My Little Escape - Episode one

As the plane touched down, I happily stood up from my seat. The flight took almost 11 hours time, I was worn out and tired. Plus the jet lag. Well, nothing beats my happiness over this trip. The flight attendant announced through the system that the outside weather was 9 degree celsius, and windy as well. I was thinking, what a wonderful weather to visit this country, once again.

Bien Venue A Paris it says - welcome to Paris

As I put my jacket over my shoulder and waited for my baggage to appear in that seemingly-endless moving baggages, I caught a glimpse of Jean. One of my friends whom I've made friends with during my one year study of music in France. That was almost five years ago. But our friendship remains.

He waved at me, and I waved at him back. It's been almost five years since I met Jean. I remembered the first time we met. He was studying in arrangement while I was studying in piano music. However we met during our orientation, and that's when our friendship began.

I heaved a sigh of relief as I found my luggage coming out of that hole. I took it out and came out of the gate with a smile. Paris, here I come again I thought.

"Bonjour Jean! Cava bien?"

"Hey it's great to see you again Adhi! I'm great, how about you?" replied Jean.

I gave him a hug and we went to the taxi stand to take a taxi to Paris city. It was spring time. The weather was cooling with the sun shining greatly above us. The sky was blue, it was a really perfect day to visit my beloved city once again. So much has changed in these 5 years. Yet, it still brought my memories back.

I'll be staying in Paris for 5 days. So I've decided to make this trip the most wonderful one. After checking in into my hotel, Jean and I decided to head over our favourite cafeteria to have our lunch. I remembered once when Jean found me walking on this stretch of road. And he simply asked me to join him for lunch, for in his eyes, I seemed puzzled of where and what to eat.

Time was still early then. 3 P.M Paris time. We've decided to go back to our music school and met our teachers again. One that I want to meet the most was Madame Rianne. She was my mentor, my teacher, and a best friend of mine. Meeting her must be onf of the highlights of my trip.

Taking a walk towards my school was really really both sentimental and happy for me. I was reliving my memories. I did not expect so much things to have changed. The usual hot dog stall I loved to buy from was missing. And the small newspaper kiosk also disappeared. The Paris I once saw had changed, I supposed.

Alas I met Mdm Rianne. She was still as "kicking" as usual. She greeted me with that warmth and joy, I was really happy. We had a good talk with each other. We talked quite cheerfully, and sort of loudly that some of our teachers were interested to join. What made me really happy was that all of my teachers remembered us. He even asked "Apa Kabar" to me. I truly am proud and happy to have such teachers like them.

My trip continues with more sightseeings. From the famous Eiffel tower, to Muse de Louvre, from taking a walk in city parks, into venturing to Charmonix. And not forgetting from having a simple baguette, into dining in 3 Michelin star kitchen. Paris had never failed to amaze me. This city of wonder I have always loved and adored.

Five days went so quickly and it's time to go. Jean sent me to the airport and we bid farewell. I am thankful for my passion for photography. I have taken hundreds of pictures, which I will faithfully keep as my memories. I am not sure when I will come back to visit France once more, but I know deep in my heart, I want, and I will.

Au Revoir Paris, till we meet again.

NOTE: This story is fictional, all the plot, names and places are fictional as well. If only they can come true to me, that is :)

My little escape series

I've always been dreaming of visiting many countries. So here goes my little escape through writing. Sometimes, who knows it may become a reality :)

Unwanted

You didn't want me, did you? All you did is to leave me alone beside that long stretch of road. That lonely road. I knew it deeply that you didn't want me, just because he left you for another woman. You are weak, you are always weak. You couldn't even stand it. Why?

You didn't give me a chance. A chance to lead a normal life. A chance to be a normal child. A chance to be a son of yours, and most importantly, a chance to be loved.

You didn't understand me. I woke up and all I found is this man in uniform. I didn't know him. You didn't know how much I cried when I opened my eyes and seeing him lifting me up.

You once said you would love me always, no matter what happens. You told me that I will be the best child in the world. You never kept your promise, and you never will.

You are nobody, but a coward that doesn't accept life.

-------------------------

These are the words that Jason uttered deep in his heart. Jason, now 16, lived with his adopted father in the small town of Phoenix. Right 16 years ago, his father found him beside a road, wrapped in nothing but a flimsy cloth. Jason was sleeping quietly when his father found him. As he opened his tiny, innocent eyes, he cried to see this man he didn't know.

For 16 years, his anger boiled inside him.

Jason's mother, Fiona, carried him inside her womb when she was 18. She was a pretty lady whom everyone loved. One fine day she met a young man who took her away. They stayed together for a few months. Their relationship was blissful, she saw a beautiful wedding in her mind. She and her husband, walking along the aisle with a beautiful bouquet of flower.

But in that cold and windy autumn, everything changed. The night was cold, and the wind was blowing harshly against their window. The two of them were getting close to each other on their bed. It started with a kiss, and it evolved to a night that changed their lifetime.

A few days later, Fiona cooked a feast for her partner. All of his favourite food, the wines, and even the table was decorated elaborately. Then her partner came home. She hugged him, but he pushed her away. Fiona heard the biggest shock of her life. He had been sacked out of his job.

Then Fiona told him another shock - She was pregnant.

The couple decided to do their best to keep the baby, and to be economically stable. Her partner look for another job. A job, merely enough to feed them. Fiona had decided to take up a part time job in that fast-food outlet. Their struggle had been worthed it. It was one month more to Jason's birth. And everything went downhill.

Jason left Fiona with another woman he met at his workplace. All he had left was a note saying "I love you, dear. But I could not bear the responsibility of being the father of our boy"

Fiona cried, life had turned its back from her. Despite of her sadness, she carried on with life, and Jason was born on that cold autumn night.

And she gave his life away. On that cold, lonely road.

-Inspired from a scene I saw on TV-

Identity

Today as I watched the NDP show on TV, it tells me how fast time flies. Very quickly.

And I asked myself, and I told myself. You've lived here for a long time. Is this your second home? And yes, I feel Singapore is now my second home. But Sukabumi, is and will always be my home. And as the saying goes, home is where the heart is.

Today, I want to talk about identity. About who we are, and how we've changed.

Honestly, when I was young, I have a mindset that I should not be so "patriotic" towards Singapore. After all I'm only a student here. I'm not even a citizen here. I'm a foreigner. I remember how I used to not like my friends. And how I preferred to have friends from my homeland. I remember how I used to really really love going back, and how sad I was to go back to Singapore after my holidays.

Now, everything changes.

As years go by and life goes on, my perception of this place changes. Life becomes better. My friends, teachers, and people around me who made my study here so much more meaningful. They made me enjoy living here, studying here. It made me wonder, am I a part of them now?

My friend once called me "a very Singaporean foreigner". How true. I spoke more or less with Singlish now. I enjoyed their food, and I loved the company of my friends. I enjoyed how I spent some of the weekends here. With my friends, going out, eating out.

I've spent 8 years of my life here studying. Isn't it a no-wonder why I enjoyed all these? It's like spending my childhood, and teen-hood here. I wonder when I grow up, how am I going to share all these moments with my peers perhaps, back in my country? We'll be in two different worlds!

And of course not forgetting, as life passes by here, I've met some Indonesian studying abroad here as well. I felt there is three different people that I met. One group is a true-blue Indonesian. They have more Indonesian friends as compared to their Singaporean peers. Another one have a balanced number of both. And lastly, more Singaporean and Indonesian.

I think I belong to the third one.

And of course there are different factors that give rise to such situations. The first group usually belong to people who come to Singapore at a later age (like secondary or so) and just came here recently. The third one, someone who came here at quite a young age. The second one can either be both, just that they want to have a balanced number of friends.

Nope, I don't blame them or something like that. I know some people who regard people like us (or the third group) as something "wrong". Oh Indonesian should go with Indonesian, and we should not forget who we are as Indonesians.

Well not really. Imagine this. I've spent 8 years here with little Indonesian friends. In my primary school, I only have one Indonesian friend In secondary school, more, but towards the end of my secondary school life. There's a lot in poly, just that I have not met them.

So in these 8 years I have lived my life with my other Singaporean peers. Isn't it natural for me to gel in with them more efficiently? I suppose so.

And another matter. The third group of people usually speaks English more than Indonesian. Well that's true, explained above as well. But not for me. Yes I do love and enjoy writing. speaking and expressing myself in English. After all, it's the language medium I've used in my eight years right?

But I will never forget how to speak Indonesian. I still firmly believe that one should never forget his/her mother tongue. We are after all born in the country where we are born in, no matter wherever we are. Well of course for exception are those who migrated at a young age.

And nope, I'm not blaming on some of my friends for speaking English only, and forgetting their mother tongue. Never. Because I know how they feel as well. We are on the same boat. But perhaps I'm on another side of the boat. You know it.

So sometimes I wonder what our real identity is. Are we still Indonesians? Okay exception to those who are Singapore PRs. Or have we transformed into Singaporeans? I think I would just stick to my friend's description.

I am a very Singaporean foreigner.

In life

This situation we never escaped from
Where we got trapped to a void beyond
Our wildest imagination, our wildest dream
A suffering within, that no one feels

The places I would love to see

If only life were as beautiful

As the fjords of Norway

Or snowy fields of Alaska

I would live each and every day

With zest and hopefulness

If only life were as relaxing

As a stroll in the streets of Italy

Or a walk in the beach of Phuket

I would be blessed and happy

And live my life without regret

If only life were as free

As running on the grassy field in Switzerland

Or a swim in the great Pacific Ocean

There would never be any day

I would live in sadness

If only life were as vibrant

As walking on the streets of France

Or Japan's summer festival dance

Life would never be dull, never be colourless

For its colours would come alive

If only life were as tranquil

As the sunset in Kuta, Bali

Or a walk in Russia's green fields

Life would be a blissful place to live

Where I will always get a sense of peace

If only life were as amazing

As the places I would love to see

I would always live each day of my life

As the most beautiful day of my life

Selfish?

Maybe I've changed.

Maybe I've not

I may be someone else now

Not the old me anymore

Maybe I just evolved

With "me" still within me

Why? And how?

I am confused, baffled

Is it wrong?

Is it normal

Am I thinking too much?

Or it's the truth that's true.

Maybe I've changed

Maybe they have changed

I am not them,

They are not me

What else could I be?

I am me, am I?