What people think we are, and what we think we are


I am in a reflexive mood today.

Last night, a young Canadien moved into our guesthouse. I didn't get to talk to her though. She seems intimidated by me, probably because I greeted her in Japanese. She probably assumed that I speak no English, because she opens up to the other caucasians in the guesthouse right away. Funny how people do that.

This morning, I told her I am more comfortable with English than I am with Japanese language, she instantly became less shy and talked to me more openly. She told me she is feeling so discouraged and frightened that, she wants to quickly get a plane ticket and go back to Canada.

So I got all flamboyant, told her to chill out, take it easy, you are only starting, it takes time to get used to it, give it a chance, blah blah blah. Hah, so guru of me. I even acted all mentor like and took her out for a walk to show her around the area, where to buy grocery, where to get a phone, where is the nearest pay phone, how to get to a post office, etc.

Little did I know, it's gonna be one of those kind of days for me...



Then I came back upstairs. My roommate from Shanhai is slowly warming up to me. At first she didn't seem to want to talk to me. But now, she is friendly, inquisitive. This morning, she asked me when am I going to go back to Canada, because she would like to save some money and visit Canada with me when I go back. She also invites me to visit mainland China with her, which I got very excited about. This is her first time leaving home for a foreign country, but after a few months, apparently she likes it.

I was so grateful that I have a cool roommate, a roommate that also likes to travel, to let the world opens up her mind.

Little did I know, it's going to be one of those days...


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Fred, I got your e-mail. Thanks, I guess you are trying to be nice. Any other day, I would write back to you personally and try to be encouraging. But not today. Today, I can't even cheer myself up. I guess, the best I can do is to commiserate.

You think I am SO FREE? Do you want to know what I am doing right now? I am blogging in a shared bedroom in a dirty little guesthouse in Tokyo, biting into my lip, trying hard not to cry, so that my roommate won't hear me. So I went into the shower to cry when I can't hold it anymore, but was too afraid that other inmates in the guesthouse would hear me, so I had to sob silently into the shower too. Really, I feel like I am in prison.

How is that for freedom? Do you still think I am OH SO COOL?

Today is exactly what I have always feared and dragged. A few hours after I got my plane ticket to Tokyo, I started to panic. Today is exactly the kind of days that holds me back, makes me afraid to move forward, or to move anywhere, at all. But I knew, whenever I uproot myself, days like this will come to me, and thankfully, I also know it will pass.

I do a lot of things on impulse, and alone. Somehow people get the idea that I am aloof, that I do not succumb to peer pressure, to social obligations. I do, I do it so much, sometimes I wonder, if there is anything I do that isn't borne out of social motivations.

Today, I spend a lot of time with people I like, people that I naively thought are my friends. Who am I kidding? How long have I been in Tokyo? How can I be so naive as to think, that I can almost relax, or that I have friends whom I can count on?

Today is one of those days when I am surrounded by a lot of people that we call friends, but only I know, in the heart of my heart, that I am miserably, utterly, frighteningly, alone.

Fred, there is nothing wrong with being materialistic. I am not as materialistic as you are because I don't make as much money as you do, that's all. I still have an ipod, I still have a laptop, a nice set of carbon-fiber paddles, GPS, EPIRB, and god knows what. I know what it is like to be burdened by your material possessions; it wasn't that long ago that I had to wear my 85L backpack around Tokyo, bumping into people and had to bow to apologize too. (and hit them again with my backpack while I bow.)

I miss you, Fred. I miss paddling Indian Summer back to Pak Kok Tsuen, and I sincerely miss coming home to your cozy little house, all exhausted, only to be assaulted by mosquitos and then get knocked over by Loshue. As much as I used to curse them, even the mosquitos seem endearing to me now. I miss those days when you were also in Hong Kong, and we were so used to each other's company that we could afford to take each other for granted. We didn't even used to say anything to each other, no superficial "how was your day," no empty politeness. You would come home and just start replying e-mails, but somehow I felt more content than I do today, when I spend all day sight-seeing with "friends," having fancy sweets and giggling about meaningless things. It's so terrible, to be with so many people, but at the same time be utterly alone.

I would offer to sing you a song now, but that would wake my roommate up. So instead, I will just type you the lyrics -- the lyrics of the song I sang to myself again and again when I paddled my HKSAR circumnavigation solo trip, when I was oh so free to do whatever I please:

Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose,
Nothing don't mean nothing honey if it ain't free...
'feeling good was easy, Lord, when he sang the blues,
...feeling good was good enough for me,
Good enough for me and my Bobby McGee.

You know how they say, grass is always greener on the other side. If it makes you feel any better at all, Fred, I am now nursing my heavy heart, mourning the loss of the place that isn't good enough for you, mourning for the loss of the place where I used to call home.