Life Interrupted

6 min read

I have a huge backlog in my writing. I haven’t been successful at holding myself accountable to dedicating time into this craft. It’s a shame because I also have to pay to maintain this domain. In my defence (defence from whom girl?!), you could say I have been doing more happy and mindful living than thinking. Evidently, happiness is a difficult emotion to verbalise. With recent global events in the backdrop, when we are constantly reminded of greater human suffering, happiness becomes even more challenging to convey without being indelicate.

Things have changed quite dramatically from a year ago. In my personal life, I have carried on with doing things more intentionally and have become unapologetic about the way I lead my life. Possibly the most notable change, but one I rarely talk about, is the shift in my romantic relationship with H, my on and off boyfriend of five or so years (even I have lost track). It’s the kind of relationship that has, for lack of better term, matured over time. For the first time in many years, he and I are somewhat on the same page, and with that rests my hope that we can finally turn this page and write more beautiful chapters. You’ll find I will still discuss my relationship sparingly because the world is harsh and has a way of ruining good things.

Nonetheless, I have been busier especially with him around. He’s the kind of person who does not like to be confined indoors and thus always plans for excursions we can do together, which suits me very well. Over the years, he’s opened me up to experiences I would otherwise not have thought to do.

Late in October last year, he and I overcame a rather arduous feat of circumnavigating the island on foot. With travel still fairly restricted at that point, we embarked on a journey largely inspired by these two CNA journalists who trod the path before us. While we have made some alterations to the itinerary, taking a one-day break before resuming, our walk was not any less testing. We covered a total distance of roughly 120 kilometers, walking about 30 kilometers each day. We stayed in hotels in the areas we ended each day’s walk and proceeded to take off from the following morning. There were long stretches where we had to walk under the blaring heat of the sun leaving us no choice but to push through to reach cover. We also walked the entire 12km length of East Coast Park which I thought was a feat in and of itself. On our last day, we traversed the Bukit Timah Reserve, walking through the rough and uneven path of Macritchie Trail. I almost came undone but in the end it felt glorious to have finished the challenge with the real prize being discovering many remarkable parts of Singapore I otherwise wouldn’t have seen.

In what seemed like a complete 360, travel has pivoted to almost its pre-pandemic demand. Along with it, I too pivoted to my own personal travel pursuits. I found myself back in Germany three months after my first visit to Munich. I learned that when you travel on Christmas day, you get an entire plane to yourself but I’m not sure now if that was just a fluke. I spent the next two weeks in Germany with H shuffling between the cities of Frankfurt, Berlin and Hamburg. Berlin was a revelation. How it rebuilt itself post-war and how it continues to atone for its sins – though this is true for the whole of Germany – were a testament to how one nation can be both powerful and humble. But losing two world wars might have caused the latter too. I fell in love with Berlin for its rich history but even so for its diversity. It is multicultural without being obviously so. In Hamburg, I met up with Joseph, one of my oldest friends from school. We first met in 1996, which makes our friendship about two and a half decades old. Coming from a small, unknown town, it is truly humbling to see my friends achieving amazing things with their lives in other parts of the world.

In April, after two long years, I finally was able to go home and see my family and friends. What a joyous occasion that was. I didn’t realise how much I missed the Philippines until I stepped out of NAIA to the familiar densely humid air of Metro Manila. Dan Brown earned the ire of Manileños for his depiction of the metro as the “gates of hell”. He was not entirely wrong. But the Philippines is not just Metro Manila. I spent most of my two weeks south of the country where I’m from and where the air is much crisper.

On a long weekend in May, I flew to Hanoi to catch some SEA games action. Hanoi surprised me with its beautiful architecture, a cross between the east and the west. The French Quarter could easily be part of another Paris arrondissement. But getting lost in the Old Quarter was akin to being transported back to the hey days of old ruling dynasties. Strolling around the city was enjoyable especially with its temperate climate. I enjoyed the food too, though I am in no rush to try the egg coffee again. After many trips together, H deduced that I am his favourite travel companion. “We get along so well.”, he said. “That’s because I say yes for peace!”, I replied, not entirely joking.

I had also made a quick trip to Baguio with some of my college best friends one weekend in July. We were in and out of Baguio in less than 24 hours, travel time included. Yes that quick! Why we would subject ourselves to such long and arduous journey baffled some including my friend Tina’s younger sisters. Our hired driver dubbed us as his pinakasosyal na guests even earning the hashtag #superexclusiveguest (sic). I gather this is missing some context but I tell you, sosyal (synonym: elitist, bourgeois) is the last word I would describe myself and my friend group. Naka-angat angat lang pero bakyaan is real!

Shortly after Baguio, I was back in London for the third time. It was to be the first stop of a multi-city European holiday which preceded Copenhagen, Malmö, Stockholm and Mykonos. I consider London to be one of my favourite cities mainly because a couple of my favourite persons live there – Dann and Rich, and because there’s a myriad of things to do in the city. In Copenhagen, I reunited with Ramz for the first time in almost seven years. We were to be companions for the rest of the trip. I feel obliged to say this was his trip to begin with and I had only imposed myself on his travel plans, and maybe even hijacked it a little. The beautiful thing about travelling with Ramz was that there was no pressure to do things together and we were each free to do as we pleased although we still ended up spending majority of the time together. In Stockholm, Dann joined us for a much-awaited and long-overdue reunion. A reunion that can only be aptly described as chaotic good. “Hooooy let’s be here in the now na”, one of us would blurt out. Only to be spending the next 20 minutes on a photoshoot! This was pretty much the theme we carried on to Mykonos, where Ramz and I would spend our final week. To justify, how can you not take so many photos, everything was picturesque! The entire trip was so memorable I can relive every moment clearly in my head.

It has been a great year for travel in my personal books. Travel is the one thing I can always count on to renew the way I look at life. It teaches me to be grateful for the privileges I have been accorded and reminds me to remain humble in spite of it.

It has also been a great year for reconnecting with friends if it is not already evident. I cannot emphasize enough how much my friends mean to me which is why I found great pleasure in reading Rosita Boland’s Comrades: A Lifetime of Friendships, a gift from H. I could relate to it at a deeply personal level, a book written after my own heart. Comrade defined as a close companion, an intimate associate, a fellow soldier, Boland’s friends have been all those things to her. As my friends are to me. What is life if you do not surround yourself with true friends who will help you navigate it. Like fellow soldiers marching on.

In my past posts, and often in real life, I allude to my relationship with my work as the love and hate kind. Here’s a link to a previous post explaining what I do. In a funny twist of fate, in a couple of months, I’ll be joining a hedge fund. A former client reached out offering a finance role in their firm. An opportunity that came knocking at the precise moment when I had been contemplating my next career move. It seemed predestined. Whether or not it’s the right move, only time can tell. I will let Lewis Carroll be my guiding light on this one.

“In the end, we only regret the chances we didn’t take, relationships we were afraid to have and the decisions we waited too long to make.”

In life, regret is the last thing I want to feel. So whenever life interrupts, I just let it.

As you can imagine, I have amassed a gazillion pictures over the past year, more than 90 percent of which will likely not see the light of socmed day. If and when my mojo is back, I hope to write about some of these experiences in great detail, perhaps with photos to back up my claims. As I’ll be turning 33 in less than two days, here’s a photo of me to remind future me that at one point, “damn girl, you slayed.”