He put a dot on the whiteboard and circled it. “You’re all here,” he said in his book that I’m currently reading, The Key. In his book, he wrote about sharing one of his teachings to his staff that runs his Miracles Coaching program.

“Where do you want to go from here?”

Some mentioned up, some said off the whiteboard itself. He then continued to put another dot on the whiteboard, way above the first dot, and asked his staff again, how do they go from where they are to where they want to be. Many suggested take a straight line, do one thing at a time, etc. While he agreed that all of the answers were good, he said the best way to get from one dot to another, is to be grateful for that moment they were in.

“When you are grateful for this moment, then whatever is next for you will bubble out of this moment.” The key to success, apparently is gratitude. It’s about wanting more without needing more. The message simply tells you to be happy now and out will come the miracles you seek.

Meet Joe Vitale, the author of many best-selling books like The Key, Zero Limits, Life’s Missing Instruction Manual and also one of the personalities who had been interviewed for the hit movie that now has a cult following all over the world (including yours truly).

Those who had been familiar with The Secret will also know of The Law of Attraction, something that I’ve been unconsciously practicing over the past few years without knowing what exactly it is. However, I didn’t learn of this gratitude part until I read The Key. It made me think back of my current situation and how many blessings that I should be thankful for.

It made me run down the memory lane and make my eyes grow misty with nostalgia and a strong gratitude. It was safe to say that wherever I am now, was where I wanted to be back then.

In many ways, while I may still complain occasionally about trivial day to day things, I can safely say that I am living a semi-charmed kind of life. My job barely takes up one or two hours a day. As a Crew Lecturer on a renowned Italian cruise ship, my schedule depends largely on my students, who are the crew members that make up the human resource on the ship. Hailing from multiple nationalities, and mainly from China, Philippines, Italy and South America (on specifically this ship), my job is to slot in an hour or two between their work hours so that they can improve their English, and for some, learn English from the very beginning. My wages are high in comparison to my Malaysian mates and I get to trip for one country to another without spending a cent. I get paid to undergo teacher’s training in Italy and am put up in the finest hotel in wherever country they’re sending me. Sure, the job is not without its challenges and the ship life is not for everyone (I’ve seen many had come, have their dreams crushed, packed and never to be heard again)….but hey, 10 countries in a year, without emptying your bank account, champagne for 2 Euros, who’s complaining?

Then, came the question of where did I get such a sweet gig. Now, not too long ago (about close two years now), I started harbour this dream to travel. I was bitten by the wanderbug lust after I returned from Australia and the urge to backpack was strong. It didn’t matter where and it didn’t include the amount of countries, all I wanted to do was wander. But it didn’t sound possible then when I have an empty bank account laughing back at me. So I donned on the suit and bought myself a briefcase, explored the world of PR, but then withdrew from the social circles 3 months later as I thought about the superficiality of it all. However, I had a little more in my bank account than when I started so I did the only crazy thing I can think of.

After bombarding Thorn Tree Forums and backpackers from all over the world with my questions, I found a way to volunteer in Myanmar for free. I was to help out in an English school set up by this visionary Swedish bloke and its organizing team included an Argentinean yogi monk, two Californian travelers, an gutsy Australian girl, a shy New Zealander and an interesting American girl. Mainly, the two Californian dudes, read my email, told me to come over and welcomed me with open arms. They put me up in their very simple apartment where I slept on the moth -eaten mattress and under the mosquito net, for free. We had no fans and sometimes no clean running water. We stayed next to the train station and due to the constant noise, I slept through a bomb explosion once. I learned that true traveling means living simply and learning to live with the locals. I had only 300 USD but I made it stretch for two months. And as Kika and Hibickina wrote in Off The Map, pay a lot and you get an expensive life, take what’s free and you have freedom. I was penniless but I was happy. People offered me food, accommodation, money and support.

Then, money ran out and I had to go back to work. This time, I got a job as a writer in a youth magazine. It was fun when you were the only writer in the team, but it was bad for growth and improvement. I didn’t have an editor to bark at me, crumple my drafts and ask me for rewrites. It was a breezy job but I didn’t enjoy it as much as I wanted to. I still kept in touch with the Argentinean yogi monk. He said to me, “Now that you’ve seen the light, you wanted to go back to the black hole?”

He had a point. My need for constant change, be around different cultures and learn about what the rest of the world is doing was great so I decided to be a member of Couchsurfing, a virtual network for travelers to meet other like-minded people, who believe in a world of hospitality and help doesn’t come with strings attached. Because I didn’t get to roam the world, why not bring the world to my doorstep instead. The Law of Attraction did state that you have to align yourself to your dreams in order for it to manifest physically. In other words, take inspired action and you’ll get results. So after hosting an American child actor, an Italian motorcyclist who biked from Italy to Asia and a couple of others, I met Steve, the wandering American English Teacher. We got along just fine and he insisted that I can do whatever that he’s doing. He didn’t take my laments about my nationality and my sad-looking bank account seriously. He believed in me and gave me lots and lots of information about where and how I should go about it. He thought I spoke better English than some Americans and couldn’t see why I cannot be teaching English. He even lent me some money (a huge sum-to friend that he knew like what-2 months?) and convinced me to quit my job and go. But what truly made the deal for me, was the meeting of another crazy Malaysian who had embarked on the same journey and was trying to do it one more time again. This time, for good. Ed, a fellow Malaysian Couchsurfer(now my best friend), that was introduced to me by KC, in a party, enthralled me with his traversing Europe with only 30 pounds adventure. He ignited the spark of possibilities in my heart. If he can do it, surely I can too.

From Kuala Lumpur to Cambodia: The best CS team ever (L-R-Ying, Ed, Matt, Steff, Nithin)

However, once on the road, life is no bed of roses. I thought, after winning the daddy and friends battle, everything will fall neatly into place but boy was I wrong! I truly wandered. Because I didn’t know where to go and where to start from, I drifted from a place to another, with dreams changing day by day. It was too difficult. My passport, my skin, my gender-everything was a hindrance. An American or European girl like me, could easily find an English teaching job or have people showering them with hospitality while no one’s interested in a solo Malaysian backpackeress. I couldn’t hop on planes with one-way tickets, I was questioned by authorities by my reasons for travelling, bla, bla bla.

When Steve got a job as a Crew Lecturer on the ship, he thought it’s a perfect opportunity for me to jump into the bandwagon. I applied but was rejected. Again, because I’m not an American or a Canadian, and other usual plethora of reasons (usually nothing to do with my experience or qualifications).

So, I CSed all around South East Asia, hoping to find a base where I can get a job as an English Teacher and start on something. Also, while travelling, I was trying to find my ultimate purpose but I found none. Then, I find my heart strings pulling me to Europe namely Holland, where two good friends of mine, that I met while travelling (and over CS) resides. After a lot of rumination and doubts, I bought myself a one way ticket to Amsterdam, only to be rejected by airline authorities on the night of boarding.

“Sorry madam, while you don’t need a visa to go to The Netherlands, you need a return-ticket to your home country.”

Rejected, lost and utterly frustrated, I bummed in Bangkok for about 2 months until the travel agent told me that he can help me purchase a separate return ticket but will cancel it after I arrive in The Netherlands, and all I have to pay is the cancellation fee. It was risky but I had no choice. I couldn’t face the fact that I had to go home so soon.Only 6 months had past and I wasn’t ready to give in. That night, I was allowed to board but I was hassled by customs in Bangkok because they didn’t understand why I was flying to Amsterdam from Bangkok instead of KL. While it seemed perfectly natural for an American, British, Australian, etc to do it, it was strange for them as a solo female backpacker. In their heads, I probably may be a potential illegal immigrant or something. However, I survived that night and what followed after was a perfect Dutch summer where the sun shone and I was drunk on beer and joy. I only had approximately 300 Euros but was taken care by my Dutch friends. Teun let me stay in his apartment for two months, cooked for me, introduced me to The Dutch Life while Stef gave me a mobile phone and a sim card, picked me up from the airport (his own initiative!!!!) and took me out whenever he can. And again, did I grow up with these people? Hell no! I travelled with Teun in Myanmar while I hosted Stef in Kuala Lumpur, yet just after months of traveling together, the two of them were like brothers to me.

Steffie and Teun who took care of me while I was in Amsterdam

However, I couldn’t roam forever. 300 Euros became 100 Euros….I had to do something. Just when that happened, I got an email from the cruise ship company asking me whether I was still interested in the Crew Lecturer position in one of their ships. And as I was already in Amsterdam, I had no problems getting down to Genova (Italy) for the interview.

Alessandro and his girlfriend, Hana, took care of me while I was in Genoa, Italy (before I got my job on the ship)

Now, if I’ve never been to Myanmar, I wouldn’t have met Teun who let me stay in his apartment in Amsterdam. If I wasn’t a member of CS, I wouldn’t have met Steve and I wouldn’t have been convinced to teach English or get the job on the cruise ship. And if I didn’t go to Amsterdam, I would had to pay more to get to Italy.

So if you asked me, I did wish for this, but I also worked and put myself in the position to receive it.

And I’m definitely grateful for being at this dot at this point of time.

Dear Choon Ling,

If you require a diversion from your tedious rumination over some accounting jargon, allow me to amuse you. Let me lament, weep, and rant while you sit and nod in your seat of tranquility and then share with me your wisdom and sharp perspectives after.
Yeah? (rubs hands with glee)
Anyway , I was sitting at the Crew Bar last night, and I met this Australian hostess. And she was like, “Ying, I can’t believe it! The new English Teacher is coming over and she’s my best friend! You’ll looooove her. She’s so easy-going that you have no problems, getting along with her.” And I was, “Yeah, I know. But I’ll only have the pleasure of being with her for a week and then, I’m leaving.” And her eyes opened, wide, and she gasped, “You mean she’s replacing you?” And I was like, “Yeah man”. Her mouth opened, closed and then opened again…”But wait….you teach..English? Oh, I’m sorry…I thought you teach Chinese or something!!!!!!”
At the point of time, I was thinking to myself. Basta! I’ve enough of this racial judgments that comes with this position. Obviously I don’t look like I can teach English even though I believe I speak better than most of my native speaker counterparts. Nonetheless, that’s not the issue. The issue is, I don’t see how I can establish a career that requires you to have the right skin colour and nationality to progress. At first, I was close to investing 1000 pounds in a professional teaching certificate but now, I think, why should I? It’s pointless. No matter how I speak or teach, it doesn’t matter until I have the right passport or accent. Which is bull but that’s how it is.
Time for a career switch-again.
I’m sorry, Steve. I know you’ve always told me that I can do it, and it was you who helped me get this gig, but this is all really hard to ignore.

“Motor, cheap cheap,” Someone shouted into my ear. Amidst the honking traffic and other yelps of similar offers, I smiled ruefully and shook my head. “2 dollars, go where? I wait. 2 hours, 3 hours, no problem!” another quipped. We were surrounded by motorbike taxi drivers as soon as we stepped out of the port’s gates. Giorgio, his dad and I only have a few hours to trapeze around the charming Ho Chi Minh City and they only have one aim: to get souvenirs for their relatives and friends in Italy before they leave South East Asia for good.

If it were just Giorgio and I, we would not hesitate to take up one of these motor guys’ offers but there’s also Enrico to think about. As adventurous as he is (a 71 year old Italian making it to the Far East is already an amazing feat), Giorgio wouldn’t hear of Enrico on a motorbike, and especially not in Vietnam where motorbike accidents were as common as flu.

In the end, we decided to hail a proper metered taxi down. It would be a nice walk, from Saigon port to the hub of the city, but without a map, it’d be like the blind leading the blind. I asked the taxi driver to drop us off at Rex Hotel so that we could get some money changed and then, I’d be able to take them to the Ben Thanh Markets-the famed bustling market area where the entire building is dedicated to foreign shoppers.

Shopping with the two men is so easy. They’d pick up one thing, and if it’s okay, they’d buy it. For example, they wanted to get a traditional Asian dress (ie: the Ao Dai or the Cheongsam) for Enrica, Giorgio’s cousin. Without hesitation, they went into the first clothing store that they saw, noticed something they like, asked me whether I liked it, got me to pick out a colour, asked for the price, the price was decent (18 USD) and they bought it. No trepidation, no haggling, no fuss. Next on the list was a similar dress but for Enrica’s daughter, who’s only 10 years old. They asked the lady if she could find a similar type for a younger girl and once she came up with one or two choices, they got me to make the choice, and they bought it! Man!

Giorgio, his dad, and I

I had Vietnamese girls asking, “Madam madam, where are you from? You’re so pretty. Where is your husband from?” They must be thinking I struck gold by having a European boyfriend. Maybe they thought I must have picked him up from somewhere, charmed him and now, we’re on our honeymoon or something.

Giorgio’s dad asked me to pick out something I like. “This gift is not from Giorgio, but from me. Pick anything you like.”

And since it seems rude not to accept a gift, I chose a nice cloth handbag that has a myriad of colourful patchwork on it. It was 20 USD but his dad bought it anyway.

Giorgio looked at me and smiled. He was glad that I was getting along well with his dad. And as for me, while I don’t really need the bag, I see the gift as a symbol of acceptance and appreciation. It speaks volumes for Enrico to give me something. Whether or not there is an underlying message behind the gift, it is nonetheless a sweet and thoughtful gesture. Most of the time, when I want to buy something, Enrico wouldn’t let me pay it. He’ll get Giorgio to change more money so that he can buy it for me instead. So much for the rumour that Genovese are notoriously known for stinginess. I remembered the time when I was in a bar in Amsterdam and I was served by this Italian bartender. He had asked me of my plans and I told him I was heading to Genova for a job interview. He snickered and said that Genovese people are have their fists tight in their pockets; best not to associate with them.

Who’d have thought that I’ll now have a Genovese boyfriend who turns out to be the sweetest, funniest and most generous?

This moment is beautiful; surreally serene and tranquil. In my cosy cabin, my head’s resting on a wonderfully soft and plush white pillow. It’s 4.45pm and the sun’s shinning right through the porthole, making tiny puzzles of light across the drawer and wall. I hear the waves making soft lapping noises against the bulkhead of the ship, the engines whirring below and my favourite housekeeper busying along the corridor with the vacuum cleaner. I sneeze and my neighbour in the room next door shouts, “Salut!” At the electrician’s workshop nearby, I hear the Italian-Laos Chief Electrician makes a joke (probably a dirty one) and the rest guffaws in laughter.

Perhaps this moment will be what I’ll miss most when I leave the ship.

3 Bus tickets: 3.00 BND
Pizza Hut lunch: 32.50 BND
Afternoon tea at a local’s house on stilts: PRICELESS

In a floating home in Bandar Seri Begawan, Brunei

“Ying, we can go now! Dai, dai, my papa and I meet you at the gangway, NOW!” Giorgio barked into the phone. I was startled at his urgency, checked my watch again and wondered how come he got off Watch early: it was only 11.25 am.

Not knowing what to expect, I changed and met the both of them at the gangway. Giorgio’s father greeted me with his usual friendliness and cheeky inside joke that we shared. “No, vai via, okay?!” (Literal translation: No, you go, okay?!)

The Brunei sun was burning. Around the Muara port, there isn’t much to see. Newly imported cars gleamed at a corner and scraps of junk metal scattered across the empty bitumen lot at random locations. It wasn’t attractive and I haven’t got the slightest clue what Giorgio had in mind for the day. It was usually me who planned and it was usually me who thought up of things to do….but today, Giorgio was impatient.

“Buzzi told my father that we can go to the aquarium. We just have to take the public bus. 45 minutes,” Giorgio explained.

“Si, bas venti otto!” Giorgio’s father quipped.

And so, we walked towards the bus stop, not knowing where exactly but according to them, a couple hundred metres from the port. Putting on my best Malay accent, I asked around for directions. We found the bus stop but there wasn’t bus 28. No one has heard of bus number 28 and no one knew where the aquarium was either.

“Tengok ikan, tak de?” Some of the locals there would shake their head no.

In the end, we decided to take bus number 38 to Bandar Seri Begawan, which is about 45 minutes away, with hopes that we’d find the aquarium later.

The bus that we took is a tiny 20 seater or so. Everyone starred at us, but not with contempt or hostility. In fact, they looked at us curiously, as if half-expecting us to spout out flames from our mouths.

The scene outside the window was picturesque if seen through foreigner’s eyes. The bus bumbled along the tiny street, passing by quaint wooden houses on stilts, mangrove forests, banana, mango and coconut trees, local children screaming in delight, big mansions that looked not unlike the bungalows that are seen in Malaysia’s rural districts, elegant mosques with colourful minarets and checkered domes, the windy muddy river and tropical greenery. What might be a mundane sight to a Malaysian, is seen as exotic, outlandish and adsorbing by the Italians. I was surprised that my knowledge of being able to tell the difference between a palm and a coconut tree qualifies me as an experienced tour guide.

We eventually arrived at Bandar Seri Begawan at half-past one. After an ordinary lunch at Pizza Hut, the only restaurant that seemed to agree with Enrico’s taste buds, we walked towards the riverside. Giorgio thought it’d be nice for us to tour around the famed Kampong Ayer-an entire village or community on stilts. As we approached the river bank, a couple of water taxis (speed boats) circled around and nearby, each of the driver trying to get our attention. We chose the one who boldly shouted, “20 dollars for an hour!” It wasn’t too expensive and we thought why not. After all, he wasn’t talking about American dollars, British pounds or Euros.

We cautiously stepped onto the boat’s narrow wooden bow and was greeted by a convival, “Mind your head! Mind your head!”

The driver was a dark-skinned man with a gregarious smile, one that’s so welcoming that you wonder what’s in it for him, to be taking us around.

“Where you from? Italia?! Football’s very good….eh? Apa dia cakap? Oh, yes, yes, Brunei’s mangroves have snakes….no, no…yeah?”
The conversation continued like this for the next hour.

He invited us to his house after that. At first, I was pretty skeptical but since Giorgio and his dad weren’t apprehensive, I thought, why not. It turned out that his house was a nice wooden house on stilts, painted in cerulean. His five year old son looked at us shyly as we climbed up the steps. His wife, Manis, had already prepared for us, a selection of Malay’s finest tea time dishes-satay, peanut sauce and sweet milk tea. His house looked like any other Malay ‘kampung’ houses but it was special in some ways because we barely knew each other and all of a sudden, we were invited into someone’s personal sphere. It’s like having a crash course in Malay culture. Giorgio’s father was delighted. He continued to chat nineteen to a dozen while Giorgio and I acted as translators. It felt surreal. Between sticks of satay and cups of tea, he told us about his simple life in Bandar Seri Begawan. Everything’s free including education and medical institutions. He showed us the picture of the royal family and Enrico, Giorgio’s dad used his mobile phone to show him a picture of the fish he caught.

That was a moment of what life should really be.

I smsed TCL today as I was quite lonely. Giorgio’s been spending a lot of time with his dad, and half the time I see him, he’s with his dad, thus leaving us no time to catch up or for me to voice out my insecurities.

Everyone has been friendly so far and some to the point of joyous when they saw me return. Some patted my back, some shook my hands, some kissed and hugged me and some pinched my cheeks affectionately. From the very warm welcome that I’d received, I should be feeling really good to be back but I’m not. Far from it. I craved for Giorgio’s attention but am not receiving any. It doesn’t help that his work and his dad is taking up all his time. Don’t get me wrong, I love his dad being onboard. His dad has been nothing but supportive and nice. He told me that he framed up a picture of us that Giorgio sent home. It’s in the kitchen. “Ciao ragazzi!” he’d say, to the picture of ours. I’m not even jealous of the attention his dad is receiving. I’m only bugged that he’s not trying hard enough. And that he doesn’t seem affected by not seeing me that often either. I just feel like an utmost rejection, a tag-along, an unwanted.

So, pathetically, when things get me down, I usually blame myself, attempt to wallow in self-pity to make myself feel better and occasionally making up excuses, trying to justify the entire situation. My mood is like a thread in the wind, moving in accordance to how I was treated. And for two hours, I had to choke back tears and watch Prison Break Season 3 to distract myself. When I was finally tired of it all, I looked myself hard in the mirror and wonder where all my courage, faith and patience has gone to. I don’t look like myself; I look like an insecure wreck.

After a while, I also realized that part of this entire thing stem from not having any close friends onboard. Nikki’s gone, Nic’s gone, Sylvia’s gone. Val’s busy all the time and Gianni’s been a little distant. Filippo is back in Norway and I’m just stuck onboard with acquaintances that I get along with but not necessarily people I’d call friends. There’s no one I can talk to, nothing I can do and basically, I’m bored. Impatient. Unloved. Lonely.

My work computer’s locked and so I’m still unable to do much work until the Radio Officer gives me the new password.

I just hope there’s a way out of it all. And perhaps, the only solution to it all is a change of perspective.

Giorgio and his dad

His dad is 71 years old and he’s only 24. His dad only speaks Italian and Genovese while my Italian vocab is only limited to 0.05% of what’s out there. I only speak one Genovese phrase and that’s merely for amusement for locals and not for the purpose of communication. And so when you put the two of us together, without Giorgio acting as a translator, we virtually carry out a conversation through hand gestures and enunciating every syllable. You should have seen us-what a wonderful display of intricate hand patterns and flexing of facial muscles.

But he’s father is an excellent comedian despite his age and his inability to express himself in English. By using simple Italian vocabulary, he could invoke peals of laughter from me. Now I know where Giorgio got his sense of humour from.

However being an ardent fan of linguistics, this is not enough-for me. I yearn to be able to be as funny and as interesting in Italian as how I am when I speak English. I want to be able to accompany his father around the ship and take him to places in South East Asia without having Giorgio around (his work take up a lot of his time). But because of my language handicap, I can do none of those. And I feel helpless, insecure and irritated because of that.

Last night, at 12 am, Giorgio, his dad and I, went to Murano Bar on Deck 6, to chill and unwind over Champagne. Elisa, the Italian-English animator, came and joined our table, and then a few minutes later, Kiko, the Spanish flamenco dancer, joined us as well. His dad was saying that he couldn’t really find any Italian passengers onboard. The British passengers would invite him for a beer, which he’d gladly accept if only he speaks English. I can see that he’s also really frustrated with the situation. As he continued to pour his woes to Elisa and Kiko, I can see that he’s really charmed by the both of them. In the end, it made me feel like a very inadequate girlfriend. I’ve allowed language to alienate me in the entire situation.

It’s really bugging the hell out of me now. I feel extremely vulnerable. I want Giorgio to tell me that everything’s gonna work out right, but I think it is, but I cannot not take this personally.

I just wish that there’s something I can do about all of this.

It’s funny when someone is so caught up in looking forward to see her boyfriend that she forgot that she actually don’t quite like life on the ship. In fact, she hates it. It’s claustrophobic, devoid of all magical possibilities and it has no room for innocent fun. As she sat in the large buffet hall of L’Hotel, Hong Kong, poking at her sashimi, her mind wandered back to those lonely nights where only DVDs kept her occupied, coped up with acquaintances that have large, fake smiles, being pushed to a corner by bitchy administrative directors, turning up in uninspiring Crew Parties, and lack of job productivity and stimulation. But for the past 2 weeks, the only thing she wanted to do is to go back just so that she can meet him once again. Now her wish is granted and she’s going back to the ship tomorrow, but is the price worth paying?

I left KL today for Hong Kong, so that I can embark on the ship tomorrow. The Crew Lecturer who replaced me after I left, William, got into a motorbike accident in Danang. Apparently, he was trying to cross the road and a bike from nowhere flew into his direction, knocked him down and dragged him across the hot tarmac for 10m before he successfully managed to slow down and come to a halt. Poor William, who has just taken over, for less than a month, was in a pretty bad shape and had to be treated in Danang hospital for a week and then was later flown back to Brazil.

Meanwhile, Laura, one of the Language Training Consultants, emailed me about a week ago, asking me whether I’d like to replace William for a month. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not jumping around with glee, with poor William still recovering from the nightmare of an accident, but the timing’s pretty perfect. With Giorgio still onbord, and his dad embarking the same time as I am, for a 14 day cruise, things seem to be falling into place. I remembered whining about wanting more money so that I don’t have to go shoestring when I arrive in UK, and then, somehow things just fell things fell into place. I also got my 2 year UK Working Holidaymaker visa approved and that means, I can get my company to send me right to Pete’s doorstep in Manchester, after I’m done with the job. I can settle for a bit, try to get an interview for an NI number, and then, fly over to Genova to meet Giorgio. Hmmm!

Looks like, Law of Attraction is pretty real after all!

PS-I’m still catching up on the updates, so be patient ya?

Dear Matt,

I must apologize for taking so long to pen you a mail. How are you doing? You seem really busy with work. I’m sure you’re also in the midst of packing and getting sorted on your move to Brazil for a couple of months. Is your girlfriend going with you? How does she feel about it? Why the sudden urge to go to Brazil ? I don’t think you elaborated on the nature of your trip.

As for me, it’s been close to two weeks since I came home. The first thing that was jarringly obvious is the humidity and pollution. My nose started running the minute I arrive at the luggage collection lounge. I had 45 kg worth of stuff, things which I accumulated over the past 6 months while I was on the ship. Other than a handful of clothings, I didn’t own anything else but a lot of books. I’ve given away half of my books, yet there’s probably 20(or more!) of them which I couldn’t bear part with. A good girlfriend of mine, Jowynne (you’ve probably met her the last time!) came and picked me up from the airport. Her company was much needed because during my time on the road, I wasn’t able to connect to many girls. There are one or two that I met in Vietnam but that was all. On the ship, many girls had rather conventional mentality, thus erecting a wall that kept me separate. We caught up on stuff and then she took me home.

When I stepped into my room, a kaleidoscope of memories hit me hard. It was overwhelming as I saw pieces of my old self in my wardrobe-things I use to wear-on the pictures that grace the sides of my mirror, my cartoon illustrated bedsheet, a picture of my ex-boyfriend on a picture frame, stuff toys, handbags, shoes and piles of books. I had to take some time to reflect on who I was before and who I am now. And that theme of reflection haunted me for the next two weeks…and until now, I wasn’t quite sure who I’ve become. There’s a struggle for identity and for unity between the two. Previously, I was merely an aspiring traveller and now, I’m a full-fledged vagabond…or have I? Why do I suddenly crave for stability and a consistent base? Am I not a full-time traveler now? I also realized how isolated I’ve been from my good friends. My loneliness stemmed from the fact that I live so far away and everyone have their own lives to go on with…and whenever I come back, my path doesn’t seem to cross theirs. There were momentary moments of sadness and anguish-knowing how much I’ve given up for traveling.

Then, the next few days crawled by. As I met up with friends and started relaying to them my tales of adventure, I then understood how much I’ve been through and how enviable my life must have sounded-even though I don’t feel it should be so. But I rambled and rambled, with my friends as a captive audience. My desperation and loneliness on the ship has made me want to keep talking because only through talking, I could release all the pent-up frustrations. Only through speaking and reliving those times that I could see the bigger picture and understood my experiences more. I found out that I did like working on the ship but have despised the loneliness there. Living on the ship has been nothing but luxurious if I could have coped up with the claustrophobia.

And then, missing Giorgio was painful. I was terribly insecure, with all those stories that happen on the ship, that ship romances never last. Even though I know Giorgio isn’t like that, but when someone isn’t by your side, you create the worst possible scenarios in your head. Other than that, I also missed his presence, his ability to make me laugh, his incredibly handsome features and his affections. When I was with him, nothing else matters. I didn’t cared if the relationship was going to go somewhere, I didn’t cared if we may never see each other again. We were together for two months and it was intense. We had a lot of language barrier but it was more fun than challenging. However, when I’m back here, I keep thinking about the relationship, idealizing it, and wondering how to make it feasible for the both of us. I almost went crazy missing him. We smsed each other daily but it wasn’t enough. I took a 5 hour bus to Singapore the week after just to be with him for 4 hours. It was merely 4 hours, and it wasn’t enough but it was worth it.

I left him with the notion that I won’t see him for a month but co-incidentally, the person who replaced me on the ship got into an accident. It was really unfortunate and I feel really bad about it because he’s really a nice guy. But my boss emailed me and wondered if I can replace William for a month. The timing was perfect as a few days ago, I was just whining to my fellow colleague that I only need one more month onboard and it’ll be perfect. Extra money and I’ll be with Giorgio till he disembarks. And then the accident happened….which is really crazy, considering the circumstances. My boss hasn’t confirmed with me about the job but meantime, I’ve to stay put for the next few days until my UK visa is approved and have my passport handed back to me.

And now, I’m in a waiting period which I seriously detest. You’re hanging on a limbo and you can’t do a thing. I’m now busy with a data-entry job which I’m working from home. It helps me focus but every now and then, my mind drifts off to the ship, to another adventure and to Giorgio.

Traveling is intense, every new day is a day of possibility and things happen. But somehow these ‘possibilities’ become dim and they flicker away when you’re at home. At home, days feels like weeks and weeks feel like years.

Once my passport is returned to me, I’ll be able to reconfirm with my boss whether I can embark on the ship again for another month. If not, then I’ll go straight to UK and then go to Italy when Giorgio returns. And then back again to UK after that….my immediate plans are to get a CELTA certification, to learn Italian, to visit Giorgio and to visit Teun & Stef in Amsterdam. You know, funnily, I find people like you, Ed, Stef, Teun, Nithin and some other travelers I’ve met on the road closer than my friends at home. Despite the distance, there’s always this closeness in connection. I’m really sorry that I haven’t been writing but there’s not much muse recently.

I am still open and positive but now equanimity and mindfulness elude me. I’ve succumbed to a lesser consciousness: feelings of wanting, craving and desiring consume me easily. I’m more impatient, more critical and more judgmental. I think it’s the ship’s effect. I am also a little more cynical about things. I don’t like this new self and I find myself unhappy most of the time. Giorgio is a quick soothing balm to inner conflict and good relationships help calm me down but without them, there’s the urge to lash out. I can become depressed easily these days as well. I don’t rebound like rubber ball anymore. Matt, if you have any tips, do share because I think I need help!!

So that’s all about me-what about you??!?!?!?! It’s really too long since we last talked and I really want to know everything’s that has been going on.

Take good care of yourself and lots of metta from the little Ying of Malaysia.

And even though I don’t write much, it doesn’t mean I don’t think of you.

I hope to see you soon too.

Much love

Ying