Commit or not to commit? This is a very important question.
“Why do you travel to all these countries?” asked Ronn’s cousin. She’s one of the most beautiful and loveliest girls I’ve met in the Philippines. Girl — I legitimately thought she was an elementary school student, until she told me she was 21 years old. Luckily I didn’t bear any sexual intents behind my admiration of her adorable smile, otherwise I would’ve cast myself off as a failed pedophile.
“Why do you travel to all these countries?”
I haven’t received any interesting question about my life for so long that I suddenly came to a loss of words.
Why?
Back when travelling to different countries was still a grandiose dream, I wanted to meet new people, try new food, speak new words, see new and unimaginable things.
Then I had my first chance to go to Montana, the US. It was truly an eye opener for me. Everything was new and fresh. The sky was wider and bluer. The people smiley and less complicated. The food greasy and lacked of nutrition, but it was my first ever foreign food and it tasted good still. I still remember crying in the disc golf park at 2am in the morning because I liked it so much. Having finally seen the vastness of the world, I knew I wouldn’t be able to carry any of that ecstatic delirium back to the pit of that concrete sky garden called Hong Kong.
Having been to Montana, I wanted to travel to even more places and meet more people. Life was good and it could only get better.
Then it was Cape Town, South Africa. The scenery was so extraordinary and the lives of the riches so ideal; but if you crossed the street, you’d find yourself surrounded by child and adult beggars who often resorted to hating those ideals. I came as an exchange student, but then I started my first serious relationship and found myself a job to stay. South Africa was a mix of heaven and hell, but inside our little rented apartment I had absolute warmth and comfort. I also had a mental breakdown inside our apartment because beggars would often knock on our door asking for money and food. Every knock was a reminder why I didn’t deserve all that warmth and comfort. It was the place where my perception of the world started collapsing. The blurred lines of hope and hopelessness. The messily scrambled love and pain.
But still, I wanted to travel to more places to help spread my newfound onlooks. A little warmth and comfort would never hurt anyone, right?
Then it was Chiang Rai, Thailand. I was fresh out of university with a Bachelor’s degree in Ecology and Biodiversity, as well as a minor in journalism. By this time, I had seen love. I had seen hope. I had seen loveless hope and hopeless love. And yet I was still foolish enough to drag my passion to Thailand. I worked with elephants. A tourist elephant camp. Inside of a hotel. It was a not-for-profit foundation. Founded by the hotel group. It was like the perfect mixture that my life prepared me for. This was where I came to the biggest and most hopeless realization of my life: no one had ever had control of the system. For every small details, there would always be a smaller detail. And there would always be a bigger picture than the bigger picture. So, there was no different between hope and hopelessness after all. It was one and the same. Love was pain and pain was love.
I was confused and tired, and yet I wanted to travel to more places hoping to prove myself wrong.