For the past few days, ‘2 weeks’ has been the constant refrain ringing in my head.
Finally, after 4 months of travel and research, I’m finally on the home stretch to Melbourne. To be perfectly honest, I’m feeling quite apprehensive about returning home. I’m expecting much to have changed; people to have moved on, something on Swanston street to be different, my apartment to be a mess.
Before leaving, I had a good chat with a friend about friendship. I often wonder which ones would last, and which are destined to fizzle out. Sometimes, I feel like I try too hard to cultivate some relationships, and wonder if it was all a waste of effort and time. I wondered if, on my return, if I would have any friends left.
Hearing this from James, the maverick, James the constantly busy and activity-packed guy, James who has more than 1000 facebook friends, this might seem rather weird. But just 3 years ago, when I left Singapore to begin a new stage of my life in Australia, there was only one friend I left behind in that country whom I could truly call a friend. Only one! Out of all the 21 years of my life in Singapore. All those years of primary school, secondary school, junior college and army life only managed to yield one true friend. And so, with this background knowledge in mind, I reckon my present concerns are within reason.
But I suppose I have changed during my 3 years in Melbourne. Changed for the better I should hope. Perhaps a little more personable, less stubborn, more sensitive, and more fun to be with – no doubt shaped by the people I chose to be close with. The curious thing is that such a radical change in my personality and character came about only because I made a conscious and deliberate effort to change. I can pinpoint the starting point to a decision forged in the solitude of my room in Ang Mo Kio, above the whirring and bleeps of dialysis machines below me.
Now as I prepare to Melbourne again, I know something has changed yet again. I have yet to put my finger to it, to describe it fully in its entirety, but I know that something has shifted. Am I more radical now, or less? Am I more focused and disciplined now, or less? What friendships would I cultivate, and how will the intersection of my faith and relationship with God impact those around me, if at all?
I hope the musings of a 24 year old has not bored my readers, but as I sit for the last time in my hotel room in Mae Sot, writing my final blog entry before heading to Bangkok on the night bus, I think of all the people I will leave behind as I embark on the 10 hour journey.
First, Bobo and Ei Ei come to mind, the Burmese doctors I met by perchance while in the sleepy town of Umphang.
My translators, Plaw, who’s getting married soon, and Lweh Say who’s thinking of re-settling in Australia. Of course, Iris-say, that amazingly cute baby is unforgettable as well.
I remember Zarah, the boisterous, bustling girl from the amazing cities of Singapore and Melbourne; the two Johnnys I met though her, and the sailor, Wayne, who just recovered from a serious flu bug.
Philip, who lent me his spare motorbike, that’s now parked under the shade of DK Hotel.
Pot, the hotel receptionist, my breakfast buddy, and free ride to the Burmese border town of Myawaddy to get my visa extended for 14 days. Not forgetting the cleaner dude who’s always offering the services a shapely massage lady. He enjoyed the magnum ice-cream I brought back the other time.
