I think I caught the travel bug. It's literally a bug 'cos my spirit very much feels like travelling again, but the flesh forbids and orders self to stay put.
I like Paris. The historical architecture adds character to the place. Makes it pretty, I think. As for Spain, Barcelona is like KL and Valencia, like Malacca in localised comparison. It is worth visiting but doesn't leave as deep an impression - to me. This time, I navigated pretty well... and it's gratifying to be able to bring not only myself but also others around to new and familiar places, and even to my fave restaurant (of the very few that I'd tried) -- from memory! =D
Kindness should be granted like a duty, but received as a gift. We can't demand it from others, but it's something that we can and ought to give. Maybe this would make travelling among even snotty locals an experience worthy of being enjoyed, if we learn to take unpleasantries in stride.
This trip made me more attuned to myself, especially during the times when I spent walking around and travelling on my own. I think I may be my own best travel companion, though having someone to share the apple crumble could possibly add more flavour to the taste. But going where I wished, exploring the unknown and just thinking to God or self is surprisingly enjoyable, too.
It's like taking a black and white photo, where the focus is drawn to the very essence of the subject itself and the eye isn't distracted by the glitz or colours of its surrounding elements. Kinda purist. For one, it suddenly makes me highly aware of my skin, hair and eye colours - that I'm a Chinese girl from Singapore and my appearance could make people react differently to me. There's a certain extent of vulnerability when I am the only one of my kind in the train, for instance. Such thoughts and experiences lie dormant when I belong to the majority at home. And sometimes it makes me feel that life here is very myopic, although very blessed and safe.
Sleeping alone on a train running through foreign plains made me felt that the world is really very, very big, and that I am really only a dot in this whole scheme of things. It brought me a mixed sense of awe and small fear. The thought that only my family and perhaps a few close friends congregated in a small corner somewhere connect me to the world, makes me think about the whole identity thing again. If I were alone or when nobody else knows who I am or is concerned of my absence or presence, would it feel the same?
I wish I could go travelling again.
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