dudes and dudettes!
took an easy and impulsive drive to melaka to meet some old friends.
i spent the night in this gorgeous old chinese shophouse on jalan bukit china. the uncle who ran the place was a no nonsense guy who was quite particular about hanky panky and all that threatens a good, clean hostel experience.
it was no hotel but it was delightfully classic. every room has its own theme. mine was painted on every wall with giant – and i do mean enormous daffodils. stalking the other rooms the next day, i found one with just crazy abstract art, another room with waterfall paintings on all sides – like that la the rooms. the floors of the whole guesthouse were wooden, and i loved the wooden spiral staircase which led to a gloriously full bookshelf. next to the bookshelf was a massive notice board overflowing with travel info, advice and backpacker tips by backpackers for backpackers.
there is nothing luxurious about this guesthouse, so if you are looking for the whole pampering experience, salah tempat leh. the rooms cuma ada a table top fan and everyone share common washrooms. but every facet of this place screams with character, from its wooden doors, to its old bulb lamps, to its panel carvings, to its colour frosted windows.
i think i found a new hideout.
you know how life shelves memories for moments when you really need them? and all you got to do in these moments is to take that old box off that shelve, wipe off the dust and find the stuff you need to fill the missing pieces currently riding on you?
i needed that nostalgia. and you may call it destiny, you could call it luck, you can call it fate or karma or whatever, but i genuinely believe in that reaching to that part of me i kept in dusty boxes. in short, i needed perspective. i acted on a hunch. which was why two and a half hours later, i was over 200km away, and quite lost in a cramped melaka city of one way streets.
i met with RA and Z. a media friend – to remember what it was like to be afraid but taking the breath and going for the plunge anyway. and an old college mate – to remember the liberation and responsibility that came with taking charge of my own life. above all, i needed to be away and just be me. me as just me. not the media. not the PR girl. not the academia. not the credentials. just me.
we caught up. we had not met for what – years? we remember yesteryears. to laughed. we contemplated. we shared stories of days in between then and now. suddenly, it was time to leave again. of all the reckless things we did. and all the commitments we shoulder now. this is who we are. and maybe a little bit more.
i remember how i was like before. and you know what, i think i actually took a lesson from the younger me – the me who saw the world from perhaps a less cynical pair of specs.
