31 May 2013

Thank you, Strangers.

We are all strangers. Before we give each other a smile, before we say ‘hello’, before we walk into each other’s life. To pay our gratitude to someone we know is hard enough, let alone saying thank you to someone whom we have just met for once and parted ever since. 

Who we are today, to a certain extent, is related to some strangers who have crossed our path at some points in our lives. It’s this unfathomable, weird and random intertwining of fate and luck that brings us together and teaches us something that nobody we know can teach us.

I have met many strangers along the way, especially through my travelling here in Europe and in the States. For me, travelling has enriched my life in an unprecedented way, but the strangers who appeared along the journey meant much more. They are like a small cup of espresso, or a pint of Stella that gives my trips a refreshing breath.  And now, those moments remain as a lifetime of scenic fragrance in my memory.   

Hence, to some of the strangers that I have met, I would like to thank you.  

There was a time when I was on a flight back from Berlin and out of shear misfortune; the flight was delayed as it ran out of fuel. This was all due to the massive air traffic queue at Gatwick airport. So, the pilot flew from Gatwick to another airport (Stansted), got refilled, and landed at Gatwick again. After the delay, I missed my bus back to Central London.  

My first thought was that I had to spend the night at the airport. So to pass the time, I started talking to the stranger next to me. Turned out that you are a British businessman who works at London and Berlin. The best part was that you live so close to my place at Central London. So, you fetched me home with your BMW Z3. On the way home, we talked about Berlin history, the Berlin weekend nightlife which goes all the way till 11am the next day and the start-up culture in Berlin.

To the middle-aged, hospitable Norwegian hostel owner at a small town called Hellesylt in Norway.  You knew how much I wanted to visit the Geiranger fjord, but there wasn’t any ferry service around that time. You then drove me with your beige 1965 Chevrolet Suburban, to a spot where I could overlook the fjord.
While I couldn’t thank you enough for your kindness, you only replied me this.

I was there once. I was young before”.   

Also, to the German guy who told me you were doing you internship at Audi in Chicago, thanks for being my bike partners while I was cycling at the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. You told me how much you missed your school teacher girlfriend in Hamburg, and how much I should treasure my dreams and my loved ones, for they are the only things that we will think of in front of a beautiful sunset. That, is indeed true.

To the Spanish guy who couldn’t speak English at all, and represented your district for a martial art competition in Porto. We spent the whole half an hour talking, by just using our gestures. You taught me that languages are not as important as the intentions when we want to communicate with each other.  Ironically, it’s that when we have common language, we complicate our speech; but when we don’t get each other’s words, we become more patient.

And, to this Brazilian lady at the Le Regent Montmarte hostel in Paris, thank you for teaching me that travelling is the only thing that makes us rich, after we have spent all of our money. Oh and the samba dance moves with the red wine. Your gesture was so friendly, so much so that it kept me warm, from the ice-cold weather outside the hostel. 

Thank you to all of you. For without you guys, I wouldn’t know that sometimes, being a stranger is as good as being a friend. We were friends once, and became strangers after that. Probably, leaving it as how it is gives a better definition for the encounters. 

Do not be a stranger that gives people a cold shoulder, but be one that lends a helping hand and brings joy to others. One day you will realise that you might be in one of those thank you cards which are pinned on the boards, at one of the youth hostels, somewhere in this world, with the kind words,


The best stranger I have ever known

18 May 2013

5 Things you realise after your final exam is over

So, the four, long years of college have finally come to an end.

The exam is over. So, what's next?

1. The exam is over. But the department loves you so much that they tell you "boy, dont rush off to enjoy in the big big world, you still have your final year project waiting for you." So, it's not really over yet. The euphoria that bursts out into the thin air just gets deflated like a party balloon. You then realise you are in this weird limbo, between celebrating the end of college exam, taking a break, and doing your project. Then, you crawl back to your desk and look up to the Queen's message : Keep Calm and Carry On.

2. The library is getting quieter. So, this is pretty weird. Library is at the peak of its noise level when everyone is preparing for the exams. And, library is turning back into a library, after exams. Where you don't get people eating, where you don't get people making noise, and where you don't get people reserving for places. Oh. and we don't sleep in the library anymore.

3. The weather. There's a famous saying about London weather: "If you don't like the weather, just wait for a few minutes". Before that, you were in the library 24/7, (well dont take it literally, while for those who take it literally, god bless you) so the weather didn't really affect you. Now, you have a couple of minutes to spare, and you start realising the weather is not as sunny as 2 weeks before, and you start questioning, "where did the sun go?" And, the sun leave a message on it's unreachable cellphone: "i am on a summer vacation, will be back soon. ttyl"

4. The room. Your room is the one single place you are most afraid of after exams. It's full of small, little hills built out of your notes, past year paper exams and text books. Then, looking at them, with your mouth wide opened, you don't know where to start to tidy up your room. Then, a brilliant idea came into your mind. "Oh, I still have a final year project to do."

5. The notes. Should I burn it? Should I throw it away? Should I bequeath this treasure to the juniors? Or should I bring it back to my home country? With so many questions running in your mind, saying a yes to the 2nd question is the usual option. One, you recycle and help the nature. Second, you save the troubles for yourself to keep thinking about it.

      

03 May 2013

被遗忘的热血政治

似乎很久了。那感觉,像个被放置在垃圾堆里的弃婴,被遗忘,被放弃。

四年前,还未到英国就读时,因为有常阅读报章的习惯,所以也就喜欢起写作来。后来,慢慢的,开始想以文字,为别人打抱不平。 这,开始了投稿到星洲言路版(Letters to The Editor)的旅程。

当你越写越多时,很自然地你就开始对政治产生兴趣。那时候,SPM毕业后,得不到JPA的海外奖学金。一气之下,把所有的怒气和埋怨,用文字大吐苦水。开始关注起教育课题,开始去阅读专业政治评论员的文章,开始去想到底如何利用文字改变大马人的思维,如何推动国家改革。

一个十七岁的少年,为了热血政治(和赚多一些稿费),什么时事课题都拿来臭骂一顿。这是我最早期对于"个人利益离不开政治,政治也离不开个人利益"的切身体验。满腔热血,还曾一度想去报读 Political Science。

后来,到了吉隆坡去读 A-levels,认识了志同道合的朋友。开始出席MSLS,开始浏览Recom。然后,觉得只用华文来谈政治,始终无法和更大的朋友群辩论和沟通。这也开始了我为Berita Harian, Dewan Siswa, Malaysiakini书写的路程。后来想到,将来要去英国读书,所以也开始留意英文报的评论文章。

 然后,得到梦寐以求的奖学金。为了保障自身和奖学金的安全,我停止去写一切有关政治的文章。 这些年的夏季,都有回去马来西亚。出席了一些讲座,很多都是没有建设性的意见。你要讲话的平台,政府也给你。但是,你所说的东西,他也不会去听。

渐渐的,我开始对大马失望。对着一箩箩的旧问题,更是反感。大二时,为了让更多的年轻人明白到现实和实际的残酷,唯有做好自己的本分,才能够让自己的声音被听见,就像潘建成那样,我投稿去Malaysia Insider。 然后就有位学生大力抨击,说大马才独立50多年,民主化需要时间,急不来。

 我顿时失望透顶。决定不再写政治文章了,因为那时候觉得,写了一大堆,政府依旧我行我素,问题依旧没有解决。大家都不明白,再等下去,国家就会完蛋了。

就这样,我变成了,十七岁的自己反感的那种人-开始对政治冷感。 在大三时,我的室友对政治很有兴趣。只可惜,我已找不回年少的热情。每每提起一些课题,我都哑口无言。因为我已经改变初衷了。

我相信,行动胜于言语,甚至文字。

 现在,看着身边的亲朋戚友都对政治感兴趣了。大家都看到希望,大家都热血起来了。 这让我很感动。看着海外和国内的朋友也不断呼吁大家投票来改变历史,拯救国家未来。国家兴亡,匹夫有责。我们看到了我们的责任,我们的能力,我们的理想。

一个大选,让一个政治冷感的年轻人,感到热血起来。这好象突然回到1955年,我们全国上下决定反殖民的那个时刻。