Irish Nightingale, 15 maart 2010
Nederland , Amsterdam 9°

Going somewhere

Once upon a time there was a girl named the Irish Chinese Nightingale.
She often called herself Irish Coffee, cause she liked the idea of putting herself in a glass with lots of whipped cream.
She lived in Amsterdam but felt like flying away to countries with smiling people which she had never seen before. The countries, don´t get me wrong!

Confusion had always been the heart of wisdom. Knowing that she knew no thing she just packed her stuff and flew for hours to the orient.

The experience of not knowing and the playfulness of being in the dark eager to understand the world a little better. To get to know herself better and to create a 4 months experience where play, intuition, knowing and not knowing can co-exist. A different type of knowledge a non knowlegde where the purest form of curiosity brought her to Lao weddings, boat rides on the Yantzee river and to Russian opera in a Chinese restaurant...just by flying and flying..

Well in fact this girl, saw so many things, did so many things and did never dreamt about all these single things that she couldn´t hardly understand that the world had all these kind of offers, excitement and circus. Horses with golden shoes. Talking magnolia flowers. The feeling of getting a sushi box with an unlimited range of sizes, ingredients and colors.
A rush of confidence and peacefullness went through all of Irish Coffee.
She realized the sushibox would never be empty and there were even more boxes to choose from. My gosh! Why should you want to understand the whole picture? She thought. To speculate about all the things which may happen makes me the happiest.

FROM NOW ON!

Well guys you all know my life isn’t a fairytale. Well sometimes reality is.
Back to civilisation. I am already for more than a month home now. The empire without sun. Working and weekending my ass off. Purple lowrider tours, but I am still in the far east sometimes. For instance when I am drinking my morning coffee realising the Vietnamese version was a lot more stronger. When I am on Facebook talking and remembering hilarious moments or simply when I have to cook, which wasn’t the case while on the road....

In the end of my travel, I just didn’t feel like updating my blog anymore, but to make the story complete I would like to share my last experiences after leaving Lao while flying to Malaysia.

With tears in my eyes a stillness of the mind, accompanied by my new met Australian family in crime I left Khamphong. Why are the feeling when travelling so XXXL? Soap opera with real characters in a setting with me as story line director. Mixed feelings, my heart was too big again. Lao was a country which I had to learn to love. Arriving with me myself and I on a crampy 12 hours busride. Totally free of restrictions and thoughts started this ambivalent relationship. To have a restless personality in a country which is as calm as the Mekong is a hell of a mis match. But to step back was a step forward actually!
To just sit on the riverside watching wooden boats passing by. Biking 3 days on a row the same route on a small island.This is not only for 65 year´s old and just like that . A roller coaster city life with maximum stimulation, how did it feel again? I can live that other life too. Transformer.

The nature got me, giants of plants, waterfalls as in 3D Disney movies with rainbows and exotic birds flying over on the right time.

I really Lao Lao, definitely return soon.

Arriving in Kuala Lumpur’s China town with the Burger King’s, Starbucks and Mac Do’s on every corner. A bigger contrast wasn’t possible. Oh yes! A climate change too. Let’s celebrate the heat and sweat. Welcome to the tropics. Say hello to this fat society. Checking in at the birds nest where I met Linda. Amsterdam Amsterdam Amsterdam. Linda ( from Amsterdam yes..) worked in this hostel and made me straight part of the club. Shrimps with the owner on the corner, hanging on the couch, guitars, this Chinese late night bird felt like home.
Mall hopping, Avatar, mosks shoots, parks, a fashion parade of colourfull sari’s, shiny business loafers, African multiprints and American T-shirts. In the remix. Kuala Lumpur is THE melting pot of the world. Exit the catwalks enter the alleys of KL. Christian arrived after two days and together we went to the Batu caves. The biggest Hindu complex outside the city. With a de-tour in local transport - cause we are the non fans of organised trips -we climped the stairs to the cave on bare feet. Brave! My cheap as flip flops are not made for this man made Mt Everest look a like! After 5 days KL, Linda and I took the bus to one of the your eyes are like paradise islands named Palau Pangkor. Four days of white beach, island burgers, underwater world, local scooter tours with dreadlocks, sipping jungle juice, singing ´´leaving on a jetplane, don’t know when i’m back again´´ and re- meeting a friend from Don Det. Just as perfect as a fresh coconut or as that photoshopped picture on the cover of a magazine. Leaving the beauty on the ferry with fake flowers. Back to the mainland to catch a nightbus to Malacca. Leaving isn’t easy and arriving either. Staying?

Malacca is an historical VOC town which was ruled by the Portuguese, British and by the Dutch. Didn’t saw clogs or windmills but a cemetry with fancy Dutch names like Constantijn, Maria and Hugo did the trick. Proof it! This town is like an open air museum which was great to discover by bike. Dutch proud right? I checked in at Sam’s guesthouse owned by a Japanese. Very zen, bamboo-luxaflex you know. This goodlooking guy Sam hanged around smoked all the way and day. In a room with 12 bed’s it’s never lonely.
Seeing some expo’s which were boring, listening to a try out of a concert, which was not boring. Being an object to talk too, hey where you from? Let’s just say something to you stranger. Master attitude.
Time was slip sliding away, my last country was waiting. Singapore!!
Only 24 hours of this perfect piece of mosaic urbanisation. Let’s do it.
I actually jumped from neighbourhood to neighbourhood to get a touch of all the vibes.
Eating dinner with a middle east granddad and waiting for a non working chair massage. Things I remember....

To step in a cab which brings you to the international departures is like closing a book but reading the last chapter over and over again. This can’t be true. This fairytale will never end.
KLM was nice to me, with an empty row of chairs to lay my tired me in the relaxation modus. Reading NRC next. Reading Dutch! Seeing my snowy parents, white highways from Schiphol, frozen cows. Let’s drink a sour milk and tell me all......

Thanks for reading and writing comments!
See you around.

X
Iris

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