ROARING CARS

This is what the fuss is all about this weekend.
I gladly stayed away, although it kept coming back. It was just too loud.

Singapore F1 (Photo courtesy of Dean Luah).

BACK

Holiday was over officially 7 days, 15 hours and 34 minutes ago. The road ended back where I started. The cycle was complete and life was to resume the same way as before. But after you travel, you never come back as the same person. There's a little bit more or less of you, taken by the road experiences, which eventually might alter your future course. 

Travels always teach you something new about yourself, too. It helps to show you what you want to be, where you want to go, and what you have become. These pictures are not always pretty, often they're not what you want to see but having this knowledge can help you make decisions as you float along this crazy life.

My last trip was not a life changing journey. There was no 'eye-opener' that leads to enlightement or anything remotely close. I learned a few little things along the way though, that even if I stayed in dorm room hostels, I would no longer eat crap. No more wrapped sandwiches from free hostel breakfast, no more grocery shopping to save money. I know that Italian men are alright as long as they don't wear matching purple bets and shoes. I am sure that the reason why Scandinavian design is cool is because these people never knew anything other than, good design. I developed a new theory towards my red wine allergy; that I am only allergic to tannins when I'm in South East Asian countries. I realised that I partied less and observed more. I planned less and got lost often, but I didn't mind it at all; I still saw interesting things, just at a different place. I was not concerned about seeing everything, but wanted to feel something.

I wondered if I had given this place a chance. If I wasn't more concerned about how much I didn't like things, that things are... more than not, just different. Maybe I should try to enjoy getting lost, to be comfortable in uncertainty, and maybe, just maybe...I will get a little bit further on my red wine allergy theory.

P.S. Someone suggested that I should only drink Italian red. Something about the way Italian red wine is produced that makes tannin allergy almost impossible. Thoughts anyone?

A busted bubble

It was a moment of insanity, one said. It was a moment when electrical currents run through your body creating an adrenaline high. It was a moment where minutes turned into hours, and days turned into weeks. It felt like blowing transparent rainbow bubble full of dreams of the moment.

You keep the rainbow bubble safe at the back of your mind, checking it back every now and then. At least once a year, it gets taken out of the safe for some spring cleaning. Memories bring out new colours that put a smile on your face. Every now and then.

Then there was a second moment. You would think that it would be similar to the first one. You would think that it would make your bubble more beautiful, but this time around it had prickly thorns that eventually blew everything up. Your pretty, transparent rainbow bubble of dreams made a big sound of pop, only to vanish into thin air.

Suddenly it was no more.

ON THE ROAD STATUS

Geneve-Varese-Milan-Vernazza-Roma-Stockholm