Happy birthday!

This is your Travel Writing Starter Kit.

It contains:

 

i) 1 plain moleskine, for when the desire to

write hits you with a ferocious intensity

 

ii) 1 copy of 'The Ringtone and The Drum,'

an insight on a man's travels to the poorest

corners of the world and assessing whether

or not the West is helping them in the way

they really need to be helped

 

iii) 1 copy of AA Gill's 'Here and There,' which

might one day become your bible of sorts -

for this man is one of the best travel

journalists of our time

 

iv) 1 copy of Alain de Botton's 'The Art of

Travel,' so you will learn to savour your

experiences more the next time you go off

 

v) 1 copy of Lonely Planet's 'Better Than

Fiction,' which introduces you to a plethora

of writing styles and travel destinations -

either one you choose to remember will

still benefit your future self

xx

 

If it isn't already apparent, my birthday

present to you is to encourage you to 

practice the art of writing to yourself

about your travels. So you'll remember

the things that take your breath away. 

So you'll be reminded of the lessons that

other societies teach you. So you'll never

forget that this world is so very, very big

and that adventure is right out the door

if you're willing to breathe and make

that barefooted leap off your doorstep.

 

Explore the world, Izelea, and document it.

Future You will thank you for these memories.

 

Love you, Kichi.

 

 

Sixteen.

 

Little darlin', the world's only going

to get bigger and brighter for you.

 

You will see wonderful sights,

experience amazing new things,

learn a whole new universe of

thoughts and feelings, taste

more salty tears and hurt

your cheeks from smiling so 

widely and laughing too much.

 

People will let you down, 

men will break your heart,

friends will come and go,

family will arrive and leave.

 

But your spirit will grow with

every year that passes and

there will be a day when you

realise that you have come

into your own. That you are

your own person, not by any

other standard, but yours.

(You are almost there, to me.)

 

You are a beautiful, beautiful soul.

Do not let the world change that.

And if anyone ever makes you feel

otherwise - I got your back, kiddo.

 

Happy birthday, little goofball.

Maksu loves you.

 

 

I spent last night lying outside

on my parents' balcony, next to

my mother. We had one of those

long talks that leaves my chest

aching but with clearer purpose.

 

Her gem for the night:

"What lies in a person's heart 

is only for Allah to judge." 

 

Mothers are truly amazing.

 

 

A solitary bee species was discovered

in Iran & Turkey in 2010. The rare

thing about this species is that the

Mother Bee builds tiny nests for

her larvae from torn pieces of

flower petals and mud.

 

It typically takes two days to

build one. Mother Bee will bite

off flower petals to take back

to her nest-in-construction,

one petal at a time, where she

lovingly moulds them into a

cozy cocoon home using nectar

as glue. She will line the inside

walls with mud and cover them, 

painstakingly, with more petals. 

 

The end-result is enchanting.

 

And the best part?

 

She does all this without the

ability to see a single thing. 

(Bees can't see? I learn 

something new everyday)

 

It is quite literally all down to the

touch and feel of what's around her.

Kind of like life sometimes, huh?

You've got to feel your way around.

 

Such beauty from a solitary being.

 

 

I have always been one to sleep

uninterrupted, until my body

clock tells me to wake up at a

predetermined time everyday.

And I have dreamless sleeps.

They are honestly the best kind.

 

Last night I dreamt the most

terrifying visions and woke up

with a start at 3am, weeping,

my heart racing in my chest.

 

My first instinct was to reach out

next to me for someone. Anyone.

 

I grabbed at empty space.

 

While I forced myself back into a

troubled sleep I kept willing for the

strength to keep going, to not lose

faith in my ability to go through nights

like this alone for the next few years.

It is a despairing feeling, this.

Some may never understand.

 

I got out of bed at the end

and took to the sejadah instead.

 

 

 

uno

I always feel like this is such a kind end 

to my working day everytime it appears

as I am driving home. Almost like He is

telling me, "It's all okay now, you're

coming home. You deserve this now."

I try not to forget to thank Him.

 

dos

This instantly reminded me of Natti.

 

tres

Men really are sadly all the same,

as made evident by today's workdress.

So that's going back into my closet.

 

cuatro

45 G2 feels really different now.

Passing by my former home on the

way to the Pasar Kecil I stopped and

got out, hoping for the night guard 

to already be in (he wasn't). Sat on 

the front stoop of the driveway and

felt like I was hanging about some

stranger's house. Wasn't particularly

a nice feeling to be had when it was

a house I grew up in throughout my

childhood. Gotta learn to let it go.

 

cinco

I'm partially deaf nowadays. 

Or just not listening very well,

I'm hoping it's the latter.

Lat was sitting right next to

me at lunch talking about her

next project donation drive to

the sekolah pekak dan bisu,

to which I asked, "Unta bisu?"

The look of incredulity on her

face that followed made me

want to go to the bathroom

and dribble water in my ears.

 

seis

Running around between JA and JPSK

today and yelling about ABIF/ WC-FSL

issues made me realise how I will miss

all this so much next year. Leaving the

Bank is a scary thought, what more for

such a long period without a guarantee

that I will ever get to regroup with

this amazing group of colleagues. 

Wallahualam.

 

siete

At the end of the day, I come home 

to my family and the world feels right.

 

 

With love, from Kathmandu.

I've missed her postcards.

 

Thanks, old friend.

xx

 

The No. 37 Household are back from

Hawaii, everyone looking tan and

gorgeous and smelling so much

like the sea and fresh air, still.

 

The siblings are complete

again, Alhamdulillah. 

 

 

Cleaned out remnants of the break

in as well as the whole house today,

scrubbed floors and tiles and washed

the grime off the hood of my car.

 

Then I switched on Spotify and sat 

down to watch an episode from The

West Wing, in which Donna, at the

end, convinces the President to let

her place a phonecall from the Oval

Office to her fifth grade teacher in

Idaho who has just retired.

 

A flabbergasted Mrs. Morello asks if

Donna is alright upon receiving the

phonecall, and Donna, poor, poor

Donna, chokes up for a long time

before finally replying:

"I just wanted to tell you, Mrs. Morello,

that I am now in the Oval Office with

the President of the United States,

and this is all because of you." 

 

I burst into tears at Sorkin's tact for

exhibiting man's sense of gratefulness,

in the most endearing way possible.

 

The truth, though, is that I am just

really, really tired with everything.