Chasing the thrill

Ive come to realize that over the years I have evolved into a different kind of traveller. Initially, it was the excitement of the simple things - getting on a plane, looking out the window as the city and your country gets smaller, watching the clouds and the lightning sometimes by your window. It was about going somewhere, and being able to take a picture standing in front of a famous landmark, showing the world that ME thats right ME! I was there! I was standing in front of the Eiffel Tower, I was there in front of the Sears tower.

And then I was lucky enough that I could afford more. I started travelling to places slightly out of the normal path. I returned to some countries numerous times, but each time to try something different, something off the beaten path. In Thailand alone, I travelled beyond the confines of the city. I found sunflower fields in Lopburi, I played with tiger cubs and had them munching me in Kanchanaburi.

Then, I got even luckier, and saved up more, shopped less, and I was lucky enough to travel all around the world and back into time. I touched the pyramids of Giza, I hiked the Great Wall of China, I saw the terracota warriors in Xi'an, and I was transported to a day where they protected the emperor.

It was only in those last two stages that I could really understand, what excitement and joy was at being able to create these new memories, these first time impressions. I wouldnt categorize myself as an emotional girl. Not to the extent of getting mopey or grumpy or angry a lot. But whenever I travel, (and my friends can attest to this) to someplace I had always dreamed about, thought about had a fantasy about, I get so excited at the thought of finally being there, of finally being able to do it that I quiver, I get goosebumps, and ultimately tears come to my eyes.

It is the excitement, the pure pure joy of finally being able to reach and to see and to touch old memories that I had. Catching how surreal the moment is, and appreciating it for truly the moment that it is, the one lapse in time when everything aligned and the memory imprints itself on my soul.

Galloping through the pampas on horseback, with a gaucho sitting behind me.
Twirling in the arms of a young man at a Viennese ball in a grand ballroom...

... and finally, the mother of it all

Catching the Northern Lights. A childhood dream (and I know not only mine) finally come true.

As for what the future may bring... plenty more. I still have a long list of old childhood fantasies to make come true, and new fantasies to create.

But the biggest lesson for me this whole time is that it stops being about that one thing, that one object, hell it even slowly stops being about doing that one experience and checking it off the list. Its about breathing it in, enjoying it, living it, feeling it. Its about being in that one moment and truly seeing the beauty of it all.

And now, I can finally see it and appreciate it in my everyday surroundings too. The cycling route to work, the sounds of music in the park, watching a child play with a puppy, walking on a frozen canal in the middle of the city.

Everytime and everyday, the world truly is, a magical place, and I am truly madly in love

Trying something new

The thought of trying something new can be freaky, scary. The unknown, the potential pitfalls, the risk. What about not doing it? not jumping in? what about staying safe? secure?

The thing is though, we always try something new in our lives. Every day is a new adventure, a new beginning. So we do have the aptitude to do it. But perhaps when we never notice we are making the choice.

Take for example, the small new changes I have been doing - really small. Like the fact that I have extended my variety of self cooked meals to now include nasi goreng (yes, cooked with the pre-mix my father sent over from home, but I still cooked the damn thing with prawns and vegetables and eggs), beautifully grilled goat cheese sandwich drizzled with honey and cashewnuts and rocket, and even nasi lemak! which I finally got right after two tries and a burnt pot and congealed coconut milk rice later.

Then there were slightly bigger changes, like my most recent trip to Vienna. It was officially my first solo trip out. There have always been times when Im travelling alone, but this would still involve work, so it doesnt count for much since the company arranges everything and I still have colleagues to be connected with. But Vienna was my first ever truly solo trip. And what happened? I was introduced by a friend to a contact who introduced me to another contact to another girl. And said girl invited me over to join her for a dance training the day before the ball. We all were just open, and honest with each other and I ended up leaving Vienna with five pretty good friends that I would love to meet up with anywhere else in the world.

There are of course, the big changes. The ones that always hog the 'Highlighted story first' on a Facebook newsfeed. They are the ones where people get engaged, get married, have a baby... theyre also the ones where people leave their jobs, move countries. And somehow, with all the changes in our lives, these are the ones that scare us the most. Maybe because it is so much higher in the sky that we think the distance is really all that far. People think that to go through a year of change, or a life of change, is to do exactly this. Perhaps move away, perhaps start over.

The truth of the matter is, change really does come within. When I embarked on my year of change, I didnt really force myself to go ahead and plan all the crazy things, or to do all the crazy things. What really did change was my attitute towards life. My desire to try and see and appreciate things differently. Even if the only way I could start doing it was by blogging about doing different things on weekends. Even if the only way I can do is to start cooking a new dish every week, read a new book every two weeks. It is the little challenges in life that really gets you moving. When I ran the half marathon, I didnt wake up one day and said hey Im going to run a half marathon. I started slow, running around the park. I realized I enjoyed it, so I ran a bit more. The next thing I knew I was running a 10k. The next thing I knew I thought, hey I think I can go a little bit further than this.

So, thats the biggest lesson I took away from last year's Year of Change. I knew I could tick off the different things that I had done as a way to really measure the distance and milestones I had put between my previous self and my new life. But the thing is... at the end of the day, what really changed was me. I am seeking out beauty and happiness and appreciation in everything around me. Waking up and breathing the fresh air, cycling to work and remembering my childhood. Passing the European buildings and canals and reminding myself that this too is transient, that this too will pass. Everything else, just seems to fall into place once youre ready.

Fairy tales do come true...

Have you heard the story of The Twelve Princesses? It was one of my favorites, growing up. 12 princesses are found night after night, with their heels so worn and their bodies so tired that their father the King worried what they were up to. He invited men, princes and nobility to try and solve the mystery. In return he offers one of his daughters as a wife to the one who can solve it. A common man finds out the truth, that they drug their guards and escape in the middle of the night. Through an underground passage and crossing a lake by boat, they go to a ball, night after night after night, until their feet are sore and their soles give out.

Ive always had that dream, the ones many little girls have, of princesses and ball gowns, and dancing your heart away. I never thought I would be able to live it one day and it is so difficult to describe what it feels like to have your childhood dreams come true.

The hall was splendid. The grand hall of the former winter palace of the emperor. High painted ceilings, a live band playing in the corner. A live choir accompanying the beginning of the ball. Ladies in ball gowns, some more princessy than others. With their long white gloves holding a small bouquet of flowers. The men all around me, dressed in their finest. Tailcoats and suit jackets, and bow ties all around.

The call that the ball was open and the movement to the open space. Twirling and dancing unknown sometimes to a waltz or a foxtrot. Laughter all around as elegant people tried to sidestep others. The Austrian men standing out with their command of steps and their lead of their ladies.

At midnight, the shoe falls off, but only to be replaced with ballet flats to continue the night away. Only when the call for the quadrille comes do I don again my high heels.

I am partnerless, the friend who was accompanying me earlier having left to sleep. My other friends call out to find someone who is free and a reply from the group next to us of a free man who wants to dance.

He is handsome, oh so very handsome and has the happiness and confidence of a young man. We end up sitting on the side, unable to find another partner to dance the quadrille with, and so we chat.

He is Italian, a young man of perhaps 22 or 23. He loves balls and with his friends had chosen to dance in the ball rather than going clubbing. It is more fun here he says, and I am happy to agree. He is well trained, having been forced to go to dance school from the age of 16 to 18. He explains the dance steps to me and sings along with the conductor "der herr voraus, der Herr voraus, die dame hinterdrein"
We step up and immediately start dancing when the quadrille ends and the galloping begins. He leads me all the way, my laughter ringing loud as we merge into the crowd.

They play a classical waltz, and we dance. Waltz being his specialty, the one he knows the best. I am amazed as this young good looking man leads me strongly through the halls, managing his way around the crowds, never missing a beat. He sings to the the beat as well, and as he twirls me, and twirls me and twirls me, the paintings up above seem to smile and there I was in the most magical moment of my life. Dancing, returning in the arms of youth.

An epic love story

It started like the biggest cliche.

I sat alone in the cafe eating my sandwich, drinking a cup of coffee, reading a book. I am loner most of the time now, by choice if not anything else. I like the pleasure of my own company, of solitude. Of being able to change my plans whenever I want, pick up and leave whenever my heart feels like it.

I paid and walked out of the cafe realizing that it was raining. Heavy raindrops on my head. I should have stayed inside, drank another cup of coffee, read another chapter of my book. Stayed inside to be warm. Instead, I had already made my bed as you may call it, so I walked on. Numerous things on my mind, errands to run, groceries to buy.

The rain kept on coming down heavier, until I knew I had to run in somewhere else, so I turned right, into the first shop I spied. I walked in, covered in rain, my bulky down jacket and my disheveled hair. I was paid no heed, this dripping wet girl in her unfashionable jacket.

I walked to the counter corner, looking at the wares on display, when the salesgirl turns around and places something in front of the customer next to me. I felt the calling, the strong urge, so I turned...

and fell madly in love

It was 50% off!!!

Hello baby

For now

I am writing again. This time though, I am writing a story. A long winded, confusing story that I have intertwined with parts of my life and part of my creation. I am lost, working on it, breathing it, living it. The words flow out of me like an unebbing river. I lose track of time, and I realize the story. The story. Is all that I think about these days.

Perhaps this is what it is, to love what you do so much that you never notice the time. That really, in all honest, all I want to do is sit here and finish this story, just hash it out completely. I dont want to stop until its all out of me, all my words, all my ideas.

The story is there, in my head. I just need to get it on to paper now, and perhaps one day, if Im really really lucky. You might be able to read it too

European winter

I am slowly trying to settle in, though I have yet to move into my permanent residence. Instead, I am left here writing on the top floor in small hotel with a great view into the backyard. Spying into the real moments of Dutch life, a group of people drinking wine together in the dining room on a Friday night, teachers standing in front of a white board teaching groups of students. A pink sunrise behind the clock tower.

Im about to head back to Malaysia for a little bit. Two meetings back to back back in Asia. After that, I return to Europe, and for how long this time, I have no idea.

I have walked all over Amsterdam, and I am looking forward to cycling around the city as well. My office is in the middle of a beautiful forest area in Zeist and I spend every morning cycling for five minutes through the fall foliage from the train station in. The greatest way to start any day.

I plan non-stop in my head. As soon as I unpack, as soon as I settle in, I will be back on my itchy feet, wandering around Europe. I am hoping to do a new country at least once a month and am thinking of starting it off with a Viennese ball. What could be prettier, than a beautiful winter in Vienna. After all, if youre going to be freezing cold, you might as well be freezing cold in a city with great music, snow, bright lights and light feet.

In February I plan to head off to Norway and to spend the winter staring up up into the sky, watching the Northern lights dance away across the sky. I had always wished that I would be able to see it with my someone special, if I was lucky enough with that someone special for the rest of my life. But then again, I am someone special, so I might as well treat me to the worlds most magical show.

I am still at lost for March - perhaps I shall take on my friends offers and visit Germany or Prague or Slovakia. Or perhaps I wont need to choose between all three of it.

Come April I think I should try to stay put. It is supposed to be beautiful here too by then, the time when people start flocking back into the city. Short trips all around Netherlands, short trips perhaps to Belgium as well.

May comes my last month here, and I leave no plans for it just yet.

New years just around the corner, should I try to ring in the bell from London? this time making sure I make the celebratory fireworks, rewriting my London New Years of 2004 that was spent indoors watching a re-run of the Friends finale.

Finally

I am finally here. The crisp clean air, and bright sunshine welcomes me to my first day in Amsterdam. Fortunately I managed to sleep quite a bit on my overnight 12 hours flight into this city, and have evaded jet lag quite a bit.

The orange, browns and greens of leaves on the ground,with the sunlight shining through invites me back to Europe. Oh how I have missed you. Amsterdam is quieter. And I almost laugh out lout with glee at the sight of all the bicycles cruising by. I feel like an ant here. I am about a head shorter than almost everyone on average and wearing my high heels no longer an option.

I walk. After all its the best way to feel a city, feel its heartbeat. I walk over bridges and canals with their boats moored by. I walk through the boulevards with leaves falling gently down on me. I cannot wait to have my coffee outside, wrapped in my long wool jacket.

My fashion sense needs to be re-wired and it takes me much much longer than my usual 10 minutes to get dressed to assess what would keep me warm. For now, function (semi) triumphs over fashion.

I am reminded so much of Paris. I cannot wait to return to my European cliche. As I walk around, I am still astounded. It is taking a while to sink in. But this is it. I live here now. I belong in Amsterdam.

It has been a while since butterflies last floated through my stomach. This is it. I have returned, and I cannot wait for the adventures to begin.