SEPTEMBER 6 — A man travels the world over in search of what he needs.
I received a phone call a fortnight ago explaining that I would be travelling to Brisbane for a two-week assignment. I had just, not too long ago, returned from a stint of similar duration in Makati. I was grateful for the opportunity.
Travel always made me happy.
I relish the idea of exploring the earth and all its grandeur with nothing but a curious mind and an open heart. I look forward to conversations with the local folk, even if they do not appreciate my lack of enunciation. My Australian friend reckons I am hardly ever hungry, since I often swallow my words when I speak.
Although in most instances, work takes precedence, I’d sneak in an hour or two, wandering the streets like a vagabond in seek of purpose.
I do not have a penchant for shopping. I do not appreciate tourist hot spots. I enjoy sitting in a local café, ordering a typical meal and listening to the banter. The exuberance is beyond imagination.
People are often themselves around a meal. The conversation gets easier following the lowering of any guard. Nothing lowers a guard better than food and great conversation. Perhaps wine, but then, wine is food, no?
I enjoy traipsing the roads, taking in the sights, understanding the thought behind every building, pathway and structure. I’d sample the local brew on a night out simply because it usually is the cheapest and more often than not, palatable.
I’d blurt out a random hello in the local language ‑— often times, mispronouncing it — and be completely overjoyed when it is reciprocated. I’d foolishly try and portray to be local. Only to be told, far too many times, that my entire disposition and mannerism from go, spelt TOURIST.
Travels make me happy. It also reminds me of the blessings I have back home. My amazing family, friends who have stood by me, the local delicacy, the smog-filled air, incessant traffic jams…
It ascertains my belief that we travel to find a part of us that’s missing. We go in search of knowledge and experience to fill a gaping void. A void that spawns from curiosity and bewilderment. And wherever the journey takes us, it’ll eventually, but always, lead us home.
‘Home’, is loosely used in most cases, of times to represent our country or state of origin. I believe home is where your search for purpose stops. It is where you find fulfilment and peace. A place of emotional solitude. A place to belong; aptly described by only one word — HOME.
I pen this article in my room thinking of my many travels. And while every journey brings a memory, there is none as pleasant as the flights back to Malaysia. Knowing that in mere hours, I would be in the company of people I love and cherish. Knowing I’d be home.
They say “A man travels the world over in search of what he needs … only to return home to find it”.
*This is the personal opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of Malay Mail Online.
