For the first time in 15 months, I’m spending a full month in Singapore without the prospect of clearing any automated gates or answering any bizarre questions from immigration officers in whichever nearby country I’m visiting. The last most notable one in Yogyakarta being “What’s your name?”. Yes that’s right I was just as baffled. In retrospect, no wonder I’ve been feeling restless. I think I’m in full travel withdrawal. It seems as though I no longer know how to stay still. I’ve become an escapist, seeking thrill from the mile high. Pun intended. I have yet to be part of that club. 😉
Flying has become almost second nature to me as breathing. I see how that may come across as boastful given many still consider flying a luxury but do hear me out. I went to university in Metro Manila at age sixteen. Manila is a two-hour flight from General Santos, the closest airport to my hometown. For the five years I was in uni, I’d take a flight home thrice a year for semestral, summer and Christmas breaks. It’s not unique to me because most of my hometown friends who went to universities in Luzon and the Visayas share the same experience. Plus I have lived in three different countries since uni so I reckon I do need to fly to get from point A to point B to point C. Besides, I’ve only ever flown a poor man’s business class otherwise known as a row of three empty seats in economy if you get lucky. Pretty much a means to an end really.
But because I’m so used to going somewhere, I get this general feeling of displacement where I feel that I should be elsewhere. I love discovering new places and experiencing novel things. I love flying home to be with family. I love meeting up with friends in another city wherever that may be. I love being on the move. And when I’m not, in a way, I feel somewhat…lost.
Maybe because I’m forced to confront the stillness, to deal with the banalities of day to day life. Even meditation can only do so much to quiet my mind’s incessant chatter. Hence here I am scribbling away, putting a finger on the pulse so to speak.
I’m really just rambling. It’s Friday night and it’s either I write or be obliterated by four litres of Somaek like I did last Friday. To which I say not again.
Cheers folks, have a great weekend!