¿Dónde Estoy? – una poema (Where Am I? – A poem in Spanish)

(I’ve just returned to Malaysia to stay, after being away for 4 years and this is me trying to locate myself. I always knew I liked Spanish, the language, but I never knew how much until I’m no longer surrounded by it. I can feel the muscles inside my chest aching. Just like my tear buds ached when I saw photos of Malaysian food. Now I know, aching just mean you have loved. )

A veces despierto y busco a Mario, mi “Roomie”, ‘¿Vamos al mercado para desayunar y comprar verduras amigo?’ yo pienso.

A veces despierto y me siento consternada porque ya perdí mi camión para ir…ir a no sé dónde.

A veces despierto y pienso que no quiero ir a trabajar para mi mal jefe pero…extraño a mis estudiantes.

A veces despierto y siento frio como en Inglaterra y voy a dar le un gran abrazo de mañana a mi familia de Brighton.

A veces despierto y pienso que necesito tomar un paseo con una perra que se llama “Dharma”.

A veces despierto y quiero buscar un lugar para quedarme o dormir hasta mañana en “Couchsurfing”.

A veces despierto y me pongo el bikini para ir a la playa.

A veces despierto y pienso que qué puedo hacer hoy para explorar esta ciudad extrajera.

Siempre despierto y pienso que estoy viajando…pero, ¿Dónde estoy?

Miro al cielo. Miro la tierra. Miro a la gente.

Sí, solamente estoy viajando.

(Muchas gracias, el mundo, por esto viaje.)

I bade farewell to my Euro tripping in Cluj…for now.

12-16 Dec Cluj, Romania

once reaching Cluj train station, our host was already ready and waiting for us on the platform. This time, Jamban is going to stay with his friend while me and Gadis Rempah stays with Florina. Florina was kind enough to send Jamban and his friend back to their place then we head to her home. It was a lovely flat with 2 cats, these two cats are much older, fatter and calmer than the ones in Bosnia. After settling down for a bit, we went out to meet Jamban and friend for a drink in town. The next day, we went out for a lovely lunch at a small cafe that our host recommended, Jamban and friend met us there. We then explored the town for a bit, went to meet another CS, Andrea whom was taking care of her little boutique clothes shop. Then Gadis Rempah and Jamban went bonkers shopping. After this shop and other second hand shops, Jamban got himself an outfit that would top any hippies and homeless! I think I came up with a description that goes ‘Cina boy with long hair and ladies blouse, wrapped in curtain, walking down the street in cold Cluj’. Florina joined us, and took us up a small hill where we saw the whole town. After that we went home and cooked a lush dinner for our hosts.

The day after we went with Florina to hike a nature’s trail in the woods. We crossed some dodgy bridges and have to hug the hills when walking on some narrow footpaths. It was my first time hiking in winter and we saw frozen river. The wood was unusually quiet, still in time. I would like to say it was stunning, but the woods couldn’t care less what I think, as it stands there magnificent without human Finally the final member of the muhibbah girls arrived with her toy boy in Cluj. We met up with them for lunch the next day in the same cafe that me and Gadis Rempah fell in love with. Then we walked around the winter festival. There was an ice-rink there that would have cost us less than 5 euros to skate but unfortunately it was closed due to the melting ice as the weather was not cold enough. By this time, I already have 3-4 layers on. Then we went to Andrea’s place for some homemade polenta and cheese, and some crazy easy dessert thing that I will have to make soon! Oh yes, the last Muhibbah Girl and her boy also went bonkers shopping in her little boutique before dinner. I remained the calm force in the hoarding frenzy. 😉 it was a good night, and it was very very special for all of us to be there together in a different world, with new friends, enjoying new culture. Unfortunately, i’d have to returned to England tomorrow. Tonight as we part, I bid my first goodbye to Jamban, whom I travelled the longest with. Tears welled up, and I, possibly him too, remembered all the crazy times we went through.

You know what they say, friends who travel together…either kill each other or made awesome memories to chat about in our old age.

The Fabulous Four with vampiric romanians who prefer cheesy polenta to our spicy blood.

16^th train to Budapest and fly back to Brighton

The next morning, Florina sent me and Gadis Rempah to the train station at 6am. We met the last muhibbah girl and her boy there. All 4 of us took the same train to Budapest. From Budapest, they were gonna head to Prague on the train and meet Jamban there. Jamban decided to stay one a few more days in Cluj to spend time with his friend. In Budapest, we hang out for a bit with our Malaysian friend then off I go, taking the metro to the airport. I said my goodbyes hastily as the metro approached. As the plane left the ground, flying towards UK, I thought to myself that I am so so lucky, to have had these 3 months, to have met new friends, to have adventures with old friends, to see so much of the world, a world that is different from mine but feel so familiar. I want to do this again one day. Another space, another time.

Samba drumming, Hot Baths and Midnight Karaoke

8-9th Dec 2011 train from Sarajevo to Budapest

so the travellers occupied a whole compartment by themselves decorated with orange peel. Then they slept, only to be woken up at 3am by slovenian’s immigration police. The usual passport check took longer and this time, the police were not satisfied, asked us if we had 100euros in cash for each day of our travel in EU, which we don’t and so we had to follow them to the office. According to these officers, apparently it’s the policy to have that amount of cash, which we never heard of. After taking down our name and passport details, they let us go, one hour later. The slightly baffled and amused trio got back to their train and continued on to Budapest. I guess corruption also happens in EU. At least the officers were rather friendly about it.

9-12^th  Dec 2011 Budapest

In Budapest, we met up and stayed with an old friend of mine from malaysia. She and her partner stayed in a loft in one of many flat/apartment like buildings sprawling all over the city. After months of meeting random strangers in foreign places, it was a refreshing break to meet up with someone that I don’t have to explain what I do and who I am. They prepared a nice warm dinner, we had a good time catching up and then the 3 stooges squeeze into a double mattress on the floor with Gadis rempah in the middle.

The next day we woke up late, then we went up with our friends to their drums samba practice session. It was the first time I hit something with some semblance of musicality but it was the whole playing as group that made samba drumming so much fun! One single drum makes a rhythm but 10 drums makes carnival. This samba band aim to liven and cheer on protest and demonstration, make for a sexy dancy revolution! And of course, the fact that the band conductor was one beautiful charismatic woman, makes it easy to sore ones hands drumming for. Since we woke up late and had brunch, we were very hungry by the time we drummed our hearts out. We had a yummy late lunch and by the time we were done, it was already dark. To be fair, it was also winter, so the sun sets around 4pm. We went back home, cook up a storm with our hosts and went out to a rainbow party. The last time I went out dancing late was in Porto, and this time, dancing with old friends and new samba ones were pretty exciting for this old soul.

The next day we woke up late, did the usual errands of laundry, applying and responding to couch requests and then went out in the afternoon for late lunch with the hosts that Jamban stayed with last night. (that part of the story is quite funny and complex so i’ll leave it to Jamban to tell). Then we bid goodbyes to Jamban’s hosts, head to one of the many baths in Budapest to soak till we droop. Well, we soaked until we got chased out of the bath at closing time. Then we strolled slowly back, stopped for mulled wine in the winter festival, some hot pizza thing and then home to our host’s cooking of a common Hungarian meal (I forgot what it was). It was suddenly karaoke time where everyone was singing their hearts out to random pop songs from all eras while I doze in and out of sleep, until I decided if you can’t beat them, join them.

On our last day, we packed our bags and made our way to the train station. Luckily we went an hour earlier as Jamban hasn’t bought his ticket and the queue was so long that by the time he bought them, we had 5 minutes to run to the train. Trainchasers should be the name of our band of trio. We bade hasty farewell to our friends and commenced occupation of a compartment.

for this part of the adventure, this is all i got to show, Gadis Rempah curry dinner for our lovely hosts and friend.

eating the Malaysian way, using hands and sitting on the floor.

unexpectedly charmed by the low key Mostar, Bosnia.

5 – 8^th in Mostar

We walked to the place our host asked us to meet her. We waited for 10 minutes, wondering, if she doesn’t turn up, where will we sleep tonight? I wouldn’t be able to sleep outside in this cold anymore but there doesn’t seem to be any hotel or hostel about. The town was eerily quiet. Finally she appeared. Relieved, we walked with her back to her apartment. After getting acquainted with the two cats, a hot cup of tea, we happily went to bed.

We woke up to a stunning view. Our host apartment oversee the river that run across the small city of Mostar (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mostar) . Although the view was breathtaking this story was not- the river separated the Christians/Croats on this side, and the Bosnians/Muslims on that side. They have a hospital, a university, a post office for each side. It didn’t feel like the war has ended. Then again,we have a lot of discriminatory elements in Malaysian society too and it has been more than half a century since our independence. Since we were so tired, we woke up late and went out for a late lunch. We strolled around and entered a nice looking restaurant which served a typical Bosnian fare. Like our economic rice fare, we choose from the dishes already prepared at the country. It was then heated up and brought to us. Some of the memorable food was meat rolled in cabbages, mashed spinach and stew. I think we spent around 5 euros each to a very hearty and delicious meal. We then explored the place, walked towards the famous bridge. Bought some figs at the market we passed, chill out at a mosque overlooking the river. It began to drizzle when we got nearer to the bridge. The bridge apparently was destroyed in the war but was rebuilt again in the same way and using the same material as it was made in the 15^th century. It began to rain heavily as we crossed the beautiful stone bridge. We found a restaurant had tea and coffee in the evening downpour. We didn’t stop for long as we had to braved the rain, buy some groceries so we could make dinner for us and our host. After dinner, Klara (our host who is an English Lecturer from Czech) took Jamban and Gadis Rempah to check out the night life. Not really a drinker or party goer, I stayed home to request for couches and also plot a new plan for my last 10 days in Europe.

The next day, our lovely host had some time before her class and took us for a walk around the town. We went up an 10^th floor high building that used to be a bank before it was bomb and left some concrete floors and stairs. I think I only went up 5 floors while the rest go up all the way. There were hardly any walls around so it was quite windy in this valley town. The sight was awesome as we can see the whole city all the way to the mountains surrounding it. It was surreal standing in war-torn building and admiring the beautiful view. Although the forests around looked inviting, we were reminded that they are a lot of uncovered landmines still around and not to venture off the road. We had a lovely lunch at a nice restaurant, a lot of fish and grilled meat. After the late lunch, we strolled around looking for a cup of traditional coffee (similar to turkish coffee). After that, we went home and made dinner. Again, the rest went out to party and I opted to hang out with the cats. I discovered that we could stay with a friend in Budapest, woot woot! I finally decided to fly back to London on the 16^th and not risk overstaying in Europe.

The gang came home late, even Klara came back first because she has classes the next day. In the morning when people were able to pull themselves out of bed, we packed our bags and left, not for Budapest yet but for this other river that we heard was nice to have fresh river fish for lunch. We made our way there by bus, had a lovely lunch on a roof of this small restaurant by the river that open just for us. And I meant that for real, the owner/chef saw us poking about so asked us if we wanted food, as true Malaysians, we had to say yes! We had lovely grilled fish with sun in our face, wind in our hair and a view to die. Again we lamented, why are we leaving? We had to leave, to catch a bus to Sarajevo to catch a train to Budapest. On the local bus back to Mostar town, we realised we were running late so we ran home to grab our backpacks, said quickie goodbye to our host and ran back to the bus station. As the slowest runner/walker, the rest held the bus for me. It was fully packed when I reached, people were already standing. So we stood as well, in the 6 hours journey to Sarajevo. We played some spotting games. But I was quite tired, sat on the floor of the bus and dozed off, leaning my head against someone’s chair. Along the way, the bus stop, people get off and on and then we had seats. We reached Sarajevo train station with a few hours to spare. Jamban made a friend while looking for a cashpoint and he took us to a nearby fast food place where they served grilled meat. We had dinner there and then board the overnight train to Budapest.

waking up to this view just outside our host’s balcony.

 

Living on the choo choo train.

(ok so it’s a modern train that doesn’t go choo choo but a girl can dream.)

4th- 5^th on the train to Mostar, Bosnia.

 

The journey from Venice to our next destination- Mostar was to be the longest journey I’ve undertaken on this trip. We began the train journey in the early evening on the 4^th and arrived late evening on the 5^th. I think we changed into another train twice. We looked for an empty cabin (most trains here are in cabins, fitting 6 seaters) and started putting our home decoration up. By that I meant food, drinks and most importantly orange peels on the heater by the window. Orange has become part of our diet since the three of us started travelling together. The warm air that rises through the heater into the orange peel and out gave the cabin a slight orange scent which delighted Gadis Rempah tremendously. We also drank water from the toilet tap although it says there ‘Not for drinking’, it was that or our own pee. The bottled water sold in the train’s cafe were exorbitant. Anyway, it can’t be worse than the ice tap water we drink at the road side stalls in Malaysia. Nothing happened to our bodies except tired from not able to sleep on the seats well and craving for warm filling food. Otherwise, we had fun watching Dr Who on my laptop when it had enough batteries, playing Cho Tai Ti or Shithead cardgames, chatting up people who dared trespassed into our little apartment.

It was when we were exiting Slovenia that our passports got checked. We were leavig Shengen Zone Europe and I was informed that I had a few days left in Europe, which took me by surprised. Until then, I innocently thought I had 90 days in each European country but it was actually a total of 90 days in Shengen Zone Europe. Luckily, the Balkans were not part of this zone. But that would mean I could not travel the rest of the journey in Europe with my people. I was quite upset and we started counting the days I have left in Europe. It was roughly 10 days that I have left. I started thinking of alternatives.

In Zagreb, Crotia just before we changed into another train, we had a few hours in the wee morning to spare. Me and Jamban left Gadis Rempah to care for the bags while we went to explore Zagred in the dark morning where drunk people were heading and we were looking for breakfast. After asking a few late night party people whom were heading back, we discovered the only bread shop that open 24 hours. We were so happy to find them bringing out fresh hot bread with meaty fillings called Burek (found in al Balkans country), and that it was much cheaper than food in Italy. We binged. Then we went back to the train station. The light was just about to come up. I took over the bagsitting while Jamban who was still keen to walk about took Gadis Rempah for another round of hot bread and coffee. I remembered wishing for them to come back soon when I felt like taking a dump a few hours later. I managed to hold on until they return with more hot bread, oranges and honey. They apparently stumbled upon a morning market with lots of interesting food. We then boarded another train to Mostar, Bosnia.

That train, was the slowest train we had boarded in all of my trip. It felt like I was on the train to Kelantan, the train stop at nowhere for no reason, move when it feels like it, stop for ages at small stops. at one point, Jamban wanted to go down and grab a hot cup of tea or coffee, but when we decided that yes they probably won’t be moving for a while, Jamban went down, into the cafe to see the train attendant shooing him back into the train because we were leaving. In reflection I think there wasn’t really a train schedule but rather what the train drivers and attendant felt like doing. Although it was quite amusing, our bum were getting tired of sitting and our body from the lack of sleep. We couldn’t wait to reach Mostar. Something me and Jamban had a think about was if this is what we feel after one night and one day in a train, how would we handle the transiberian week long journey on a train? And in the cold freezing winter of Russia? Anyway, look, we’re finally arriving, more than one hour late.

the train time shows what a long journey this will be…long and slow. bring out Dr Who and playing cards!

the two train travelers, obviously not happy that they’re playing london bridge just the 2 of them.

checking on his many babies.

in the train cabin.

the houses we carry on our backs.

one of many friendly folks we met on the train.

Maurisimo! Fame (‘hungry’ in Italian) !!

1^st dec- 3^rd december Porto Viro/Venice

(apologies for no photos for this part as my two trigger happy friends have not sent me anything and all 3 people taking photos all the time is just really strange unless it’s a photo club)

We arrived in the evening, in a nearest train station to Porto Viro. Our host came to fetch us in a car as her house is still a good half an hour drive away. We said hi to Svetlana, whom we discovered in broken English and gadis rempah’s scrap of Italian, that she is Russian and had come to Italy for love and stayed since. Her daughter came over with her and is now a teenager, and Svetlana also just recently married her long term Italian lover. She taught us to say ‘fame’ which means ‘hunger’ in Italian, so when dinner was ready and Maurizio reached home, he was received by a chorus of ‘Maurizio, fame!!’ from a bunch of Malaysias in his warm living room. He laughed and we proceeded to dinner, Italian way. There was lovely homemade bread, served with olive oil, fresh tomatoes and cheese for starters. There was spaghetti with mince pork for first course, roast chicken for second course and lots of wine that I now don’t remember if there was any dessert, just remember us learning Italian from Maurizio, with our favourite phrase being a combo word of his name and bellisimo (beautiful, wonderful) ‘Maurisimo’, laughing lots and at one point, I was dozing off from the wine and waking up to discover more food being served. The weary travellers, crawled into bed, satiated from laughter and tipsy from food.

The next day we caught an early train, early for this bunch is about 9am, to Venice. We reached an hour later, to a drizzling but still packed of tourists island. Other than Paris (which each of us have been to at a different time), Venice has to be the most popular destination we travelled to. Mostly because we wanted to see it before it sinks. Although I have been here before with my family, I was too young and silly to appreciate cultures and people that aren’t familiar. This time, the three stooges took the less tourists path, getting lost in the labyrinth of pathways behind the shops and between people’s residents. Once we even followed dinosaurs footpath that led us to the Natural History Museum, who knew that Venice has that too? We brought bread from the local bakers, and drank overpriced wine at a local bar. We reached the stars of Venice (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Basilica_of_St._Mark) around sunset, which makes the buildings even more magnificent and ethereal than ever. What do we know about art or architecture? We paused, we held each other, we sigh. Then we took a slow stroll back towards the train station, pausing for another round of wine (i’m mostly sipping off my fellow travellers as I have a low alcohol tolerance that is renown in my genetic ancestry), and this time, it was a truly local pub that Venetian go to, wine was around 1 euro a glass and according to my travelling experts, very good indeed! We also bought a bottle (those big mineral water bottle) from a wine-seller (the kind that sells wine whole sale from the barrel) back for our lovely host. Then we happily wave goodbye to Venice and all its glorious capitalist history towards a home-cook Italian meal.

On the third and last day in Porto Viro, we cooked kari mee for our hosts. Then they got us bicycles, 2 theirs and 2 from their neighbours and we cycled around this small town. There’s a heavy mist about which somehow led us to feel like we’re cycling in cold Russia. It was my first time cycling in Europe, it was such a lovely ride! I must get a bicycle when I settle somewhere. Then in the evening, very reluctantly, our host sent us off to the train station and we said farewell to this amazing family, quaint little town and very delicious country. Next up, the Balkans!

Searching for gelato in December.

The port city of Genova.

Riomaggiore, one of the 5 villages in Cinque Terre.

It was like the sun was shining just on this place, the sun existed to just shed light on its beauty.

So surreal yet real people live here, with laundry outside the stacked up houses.

The equally incredibly surreal meeting of Gadis Rempah.

Makes me want to be a fisherman and live a quiet life here.

Gadis Rempah approached these uncles after the photo was taken, asking for gelato.

What do you do with such a beautiful backdrop? Camwhoring of course!

Some evidence of an ongoing danger nearby.

Our little pre-dinner treat at a restaurant in Riomaggiore. Always accompanied by the oranges and a glass of wine.

Torrino, a serious business city with serious looking monuments.

The park that we finally discovered provided us with a pleasant afternoon.

27^th Nov- 1^st Dec 2011 Genova/Cinque Terre/Torrino

when we arrived at the train station in Genova, we got out of the train and in slow motion ran into the arms of gadis rempah. Well not quite, we waited for a while before she turns up with one of the many housemates of the host. Although I was so very excited, seeing my dearest friend again made me feel like it was just yesterday I last saw her. Funny how our memories and emotions work, it felt like she was plucked out of the Malaysia album (of my memory) and plonk in Italy simply by the click of the mouse. So surreal and so …normal. The human ability to adapt to changes is quite astonishing but I was glad to see her.

We all went back to our temporary home here in Genova (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Genoa) to homemade hot stew. The small kitchen was filled with 8 people, 5 of those living there and the 3 couchsurfers. It was a warm, bubbly and passionate house of people. After our crazy hitch-hiking adventures and also finally meeting up with gadis rempah, me and jamban basically just hung about at home the next day, recuperating and doing our laundry. We went out just as the sun set for a brief walkabout this quaint old city to get some grocers for gadis rempah to make some spicy indian dish (it is not curry but I don’t remember the word now, she will kill me!!) for the house. I cannot express the joy of eating someone’s else Malaysian cooking.

The next day we ran (literally ran across the town because we were late) to catch the train to one of the village in Cinque Terre. A few weeks back, we found out that 2 of the villages were affected by flood, we didn’t let that deter us from trying anyway. We went to one of the other villages, Riomaggiore, and had a lovely time strolling along the cliffs and exploring the nooks and crannies of the the little village, ending up in the only open restaurant for a light snack before heading home. We also tried looking for gelato, but when we ask some local old men, they shiver and say it’s ‘freggo’ cold! No gelato! I guess it’s only a summer thing here for ice cream. We’ll get some back in Genova city. Upon arriving home, we were greeted with homemade pesto (with pasta of course) and apparently the best gelato in Genova. It was a truly Genovian meal, as pesto is suppose to originate from here.

Jamban volunteered to stay back and apply for couches in Venice the next day while me and gadis rempah went to Torrino (Turin in English, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Turin) for a day trip. We were very astound by the very grid-like urban planning of the city which dated back from the late 1800. you can see down to 10 other parallel streets and cross junctions from one cross junction. Usually a modern day phenomenon but Torrino is one of the earlier industrialised city, home to Fiat. Walking among the square, old and intimidating buildings, we went searching for a park for a rest. In the quest for a toilet, we managed to wiggle into a royal palace (who knew, all the buildings look equally old and grand) which we eventually were sternly but politely invited to leave when we were found without tickets. Onward to the park! It took us another hour before we found something that resembled a park, but it was worth it. I lay down my head on my friend’s lap while she read, and I doze off in the midst of falling gold leaves and chirping birds. It was an idle autumn afternoon in old Europe with a dear friend. Although one of the more uneventful moments of my trip, that picture is framed with much affection in my mind. After a while, grumbling stomach took us across town towards the river and a little cafe for some hot lasagne and wine. Then a stroll along the beautiful river, followed by coffee, then home to meet Jamban. Jamban had a good news for us, he found a family an hour away from Venice whom will take us in tomorrow. I went out to get simple ingredients for a quick noodle stir fry dinner. In the morning while my fellow travellers are still asleep, I went to walk around the neighbourhood, then found myself a nice spot for people watching, I ordered a capuccino and some focaccia ( really good and cheap local bread that is flat like pizza dough with toppings) and watched old italian people walking about, chatting with the bakers, the butchers and drivers in passing vehicles. In love with the world, I got some fresh bread back for the sleeping beauties. Then off we go, another train, another place. Life as time travellers never stop.

Have you ever slept outdoor in late Autumn? well…

Montpellier to Genova, Italy

26-27^th November 2011

We took the tram to the last stop, as informed by hitchwiki website. Then we tried looking for that petrol station which we just couldn’t find. It took us 2 hours to find that bloody station, we ran across busy highways and climbed dividers. It was dangerous stuff and we do not recommend people to try that at home, only in desperation. Then when we found it, I was so tired, I just plonk myself down with that sign to Marseille/Toulon/Nice. Jamban was by now a pro-hiker, so he went to talk to people at the station. Finally a guy took us on and brought us to Marseille. He was originally from Albania, he loved playing his music loud, luckily it was reggae which both me and jamban liked and he doesn’t speak much English either but he was really nice and dropped us in Marseille where there were roads leading to the highway. Unfortunately, what we and possibly him too, didn’t know was it was the kind of neighbourhood that people would rather put a knife in you than do you a favour. Luckily, the next guy that picked us up knew that and quickly brought us to a nicer neighbourhood where he assured us it would be easier to get a ride from. His assurance was in vain, the stereotypes about class failed to deliver as it was as difficult to get a ride from the nicer neighbourhood too, eventhough a lot more people smiled apologetically at us. Finally, we discovered some flowers on the floor and jamban held it up with the sign with such debonair that a pretty young lady stopped for us. If we knew that we would have had flowers and grasses sewn onto our bodies! This lady said she could drop us in Toulon, where we could take a bus or train to Genova if it’s getting late. It was late, and we were supposed to meet the gadis rempah today in Genova, Italy and with the sun going down so fast, I had a sinking feeling that might not happen. The feeling sunk with a bang when our driver hit the car in front while lining up for the toll. It was a gentle bump but the 3 hormonally charged young man wanted to show their buckness by demanding payment. We ended up in police station with Jamban, who was the front seat passenger, as one of the witness. Our driver who had put up a strong front before the boys finally gave in in tears after making the police report. We knew we couldn’t ask for more favors. She was already late for her work in Hyeres and she told us there is an airport there. We thought we’ll just sleep in the airport for the night and leave for Genova the next day.

Jamban’s turn to hold the sign. That’s my backpacks behind him.

After dinner near her workplace, we tried to look for the airport. Road signs in France are as good as Malaysian’s, which mean they are dead confusing. When we stopped and asked some nice folks, they decided to drive us there. However, the day of misfortunes had not ended for us. The airport was shut. It was one of those budget airline airport that only open in the day. Airport should be like hospital, always open! Anyway, we had to park our butts somewhere and it might as well be here. Jamban went around scouting for sheltered grounds while I watched the bags. The guard came and told us we can sleep in the basement carpark. Jamban was sure he only made that as a suggestion and so we went to sleep on the first floor of the next building. The guard came and chased us back to the first spot. So after the hide and seek with the guard, we camped out with our sleeping bags and tried to sleep. What with jamban snoring like a train, the cold hard floor and just the idea of sleeping out in the open made my sleep a difficult one. I stayed up mostly reading the book, peeing by a tree three times and feeling quite upset at the condition of things. And then I thought to myself, I could have been alone and that would have been a lot worse. I look at the snoring jamban affectionately and thought, thank the universe at least I have a friend here. A friend whose constant positivity makes any misadventures feel like a one off experience one would tick off a bucket list. Sleeping outside an airport in cold winter Europe, TICKED! Played hide and seek with a guard, TICKED! Bang a car with angst-y young man while hitching a ride, TICKED! Sleep in the house of the person who picked us up, TICKED! I think I told him this, having Jamban around definitely heighten my sense of adventure and whenever I come to roadblocks or junction of decisions, I’d think, what jamban would do now. Whatever he’d do, he would serve it up with a big smile and generous portions of giggles.

There’s a little walkway tunnel from the carpark that goes to the airport, we took shelter there as it was somewhat less drafty. that is Jamban snoring away in his hive of sleeping bag and his magic pillow.

I could not be happier when dawn came, the airport open at half past 7 and we were right there as soon as the door opens. We soaked in the warmth and I even took a nap while Jamban used the toilet. In the end, we took the bus back out into Hyere’s town. We managed to grab a quick breakfast at a quaint café in the pretty little town. The morning was cheering us on with bright sunshine and I felt that today would be a good day. We have decided to take the bus to Toulon, then train over to Genova. Last night drama and hard floor has left me wanting a little more comfort and convenience for today. In Toulon, we met the rudest person over the counter. We asked him if we could get train tickets and he told us off for not knowing that this is the counter for the metro, not the train. And when we asked where we can get bus tickets, he scolded us again. It was utterly bizarre why he was so rude when we were asking questions nicely. But we will not be deterred from enjoying the lovely morning, after getting the train ticket, I filled up on my first sushi on the trip while Jamban checked out the winter festival. On the train, I was thinking that finally, we are on the way to Genova today to meet our lovely friend Gadis Rempah. We changed train in Nice and witness beautiful coastline all through our train journey. Then evening came, and the train stopped, we were all asked to get out of the train. Me and jamban were a little dazed. We asked the guys working at the train station and discovered that we are in the last stop in France. The train is no longer going to Genova and we had to take a cab to the next town in Italy in order to catch the next train to Genova. As we were the last 2 people to get off the train, by the time we got out of the station, we saw that everyone else was already queuing up for the cab and it was a long line. We thought we won’t be able to make it if we wait in line. The rebellious Malaysians walk out to the main street and tried hitchhiking again. Then Jamban saw a cab on the other side of the road and I rushed over, running across busy street to the cab with Jamban shouting ‘careful!’ I told him our destination and he gestured for us to wait at the other side. It was with a big urgency that we haul our backpacks into his cab and informed him that we need to be at the next town’s train station in 30 minutes or we’ll miss our train. He assured us he’ll get us there in 20 minutes. We drove through the deserted immigration checkpoint between France and Italy and arrive at the train station in 20 minutes. We had 10 minutes to pay him, check for our train departure gate and get ourselves in there. Oh but the surprises has not stopped, when we look up at the train departure board, all the trains were cancelled. Our hearts sank, and Jamban saw that there is one train that is still due to depart and it was ours! We doubled checked and triple checked with our tickets, and truly our strings of misadventures had resulted in one good event, we will be going to Genova tonight after all! Jamban even got us a nice piece of warm pizza each for the train ride. Although the train was thoroughly packed, we were very relieved that finally something was going to plan. PHEW!! WHAT AN ADVENTURE THAT WAS!! Now I could sit back and laugh about our hitchhiking adventures with Jamban.

Hitch-hiking Episode 1 (Barcelona-Montpellier)

23/11/2011

This is my 2^nd time hitch-hiking, the first was in Malaysia with 3 crazy oddballs, somewhere between KL and Ipoh. Jamban has not hitched before. After scouting the website for tips, we went towards the beach where we found the mentioned gas station. After half an hour of holding the destionation sign and no one approached us, we took turn approaching drivers with our non-existent Spanish to ask for a ride. Finally, Jamban scored a ride from a lady who took us to a town before Girona. From there, I scored a ride from a young man to Girona. From Girona, a couple picked us up to Perpignon. It was dark when we reach Perpignon, but we continued trying our luck to get to Montpellier tonight itself. Finally, a beat-up van stopped and told us, it was late and no one is gonna pick us up so come on in! after rearranging the plants and woods in the back of the van, we had just enough space to lump our backpacks in there and hop on in front with him. I forgot his name but it was a very French name, he told us that he lived in a village outside of Montpellier city and he could drop us at a gas station if we want, but it’s late and it would be hard to find anyone to hitch with at this time, and he offered us to stay over at his house in the village. The appeal of a warm house in a French countryside won us over and we decided to go with this man and his beat up van.

His wife discovered about these 2 strangers only when we reached, and she immediately started cooking more food just for us. His brother in law, a winemaker who lived nearby, was there and we tried some of his wine. It was a cosy family affair where homecooked French food is heartwarming and hearty, lots of potatoes, cheese, bread, not at all like their showy counterpart in the restaurants. After good wine, we had a good sleep and woke up to birds chirping. We started to drift towards and into nature, taking solitary walks. I felt almost like being back in Berducido village except for the different scenery, there were certainly more pine trees here and it’s not as lush but beautiful nonetheless. Our lovely host took us for a late lunch, we haven’t managed to switch the lunch time yet after being used to Spanish late meal time. then we went to his brother-in-law winery and Jamban bought some wine in tribute to this lovely adventure. Then he dropped us near the highway where we managed to hitch a ride with another winemaker to Montpellier city.

Montpellier 24-26 November 2011

We tram-ed into the city to be welcomed by a group of Occupy protestors who were camping out in the square. We gave them our cheer and support, and they sent us off in the direction of our host’s house. Along the way, we were unsure of our step, and another anarchist activist who was squatting in a house not far from our host’s kindly took us there, lend us his phone for us to call our host. Montpellier definitely had revolution in the air. Then we met our host, whose name was so difficult to pronounce that I’d remember it for a long time, Yliria but she was such a bundle of joy, energy and music. It was the way she clutch that cello with those legs and of course the amazing voice that we made her sang for us over and over, and jamban video it. But when will we get to see the video, which will remain a mystery. In the day, we walked around the city, had hot croissants and searched for Asian grocer so that we can cook for our host. We also stumbled onto a wine festival in the square, which jamban and the host, wither her charm and his enthusiasm got lots of free drinks from their 3 vouchers. I of course couldn’t keep up and anyway, I can’t tell between one wine from the other unless they’re red or white, so I left the happy couple in the square and got an early start at cooking pan mee. Jamban made belachan to go with it and it was a hit with our host and friends. After dinner, the tipsy folks went out to get tipsier while I stayed in as befitting of my age and got an early nap before we start hitchhiking again the next day.

Our host in Montpellier plays cello and sang for us. Jamban has a video of her performance somewhere.

Looking up on hitchwiki for hitch-hiking advice.

Hasta Luego Espana!

Last stop in Spain, where I had 3 different hosts, met up with Jamban again to continue on with the Euro trip and had a funky haircut by my host’s housemate. The last host I stayed with were actually Jamban’s host, they were all Italian girls who found a home here. We made spicy noodles and they made Italian pizza and we ate dinners at midnight. Me and Jamban also made chicken rice and we had to learn to gut a chicken from watching a youtube video. I must say we did pretty well, no sac of chicken excretion exploding everywhere and Jamban also managed to save liver and heart to eat with his rice. Barcelona to me felt smaller than Madrid, possibly because I was living with hosts whose place were quite central and I could walk to the town centre. Barcelona also boasted a beach in the city but it was very cold and windy when we strolled along it. There were also funny random conversations about eskimos that made me wondered how they make fire, do they only see all white stuff, if they do, how do you tell when the snow end and the polar bear begins? Also Jamban wondered how do they procreate in such cold weather, do they even take off any piece of clothing? Conversations like this is a talent of my good friend. Most of all, Barcelona was a time spent with amazing women who were deeply intuitive and spiritual, whom have welcomed me into their family and told me with a certainty that I will be back. After spending close to 2 months in Spain, I can only hope their prediction comes true.

photos from hereon will be more sporadic because i left the picture taking to the Jamban who was carrying 3 cameras. as to when and where will i see those photos though, will be a mystery to us all. 🙂

First host welcome me with dinner.

then I made him dinner next day, chicken with ginger, 2 ways.

tucking in.

The host Anna whom Jamban was staying with and where I crashed.

on the left is her housemate and the experimental hairstylist who cut my hair.

the food that me and Jamban made, i’m not sure what that was…

Open market in the city

love love market me!!

walk about the city

Anna pointed out to me the interesting skyline.

Discussing life and love over a cup of coffee/tea in a small quaint cafe.