Галагазета | Gateway
Gateway
g570145294, 14 марта 2018 г., 11:14
She steps on the plane in Changi Airport with wide eyes and an open heart. It’s the first time she’ll be living away from home for an out of the country trip. Fear and anxiety threatens to wash over her and she nearly demands that the pilot turn back the plane and take her back to Manila. But when she finally meet the other people from all over ASEAN (Association of Southeast Asian Nations) who are also participating in the two-week seminar, their faces marked with fear and curiosity, her fears and worries evaporate.

He welcomes them into his country with a smile and a simple hello. He is friendly to everybody, but for some reason, he pays special attention to her. Out of all the girls there—the soft-spoken Thai, the friendly Vietnamese who loves to chat, the freckly Chinese-Malaysian who loves to laugh, the smart-looking Indonesian wearing a colourful hijab—he picks the shy Filipina who has just started to come out of her shell.

When he sits beside her on the bus, she is torn between looking out the window and staring at him. She nods her head while he talks enthusiastically about his small country and all the adventure it promises. She decides to leave her inhibitions behind. There is no room for them there.

When the bus finally drops them off at the hotel and he showed them where the rooms are located, she is more than excited to start exploring.

''Relax,'' he says. ''We'll have plenty of time for that.''

In between talks and presentations, he shows her his country the way he sees it—not the way it’s described in some guidebook. He is a history buff, so he shares interesting tidbits about each street corner, each statue, each monument they passes. He takes her to a hawker center and gives her a taste of the local cuisine. She smells the distinct aroma of Hainanese chicken rice, tastes the spicy chili crabs, and feels the crunchy cereal prawns between her teeth. Then, he gives her a glass of iced teh tarik to wash it all down.

They are walking along the Singapore River when he takes her hand for the first time. The mighty Merlion watches over them, a stream of water pouring out of its mouth. She thinks she may have even imagined it winking at her. He regales her with stories from his childhood and shares his dream of travelling the world. She finds herself dreaming right beside him, her own world opening up with a myriad of possibilities.

She tells her new friends—the Thai, the Malaysian, the Indonesian, and the Vietnamese—about him and they are all giddy and excited for her. She tells them about all the laughs, the long conversations, the food trips, and the fun times. But then, she doesn’t tell them the most important thing he told her: that they can’t be together in the long run. That once the seminar ends, they have to go their separate ways.

He says there are three reasons why it won’t work: culture, distance, and religion. They grew up in different environments, with a different set of values, and it’s better to end it before they’re in too deep. But that doesn’t mean they can’t enjoy the time they have.

If she was still in the Philippines, there’s probably no way she would have agreed to it. She would have done the smart thing, the rational thing. She would have said goodbye first and built stronger barriers around her heart. But being in a different place, away from everything that is comfortable and familiar, gives her a little bit more courage to do what she never would have done before. Even at the risk of having a broken heart, she decides to be with him. She says yes to living in the moment.

She tries to be the girl who doesn’t take things too seriously, who doesn’t have to fall in love. She tells herself she can be cool and fun without being needy. But as they spend more time together, she starts to believe that what they have is real. She forgets that they have a deadline.

He tells her he's going on a trip to India, three days before she flies out of Singapore. It's a month-long volunteer trip in a far-flung province where he'll be teaching underprivileged kids so she'll be long gone by the time he gets back.

''Wait,'' she says. ''I'm not ready for this to be over.''

He reminds her about the three things: culture, distance, and religion. Like they're neatly and permanently printed in three little bullet points, with no room for edits or erasures.

''We can work this out,'' she pleads. ''I can find a university here to close the distance. I accept your religion and I'm not asking you to convert to mine.''

But he have made up his mind and he says goodbye without looking back.

She is left alone to pick up the pieces.

When she finds herself back at the airport at the end of the seminar, her eyes are filled with tears. She pretends that it's only because she's sad to leave Singapore and say goodbye to her friends. It is not how it was supposed to play out. She's the one leaving now, but why does it feel like she's the one who got left behind?

She doesn't want to go home yet so she decided to go around ASEAN for a while. Her Thai friend invites her to stay at her home in Bangkok. It is a welcome distraction. They go shopping in Chatuchak, visit the opulent temples at the Grand Palace, and go on a cruise along the Chao Phraya River.

Thai iced tea becomes her new favorite drink. She stuffs herself with pad thai, red chicken curry, and tom yum soup. The hot and spicy broth burns her tongue and she wishes it could burn the memory of him along with it. But every new experience only reminds her of him and she hates herself for wishing he was there.

After a few days in Bangkok, she and her Thai friend flies to Vietnam. They meet their Vietnamese friend in Hanoi and she takes them to see the museums, the centuries-old architecture, and the beautiful lakes. She introduces them to her fiancée and reminds them to keep believing in love.

'So that's the guy she was always online with back in Singapore,' she thinks. They are not overly sweet or cheesy, but she sees the way she sits comfortably on his motorcycle with her arms around him as he rides through the busy streets of Vietnam, like she knows that no matter what happens, she's completely safe with him. Perhaps she does know a thing or two about the kind of relationship that doesn't have deadlines or conditions—the kind of love that's built to last.

After that, they board a train and ride south. They stop to visit the historical city of Huê, the charming town of Hoi An, and finally, Ho Chi Minh, the dynamic capital city. She spends hours on the train, watching the farmlands whiz past her the way their relationship did.

She celebrates her 19th birthday in Vietnam. As glad as she is to be with her friends, soaking in the energy of the vibrant country, she can't help but feel a wave of sadness. She pictures him all the way in India, his fair skin and slanted eyes standing among the crowd of school children surrounding him with wide eyes and open hearts. She have no doubt he will charm them, and that they will adore him and hang on to his every word. But soon he'll be gone and their faces will be nothing but a memory. 

Her phone has been buzzing all day with birthday greetings from her family and friends. But the one message she've been waiting for never comes. Is there no Wi-Fi there? In the short time they were together, did she even tell him when her birthday was? And if she did, is it something he would have bothered to remember, knowing that he wasn't planning to stick around that long?

She wish she had the time and money to visit her other friends in Laos, Cambodia, Brunei, Myanmar, Malaysia, and Indonesia, but she's tired and it's nearly their family reunion. It's time for her to go home.

As soon as she gets out of the airport, she sees the hazy, gray skies and hears the honking of horns. Thankfully, her cousin is there on time to pick her up. Their car weaves through the streets, narrowly missing the motorcycle that zoom past them. Later, she hears him curse at the slow-moving traffic. After weeks of seeing orderly highways and perfectly manicured gardens in Singapore, she can't help but smile. She feels good to be back in the middle of the chaos that is Manila. Finally, she's home.

Back at her grandparents' house, their family reunion is in full swing. Her parents wrap her in their arms and her sisters grab the bag of chocolates she's holding. Her titas (aunts) gather round and she hears a cacophony of voices: ''Parang tumaba ka! May boyfriend ka na?'' (Looks like you've gained weight! Do you have a boyfriend already?) They don't hear her reply because her uncles turn up the karaoke machine and start belting out the lyrics to Frank Sinatra's ''My Way.'' The light on the tree are somewhat askew and there are balloons, party poppers, and gift wrappers strewn everywhere. Someone shoves a plateful of spaghetti, rice, and lechon into her hands.

She slumps into the nearest chair, and before she digs in, she says a prayer of thanksgiving—for food, family, friends, and home. Though a part of her still wishes he was there, a bigger part of her sees that he is right. Even if saying goodbye to him caused her pain in the end, she will always cherish the brief time they spent together. Because after exploring the world (or some parts of Asia, at least) and spending time away from home and the people she loves, she've realized how much her own culture, country, and religion means to her. And right then, there's nowhere else she'd rather be.
5 0 [Авторский текст]
Просмотров: 106
Подписок на автора: 27
Поделиться



Закрыть
© Team-Tech.ru, 2017 - 2024