Why I Travel

I think nowadays, as we are living in such an open world where access to information and communication is so easy, it is understandable that the desire to travel and to see the world increases. To explore is a basic instinct for human, and frequent exposure to traveling in this modern world only accelerates it further.

Personally, I have always dreamed of exploring from a very young age, starting with my interest in Greek and Egyptian myths. And I still vividly remember, one day when I was perhaps about 12 or 13 years old, I saw a mesmerising footage of Provence on TV and fell so desperately in love with its lush lavender fields and luscious mimosa trees. I have yet to visit it, unfortunately, but it has always been on the bucket list, waiting to be ticked off at the right moment.

Traveling or rather, the desire to travel, has become so popular nowadays that some people look at it in a bitter (or jealous?) way, saying that it is another way to show off or boast of your success, etc. In some parts, it is probably true, but why bother evaluating one's reason or need to travel? Some people travel to shop, some to do sport, some to see concerts. To each their own. 

I travel for several reasons, and here are some of them:

1. To eat.
I seek to experience new things and meet new people, and food is a big part of it. A bowl of a simple local dish could hold a deep and rich story of culture. And you bond over food, be it with the old uncle who manned the stall or with fellow strangers next to you. When you've finished your meal, sometimes you're left with a full stomach, a warmed heart, and a broader mind.

Clockwise from top left: Gurney Drive hawker's food in Penang (Aug 2013), tapas at The Bell Brook in Hong Kong (Nov 2013), dimsum in Hong Kong (July 2013), Beach Road prawn mee in Singapore (Nov 2013)

2. To discover the gift of gab.
I often travel alone and while this sounds depressing for some people, I like the solitude it provides, not to mention the amount of control I have over my itinerary (yes, admittedly, I am a mild control freak). Anyone who knows me well would say that I am a quiet and reserved person. I may look outgoing or talkative, but it's a part of me that I've trained in order to do my job. But sometimes on a trip, if I let myself go for a bit and relax, I could bond with the people I meet along the way. These small conversations could lead to some valuable insights and interesting stories.

Paris (May 2011)

This chic Parisian lady (look at her shoes, her hair, her well groomed Yorkshire Terrier!) was sitting alone on the bench when I sat down, and she started talking to me when she saw my Annick Goutal paper bag. "That is a very lovely perfume, which one did you get?" "Violet," I replied. "I have Gardenia," she said with a smile. A bottle of perfume could spark a story, and I kind of regretted not staying a bit longer to chat with her. I feel like there could be a deeper story hidden within.

Hazel & Hershey, Hong Kong (Sept 2013)

I was hanging out with an old friend at a small specialty coffee shop around Wan Chai area, when I got into a light discussion about chemex, aeropress, and moka pot with an Italian guy next to me and the owner of the coffee shop, who happens to be one of the top barista in HK. What followed next was two cups of coffee "samples" on the house. It was not the free coffee that lifted up my spirit that day but the discovery of kindness in strangers (and getting some valuable information about coffee didn't hurt either). It serves to remind me that it always pays to be friendly and sincere to the people you meet along your journey.

3. To be lost and to find myself.
Ultimately, I think this is it. Call me a hopeless romantic. Thus why I don't mind traveling solo for now, while I wait (and look) for the right travel partner to share my experiences with. For there is this strong need to be lost and a yearning to be found harboured inside of me.

Cooking for One

Asparagus a la Flamande and pasta in tomato mascarpone sauce with lots of basil

"You have time to cook?" 

This is a question I've heard too often. Some people always wonder how I managed to have time to cook or rather, why I want to invest that much time (in cooking). Especially because I live alone and I often come home late from work. "Aren't you tired?" they would later ask. 

Well, the answer is pretty simple: I like to spend some time in cooking my meals for therapeutic reasons.

Some people find solace after a long day in reading, sleeping, taking a long bath, or spending time with their kids or loved ones; I happen to find it in the kitchen among the spices and knifes (although a long hot bath is always welcomed, sadly I don't own a bath tub and even if I do, my water bill will give me more headache).

Besides, cooking a good meal for yourself is usually cheaper than eating out. And eating good food makes me feel good; it sparks this warm fuzzy feeling inside, like a worn out sweater you're comfortable with. 

I don't see why dining alone should be a frightening thing. A lot of people would associate it with being lonely, so they won't bother cooking anything elaborate (or at all). On the contrary, eating alone allows me to experiment freely with my food, whether it turns out to be extraordinary or just plain weird and unappetizing for some people. And I do love to set my food properly and make it look chic and fine dining-ish, complete with a nice set of cutlery and a glass of wine. 

After spending time in prepping and cooking a meal, I'd sit down and savor it slowly (after I took pictures of course), while reading a book, or thinking of my agenda or to do list for the next day, or better, what I should cook. This is one of my solitary high.

Though there are days when I would just cook a pack of instant noodle or eat toast with jam on the kitchen counter for a meal alone, I still feel content. 

Because being alone is not bad at all. If anything, it makes you have time to explore yourself, get to know yourself better, and to have lots of me-time. Savor it, don't resent it. Embrace it, don't deny it. Because at the end of the day, we'll be alone anyway, one way or another; and if you can't enjoy being with yourself, then how could anyone else enjoy being around you?

Good Morning, You...

"May your joys be as bright as the morning, and your sorrows merely be shadows that fade in the sunlight of love. May you have enough happiness to keep you sweet, enough trials to keep you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human, enough hope to keep you happy, enough failure to keep you humble, enough success to keep you eager, enough friends to give you comfort, enough faith and courage in yourself to banish sadness, enough wealth to meet your needs and one thing more; enough determination to make each day a wonderful day than the one before." -Irish blessing

The Broken Lid

I was cleaning up my toiletries one day when I accidentally dropped the lid of a ceramic pot that I used for storing cotton pads. It split and broke into two pieces, and I stood there for a millisecond to ponder on this small incident.

I thought, "Wouldn't it be nice if there's someone who could fix this for me?" I know it's an easy job--just glue it on and get it over with--but I was implying on a bigger part, in a bigger picture. I used to have a "handyman" around. He would offer to help fix things as he is fond of building things and fixing stuffs. After he's gone, there's basically no one around to extend a hand or ask for help. 

I am alone.

This feeling became more obvious when I moved into my apartment. Even though I've been living alone for the past few years inside my small cramped rented room, being alone in a real living space (read: small apartment for one) is somewhat a bit different. Not just because I get to have a kitchen, a fridge, a proper bathroom, and so on, but also because I have to manage most household chores by myself. Last week, I managed to install the gas despite my paranoia and my being clueless, and earlier today I managed to lift and place a 19 liter water gallon into the dispenser (and mopped the flooded floor afterwards).

When I told my friend about my difficulties with the water gallon, he said, "Well, that's why most women get married. So that someone could lift it up for them." I chuckled at his sarcasm but I couldn't help thinking how true his words were.

Yes, I do want someone to be there for me to help with things. Fixing things, building things, and whatnot's. But most importantly, I want someone who could help me fix myself. Someone who would be there to hold me in his arms and fix my wings (or tail) when I am broken. Someone who would lift me up and clean my wounds when I tripped and fall along the way. Someone to hug me every morning before the day starts and to kiss me every night when the day ends. Someone who would hold my hand as we walk along side by side, despite the arguments and disagreements.

I'm comfortable being alone but I can't say that I like it all the time. Then again, who does? Even the most cynical and skeptical of the bunch don't enjoy it deep down (but they won't admit it of course, they'd say, "Who needs love? Not I."*). But for the moment, until my next "handyman" comes, alone will have to do. Alone will be fine.

If I managed to do some heavy chores by myself, then I sure as hell can endure more. 


* "Oooh, darling, who needs love? Who needs a heaven up above? Who needs the clouds in the sky, not I." (Who Needs Love - Razorlight)