footprints of life

"perfect timing" is what I call it when I found out that 24 hours after I left home, my watch stopped working, grrrr……. Not that it will be impossible to find replacement batteries out here, but, seriously… why didn’t it stop working back home, where I know exactly where to find them? And a watch is something I can’t live without

A couple of days ago, I happened to be in a conversation that would haunt me for days.  I was with a couple of male friends, both of them married, and in their early thirties. As we were discussing about my coming wedding, one of them, let’s call him Mr. X, asked a somewhat simple question to me, "If you look at yourself, would you consider this wedding to come early in life, late, or just in time?"

As I was sitting on the back seat of the car, while both of the were on the front seats, they couldn’t really see my face as I was pondering the question.  But before I opened my mouth, the other guy, Mr. Z, already responded with another question, "What do you mean?"

So then, this conversation followed:

Mr.X:  I mean, when I looked at myself, I think I got married quite early..

Mr.Z: What do you mean by early, in age, or you only had a short time to get to know her before deciding?

Mr. X:  No, I mean, by age.  I think I never thought that I would get married already at that age, and I think that fact also surprised some of my friends, you know… that I settled down ‘early’.

Me (err… let me call myself Ms. Y, hahaha) :  Yeah, I can see that.  I mean, not that you’re never serious about life, but I can see that you might not fit into the typical guy who settles down early in life.

Mr. Z:  For me, I think I got married quite late for my standard.

Mr. X:  Hence the question, how about you, Y?  What do you think about marrying at this age?

And before I had the chance to respond, again, Mr. Z quickly answered,

Mr.Z :  I think for a girl, marrying in this age is quite late.  Normally, women in her age are already married for some years, and even have children.

Mr. X: I am not talking about ‘normally’, I am talking about measuring oneself against one’s goals in life, does she think that she gets married at the right time, at the time she wants, or plans, to get married.

Mr. Z :  I still think this age is quite late for a woman to get married.

And err… guys, I was STILL SITTING there behind you, comprende? But we arrived at our destination before I could answer, so we left the conversation at that.

But it was an interesting question to start with, if you measure yourself, would you think that the things that happen to you in life, the choices you make, the events, opportunities, changes, come to early, just right or too late? 

And I am wondering how many people are actually thinking about it, about how they measure themselves. Not according to parents’ expectation, society expectation, what is ‘normal’, or whatever it is the name we attach to ‘conformity’. 

How many people actually ask themselves, am I ready for this?  Do I really want to take this decision, that will change my life, for the better hopefully, now?  Does it fit into the kind of life I want to have?  Do I really need to take control of everything in my life, or is it time to let go a bit and let my life takes its own course?  Am I ready to take the plunge, knowing that there is no guarantee that everything will work out fine?

Anything, anything in life… be it graduating, getting a job, getting a new job, first boy/girlfriend, first kiss, making commitments, breaking up, virginity, moving to a new place, making investments, getting married, having children, going back to school, traveling, quitting a job… any choice, any decision… Is it too early, just right, or too late, in our own scheme of time? Is this the life you want to experience?  Is this the person you want to see in the mirror the next morning?  Do you really listen to what YOU want to do and WHEN you want to do it?

And as the answer I never got to give, I think it’s just in time.  At times, I tend to think it’s a bit too early (an answer that would make my mother turn in her grave - her being the traditional, typical Javanese woman she was), but I think it’s a good time to start a new challenge in life.  I am not saying I am fully ready for whatever comes as the consequence of this choice, but I can say that I think I have sufficient base to take the decision, and take the plunge. And honestly, I do think sometimes, it’s about time.

Sana’a, October 2, 2009.

PS: Thanks AB for the intriguing philosophical question, and at least that day I know that people who think the way I think are not that rare. 

Moving places, and homes, is always a good exercise.  That’s what I heard from some people, and what I refused to believe, until lately.

Moving is always a painful activity, since by the end of whatever months or years staying in one place, I end up getting really confused on where the h*** all those things had come from, hahaha.  I do realize that I am a bit of a hoarder, thinking that those things will someday come in handy, yeah….something unforeseen could always happen, right?  And being cash strapped, you can never waste anything that could still be used, or could still be possibly used….someday.

It is true that money makes life easier.  Definitely.  I am not trying to be a hypocrite and say that it’s not true.  What is interesting, is that money makes it easier to stop being a hoarder.  You know, keeping that extra pieces of paper that might come in handy in like… never(?), that extra pen that could still work if we get the right refill… one day(?), pushing those cute shirts to the corner hoping that we could shrink to fit in err…. ten years (?)… Knowing that we can afford to buy those things WHEN we actually need them, really helps to learn to let go of all the things that MIGHT come in handy, SOMEDAY.

Moving on from one life to another, it always hurts to pack those things, going through the memories each thing holds, knowing that we cannot hold on to them, the things, the memories, the life.  But the best memories stay within my heart, that’s something I learn from moving on.  

But now…. I have to learn to deal with others who have not learnt the lessons I learnt, hahaha.  Trying to sort through things to move into a new house, and finding out that there are so many things that we could live without, and we had lived without for the last five years - at least, filling up every possible corners. And knowing, that getting rid of them will bring pain to the people I really care about

Letting go of earthly possession, and holding on to the ones in the heart… how difficult..

Salatiga, 20/08/2009

A good friend once asked me, on the face of two possibilities: would I rather say goodbye crying, or fighting. And I remember saying whimsically, I’d rather say goodbye fighting, because that day, we were crying.

I guess I never quite took the time to explain to him why I said what I had said. And though I never quite regret missing the chance to do so, for I believe that things happen for a reason, and that they come in their own good times, I wished I had made more effort to explain myself.

My dear friend, that day was the second time we said goodbye. And no matter how we tried to make it a ‘see you again’, it still felt a lot like goodbye. And that was the second time we said goodbye in tears. At that point of time, there lied ahead a possibility to try something different, to do something we had never done before. It meant another chance to meet again and enjoy our friendship, but it also meant an opportunity to strengthen it or a risk of destroying it.

For me, I’d rather take the chance. If that means knowing you a tiny bit better, pushing the limit of our relationship a bit further, I’ll take the chance. I always believe, possibly wrongly, that it is in dealing with conflict, our real selves come into play.

Are we forgiving? Are we humble enough to say ‘I’m sorry’? Are we graceful enough to hold our temper in check? Are we strong enough to take whatever it is need to be said to us and move on? Are we loving enough to let it pass and look at the good times? Are we honest enough to say what we need to say? Are we patient enough to caress the wound and give it time to heal? Are we tough enough to know that we would heal?

I wear my scars with pride, knowing that what doesn’t kill me makes me strong, to quote your words. I cannot tell you that I survived them all, no, as a matter of fact, I did not survive them all. And never, ever ever, I went through a relationship unscathed. But as much as anything else, relationships are mirrors to ourselves. As much as learning about others, I had been through invaluable lessons of looking into my relationships and seeing the ugly reflection that was me. But learning to deal with it, make peace, and move on, has been the greatest lesson of all.

And you, I love you enough to know, that I will survive whatever happens between us, of course, except losing you. Maybe I did not tell you that enough. Or maybe, you don’t believe it enough. Maybe I had pushed the limit a tiny bit too far for you.

Today, I am letting you go. Hoping that setting you free means setting you free to come back to me. Wishing you would remember, that third goodbye felt a lot like a ‘see you again’, and didn’t we want that in the first place?

15/08/2009

Last weekend I was really fortunate, because a very nice lady took me to a Sana’ani wedding party, errr… a LADIES Wedding Party, to be exact.

a LADIES wedding party?  And what on earth does that mean? Ladies and Gentlemen, that simply means that there are separate parties for female guests and male guests, and not only there are two parties, there are MULTIPLE parties for each gender group, so I don’t think you would even need to bother pulling out that electronic calculator…. these wedding parties are simply super duper expensive.

Anyway, after going through a panic attack for not having anything proper to wear and making a quick stop at a shoe shop and get myself a pair of silver peep-toe shoes (yeah, you read it right : SILVER PEEP TOE HIGH HEELED SHOES), I was finally resigned with the fact that I might be seriously underdressed in one of the notoriously festive Sana’ani weeding parties.

I put on my abaya, and head to the front gate when I heard a car honking up front.  

After a five minute drive, we finally arrived at the venue, and what a long line of cars!!! I had to leave both of my phones with my friend’s driver because she forgot to tell me that we are not allowed to bring anything with camera on it inside the venue.  I saw lines and lines of cars opening their doors, and letting out ladies in in black shrouds, who are then moving swiftly from the car to the security check.  Presenting the small pieces of invitation (there are color coded coupons inside the usual invitation card for different parties on different days… picture THAT) outside the compound was a quick business, and then we were greeted by a pair of female ‘guards’ inside the compound who rummaged through our bags/purses for cameras.

We were cleared.

And LO and BEHOLD!! The first glimpse of the venue was a front hall with chest high mirrors all over the walls, and numerous ladies taking off their abayas and [re]beautifying themselves before entering the party room.  Oh, what a humbling sight!

These beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, and gorgeous (THAT’s how humbling it had been…) ladies clad in exquisite dresses and most impressive statement jewelleries I have ever seen with my own eyes.  But somehow I found that my simple summer dress had made the cut, just made the cut.  And the silver shoes definitely covered my bases.  With the absence of the abovementioned statement jewelleries on any part of my body, I could use any assistance of any bling-bling, believe me.  But then again, I can always get away from the norms, being a foreigner  

After the barely successful attempt of beautifying myself, my friend and I walked into this huge huge hall filled with ladies…ladies….and ladies.  And not one lady looks like the next one.  Up front was an elevated stage decorated in white and pink collumns and fabrics, with a white throne perching gracefully smack in the middle…. empty.

Young ladies danced in front of the stage, moving their bodies and swinging their hair, cascading a loooooong way down their backs - straightened, curled, colored, highlighted; you name it. Vines of pretty little flowered henna tattooes crept up those bare arms, shoulders and backs.

And that’s just the beginning

This posting is way too long already.  So, see you on the next part.

Sana’a, July 5th, 2009.

DISCLAIMER:  The photos on this page ARE NOT actual party attendees, they are just illustrating the kind of dresses you could see (and ehemmm… those you would NEVER see, Gentlemen…) in such parties.  And yes, I saw some versions of these dresses. Pictures are from here.

How many of you actually always have a camera with you?  Or in possession of a cameraphone?

Yup, I saw some hands back there, and also one here.  Ehemmm….probably a bit on the extreme side, I happen to have a small camera AND 2 (two) cameraphones with me in my so-called purse (ugh…hate the word, not to mention that IT couldn’t be called a purse because of its sheer size…let’s call it my handy bag, instead).

And recently, I found one goody thing about having a camera/cameraphone handy…being a girl that is, I can transform it (errr…them..) into an instant visual shopping list, yay!  

The problem started ~ wait, it was not a problem then, it was an opportunity, LOL ~ when I am ’stranded’ in this place, where most of the population doesn’t speak English (nor Indonesian, nor Javanese, in case the earlier statement failed to illustrate how dire my situation had been), and I was (err…actually still am) in a serious need of a pair of nail-clippers.  Yeah, a very simple thing.

My first thought was to run to the nearest pharmacist and ask them if they have anything like that. But then again, what if I can actually find it in a supermarket?  Or cosmetic shop?  Or it is located in some unfathomable department in that ever crowded Shumaila Hari super store (emmm…it’s like the Meijer or Matahari or Carrefour of Sana’a, Yemen)?  Then, where would I end up?  

Next idea was to search an image of the said nail clippers on Google and print it out.  But thanks to the ever present power cut, the images were nicely stored in my hard disc and I had not managed to print them out just yet.

And then it dawned on me some random article on photography knick-knack I read a couple of months back, and I had a revelation.  Dummy! Of course I can take a picture of that picture (err…still following me?), and bring it with me, how smart!

So here I am, with a pair of nail clippers as the wallpaper of my phones, but alas, I have not managed to get to one of those shops, yet.  Thanks to the pile of Arabic homeworks.  Maybe next time.

But hey, a good idea deserves some bragging, right?

In case some of you are interested to see what other ideas are out there, here is the link to the original article about the other uses of your camera. Cheese!

Sana’a, Yemen

June 24, 2009

After trying massage, hot pad, balms…..and simply trying to fall asleep for 2 straight days… and finally, I got a good worth of a good night sleep after popping in 2 caplets of Panadol Extra.  Phew….