june 2013 – from the drafts

Travelling is…
Standing in the middle of nature and realising the magnitude of its greatness; the world is so much bigger than you know. To hear a father hold his child next to you whispering words you do not understand, but to know it means love, for love is a universal language on its own. To look up and see a sky full of stars. To humble yourself on your relative insignificance. Or your significance in being another precious individual.

One of the best feelings in life, what I live for, if I dare say, is to be in awe. You know, to stare at something and feel the surge of amazement overwhelm you. It is a mixture of surprise and joy, gently melded together. 
And then you think – this is beautiful. 

This is beautiful, and it is a moment I will remember. This is a moment I will pocket and keep in my heart.

And that’s what we live for, isn’t it. It is such moments that keep us going in search for more.

– june 2013, sydney, a night on a rocking boat with the howling wind for company


Today was rainy. We hauled our poncho-clad selves onto the streets, every droplet dampening our moods by the minute.
Sought shelter in Paddy’s Market with our half-frozen cheeks. Papa likes walking through fish and vegetable markets. And buying fruits.

Hyde park / St Mary’s cathedral / National Museum

Every night, the only person left awake is me. I’m the only one left listening to the snores around me. Insomnia is, really, an awful feeling. To want to sleep, to know that you have to sleep, but not being able to – it leaves you frustrated and more awake than ever

Read through my notes, saw this:
Writing captures the thoughts that race through your mind at a particular point in time, as well as the emotional state of mind you hold at the point of writing. You have your emotional tides- in its peak you can write a flurry of details. And when it recedes you write more factually, reflectively perhaps.
In any case, I think reading my drafts bring about a very queer feeling. I look at them, no longer in the state that I was, but remain intrigued by how I felt the way I felt, how I thought the way I did. I suppose that’s why I’m thankful for blogging, these seemingly trivial details will in time become the most precious and genuine reflection of how I thought and felt at that particular time period. We always fail to notice how precious the happy present can be, until it becomes a memory that you long to go back to.

This is only the beginning

Attempting to be more conscientious in noting down the places I go

Today – Populaire on the plane, papercutting of my ‘profile’, bespectacled 80yr old man bent down next to my ear and said ‘you’re beautiful’ HAHAHAHA and my dad said ‘that Lao tiko……’, mandatory visit to the Sydney opera house + harbour bridge

Here’s to a week of sleeping at 10pm.