weeks back). I guess the preassumption of meeting lots of people during my journey decided to come true early on in the game.
The flight itself was uneventful. For the first time in my history of travelling, I did not insist on having an aisle seat – a tick I developed after too many flights caged in, prohibited from peeing, by very deeply sleeping fellow travellers. This time, I was quite thankful for the window, a place to rest my head and catch up on the missed hours of sleep the night before, which I rather spent talking to home, a place and person starting to seem further and further away by the minute. Waking up a bit disoriented, I tried to estimate how long we had already been in the air and if it made sense to try to go back to sleep again. And although, after short contemplation, I decided that more shut eye really couldn’t hurt, I was not granted this wish, thanks to a surround sound chorus of snoring. Instead, as hinted by that familiar in my ear, I watched as we descended onto Malasian ground. The coast lined with brown murky water, as if it had just rained. The fields below us looking like giant thumbprints and microchips. I followed the winding roads into mountainous territories and watched them snake towards the sea. The lower we went, the wider the patches of rich dark green became and by the time the wheels of the plane were released, we were flying above hectars and hectars of palm tree plantations (bananas possibly?). Shortly after landing, the usual ground temperature, local time and “Thank you for flying Air Asia”s were announced, followed by an important announcement:”Bringing dangerous drugs into Malaysia is prohibited and will be followed with mandatory death sentence”. Silence. “You may now disembark the aircraft.”
Outside my window stood rows upon rows of bright red airplanes and I must admitt, I was impressed by the size of this budget airline’s fleet. Flights from all corners of Asia and the Pacific were landing and disembarking and the sea of people became more and more colorful as I walked along the terminal building trying to find the entrance and get out of the heat. I was less impressed by the immigration hall of the “other” terminal, over crowded, hot and sticky. All of a sudden, the colorful crowd turned into a blurr of faces, families and patterns. And of course, I should have known that Lady Luck would lead me to the one immigration counter that was the equivalent to good ol’ fashioned mail in this high bit email-world – efficiant but very demaning of your patience. I couldn’t decide if the immigrations officer, a beautiful young woman, was new on the job or couldn’t get off her high horse and felt the need to interrogate every poor traveller standing in front of her aquarium. Of course it didn’t help that a family with shaved heads and orange robes very serenely cut the line (or that Miss Immigration Officer decided to take an extra long look at their passports), that the indian group of travellers in front of me kept recruiting more and more members as we waited or that the line next to us just seemed to be rolling on steadliy, like the steam engine you just missed and have to watch as it leaves you behind. Following me in line, a large and loud French family made me curse the fact that I understand this language of romance, as I had to listen to them lovingly complain about the flight, the airport, the immigration hall, Miss Immigration Officer, the backpackers next to them, the heat, the country, Asia in general and finally about each other. And just when I thought it was finally over, they started an argument about their many vacations, which , in my opinion, they couldn’t have been on together, because none of them could seem to agree on what year they did the bike tour and how many years ago they had spent that week in Bali (during which more issues to complain about arose). In short, I wanted to fall on my knees and thank Miss Immigration Officer after she stamped my passport and waved me onwards with a half-hearted smile. My luggage was already lying next to the belt, as I seemed to be the only one held up after dismbarking and the belt was much needed for the constant stream of bright red airplanes landing between the palm trees. After being greeted by Barney’s big purple face (Toy Land) and the oh-so-familiar green symbol indicating that the all time favorite icy cold sweet coffee drinks can be purchased during my 7h (after immigration reduced to 6h) layover, I have found a spot on yet another cold airport floor and have finally started writing again.
.
.
.
All in all, my layover in KL consisted mainly of walking about outside, back and forth, through the little arcade of stores and cafes and back on the outside, having a cigarette, checking if my check-in counter is finally open and calculating if I really want to spend my 5Euro bill on a sandwich – the choices being between a soggy Starbucks sandwich, a soggy Coffeebean&Tealeaf sandwich, a soggy Deli France sandwich and McDonalds. I saved the 5Euro bill.
After finally getting rid of my big fat bag and going through immigration and security, I am pleasantly surprized about the airport. It is bigger than I thought it could be and colder too.
I’ve decided to play a little game on this trip called “Just guess”. Although I have only been on the road for just about 9h, I have already been asked three times where I’m from. And I’m pretty sure this question just might come up every once in a while during my journey. So instead of spilling the beans on my colorful heritage right away, I ask where they think I am from. Yes, I have gotten strange looks after giving this answer –looks of puzzlement and confusion, one that likes the idea of a challenge and one that says “I’m really not in the mood for games”. But so far, I have registered the following guesses – Malaysian, Fil-Am (but only because I was on a flight from Manila) and “uh, something Asian and something else”. So no real winner so far (the latter not being counted because of vagueness).
Note: There are times when dual citizenship is expensive. If no personal entertainment system is available, sleeping is your best bet on a plane. Don’t bring dangerous drugs into Malaysia. Don’t get in line behind a travel group from India or in front of a large French family.
Leaving Manila via Clarke Airbase this morning was bittersweet. My stomach in knots, my heart beatin irrythmically from coffee and my eyes puffy from too little sleep, I said bye to mom and Hannah with a feeling of anticipation and insecurity. Almost a year since the idea formed in my head, suddenly D-day had arrived and I wasn’t and still am not 100% sure if I’m sufficiently prepared in heart, body and mind to embark on this adventure. But the closer I get to setting foot on Aussie soil, the more I am getting back into my DIY-mindset. Don’t get me wrong, I love my home in the Philippines and the time I spend there is and will always be cherished, but there is just something about being back home that jostles my independence and makes me want to lean back and enjoy (more than jump up and go go gadget go). On the other hand, after 4 years of vacations that feel too short and scheduling skype-dates, it was relaxing and comforting to be surrounded by family again.
Before being able to board the bright red airplane, I was asked to pay a travel tax nobody could really explain to me, but apparently it is not always an advantage to have dual citizenship (or to be honest about this and show the passport-checking airport employee both the red and the green). Air Asia flight AK663 departed on-filipino-time, meaning just a tad bit late. This gave a small group of Malasian gentlemen the chance to interrogate me on my heritage, my travel plans, my places of residence and my red blotches on my hand (which are still very itchy remnants of a collision with a soft coral diving in Puerto Galera a few weeks back). I guess the preassumption of meeting lots of people during my journey decided to come true early on in the game.
The flight itself was uneventful. For the first time in my history of travelling, I did not insist on having an aisle seat – a tick I developed after too many flights caged in, prohibited from peeing, by very deeply sleeping fellow travellers. This time, I was quite thankful for the window, a place to rest my head and catch up on the missed hours of sleep the night before, which I rather spent talking to home, a place and person starting to seem further and further away by the minute. Waking up a bit disoriented, I tried to estimate how long we had already been in the air and if it made sense to try to go back to sleep again. And although, after short contemplation, I decided that more shut eye really couldn’t hurt, I was not granted this wish, thanks to a surround sound chorus of snoring. Instead, as hinted by that familiar in my ear, I watched as we descended onto Malasian ground. The coast lined with brown murky water, as if it had just rained. The fields below us looking like giant thumbprints and microchips. I followed the winding roads into mountainous territories and watched them snake towards the sea. The lower we went, the wider the patches of rich dark green became and by the time the wheels of the plane were released, we were flying above hectars and hectars of palm tree plantations (bananas possibly?). Shortly after landing, the usual ground temperature, local time and “Thank you for flying Air Asia”s were announced, followed by an important announcement:”Bringing dangerous drugs into Malaysia is prohibited and will be followed with mandatory death sentence”. Silence. “You may now disembark the aircraft.”
Outside my window stood rows upon rows of bright red airplanes and I must admitt, I was impressed by the size of this budget airline’s fleet. Flights from all corners of Asia and the Pacific were landing and disembarking and the sea of people became more and more colorful as I walked along the terminal building trying to find the entrance and get out of the heat. I was less impressed by the immigration hall of the “other” terminal, over crowded, hot and sticky. All of a sudden, the colorful crowd turned into a blurr of faces, families and patterns. And of course, I should have known that Lady Luck would lead me to the one immigration counter that was the equivalent to good ol’ fashioned mail in this high bit email-world – efficiant but very demaning of your patience. I couldn’t decide if the immigrations officer, a beautiful young woman, was new on the job or couldn’t get off her high horse and felt the need to interrogate every poor traveller standing in front of her aquarium. Of course it didn’t help that a family with shaved heads and orange robes very serenely cut the line (or that Miss Immigration Officer decided to take an extra long look at their passports), that the indian group of travellers in front of me kept recruiting more and more members as we waited or that the line next to us just seemed to be rolling on steadliy, like the steam engine you just missed and have to watch as it leaves you behind. Following me in line, a large and loud French family made me curse the fact that I understand this language of romance, as I had to listen to them lovingly complain about the flight, the airport, the immigration hall, Miss Immigration Officer, the backpackers next to them, the heat, the country, Asia in general and finally about each other. And just when I thought it was finally over, they started an argument about their many vacations, which , in my opinion, they couldn’t have been on together, because none of them could seem to agree on what year they did the bike tour and how many years ago they had spent that week in Bali (during which more issues to complain about arose). In short, I wanted to fall on my knees and thank Miss Immigration Officer after she stamped my passport and waved me onwards with a half-hearted smile. My luggage was already lying next to the belt, as I seemed to be the only one held up after dismbarking and the belt was much needed for the constant stream of bright red airplanes landing between the palm trees. After being greeted by Barney’s big purple face (Toy Land) and the oh-so-familiar green symbol indicating that the all time favorite icy cold sweet coffee drinks can be purchased during my 7h (after immigration reduced to 6h) layover, I have found a spot on yet another cold airport floor and have finally started writing again.
.
.
.
All in all, my layover in KL consisted mainly of walking about outside, back and forth, through the little arcade of stores and cafes and back on the outside, having a cigarette, checking if my check-in counter is finally open and calculating if I really want to spend my 5Euro bill on a sandwich – the choices being between a soggy Starbucks sandwich, a soggy Coffeebean&Tealeaf sandwich, a soggy Deli France sandwich and McDonalds. I saved the 5Euro bill.
After finally getting rid of my big fat bag and going through immigration and security, I am pleasantly surprized about the airport. It is bigger than I thought it could be and colder too.
I’ve decided to play a little game on this trip called “Just guess”. Although I have only been on the road for just about 9h, I have already been asked three times where I’m from. And I’m pretty sure this question just might come up every once in a while during my journey. So instead of spilling the beans on my colorful heritage right away, I ask where they think I am from. Yes, I have gotten strange looks after giving this answer –looks of puzzlement and confusion, one that likes the idea of a challenge and one that says “I’m really not in the mood for games”. But so far, I have registered the following guesses – Malaysian, Fil-Am (but only because I was on a flight from Manila) and “uh, something Asian and something else”. So no real winner so far (the latter not being counted because of vagueness).
Note: There are times when dual citizenship is expensive. If no personal entertainment system is available, sleeping is your best bet on a plane. Don’t bring dangerous drugs into Malaysia. Don’t get in line behind a travel group from India or in front of a large French family.
Prologue "Packing the Backpack"
In preparation of my adventure, there were a few rather necessary things that had to be done. So here’s my personal checklist for “packing the backpack”:
1.Since I was planning on stopping by home and doing my little internship and first vacation with my certain someone, I needed to find my way to the Philippine Islands first. So, back in January, latest February, I booked a one way ticket to Manila.
2.At times, I can be quite clumsy and though nothing really bad has ever happened to me, never broken a bone *knock on wood*, it is better to be safe than rely on that “luck”. So I acquired one year’s worth of travel insurance. By the way, I can only recommend STA Travel, as they are especially helpful and understand young travelers on a budget.
3.The little research I did before leaving Germany included reading up on the climate (and realizing I had to pack winter, spring, summer and autumn kind of clothes), locating cities and towns on a map (to get a general idea about the geography) and finding out what else I have to add my To-Do-BEFORE-I-Get-To-Oz list.
4.In Manila, I had about 10 days before I had to go “back to school” and decided to get some of the icky formalities out of the way. Though I have to say, applying for the Working Holiday Visa was much easier than I had imagined it would be. The online application form takes a while and they ask interesting questions about your criminal record or if you have ever spent some time in the loony bin, but all in all it’s quite hassle-less.
5.Part of the application process is a visit to a medical center, because the Aussies want to know what kind of lungs they are letting into the country. Sitting in the waiting room, I was quite surprised about how full it was – all Visa applicants to Australia (though the Canadian side was even fuller).
6.Soon after arriving in Manila, I booked a one way flight to Melbourne. I’m just so damn lucky to have a dad who is an expert traveler and knows exactly how to find the cheapest possible deals on flights.
7.…A day before I left, I bought and packed my backpack.
Note: Good luggage is important. Packing it is as well.
1.Since I was planning on stopping by home and doing my little internship and first vacation with my certain someone, I needed to find my way to the Philippine Islands first. So, back in January, latest February, I booked a one way ticket to Manila.
2.At times, I can be quite clumsy and though nothing really bad has ever happened to me, never broken a bone *knock on wood*, it is better to be safe than rely on that “luck”. So I acquired one year’s worth of travel insurance. By the way, I can only recommend STA Travel, as they are especially helpful and understand young travelers on a budget.
3.The little research I did before leaving Germany included reading up on the climate (and realizing I had to pack winter, spring, summer and autumn kind of clothes), locating cities and towns on a map (to get a general idea about the geography) and finding out what else I have to add my To-Do-BEFORE-I-Get-To-Oz list.
4.In Manila, I had about 10 days before I had to go “back to school” and decided to get some of the icky formalities out of the way. Though I have to say, applying for the Working Holiday Visa was much easier than I had imagined it would be. The online application form takes a while and they ask interesting questions about your criminal record or if you have ever spent some time in the loony bin, but all in all it’s quite hassle-less.
5.Part of the application process is a visit to a medical center, because the Aussies want to know what kind of lungs they are letting into the country. Sitting in the waiting room, I was quite surprised about how full it was – all Visa applicants to Australia (though the Canadian side was even fuller).
6.Soon after arriving in Manila, I booked a one way flight to Melbourne. I’m just so damn lucky to have a dad who is an expert traveler and knows exactly how to find the cheapest possible deals on flights.
7.…A day before I left, I bought and packed my backpack.
Note: Good luggage is important. Packing it is as well.
Chapter 0 "Have Love Will Travel"
No matter how well (or not-so-well) I had planned my gap year between my Bachelors and uh further studies; there are just some things in life one cannot control. Like falling out of love and having to change those plans slightly…or falling in love unexpectedly vey soon afterwards. My rollercoaster took me for a wild ride in the beginning of the year, but then again, who doesn’t enjoy the occasional looping or free fall. During one of the coldest winters I have ever experienced, I had to write my Bachelors Thesis, find a new tenant for my apartment, pack up my life into (many!) boxes, renovate little bumps and bruises my dear apartment had suffered over the three years I lived in it and wrap up all the various contracts, accounts and paper trails one accumulates in this modern day society. All the while getting to know and falling more and more for a certain somebody, without whom I probably wouldn’t have survived those months without completely loosing it. He protected me when my To-Do lists threatened to cut off my limbs, he herded my moving boxes and belongings into his apartment when they threatened to run amok and he warmed me in the evenings after my Bachelors Thesis had sucked all the life out of me during the days spent chained to my desk, drowning in books. I cannot say that the timing was right for Mr. Right, but ignoring it would have been all kinds of wrong. And although my plans did not change, new ones were formed and a ticket for an island vacation was booked.
In April I left home to come back home and cried tears of sadness and happiness. Raise your hand if you know what it feels like to be homesick while you’re home… I know there are some out there who understand me. Manila hasn’t changed, aside from the buildings that shoot up like beanstalks. And being back felt like being in a time warp, like being 17 again, only with less connections, less friends left. The three month internship at my former school was fun and gave me a bit more insight into the daily life as an educator. And it did help steer my thoughts on becoming one into a more definite direction. I’m not saying I am definitely not becoming a teacher; I am now just more open to discovering possible alternatives; ready to check out what else might be out there for me.
After two week family reunion, of which five days were spent on the paradise island Siquijor, my significant other landed in Manila, I opened the door and ushered him into a whole new world – my other world. The three weeks he spent here allowed me to see the Philippines through his eyes, bathed in a whole new light. Despite the occasional culture shock that shook our vacation, I got to rediscover the beauty of the country and learn once more to be in awe of a paradise I had come to regard as usual. We spent a week on Sangat, out personal King Kong island, part of the Calamian Islands, which seemed like big boulders strewn into the deep turquoise waters of Coron Bay, topped off with lush dark green. I (finally!) got over my fear of the deep blue and we got certified together in Puerto Galera, experiencing the ocean like I never really had before… After falling in love in three hectic months in Berlin, we got to fall in love all over again in three blissful weeks in the Philippines. Who knows what lies ahead, but I hear three’s a charm…
Note: Have Love, Will Travel together…Will travel alone, but have love nonetheless.
In April I left home to come back home and cried tears of sadness and happiness. Raise your hand if you know what it feels like to be homesick while you’re home… I know there are some out there who understand me. Manila hasn’t changed, aside from the buildings that shoot up like beanstalks. And being back felt like being in a time warp, like being 17 again, only with less connections, less friends left. The three month internship at my former school was fun and gave me a bit more insight into the daily life as an educator. And it did help steer my thoughts on becoming one into a more definite direction. I’m not saying I am definitely not becoming a teacher; I am now just more open to discovering possible alternatives; ready to check out what else might be out there for me.
After two week family reunion, of which five days were spent on the paradise island Siquijor, my significant other landed in Manila, I opened the door and ushered him into a whole new world – my other world. The three weeks he spent here allowed me to see the Philippines through his eyes, bathed in a whole new light. Despite the occasional culture shock that shook our vacation, I got to rediscover the beauty of the country and learn once more to be in awe of a paradise I had come to regard as usual. We spent a week on Sangat, out personal King Kong island, part of the Calamian Islands, which seemed like big boulders strewn into the deep turquoise waters of Coron Bay, topped off with lush dark green. I (finally!) got over my fear of the deep blue and we got certified together in Puerto Galera, experiencing the ocean like I never really had before… After falling in love in three hectic months in Berlin, we got to fall in love all over again in three blissful weeks in the Philippines. Who knows what lies ahead, but I hear three’s a charm…
Note: Have Love, Will Travel together…Will travel alone, but have love nonetheless.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)