To see things in a different light

Wellington

A couple of months ago, I walked into my boss' office and told him I would be leaving at the end of the year. Like anyone when they resign, there was a mixture of sadness and excitement. Am I making the right call? Should I be doing this? It was with mixed feelings that I let people know, and began the process of winding down one life and preparing for another.

Whilst the events of the future will decide whether I made the 'right call' or not, I want to take this opportunity to share a few insights, and reflect on the past year. Whether this is for my own benefit, or the benefit of others, well, you can be the judge of that.

Followers of this blog (which I daresay, I can count on one hand), will be familiar with our Filipino adventures, as well as the various forms of reflection both in and around the trip. The main reason, other than documenting the trip, was to 'track' the emotional and spiritual changes occurring within myself, and understand how reflection and insight on past experiences can lead to a more meaningful future. And sometimes I find it useful, as I swing between emotional highs and lows, to go back to the groundwork and examine what it is that I really care about.

 

It was earlier in the year - after a few milestones had been ticked off and that sort of thing - that I began thinking about what I would like to do next. The options were simple - stay where I am, leave Wellington, or leave New Zealand.

As I walked the streets with this decision (and there needed to be a decision), something strange started to happen. The familiar streets and buildings began to assume a life of their own. Cafe's and bars started to hum with a character I'd never noticed before. Nature whistled in the wind like a passing whisper. I felt like I was seeing everything for the very first time. Even though I'd spent a lifetime in these places, I stopped seeing them as my hangouts, my places, but instead as places of their own life and character, of which I was merely a visitor. The familiar became the unfamiliar. It was like I could let go of who I was, my biases, my distortions, my perceptions, and look at people and things as they really were.

Something else started to happen too. I started to see people in a different light. With the prospect of me leaving to another part of the world, I began thinking about all the people I cared about, and how I felt about them. It no longer became necessary to keep that guard up, to shield and shelter my emotions and to forget what all these people really meant to me. It's hard to keep up of course, and often it's buried deep in the bustle and activity of everyday life, but it's there, beating away. 

 

Eddie Vedder, the lead singer of Pearl Jam, said that leaving his friend's funeral helped him:

 

"...realise what a gift this is, to be alive...When you leave that funeral, that drive is as important as any single stretch of road you'll travel on. You've got a renewed appreciation for life. And I think that feeling can last through the day, through the week, but then things start getting back to normal and you start taking this living and breathing and eating thing for granted. I think that song is there to remind you, 'This is that feeling'....^[1]

 

Of course, life is tough. There are endless amounts of challenges, hardships, hassles, difficulties, stresses, pressures, tragedies, and more often than not, just the daily grind of life. All those things that make life what it is. For every negative feeling, I like to think there is an equal and opposite positive feeling. Every hardship ultimately takes you to heights you have never before been. Our hearts grow stronger, not weaker. We can recover from whatever battering we might take.

 

If you can try and wake up every day, and be thankful and grateful for what you have, and foster that spirit inside that life really is a gift, then maybe you will begin to see things in a different light.

 

And there it was - the decision. What Eddie Vedder called the "renewed appreciation for life" could only be achieved by new experiences, fresh challenges, and the reclaiming of that spirit of adventure. There couldn't be awareness, an understanding, without the desire to push myself and explore new boundaries. There needed to be a break from my past life to truly understand what that past life meant. You come to realise too, that home isn't in places and things, it's inside of you, beating away every minute of every day, in and amongst the people around you - from old friends to new acquaintances, in the familiar walls of your home town to the farthest flung corners of the earth. You stop searching, and come to see what's right in front of you as your true home. It's always there, renewing and refreshing itself, passing and flowing between old lives and new. It's a new day, a new spirit.

 

Time will tell if the grind of big city living will leave this spirit intact. But at least I know one thing. I've felt that spirit, and no matter what, I will never forget it. There will be times, no doubt, when I lose it. When that happens, I'll just have to search deeper to find it again. I know it will be there.

 

I want to ask you one final question. One I posed as the very first line to this long journey we have shared. It is a question that ultimately tests our commitment to life, and our ability to share in thoughts and feelings. It is wrapped up in you and me, and the everyday experiences we have shared. It is simply...

Do we understand each other?

Epilogue

There is a next chapter to all of this. Of course there is a next chapter. The road takes us to India, Myanmar (Burma) - and beyond. I'll run two blogs. The first will be a light-hearted, funny, events-based blog, detailing all our adventures. The second will be a more introspective, deeper and emotional blog, the type written in moments of quiet and poignancy at the end of a long day. I'll leave it to you as to which one you follow.

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¹ Hiatt, Brian (2006-06-16). "The Second Coming of Pearl Jam". Rolling Stone. Retrieved 2007-06-22.

A walk back in time

Wellington

It's funny now, looking back on it, what it is I actually remember from various trips. In a more profound sense, it is what I choose to remember that stays with me today.  Memories fade into the distance, new ones replace old ones, and eventually we're left with a patchwork of our lives. We look back on certain times fondly, wondering and remembering how we could have ever be like that, and maybe, if we'll ever be like that again.

It's been six months since I left the Philippines. To quickly catch up - after Batad, we backtracked through Sagada and Bagauio, and spent half a day in sleazy Angeles. Angeles is the sex capital of the Philippines. It's the kind of place men with bright orange t-shirts and socks pulled half way up their shins spend their Navy pensions on hot young Filipinos. Not exactly the place we wanted to spend a lot of time in! We boarded a plane to Malaysia. After a week in Malaysia, we flew to Thailand, where more memorable experiences ensued. I flew home after that; Swags spent a couple more weeks overseas before returning to New Zealand. So that's that. Our trip passed from experience into memory, and as of today, that is all we hold. For those we met along the way, what we have is a bond of the places, people and experiences we shared, each in their own, and each with one another.

I came back to Wellington, spent five months hibernating due to exam and professional commitments, and emerged from my cave to make up for lost time. Only now do I have the time and inclination to reflect on what our trip meant.

As I looked back on the trip, I started going back further, and seeing what else I remembered. I looked at old photos. I got in touch with old friends. What I found was memories that weren't just something I looked back on every so often, but small pieces of fabric that attached themselves to me, and made me into the person I am today.

It has been about five years since my very first overseas trip. I left with Ved, a friend from Tawa, to go to Thailand, Vietnam and Cambodia. We found ourselves on Phi Phi Island with two amazing Spaniards and an Argentine.

I also remember meeting two lovely English girls - Janine and Sarah - who adopted us rookie travellers as though we were their own, and with whom we got a long so well. I love how chance encounters can lead to those long-term relationships, even though we are on opposite sides of the world, and see each other once in a blue moon. How powerful those experiences must be to still be in touch after all these years. We share these moments in life, and although they are but tiny specks in the tapestry of our lives, they are so important, and so essential for living the good life. Their smiles can light up the whole world.

I remember being so pasty on that trip, so green, so white, so worried about how this or that would work out. As I reread my dairy from that time, I see a shy, introverted guy really coming out of his shell, and embracing people as though they were long time friends. You don't need a lifetime of experience to bond with someone; you need the here and now. And what wonderful people they were. No backgrounds, no agendas, no code, just 'you&me' and the place we're in.

We left that island full of confidence, and upbeat about our newfound skills as travellers. I know for certain the people we met brought that out in us.

Ved and I flew to Phuket, not pasty anymore, but red, and met a lovely French girl named Sophie, who took us to Muay Thai classes, buried me in the sand and sold me for ten Baht, and shared the beautiful Andaman sunset with us.

I know some of this sounds corny; I don't care. I want to open myself up to being stupid, to wearing my heart on my sleeve, to giving something of myself to those who gave something of themselves.

Sophie was not the only person we met in Phuket. We met John and his wife in a small bar at the southern tip of the island. John ran a pub for his friends, and found solace in the simple lifestyle he led. He could make a difference here. He found his place in the world, no matter how small, and made the most of it. If one could be as happy as John, he wouldn't be doing bad at all.

What trip to Phuket would be complete without a new suit, and we befriended a portly man who became not only our tailor, but also our friend. He took us to watch football with his friends, discussed his gambling problems with us, and showed us kindness and generosity.

We flew to Cambodia. Of all the beautiful and terrifying and astonishing things we saw in Cambodia, what I remember most is the few days with Adrian & Co - our new French friends. Adrian worked as a journalist in Phnom Penh. We hitched a ride with him and became friends immediately. We spent the next few days together, touring the temples, sharing food and drink, and discussing the wonders of life whilst lying under the night stars.

And when all this was over - after we spent weeks in Vietnam, flew back to Singapore, and finally got home to Wellington, there was Ved, right by my side, the man who did it all with me.

When I came back from that trip, I worked for 60 weeks straight in my graduate job, spent three weeks touring the South Island on a motorcycle, worked another eleven months straight, and set out on the next adventure - seven weeks in Thailand, Singapore, Laos, Vietnam and Cambodia.

So why back to the same place? Well, the first time I went I was very green, and I felt that whilst I got a lot done, I hadn't done everything I wanted. I also subscribe to the theory that, whilst living in New Zealand, S.E. Asia is the best place to travel because it is close, relatively cheap, and a world away culture wise from New Zealand.

And who would I chose to go with? Or perhaps, who would put up with going with me?

That man would be Cooper, or to use his formal name, Mathew J. Cooper. Cooper and I have been friends since he moved up from Christchurch. We got drunk for the first time together, discovered girls together (truth be told, he discovered them a lot sooner than me), and went through those awkward fugly ball photos together.

I think most people would agree that the bonds with people of our own blood are the strongest. Nothing breaks those. But there are people with whom we feel an equally similar bond, to whom we are not blood related. Cooper is one of those people to me. Whatever happens, I'll have his back. And goodness knows he has taught me some humility.

He's also blessed with, as my Dad says, a "great personality" and you'll see that in the photos that are to follow.

I wasn't so green this time, but I was still pretty white. By the time we crossed the border (on foot) from Thailand into Laos, found a hotel and had a meal, we slept for fifteen hours straight.

The next day, Cooper found his place in the world.

I loved our time in Laos. We spent a lot of time on bikes, eating food, drinking beer, and chatting about the world. We explored the capital, Vientiane, tubed down the land of the lost boys in Vang Vien, dipped in the cave pools, and swam in waterfalls in Luang Prabang.

We flew to Hanoi, absorbed all the craziness of that city, and went on a boat cruise in Halong Bay. From there we bussed to Hue, where we met more travellers like ourselves. There were two standout days in Hue, two days that I will remember forever. One was Christmas day, and an eleven-a-side football match against a Vietnamese team, with bats fluttering above the dusty pitch as the night grew dark. The other was when we found ourselves alone at a deserted beach, and met a group of students enjoying the day together. We joined them.

It was amazing how easy the day was. We knew nothing of each other, couldn't exchange words through language barriers, yet understood each other as though we'd known each other a lifetime.

 

Yeah, we had our corny tourist hats. Yeah, we bought a few snacks from the beach vendor, and yeah, we stayed at a backpackers with a bunch of other bus toting tourists, but that's all part of it too. That day on the beach, it felt genuine, real. It felt like two worlds intersecting for a single day and getting the most out of it we possibly could.

And what I thought too, was that these kids' parents had seen the Vietnam war. Who knows whose father, mother, brother was still alive. We didn't know what pain they felt, but we knew they felt some. At one stage, when a broken, scarred women wandered across the beach like a ghost, it bought home to me the reality of things. Life isn't always a day at the beach. When we do get those days, we have to make the most of it.

From Hue we left for Danang, and spent a bit of time in that city. I felt we were really getting our confidence as travellers, and travel companions.

We spent a day going up Marble mountain, meeting a profane Canadian named Kevin.

There were a lot of highlights during our time in Vietnam. We spent some time in Hoi An getting suits made, honing around on scooters, drinking beer at the driving range, and dining with friends we met along the way.

We crossed the border into Cambodia, met up with our friend Andrew and his two mates, the Josh's. The Josh's were some savage boys, and Andrew was along for the ride. Boys being boys, we didn't want to pay for a tuk tuk, so we hired some bikes and spent the day touring the temples, and getting really hot and sweaty.

Cooper took a great photo of me and AB - which, if you look closely - in part reflects the deep seriousness held within us, one often hidden from the outside world.

After Cambodia we spent some time in Thailand, where among many highlights, we did something life changing. One morning, in a dingy café somewhere on Phi Phi island, we somehow decided that we needed to enrol in university - two years after leaving - to get the requisite papers to become Chartered Accountants. I worked at ANZ at the time, and Cooper at the Animal Health Board. We talked about what else we would like to do, but by the end of the day we were enrolled in University and somehow optimistic as to how things would turn out.

A few months after I returned to New Zealand, I left the bank for a big four accounting firm, and the rest is history. It seems so easy now, to have so effortlessly fell into place, but deep down I know that wasn't the case. If we hadn't have been on that island, talking about what we wanted to do, if we hadn't of decided that, yes, we do want to enrol in MGMT 101 and spend another year of University whilst working full time, things would have turned out differently, and probably for the worse.

And if we hadn't of looked at each other and said, 'this is the right thing to do', I think I would have always cheated myself.

For that Cooper, I'll always be grateful. Thanks heaps man.

Fast forward to December 2013 and we arrive at the Philippines. Or to state it more accurately, we arrive at the last few days before my departure.

I went with John, who you'll hear a lot about later, and who assumed the name "Swags." He is a terrific travel companion, if a little hard to haul to flights on time!

Before I left I wrote a few blog posts, one of which I called "So We Understand Each Other." Reading over it again, I see how much of what I wrote was idealistic, but I also see that it accurately capture the spirit and emotion of the time. Sometimes, if we allow ourselves to float away and be guided by these romantic notions, they can actually come true, and we find places in our minds we didn't know existed. I think I am fundamentally shaped by the belief that death, yes, death, could strike at anytime, so it's monumental to make the most of your time on earth, and not just pay lip service to it. So when it comes down to it, sometimes it's okay to suspend your grip on reality, and let your mind wander a little.

I wrote about boundaries, and that we can go through life "without actually experiencing what it means to be alive." I wrote that "reward and punishment" await when we test those boundaries, and that before we resolve the inner conflicts that reside within all of us, "there is a time for discovery."

I also wrote, somewhat idealistically, "my wanderings in the past have changed me; released me, endeared me, perhaps, hardened me, to the experience of fellow man." When I look back on those first tentative steps travelling for the first time, I was a lot different from what I am now. And I don't just see this as part of the natural ageing process. I see it as an acceleration of development, and a renewed awareness, caused by experiences outside of everyday life.

I also wrote "I am no longer who I once was." I would like to think that is true. And I should like to think that this will be true 5 years, 20 years, and 50 years from today.

We reached the grime of Manila after 40 hours of straight travelling. A couple of days later flew out to Palawan - one hour from Manila - and drove a further six hours to El Nido. There, we discovered our paradise.

We were also fortunate enough to meet Derek and Josie, who became our instant friends. I warm inside whenever I think of the both of them. Their kindness and generosity was a much a part of our stay as the limestone cliffs, emerald waters, and San Miguels. They were perfectly chilled out, and were happy just to relax and ponder the world, and find amusement at our many exploits on the island.

We spend days swimming, fishing, snorkelling, and exploring the nearby islands.

We also met (more like, saw) some French girls, which reaffirmed my belief that they are the prettiest in the world. N'importe francais? The French are also great travellers.

From Palawan we flew to Boracay, which wasn't so good because life was suddenly very touristy, and the island was simply a western town transported to the Philippines. The highlight was meeting three Norwegians, in particular, my friend Dan, who inspired me to write my first ever song, which he played on his Ukulele. If you ever read this Dan, get in touch.

I was too ashamed at the time to reproduce the song in full, but now, I don't care so much. Here it is:

Passing my way on these shores

Wind in the trees

On this night full of light

Crashing hard on the shore

Baring my soul to the sky

You will forget me again

Far away from this place

Your hands in the air

Your eyes likes a dream

Scent like a rose and a

Touch from a bird

I can't hear you no more

Chorus

I will forgive you my lady

You will forget me my girl

I will forgive you my lady

You will forget me again

Tell me more bout this life you now live

City doors and silly locks

Dark tunnels of hope

Office towers of gold

Dinner of love

Drink with a man

I can't hear you no more

Chorus

One more time on this night shore

A moment in time alone in the sky

Burning softly through the night

Please lady give me a sign

I can't forgive you this time.

Chorus x 2

You will forget me again x2

You will forget me x 2

(Please don't forget me)

With the melody of that song still in my head, we partied the night away with about 10,000 other people and three fireworks displays on the beach. What a magical time it was. The next morning, we just about missed our flight. John was in such a state, he fell asleep in the terminal (you can tell by the size of his grin what type of night he had). What a champ.

We flew to Cebu City on New Years day, spending much of the time resting, shopping and exploring the city sights.

Travel fatigue occurs on any holiday, and you can tell from the photo above that we looked a bit worse for wear, and needed some down time. Cebu provided that for us. It was so important for the rest of the trip, and nice to be relieved from the pressure of always needing to do something.

We did however, have one very special day.

Big G, (real name "Guillermo Munro Colosio") our friend and brother, deserves a whole blog for himself, such was the heart of the man. Not only is he a uniquely talented artist, he is blessed with an infectious passion for life, a love of people, and a desire to change the world for the better, even in the smallest of ways. He is also great fun to be with.

We only spent one day together, but we formed a bond to last a lifetime. Funnily enough, we met in the 'business class' lounge of a ferry terminal, waiting for a boat to take us across to Bohol to see the chocolate hills, tarsiers, scenery and churches. And any day where the driver hands 80c beer through the window of a van has got to be a good one!

I loved our day. It was a testament to us, I think, that we had come this far, and possessed the initiative and drive to get there.

It all seemed so easy, so effortless, so serene. In one day also, we hatched a plan to do something to change the world. It's a tiny thing, but we don't care, as long as it's something. Watch this space.

We spent a great night with Big G's friends, eating Lechun (pig, all of it, ALL), and drinking and talking into the small hours of the morning.

Big G, thanks brother. So happy to have met you.

We shipped out of Cebu City and into Legaspi. Legaspi is famous for the (live) 2,463m Mayon Volcano on the outer edges of town. It is also special for the young man we met there, Rainer, and his brother, both of whom were superstar American karaoke legends. With beers costing 80c and packs of smokes costing $2, it was a very fun night We also met two English gents, Huey and Johnny, who introduced us to some of the finer points in life.

The highlight was, undoubtedly, our climb up Mt Mayon, and probably one of the closest near death experiences I've had. Tragically, nine people died on there just months after our ascent.

After we reached the top, we sat freezing, eating the greatest bacon and egg sandwiches ever. The rain got heavier and heavier, and water started gushing from the top. We were in danger of flash flooding, not to mention the treacherous downhill ascent down the narrow ravine from which lava had flowed for hundreds of years. We made it down, but not without our share of scares, slips, and falls. To top things of, once we reached the jungle we encountered a poisonous snake called a "black mamba." Even the guide was scared. We carefully approached, then dashed past as fast as we could.

I'm not sure, but maybe I owe my life to those guides. Not only did he catch me when I slipped and accelerated down the mountain (broken tailbone in the Philippines? No thanks!), he also spotted and guided us through the "black mamba." Either way, he was a bargain.

We also ventured out on 'motorcycles' to a place called Donsol. In a classic Kiwi stroke of luck, we encountered the only whale shark to be seen that week, and swam for a eight seconds with a whale shark. The feeling of being down there, with a whale shark just metres below you, is very profound, and when you emerge from the water, you see things a little differently.

We returned to Manila, and headed to the mountainous northern region of the Philippines. At the time, I titled it the "Northern Chapter" because I felt that, although it was only five days, it was a whole experience in itself. One picture captured it all.

Our guide chewed root, and spat out a thick red liquid every thirty seconds. She told us stories of how her and her friends studied things like computer science, criminology, sociology and other such subjects, yet were working as tour guides and tricycle drivers. That has stayed with me since.

We had beer bellies by the time we left the Philippines. They grew larger in Malaysia, as we found ourselves in Kuala Lumpar and Penang with little to do but hang out and eat. We decided to eat four massive meals a day, and go for a run each morning to try get back in shape. As you can imagine, we weren't successful - at exercising.

We left Malaysia and spent ten days in Thailand. In Thailand we did all the usual activities that tourists do. I found myself suddenly back in a world that I felt wasn't really me any more. I didn't want to be constantly pestered to buy suits and shirts and watches. I didn't want to get drunk every night and listen to rubbish music. I wanted to be with the stars, or with people who cared about being people, not selling something or trying to scam you.  

Still, every self respecting tourist has to do Khao San Road, and if you recognise it for what it is, it's not all that bad. Bangkok as a city is great - but you need to spend the time there to appreciate it, and find the spot, and activities, that are right for you.

 

Me, I preferred Chang Mai. The city is much more relaxed, charming, and you can find just what you want - without having it shoved in your face.

I flew out of Bangkok, stopped in Singapore, and eventually made it home to Wellington.

 

So that's about it. When I look back on it, this post reads a bit like a 'greatest hits', with all the best moments shoved into one. It reads too, like a litany, or a reflection on the past five years. I have no doubt, no doubt, that the next chapter will in large part will be shaped by the previous chapter. There is a reason for most things, and although we are not often aware of what those reasons are, they are there.

 

This post is as much as about what I didn't say as opposed to what I did; there are always events missed out, people I didn't mention that made a profound impact on me, places I enjoyed, and all those tiny and significant moments that are just too many too remember.

 

I want to end with two brief points.

 

One - when I look back on trips, it is the people and experiences we shared together that I remember, not the food, the monument, or whatever else filled the days. It is the people I remember. The same goes for life too. When you look back, you'll remember those that you shared it with, and everything else just kind of 'falls away'. And if you can find something that you love to do - like solving a problem, building a model, or a house, creating a work of art, or going on holiday - with people that you love doing it with, you will be happy.

 

The second point is about myself. I left New Zealand a green, textbook orientated kid, and I came back a slightly less green, slightly less textbook orientated kid. But as the years went by and the experiences piled up, I slowly, gradually began to change. Change is for the better, I think. I have much more experiences to come, but I take comfort in the fact that I have made the most of these past five years, and that if the kid from back then looked at the young man of today, he would have reason to smile.

 

So, in the next five years, maybe more, maybe less, I hope I can look back and say, with equal satisfaction...

 

"I am no longer who I once was... I am someone better"

 

 

 

~

 

 

 

My words abandon me

Batad

My diary entry for our few days deep in the northern mountains of the Philippines, to this day, remains blank. Although feeling and sensation ripped through me, almost continuously, I couldn't find a word, or a sentence, to describe where I was and what I was doing. So instead of the usual spiel, I will let the photos do the writing (and let's be honest, the only people who read my blog are my Ma and Pa :)

 

 

Sagada's finest

Sagada

 

I have a long journal entry about Sagada; I talk about the chaotic ascent into this mythical mountain-top town, the people we met, the night we spent drinking beers and smoking cigars, googling at young men with large bags of Marijuana as casual as a set of keys; I talk of the famous Filipino's who filled our night with acoustic epic's such as  'Hey Jude', 'Knocking on Heaven's Door," and many more, and the time we spent wandering among the hills and through the caves with our new friends.

 

But for now I am done reporting. I have had enough of hazy eyed accounts of our travels. Something much deeper began stirring in those mountains, something lurking around with the fog that dripped into the inns, taverns and barely lit porches, and it was enough to settle my words for once.  

 

One of the men from the town told us the coffins hanging on the side of cliff faces' had been there for a hundred years; and they feared that if they were buried, the dead would not rise to the heavens, instead they would remain trapped, forever wandering the tall pine trees and rock faces of the town, bringing with them the chill of dawn and fog so thick it covered everything. He appeared to us as the town drunk, this man, barely sitting against a pillar on a cobbled floor, telling the stories that his forebears had told him. When we tried to find him the next morning, and even that night, he was gone.

 

Sagada...