Thursday, January 24, 2013

Hey, hey Melbourne!

Melbourne to me

Its been about four days since I landed in Australia, Melbourne. Its been about four days since I found the kind of freedom I was yearning for, for almost a year now and its been about four days of not missing Nepal, to my surprise. But I would be lying if I say, I am absolutely loving it here and factually, I am far, far away from actually loving this country! I have been trying to underline a word or a string of words to make the idea of how possibly could I not really be embracing this idealistic world for plenty, but I just end up becoming a sort of an entertainment for people because they cannot wrap their minds around why I would find the country missing bits in all essences necessary. It is not really a comparison between my motherland and this new land. It is something else and because I am very confused myself with my very complex personal thoughts, I haven't been able to illustrate my mixed feelings about Melbourne, a place I am more than glad to call home and make a home. I guess I will leave understanding this to some other time in the future when I get to reflect on the first few days in Melbourne after a couple of years.

Tips on flying

I took a 11.30pm flight from Kathmandu on the 19th of January, after having just about the hardest time finding an available ticket and phone calls to all the airlines serving Kathmandu to Melbourne. It was three recharge cards worth Rs. 100 each just scratched, pin keyed in and gone in a flat 40 minutes or less. It was frustrating, it was a lot of number games and a lot of head scratching and then, finally giving in and purchasing a ticket that costed me a little more than a lakh for connecting airline Dragon Airs to Hong Kong to Cathay Pacific to Melbourne. To be honest, I would have rather bought myself a pair of diamond earrings with that money because I had the most terrible time. It had been five years since I last board a plane, and the first time I was flying a long flight. If you want my advice, I would say, fly in the morning or afternoon and try to land somewhere around night time from the place of departure but arrival doesn't matter as much as the beginning of getting used to the new pressure from higher altitudes and restricting seats. Those are what makes you the most uncomfortable you could be and I think its much easier when you are not fighting internal clocks urging you to sleep because its sleep time.  Trying to control the most stubborn of all things, the biological clock, on the plane is like trying to chase a bird over a hanging cliff. Unless, you are some business people, we have plenty of time to change our body clock once we are adjusted to the new country. And also trying to do anything productive such as reading a book, writing and working is just plain nuisance especially when you are highly charged on the questions of 'Why the hell are you doing this to yourself?' and 'Is this even worth it?' Till now, I am still having bouts of rocky feeling whenever I stand still, like as though I am on a moving ship of some sort. Initially, I thought it was jet lag and then I thought perhaps, because houses in Australia are not made of strong foundations of cement, maybe it was the house sway and then I was convinced it was jet lag again and now, I am starting to worry its something else.

I could have murdered

Without saying, I couldn't sleep on the midnight flight to Hong Kong even though I had a comfortable sleeping area; the Nepalese boys in front of me had me wanting to wrung their head and flush them out of the plane through the lavatories' toilet, all three together in separate toilet bowls throughout the plane. They were just showing off to each other about what they have in Nepal and what they have in Australia. Like come on already, just show your ass and go back to being modest. Everyone was just complaining about their voice levels, imagine me being directly behind them and actually being able to understand their conversation so in the lull of boredom, even I had my share of joy listening to them but when I was sleepy and cranky and feeling like flushing my own head out, I was this close to just cutting off the tips of their hair popping out of their seat with the plastic knife I got with my meal.

Nostalgia and confusions (probably due to zero eye shut)

And then, upon landing in Hong Kong, my cry-nerves were just having their party. I had actually forgotten how wonderful and clean and organized shopping is actually and it just punched me in my stomach of how much getting used to I had to face in Nepal before I grew to love the country and gotten used to the way of living there. And then it frightened me to the point of sickness that it wasn't even a few hours away from home and I was already comfortable with all the high-glam shops and cleanliness and their toilets even had a toilet seat cleaner right next to the toilet bowl, like just kill me already! But I didn't shop or even bothered to shop, all I wanted to do was sleep. I was not a happy kid. and I was just dreading a flight twice its flight time. I slept pretty well on the hard chairs of the waiting lounge in Hong Kong.

Immigration and checks

All went breezy. I was fearing a few delays and probing with the new label-free visa regulation but it went smoothly, even in Nepal, thank God. I don't think I would have been able to handle any more stress; I would have just preferred if they jailed me or deported me back to Nepal after cutting my passport in halves before my eyes even though I know there is absolutely nothing wrong I have done, I wouldn't have minded the punishment.

Hey, hey Melbourne!

After getting through Hong Kong's airport, I think it falls in the top five best airports around the world, Melbourne's one was just a 'hmmm'. I don't remember much of the journey, I remember popping into a few shops, just to get used to the entire circus of shopping paradise I was about to face. I was walking slowly. Everything was new but everything seemed less sparkling than Hong Kong's airport. Mostly, I couldn't believe this was home now and I guess a lot of me was just scared to get out of the exit to meet gentleman. This step finally meant we were going to be officially a couple who do things together instead of tell each of the things we did, in our own space. Were we ready for all that is in for us? Its sharing a house, living under each others' nose and just still staying in love. I was dragging my feet. I got too used to having a long distance relationship that even as I am staying over at my sister's place at present, and him at his home, it doesn't feel like the worst thing ever to be so near yet so far. Of course, when he can directly reach me on a cellphone to cellphone network without the functional use of a 3G network to Viber, my stomach feels like a jelly and I love the idea of having him just an hour or so drive away. It feels wonderful to know he is just a call away and he can appear in person if I need him to be but hey, I don't seem to need him as of yet because I am still partially struck in the long distance rhythm. And as I stepped out of the airport, I looked at the floor in front of me and obviously, they have either been under hiring cleaners or they lack dustbins or people are just ill-mannered. The floor was litter with plastic linings and such, not pretty especially for an International airport if you were to ask me.

So, on the first night, all I did was wake gentleman up every other minute and just beg for sleep to knock me out. I was exhausted and dehydrated and all I wanted was a good rest to kick start tomorrow. Because I was starting to get really restless tossing and turning, we went to the airport to shop (we stayed at a hotel a walking distance away) and then came back more exhausted than ever and slept about an good hour and a half before heavy buffet breakfast and after a power nap after breakfast. This is the kind of freedom I lusted for!  The entire day, I was still exhausted and dehydrated but we managed to sign a few official documents and went around the city, carrying gentleman's sleepy head on his shoulders. You have no clue how ridiculously excited I was to enter Ikea for their delicious hot dog, I wanted the welcoming door to open and say, 'Welcome to Ikea' when I passed through it. It didn't. I love Ikea for too many reasons.

And since like I said before that I am staying with my sister, yesterday, we went shopping for a few stuffs and shopping with her is the best thing because she is really brilliant at it - knows where the cheapest stuffs and the reasonable priced quality stuffs are, shopping with her is just much fun because she actually knows what is good deal and not which makes me feel like everything I bought was worth the purchase and wow, technology is so advanced these days that cashiers are not even necessary, I hate the entire idea of robbing people of their chance of making a living. Yes, yes talk to me about efficiency and money-savings and I will tell you how much you are stealing from human beings to pay these machines. There, see it, reason one why I don't really like this place (actually the first was, the airport's side walk was littered). But, its a toss of like-dislike. We bought a tub of yogurt as well as plenty of other stuffs I needed, but the highlight is we bought a tub of yogurt. Goodness graciousness, a tub of yogurt and it was creamy, it was light, it was speckled with peaches and mango and it was just spoonfuls of heaven. I am so glad for the grocery stores, I absolutely dig grocery shopping and the best part, I found find fresh herbs and even growing herbs everywhere. This just paradise city, if only everyone will quit asking 'How've you been?' in the thickest accent ever!

And today, we went to Ikea again to grab a few stuffs for our home. We are moving in to our home on Friday but all I got was thing I would need eventually and not things I need urgently. Of course, we didn't forget the hot dogs!

And that is that

Melbourne needs some getting used to. My family and friends are here, it shouldn't be all that tough. That is all for now, my eyes are shutting off.


Thursday, January 17, 2013

Sometimes making no sense, makes the most sense

Lovers come in and let go, hands once held so tightly together suddenly feels better empty and brushing through the wind instead of bracing the sweaty palms of another. Sometimes we fall down so hard, it just feels better to wallow in self-pity even though that is the worst form of pity the world can witness. Sometimes we just let down people in our lives just so we can protect ourselves. 

One would think on the third heartbreak you would learn a lesson to give everything away except the heart but after the fifth time, its just a waste of tuition fees. Counted broken faith in happily ever after, seeing your first love getting married to a beautiful lady mightily crushes the toughest of bones and shreds the stomach to pieces of splinters, splinters you wish could bite the hands that wears the ring engraved with the name of the man whom deflowered you. You tried so hard to be the one who was the first to move on, but you find yourself in the middle of the night mumbling his son's name. Is it a coincidence that his son's birthday falls on the same day as yours or is that a punishment from God to remind him of the woman who once promised to give him everything and he didn't believe or is that an added torture to turn a year older every year with the son who could have been yours, for promising all that you would give but never gave? What could you possibly have done wrong or maybe if you had met him now, instead of before, would you have the chance to carry his last name? But every girl is a Cinderella waiting for their prince coming around with the glass slippers and princes are in abundance.   

At the sixth break up, love is still the most precious thing in the world even after seeing all six past lovers married with outrageously beautiful children, children that could have been yours, with the brightest eyes and the cheekiest smiles. The hue of hydrangeas' petals depend on the acidic of the soil. Adding an extra tomato to a dish can do wonders or just ruin it. The petals of roses can defer but the smell of them still hits the familiar note. A few pegs of vodka is a sure fire way to move on. At the seventh try because you should never give up, when the magic words of 'I love you' are spoken, all the epidermis on the skin stand on perfect attention and the stomach awakes the sleeping butterflies - every single time it happens and the rush never weakens like time past and memories has weakened the blushed face. Love is a like moon; going to its fullest form and depleting to a narrow sliver line and then it grow again - its sad when its gone but at every full moon, a celebration is a must. 

How does a full moon occur? How do we fall in love? How do we stay in love? Do we say the magic words to comfort ourselves and make us feel like we are capable of loving another because many can't or do we say the magic words just to hear the other reciprocate the feelings just so we know we are loved by someone? When is too soon to say it? When is too late to say it? Is there a rhythm or right timing? Should we look into eyes and say with sincerity? Does purest sincerity and truest intentions exist in the world? Does love even exist? You never become an expert at love, having been in love for the hundredth time even. But love is never a lesson to be learnt, it just happens and when it happens you just sink into the moment and live it fullest. Just bask in the moment and glow.

On trampoline, inside a tent, a forest, on decaying green-yellowish patch in the garden, a bed in a room or outside under the open sky, a sofa bed or a parked car in the middle of a creepy looking car park, wherever you could possibly be, home is where the arms wraps around the goosebumps skin of roses scent, petals that change according to the pH level and many dishes are just garbage if tomatoes doesn't dress it. Roses are roses, hydrangeas are hydrangeas and no bad can come out of tomatoes. Love doesn't even need a home, lovers are just some drunk assholes just wanting to fall asleep in a place thought as home. Lovers are like a dream of a toilet bowl and peeing in it and waking up suddenly to a warm and wet bed with your urine soaking into your underwear; its comforting, its disgusting, its private, its funny and its a lot of seeing dreams come true. It doesn't make sense, love shouldn't make sense to anyone except you. Love is when you could have possibly kissed a million lips but when you can wake up next morning with zero trace of mascara and a breathe that could make a horse feel blessed, and the millionth and one lips turn to you and kiss you, all the million lips before are but a million lips you can't even remember any longer.

Love is a lighted candle, protect it to stop it from dying but if it dies, let it die. As long as the wick is still part of the candle, you can light up again. All you need is sparks and sparks are endless. Or maybe, you chose to blow off the lighted candle because with him, even darkness is such a splendor. Love is also being cheesy as hell and lovers should be forgiven all the time for it.


Friday, January 11, 2013

New Year baby's Tillari!

It is probably a minus 1 to minus 3 degrees right now but this blog post has to be up. My toes could possibly break off  from frost bite and I wouldn't even know because the sock would hold the mangled toes intact. Every five seconds, I dig my hands and hide it under the quilt. It is obviously a night better for just snuggling inside warmness but I won't give in. I am coughing, sniffling and shivering. Today is possibly the worst day to even attempt doing this; there is afternoon sunlight or nights when it is half as cold but I couldn't wait. I shouldn't wait. After having written that I don't see my Tillari coming, this blog post was inevitable.

I couldn't withstand the thought of people thinking of a man not being able to keep his woman happy, because I cannot imagine of the existence of another man being able to keep up with me the way gentleman has and for this, the world deserves to know that gentleman made me a very happy birthday girl, the happiest I could ever be! 

P.s: I need to pay another homage. The pote (glass bead necklace) was my mom's love for me. It is no ordinary pote; its Singapore's original which she bought with her from Singapore way back when - its worth is eight times the cost of ordinary ones (I talked to the expert) and I thought I was paying a lot of money for the best versions of Japanese pote I usually wear. Mom even painstakingly beaded the strings and made it perfect with little help from me. I had no idea mom was such an expert. 

Kudos to the two people who make living a hell lot lovelier! 

New Year baby's Tillari! 

Mrs Kaucha  

Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Belated New Year thoughts (bunches of it)

I obviously haven't been taking my vitamins seriously or paid enough attention during Biology classes. My immune system has taken such a downpour, it is never sunny anymore. One trip outside of my home area and I can be assured of falling sick. I detest going out these days, even with mask on and all protective measures, I still crumble down to all the pollution and winter chill. I am just keeping my fingers crossed this is just a phase I am passing through and not something that happens to you as you get older. I surely hope it is because I thought I was well before I was actually well enough but hey, I am learning my lesson. My terrible coughing has subsided by a lot, it is no longer a struggle to breathe and I don't want to slice open my throat anymore to insert my fingers to give the walls a good scratch and my nose isn't about to fall apart from wiping mucus every five seconds. I swear at one point, I was just dripping brain juice from my nostril and it was a mucus water fall, not pretty at all. But, I am still not fully recovered and I am just going to stay in bed all day long or out in the sun. At this point when my health just deteriorated in a way I had never experienced, the last thing on my mind is to please anyone. I have had enough of it. Needless to say, I didn't have a good time celebrating New Year or me turning a year old.

I had many plans for the blog - creating a new series, posting up pictures and getting a little more involving but throwing up my guts and then just crawling into bed sounded more ideal and so that is all I did. Nine days now and counting. One thing is for sure, everyone just thinks I am pregnant. We are not expecting a junior! There are two dead weights to a marriage; either pregnant or cheating. Apparently, I am not allowed to look at handsome men and gush about them. Look, my wedding ring might sparkle a lot but it is not sparkling enough to blind me. I have every right to look at guys across the table and enjoy my breakfast set more, just like gentleman has every right to talk about his ridiculously sexy suicide girls and FHM calendar girls. It is hard to get into a lot of people's head that eyes are to enjoy all and heart is an organ just for one.

So in these nine lazy days, I have been planning a lot. Planning for the future, planning for life, planning for the blog, planning on ways to earn a little more...basically planning for everything that eventually ends with comfort. And with planning, it comes with a lot of dreaming and really exciting dreams, all while on drowsy pills; it is just about the best thing pharmacist has created for us humans in the most legal form. We are never ever satisfied with the life we have, are we? It just sad but then again, I think it is just good that we are never satisfied with life so we can get better in life. I guess it is just about knowing when to stop obsessing about everything a little too much and that is the hardest and I am just so obsessive with everything happening my way. Yes, planning and dreaming is a dangerous game, it is frightening when nothing comes to factual happenings. So in these nine lazy days, I have also been going through a tumultuous time with my emotions, too.

Alas, a new year, a new thing. I am ready to leave Nepal, this is something I haven't been able to admit for a few months now and yesterday while I was up on the roof, I watched about five planes disappear over the hills and I wondered to myself when my time to go home will come. Australia is home now. It was no longer about the pains of hearing gentleman whine about his food at every single meal, bad Internet connections and keeping my life on hold, it was more of a feeling of wanting to belonging somewhere. For seven months, I was just dreadful of forgetting the culture I am in love with and neglecting my country and giving what little talents and capabilities I have, to another country but in all those times, I couldn't belong to the working industry in Nepal and neither could I truly belong here. I was just cheating everyone. Now, I am ready to start the beginning of a new chapter in my life. I am ready to fall down seven times and get up on the eighth. I am ready to be all scared to move an inch forward but move anyway. I am just ready for Australia where heat wave catches 42 degrees and forest fires are just about the most happening thing that could happen in Melbourne. I am ready for the beaches, I am ready for white friends and I am ready for the poisonous spiders. I am ready for the weird accent, I am ready to be 'that Asian' again and I am ready for the culture. Just eleven days ago, I was offered a job position, an amazing job I would have not thought twice of giving up on but in these nine days of lazy and tumultuous, I took it as a compliment and didn't look back. After seven months of denying, I am waiting impatiently.


Thursday, January 3, 2013

In 2012, we lost a good man

If you are in my friend list on Facebook, many of you must have read my first status update for 2013 and if you have been in my friend list for some time now, you must have also read of the post when I questioned the existence of God.

2012 wasn't all that 'unexpectedly perfect'. In a lot of parts it was, and in the same amount, it wasn't. On June 2, 2012, my family and our close friends lost someone we loved, respected and had big dreams and hopes for. We lost a man whom had beautifully weaved into a perfect piece of our family line; a man my niece called 'father' and a man my sister called 'husband'. It just happened one regretful night, it happened in a fraction of a second that sometimes, I believe he is still alive and is being the terrific father he was to his daughter. In those moments, I forget and we forget, of a man absolutely undeserving of a death. It is hard to see my sister being stronger than I ever thought she was, it is harder to see my niece be deprived of so much more and it is hardest to digest he is never coming back and things are never going back to the same. 

In 2012, we lost a good man and no matter how many times the calendar changes to a brand new year, we will still have a seat saved for a good man that we lost. I take this moment to remember him in all the times when I was and we were, too jovial to have forgotten his passing on and wish for him to find his eternal peace.

With love,