#4 - 18 November 2012

Today I'm leaving this place.

This formidable mountains and its limestone cave, this generous river that never stopped running as I walk, sleep, laugh and wonder in the past few days.

Having been on one's own with no one to talk to but trees, rivers and the stars, one can't help but wonder about one's life.

For me, one of the very reasons why I signed up for the trip is the inevitable purging of memories -

memories that are past, broken and need to be forgotten.

Sometimes I question myself, did I do enough? Have I taken all of my chances? Have I been brave and courageous, or was I too guarded? Have I conquered life or have I let myself be trampled by it?

I will never know the answers to these questions, probably.

"Perhaps you don't give yourself enough credit", a friend once told me.

Taking actions, and choosing paths based on what you feel, what you believe is right - takes insurmountable amount of faith, too.

#2 - 16 November 2012

I sat by the window, alone, as the scenery outside changes from the suffocating bumper to bumper I have been seeing in the past few days to the quiet and dry countryside of Kanchanaburi. 

There are still development here; tar, concrete, buildings and all. The square road grid and Japanese cars, the men in suits on the billboard and bottles of Coca Cola and Sprite; somehow, these one-size-fits-all development template tend to make you feel like you have never left your city. 

But they are not why I'm here. It's the lush and green spinal mountains, standing tall at the backdrop of the city and forming its backbone, that I'm after. 

From inside the bus, as we inch nearer and the mountains rise above me - I couldn't contain my smile. 

I'm answering the call of the mountains and its water. I'm coming home. 

#3 - 15 November 2012

We were stepping out of the mall when I first saw it.

The crowd were bursting with music, beer and sweat in the Oktoberfest-like atmosphere, and I was getting dizzy from the craziness of it all.

I don't really like crowd. They make my heart race. 

But then I saw it from afar, shrouded in golden light, and my heart quickens - this time for a different reason.

My stride turned into a quick run. I didn't bother explaining my euphoria to my colleagues. I only turned briefly towards them, while pointing in frantic to the other direction. "Find me over there," I mouthed, and then I was off.

Knowing I only had little time in the city and confined to certain kilometre radius around where I stay, I didn't make any specific plans to visit generous temple and wats in Bangkok. I was contented to just roam around its streets and find what little signs of devotion I could in its people.

I don't quite understand my obsession with all things religious. It's just ever since the moment when I found out I have lost my faith (in God), I am always in search of a way to fill this gaping hole inside me. And no matter what I do, I can't seem to fill it.

It makes you wonder if you have some incurable disease no one else can't know what it feels like. It makes you feel as if you are forever missing out on something.

"Having faith is a gift",  I blurted out to my friend. We were standing on the sidewalk, watching the locals stop by and pay respect to the towering Lord Ganesha, the one I was so excited to spot not a moment ago.

To be honest, I envy all of them. For having such devotion, such belief. Some of them are on their way home from work, some of them are itinerant youth with their spiky hairs and low cut jeans, bottles of beer in hand - but they all stopped, knelt, and prayed.

I concentrated my stare on the golden statue - elephant heads, four arms and all - and waited to see if I feel something stir inside.

Nothing, yet again - and I feel like a failure.

"Having faith is a gift", I blurted out to my friend as he walks towards me. A cloud of understanding wash over his face, and he looks at me helplessly. How I wish he knows what I'm talking about.

#1 - 13 November 2012

It is Tuesday. This morning I went out running again. I am beginning to love this ability to move around people so seamlessly, so anonymously.

It's been more than ten years since I am back in Bangkok, and I'm not sure if this lack of fear of the city has a lot to do with my previous relationship to it years ago when I was small, or if it just means that I've grown up, that I've grown formidable and strong that nothing fazes me anymore.

I'd like to think it's the former that's true.

Roaming around the streets of Bangkok in the early morning is beginning to bring home a lot of meaning I've been searching for every time I feel like I don't have enough answers for every questions I keep building up inside myself - 

that I am fortunate, that I am insignificant, that I am big and small and I am capable of doing whatever I want to do and whatever it is I do, they actually don't really matter.

As I step out onto the street, everyone else is already ahead of me. The man who yesterday wore an orange t-shirt is pushing a cart filled with goods. He is probably heading towards the same spot in front of the tower where I saw him yesterday. I tried to outpace him (seeing as I don't have anything heavy to push), but he was faster.

Another man, older, one of his legs cut short by a stump. His skin dark, probably from days and hours under the sun, is washing himself with a small pail of water by his side. He is taking his time, slowly caressing dirt away from his body with a white cloth.

I wanted to look away, but I didn't. 'Feel this." I told myself. I'm not sure how long has he been on the street.

Moments like these are why I go out every day, pushing my body, my emotions and my mind to the limit. This is how I connect myself to the physical world, to the outer world, to make sure I am still somehow anchored, grounded to the roots of what is making my being possible. 

Otherwise I will forever feel as if I am floating, drowning inside myself. As if I am not real, that I need to ascertain - I can feel something.

Like acid spilling out of a bottle

"...Emotional hurt is the price a person has to pay in order to be independent.

That's what I basically believe, and I've lived my life accordingly. In certain areas of my life, I actively seek out solitude. Especially for someone in my line of work, solitude is, more or less, an inevitable circumstance. Sometimes, however, this sense of isolation, like acid spilling out of a bottle, can unconsciously eat away at a person's heart and dissolve it. You could see it, too, as a kind of double-edged sword. It protects me, but at the same time steadily cuts away at me from the inside. I think in my own way I'm aware of this danger - probably through experience - and that's why I've had to constantly keep my body in motion, in some cases pushing myself to the limit, in order to heal the loneliness I feel inside and to put it in perspective. Not so much as an intentional act, but as an instinctive reaction. 

Let me be more specific.

When I'm criticised unjustly (from my viewpoint, at least), or when someone I'm sure will understand me doesn't, I go running for a little longer than usual. By running longer it's like I can physically exhaust that portion of my discontent. It also makes me realise again how weak I am, how limited my abilities are. I become aware, physically, of these low points. And one of the results of running a little farther than usual is that I become that much stronger. If I'm angry, I direct that anger toward myself. If I have s frustrating experience, I use that to improve myself. That's the way I've always lived. I quietly absorb the things I'm able to, releasing them later, and in as changed a form as possible, as part of the story in a novel."

What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami

Why I run

"For me, running is both exercise and a metaphor. Running day after day, piling up the races, bit by bit I raise the bar, and by clearing each level I elevate myself. At least that's why I've put in the effort day after day: to raise my own level. I'm no great runner, by any means. I'm at an ordinary-or perhaps more like mediocre-level. But that's not the point. The point is whether or not I improved over yesterday. In long-distance running the only opponent you have to beat is yourself, the way you used to be." - Haruki Murakami

For the grit, the pain, the need to keep going.

There are days when I feel like I am lugging brick and stones in my leg. There are days when I don't feel like running. There are days when I feel like I would rather sit at home reading a good book with a cup of tea.

 Most days I run because I need to.

Where the one ends, where the other begins?

“Everyone and everything is interconnected in this universe.” - Jeff

We were on our way back to the city. They were belting out to songs coming from my friend's MP3 player, a biographical collection of her life. There were songs I remember fondly, from our times together in school and the forest.

They made me think of the weekend. They made me think of the surreal, but memorable trip I had up north.

My friend's mom has cancer, and I wish I could give the world for her. 

There were fragments of memories of her in my life for as long as I had known my friend; him talking on the phone to her as her endearing abang chik, him berating us over the way we cook because they are never like his mom's, him telling us early in our friendship how he showed her a photo of us. 

For us, the trip was for her. For my friend, the trip was an attempt of fitting us in his shoes.

From showing us his playground, to his normal weekend jaunt at the harbour haggling for fish, to him sitting down beside his mom, comforting her in the dead of night, to her strong voice waking her grandchildren up early in the morning for school.

We have been made privy to her life, and as I sit in the back of the car I was shaken by the revelation how the mere fact of her existence is the greatest gift I've been bestowed and one I will not be able to return.

Sometimes we forget we have a past. Sometimes we forget our lives are much more intertwined and complex than we think. Sometimes we overlook how a person we think so insignificant could have so much effects on our lives and people around us.

"The first is the recognition that the great mystery is not death but birth. The great gift is life and loving and being loved in return." - Arthur Dobrin

A different side of Jakarta

I am writing from the luxurious comfort of Jakarta Le Meridien's lobby. Outside, guards in uniform stand by the electronic scanner, greeting every guest who walks in with a generous smile.

By experience, I know every vehicle which comes in will suffer the same fate too. Policemen with their metal detectors will stop each and every one of them, asking to see every guest's face by insisting the driver to lower down all windows.

Inside, men in suits walk around with one hand in their pockets - looking at the same time important but carefree. As if they own the world. The clacking sounds of high heels distract me, a celebrity-looking woman walks past with her head held high, with men trailing behind her like ducklings following their hen mother.

I came to Jakarta with expectations, and none of them has been met so far.

Why is it, when we want to do something good, it has to be confined within the boundaries of existing systems or institutions?

For three days, eating inappropriately overpriced food, sitting around in an unnaturally regulated room temperature, we speak of how we want to try to save the world and change humanity. Granted, millions have been spent for lower income groups who is supposed to be our beneficiaries, plans for policies are underway to ensure more sustainable and equitable world.

But are we doing the right thing? Who are we actually benefiting? Who do we eventually leave feeling good, our beneficiaries or ourselves?


I know I'm supposed to be inspired, but at the end of it all, I think I'm left feeling more disenchanted than ever.

And Jakarta feels like a date gone wrong. I'll have to come back, next time.

It's warm in Berlin

The weather is warmer in Berlin than I thought it would be. And Charlottenburg, a quaint town on the outskirt of Berlin is a moderately quiet city with a charm of its own.

People rides their bike a lot around here, and in a lot of manners; from the most sporty to men in suits or scruffy young adults who look like they just got out of bed and decide to go to work in their best shirt, unironed.

Berliners like to take their meals slowly, and as a result at cafe and restaurants you will find yourself waiting 20 to 30 minutes for your meals to come when you ordered. And most people linger after dinner for 1 hour or more.

They like to take their food crude and wholesome too, so you will find none of the elaborate European dishes you often see on TV. Think steaks, mashed peas and potatoes, and of course, sausages in many varieties.

It feels good to discover Berlin slowly, and not bedraggled with the rushed feeling often associated with being a tourist. My perspective of the city grows larger by day, and it's hard not to feel warmed by its quiet pleasantness as my trip goes on.

It's written in the stars, a million miles away

'For all that has happened and the opportunities still developing in my life, I feel blessed. I was part of a miracle that has touched a great number of people in the world and I wouldn't trade that for anything, not even to have my hand back. My accident in and rescue from Blue John Canyon were the most beautifully spiritual experience of my life, and knowing that, were I to travel back in time, I would still say "see you later" to Megan and Kristi and take off into that lower slot by myself. While I've learned much, I have no regrets about that choice. Indeed, it has affirmed my belief that our purpose as spiritual beings is to follow our bliss, seek our passions, and live our lives as inspirations to each other. Everything else flows from that. When we find inspiration, we need to take action for ourselves and our communities. Even if it means making a hard choice, or cutting out something and leaving it in your past.

Saying farewell is also a bold and powerful beginning.'

- 127 Hours: Between a Rock and a Hard Place by Aron Ralston

Some thoughts on happiness (or how to make your run productive)

In the morning I willed myself out of bed and went for a quick run in my neighbourhood. I've set myself a 3.4 km route as a baseline to time my run, my aim is to get 20 minutes or less before I could increase my distance to 5 km.

While running I thought about how many of us has distorted the meaning of happiness. We think they come only in specific forms; a wish fulfilled, a gift bestowed, as love deserved, or company shared. In reality, I think happiness can be found despite it all;

Sometimes in our loneliness we find happiness in being at peace and accepting what a fragile thing a relationship is. Sometimes in mourning for our loss we find lessons to be humble about letting go of things we own. Sometimes by being denied of our wish we find how minute we are as human beings and how out of control we are of our fate, how sometimes there are always larger and bigger things at play which we know and understand very little of.

Feeling like the sun is smiling at me as it breaks free from the cloud in the morning sky, sharing my milk with the friendly black and white cat who is living in the playground at my apartment, discovering what great music is in Hybrid, Elsiane's debut album, sharing a laugh with my independent, ambitious and inspiring girlfriends, and feeling a tug of longing and familiarity at the thought of someone near - these are what happiness means to me today. What's yours?

How they end

I woke up in the morning with my head full of thoughts. My fingers were counting the hours I had spent since I touched down: 48 hours. It feels like forever. The sense of hopelessness started to creep at the back of my head, I bolted upright and I threw my duvet off the bed. Instinctively, I searched for Devotchka's How It Ends on my iPod and I played it out loud.

What a way to kick off my morning with a remnant of the past.

I looked around me and I was stung with a devastation. The room is empty. The bed by the window is something I recognized from 10 years ago, the two cupboards sat side by side, and they were filled to the brink with clothes useless to me now, and the full-length mirror did nothing to reflect my diminishing optimism. I searched for my books - the wall of my being, the pillar of my strength - they are in boxes somewhere, still buried with my past. My suitcases sat limply at the corner of the room, next to my bursting parcel and my guitar.

Given the state of my room, people can only conclude whether I've just moved in or I'm ready to move out. Honestly speaking, I prefer the latter.

Splash, splash

I never knew I'd love water as much. But there I was, bobbing along the lazy and quiet waves like I am their long-time friend. The water was dark green, and it was warm around me. My feet dangled. From the surface, its jelly-like shape sways to the rhythm of water like the tentacles of an octopus. For a moment, I felt peace. I felt like I had nowhere to go and no task to accomplish.

Splash, splash. I swam to the left.

In my determination, I attempted five strokes. I was breathless at the end of it, but I was in ecstasy. No, I still couldn't swim. But the simple act of moving in the water fueled my energy and optimism. In the very second I plunge my head into the water, opened my eyes in it and took in the murky shade of green underneath me where I could see almost nothing - I know nothing could break me. I was safe.

Splash, splash. I swam to the right.

I leaned back, my head rested on the surface of the water like pillow. A vision grew in front of me; the sky was blue, fringed with trees so thick and green you would think there is nothing behind them. On top of the boat, a friend sat at the edge with his guitar. From my point of view, my insufficient sight gave him away as if he was floating. Another friend sat down below, closer to me. She was laughing at something. I laughed with her. In my heart I thought, "heaven".

Tukar Budaya

Kalau ada satu perkara yang saya boleh kongsi dengan semua anak-anak muda di Malaysia tentang apa yang saya perolehi sepanjang pengajian saya di Australia, ialah tentang luasnya dunia yang boleh kita terokai kalau kita mahu.

Memang benar, bukan senang mendapat peluang menjejak kaki ke negara orang. Tapi titik mula kembara kita tidak semestinya bermula di luar sempadan Malaysia. Setelah hampir setahun menghabiskan masa saya di Australia yang asalnya saya buru kerana saya mahu lari dari tanah air sendiri, sekarang saya tidak sabar pula mahu kembali ke Malaysia. Sebab saya tahu, apa yang saya alami dan pelajari di sini, kalau saya mahu semuanya saya boleh praktiskan di Malaysia.

Lebih 20 tahun membesar dalam komuniti Melayu, di sini saya mula menikmati kelebihan berkenalan dengan sahabat-sahabat dari pelbagai negara dan bangsa. Masing-masing mempunyai cerita dan pengalaman unik yang tersendiri. Teman serumah saya dari Itali memasak pasta paling sedap pernah saya rasa. Sahabat saya, chef dari Australia sangat meminati budaya India sehingga hampir semua sejarah, mitos, dan pengetahuan am tentang India boleh dia ceritakan kepada saya.

Buat seketika, di sini saya melihat dan mampu percaya dengan dunia persahabatan tanpa sempadan.
Begitu juga dengan falsafah “bekerja untuk hidup” yang diamalkan oleh kebanyakan penduduk Australia. Ini adalah satu lagi perkara baru yang saya belajar di sini. Bagi mereka, pekerjaan cuma satu cara untuk memenuhi perkara-perkara yang mereka mahu capai dalam hidup, bukannya matlamat dalam hidup itu sendiri. Oleh sebab itu, saya dapati ramai yang saya kenali di sini mempunyai pandangan hidup yang sangat menyenangkan. Hari-hari minggu penduduk di Australia dipenuhi dengan aktiviti-aktiviti luar seperti bersukan, piknik, dan berkhemah.

Selain itu, saya dapat lihat bagaimana pembangunan ekonomi yang pesat seiring dengan penjagaan alam sekitar yang rapi mampu meningkatkan taraf hidup rakyat Australia. Dengan adanya sistem kenderaan awam yang sistematik dan efisien, bandar Sydney dan kawasan-kawasan sekitarnya boleh dilawati dengan mudah tanpa memerlukan kenderaan peribadi. Begitu juga dengan kemudahan awam di kawasan rekreasi dan taman negara, hanya dengan kos yang rendah saya boleh berkhemah di kawasan rekreasi sekitar Sydney tanpa perlu risau akan keperluan keselamatan atau keselesaan diri kerana semuanya disediakan dan dijaga dengan baik oleh kerajaan tempatan dan negeri.

Melihat taraf dan kualiti hidup yang tinggi di Australia meningkatkan azam saya untuk mengamalkan ilmu sarjana dan pengalaman yang saya perolehi di sini di Malaysia. Bagi saya, tidak mustahil satu hari nanti, sekiranya anak-anak muda Malaysia mengamalkan budaya meneroka dunia tapi di masa yang sama menanam nilai untuk berbakti di tanah air sendiri, negara kita satu hari nanti mampu mengorak langkah standing dengan negara-negara maju yang lain.

Good Food, Sore Feet, and Hearty Laugh

MY TRIP to Canberra and Melbourne seemed to be a succession of early mornings, long walks, and hearty laughs way into the late nights. I had adamantly chosen to do the overland trip instead of taking the short flights. It certainly tested the patience of some, but the long and quiet journey gave me ample opportunity to think to myself and watch the world goes by.

THE BEST THING about overland trip is seeing the landscape changes before your eyes from one place to another. From the hustle and bustle of Sydney city, the road to Canberra is characterized by brown fields, dry creeks and windmills. On the other hand, Melbourne and Victoria is a lush of green fields, dairy cows, and healthy flocks of sheep. The best of all is seeing the pack of kangaroos hopping through the hills from afar in between sheep and horses grazing the hills. It felt like heaven.

Canberra and Melbourne are TWO CONTRADICTING CITIES. While in Canberra it is difficult not to be hampered by its lack of vivacity and effervescence, the city is peaceful and inherently friendly. A good lot of effort has been put into the Australian War Memorial and the National Art Gallery, and the Lake Burley Griffin is a sight to behold.

Melbourne on the other hand, BLEW MY MIND. The mixture of old-style and edgy architectures, vivid lifestyle of the locals, and definitely wholesome and delicious food made me feel I am on vacation indeed. The road tour to the Great Ocean Road was memorable; the tour guide hilarious, the group friendly and the helicopter ride one of a kind.

THE TRIP TAUGHT ME about the loads of life to be discovered around the world I am yet to grasp. Certainly money makes the world go round, but I learned there are things I need, and there are things I can live without. Finding distinctions between the two requires discretion, and succeeding at it makes an investment of a lifetime. There's still a few things on my Australian travel wish list, and I certainly hope Rome or Marrakesh or Edinburgh is not far from the horizon, in few years time.

One Million Dollar View

It turned out to be better than I expected. Being more of a jungle person, urban camping sounded rather dampening to the whole idea of being away from civilization.
I'd say not only it's a good introduction to the first-time campers, but also a relaxing alternative to the whole dig-your-own-poo or light-your-own-fire rituals. Cockatoo Island provides a definite first class amenities.
Not only you could easily use the coin-operated BBQs, some campers even come prepared with the lots of nasi briyani and simply heat them with the microwave oven provided. The shower facilities is as luxurious as it is impressive.
At night, the whole establishment gives you the edge of camping in a futuristic site, amidst the towering cranes and massive sculptures of shipping equipment. The view of Sydney skyline at night concludes the scrumptious treat. You may as well feel like you don't deserve such cheap vacation at such extravagant offerings.
The heritage site boasted as the former prison for early Australian convicts, a reform school for problematic boys and girls and finally an industrial site for during the World War II. The prison barracks and soldier fortress gives the place a swift of eerie feeling, as we listen to the decription of the workers on our audio tour. But mostly an elevated feeling stays with you as you go along the different parts of the island, because although the island original feature was entirely destroyed by the industrial activities at the early ages, being one with the island together with the river, the birds, the sky and the cackling children - you do somehow feel like you're a step closer to nature.

Out of Bounds to Nowra

Dear friends,

Nowra is a part of the New South Wales South Coastal areas, which is where I had spent camping with my dad's friend and his family. I had a fair share of camping experience in Malaysia, and once last year we went to The Basin up north in New South Wales. But this time I find the camping experience is beyond revolutionary. Forget about tents and campfires. Think caravans and a truck-ful loads of camping equipments. We took 3 hours to set up the campsite alone.

Anyhow, it was a week well-spent. We went bike-riding through the bush trails and disc0ver whatever gems hidden at the end of it. Imagine bushwalking and being stopped in the midst of it because a group of kanggaroos came hopping at you in the opposite direction, staring at you wide-eyed as if waiting for you to say hello. Imagine hopping on the beach rocks from one end of the beach to the other, and climbing uphills only to find you couldn't find your way back to the main trails. Oh, that one was challenging. I truly thought we're going to get lost - I was with my dad's friend and his vivacious seven years old granddaughter.

I wouldn't be able to weave a full and complete story yet, but I hope you enjoy all these bits and pieces. Tonight I'm going to the Sydney Opera House to watch Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova.

Lots of love, Ati.

The Idea of Home

I missed going into the forest again. I am sorry the dancing class had ended and I am fully certain I am going to miss it sorely. I missed dozens of my books, sleeping by to the sight of them stacked unruly on the study desk, and waking up to the towering bookcase at the end of my feet and staring blissfully at the neatly structured ones, yet to be read, yet to be acquainted, yet to be discovered.

I missed my little nieces, a piercing shriek of one and a calm smile of another. I missed the smell of my dad and my brothers, a subtle waft of their clove-smelling cologne. I missed driving through the small streets of Kuala Terengganu, stopping by at the isolated Petronas service station and saying hi in Trengganu speak to the locals.

I missed the idea of a home, a family to return to. I missed the idea of a life, a splendid lived one.