Mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved

"They danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!""

- Jack Kerouac, On the Road

Journey home

The time that my journey takes is long and the way of it long.

I came out on the chariot of the first gleam of light, and pursued my
voyage through the wildernesses of worlds leaving my track on many a star and planet.

It is the most distant course that comes nearest to thyself,
and that training is the most intricate which leads to the utter simplicity of a tune.

The traveler has to knock at every alien door to come to his own,
and one has to wander through all the outer worlds to reach the innermost shrine at the end.

My eyes strayed far and wide before I shut them and said `Here art thou!'

The question and the cry `Oh, where?' melt into tears of a thousand
streams and deluge the world with the flood of the assurance `I am!'

- Rabindranath Tagore

World world world

I sit in my room
imagine the future
sunlight falls on Paris...
Trafalgar's fountain splash
on noon-warmed pigeons...
Gold dolphins leaping
thru Mediterranean rainbow
White smoke and steam in Andes
Asia's rivers glittering...

- Allen Ginsberg

Strolling the Golden Horn, watching the fishermen on Galata bridge, taking a ferry down the Bosphorus that divides Europe and Asia... It was magic, Istanbul was magic, and i loved every minute of it, the skyline of minarets and graceful domes of mosques silhouetted against the sunset as i stroll past the grand Yeni Jamii and the chaos of the Misir Carsisi (Egyptian spice market) down Galata bridge in the evenings....

Leaving

May 7, 2009 1.15 a.m.

Its less then 24 hours to go and again, i'm feeling the usual mix of fear, sadness at leaving home, some excitement, and anticipation.

Always, the feeling strikes when i'm packing my bags (on the last night - i am an organised person), packing up my room for some future months of emptiness, saying my goodbyes, getting into the car beside the garden, smelling the fragrant flowery scent in the early hours of dew-ey morning. Tomorrow i have a midnight flight. So it will be the same, leaving at 6 or 7 at dusk with the light veil of darkness and the fragrant perfume of flowers, watching the gate close and driving off.

Breakfast in Doha

In 3 days, ill be eating fish sandwiches strolling the Golden Horn in Istanbul. I cant wait.

My current to do list:

1. Sandboarding

2. Float in the Dead Sea

3. Get pummeled in a Turkish hammam

4. Watch Galatasaray at home. "Welcome to Hell". The 10th May 6pm match.

5. Take a felucca down the Nile

6. Look over into the Promised Land from Mt. Nebo in Jordan

7. Bethany-beyond-the-Jordan

Sapa, Vietnam

The Hanoi-Lao Cai night train

On the way to Sapa, on the Chinese border. Winter 2008.

3 years ago when i mentioned to my friend that i was thinking of taking the train, he gave me an incredulous look (of horror). I was hence, mentally prepared but it seems that Vietnam Railways have improved leaps and bounds in that 3 years.


The train station, a brand spanking new concrete block in central Ha Noi showing Cars on flat screen plasma TVs was a clear sign of how Viet Nam has prospered recently. The shops that sold expensive snacks and mineral water too. I think they must think that us foreigners are really cheap - the Vietnamese seem quite ready to pay for a 1 dollar bottle of mineral water while i gave the cashier a sheer look of incredulity (and tried to haggle *blushes*). It was a good thing that i had the foresight to buy my own supplies during the day.

Baguette - check. My half-eaten pack of laughing cow cheese - check. Favourite jacket - check. Water - half-full, but ill survive (refusing to succumb to railway station oligopoly). All ready for a comfy night tucked in onboard the Transindochinois to Lao Cai station - actually in Chinese this means old street - lao jie, i would think it would mean roughly the same in Vietnamese given that the latter is heavily influenced by Chinese. It was, in fact, written in Chinese script until it became Romanised.

The Transindochinois, surprisingly, ran above ground in Ha Noi - surreal surreal as i stole peeks of nighttime Ha Noi from the window, curtains partly drawn, the residential suburbs, old quiet neighbourhood streets, motorcycles patiently waiting by the barrier for the train to pass... And then the train came down once we left Ha Noi, which seemed to take forever. Into the countryside then, occasional trees and expanses of dark wet rice paddy fields passing by the window in the night. I sleep really well on trains - its the rocking that makes you feel like a baby in a cradle (and i get top bunk - actually the Vietnamese prefer lower bunks - which are more expensive, by the way).