I’m sorry, I know how tedious it is when people harp on about their holidays. But I mention it again because it felt real only today, not because I printed my boarding pass, but because I picked up the cash from the bureau de change.
And the thought that popped into my head was: I’m pretty sure I hadn’t seen too many $100 ringgit notes when I was a kid – did they look unfamiliar to me now for that reason, or simply because they had changed?
It’s a very strange feeling indeed. I wonder if the sounds/language(s) and smells and what-not that were so much a part of my childhood will feel familiar once again, or if I’ve been away for too long.
I came home this evening and the first thing I did was turn on Spotify to listen to P. Ramlee. (My older sister would be quite chuffed with that, I think. The last time I listened to P. Ramlee was at her place earlier this year when I introduced her to Spotify and she plugged in several world music, obscure, non-mainstream songs she could think of – P. Ramlee was one of them; Spotify had them all, by the way.)
The imminent holiday/return to my birth country has been playing on my mind. It’ll be the first time I’ve been back since my early-teens. I wonder whether the sights, sounds and smells will be familiar or whether things will have changed so much that it’ll be like being in a totally new place.
Not to mention, the cockroaches. Enormous, dark, flying terrors which give me the heebie-jeebies. I’m feeling ill thinking about them. (Totally the wrong thing to think about, but there you have it. I can’t control the phobia, can I? I think one of the reasons I stayed in the UK for so long was because I met very few cockroaches there. Perth -to which I return regularly to see my folks- has big ones, but they’re nowhere near as terrifying as the ones I remember from my tropical childhood.)
This was the “Queue Here” place at a MUJI store in New York. I think it was one of the longest queue zones I had seen in a store ever. There’s more than a dozen registers in that row, if you can be bothered to count. Thankfully, I didn’t have to queue for more than a minute when I was there; it was only early in the day and hardly anyone was ready to leave/pay yet. But I kept thinking that the worst possible feeling would be arriving to the end of this queue zone and having to wait another half an hour just to get to the front of the line. Christmas shopping on 24 December, for instance. The wait would be tedious, frustrating, excruciating.
Kind of like what I’m feeling now, waiting to be on holiday. Less than two weeks to go now.
Oh, for a good night’s sleep!
Ironically, after I took this photo of my bed in New York, I proceeded to have The Worst Night’s Sleep Ever which resulted in a mere two hours of shut-eye, and the rest of the time, tossing and turning and stressing out about not being able to drop off after waking at 02:12. (And here’s something random: 02:12 is the time I was born, if my birth certificate is to be believed – which is the reason why I remembered the time.)
02:12 aside, I don’t quite know what my excuse is back in Sydney; fractured or bad sleep seems to be the norm these days. And by these days, I mean the last few years. The only time I sleep well is when I’m on holiday.
Just as well that I’m three weeks’ away from said holiday then, isn’t it? Because I’m feeling quite frayed at the edges as we speak.
Listening: Asleep by The Smiths
I’m still the grip of gold tones these days. That… and Girls, cheap claw rings, and planning a holiday in August.
And speaking of Girls, listen to this now.
I’m back in Sydney.
The visit was almost too brief, but it was lovely: to spend some time with my family; to hang out with some good coffee; to wander around the old streets, some of which look so new now, thanks to the myriad redevelopments; to get my Vitamin D reserves up just by being outdoors (it’s not guaranteed in Sydney)…
Right then. Back to norm.
The seed of an idea: let’s take a year off, said the Hub last weekend. We could spend six months in South America, six months in Europe and six months in Asia. That’s a year-and-a-half! Well, let’s take a year-and-a-half off! …We couldn’t possibly. (Could we?)
Now I can’t stop thinking about this.