Despite the crappy living condition, hostel life was very interesting and stimulating. I met people from everywhere and even places I never thought existed. Mostly very nice people, occasional weirdos and I made many good friends there. Drinking was a daily thing. It was a level playing ground as everyone was poor in London. It was totally non-pretentious, with exception to a rare few (i.e. Gucci bag carriers expecting 5 star hotel service in a hostel), I learned a lot about different cultures, ate and drank a lot of different stuff.
We cooked, we ate, we drank, we went out and complained how expensive London was together. There wasn't any division - nationality, age, occupation or even language barrier. We were all the same. French, Germans, Americans, Dutch, Spanish, Italians, Irish, Canadians, Swedish, you name it. We shared the same food, drank the same beer and shared our experiences and feelings.
People come and go but my hostel culture maintained.
Hostel Life
Monday, December 29, 2008
Job Hunt Continues
I actively applied for jobs and signed up every online job database I can find and called some agencies.
To fast forward this whole experience, I got some calls but turned down the interview invitations. I still had the same job hunt mentality as at home - I choose what I want to do and I usually gets it. The interview involves working in the copier industry, which I didn't want to be in at that time. I couldn't have made a bigger mistake.
Two months later, nothing else came up. I was broke, depressed and lost. I wanted to go home. I spoke to one of the fellow traveller and hostel staff and he suggested that I should apply for the soon to be available weekend cleaner vacancy in the hostel. Work only two days a week and rent is free.
When I applied, the manager was away and my friend was in charge ;)
Life in London is looking more possible now.
Job Hunt
The night before I checked into the hostel, I saw a sign "Receptionist Wanted" at the counter. I asked but the girl behind counter told me it has been taken. The next day when I checked in, another girl told me it's still available. I was puzzled but the morning girl told me she was the manager so she should know.
I applied but was turned down a few days later as I was overqualified. I thought they must be insane.
New Friends
The 2 Spanish girls from the top floor looked for me into me at the reception and asked if I'd join them to tour the city. How nice!
It wasn't so nice when we did the typical London city tour again. I was retracing the steps I made with her. Familiar places brought back familiar feelings. My smile was fading and heartache kicked in.
It was a really brutal tour but I had new friends.
Room 1
After a short wait, the reception guy told me that I will be in room 1 for the night; a room for the weeklies: a room for long-staying guests. I didn't mind as it was on the ground floor! Nice Canadian dude helped with my backpack again.
To my delight, as soon as I opened the door to room 1, it smelled bad. Really bad, imagine dirty laundry of 6 persons times 2 weeks in a 6x2 metres room with a small window opening to an airwell bad. It was very small for 6 people, mess everywhere and no space for my almighty backpack. I asked a girl in the room if there is a space for my bag and she replied that I have to find it myself. I could almost hear her grunt. I replied, " how do I find space when there is no space?". Reluctantly, she moved a bag somewhere else to make a space for me.
I left as soon as I parked my bag gasping for fresh air.
Hostel Check In
I enjoyed my coffee and smoke while waiting for my bed to be ready. My relief was cut short when I found out that my dorm in on the top floor!
I asked someone to help me with my bag, a nice Canadian dude who was playing guitar offered. All the way up to the 6th floor, I found the room but no empty bed. There were 2 Spanish girls in there but spoke very little English. I can't understand them. Went all the way down, reception insisted that it was the right room number. I went up again and spoke to the girls. After about 20 minutes, I figured out that they were trying to tell me someone just checked-in earlier and took the last bed. Went down again, told reception what I knew and finally, the reception guy realised he checked me into the wrong room. He asked me to wait while he sort it out. I went back up again to wait and tried to have a conversation with the girls. It went...barely but they were very friendly.
A New Beginning
The first day at the hostel was so liberating. I felt like I actually moved to London! Smoking in the TV lounge, breakfast and coffee included, cooking allowed anytime, mingling among any combination of sexes is encouraged and no curfew!!! I'm allowed to eat and drink! and smoke! and talk to people after 11pm! Our sleeping spaces are not separated due to our genitals! Did I mention alcohol?! That is allowed too and very much encouraged!
I celebrated by having a coffee and a smoke, alone in the TV lounge on the couch. I finally felt like human. I smiled.
3 Days Later
I can't stand the woman at the reception no more. I was in the shittiest point in my life and I didn't need anyone giving me a long face every morning, bitching about 3 minutes late in rent and making me feel so unwelcomed to extend my stay.
I checked into a hostel a few doors away from religious boarding school, for obvious reason - my backpack.
Two Weeks Later
A good 2 weeks passed, filled with touristy stuff in between some job and room hunting. We met up with him for the first time on the day she had to leave. He contemplated but went with us to the airport. It was goodbye for real and I'll be on my own in London Town this point forward. The goodbye was brief but it was hard. I wasn't sure if it was better or worse that I had a new friend with me that day.
The tube ride back to London was slow, simply because I was overwhelmed by emotions but I had to reserve them. I didn't want it to be too awkward for him. We talked but my mind was clouded by other thoughts. I couldn't really hear what I was talking to him, it was just talking. I just discovered that I'm capable of having two thoughts at the same time but I was in no mood for a "Eureka!" moment.
I don't remember what happened after the tube ride. I think we bid farewell in some station and I headed back to religious boarding school.
Once in my room, I broke down.
A Friendship Was Born
Before I left, my then colleague hooked me up with another ex-colleague also on working holiday in London. I called him and 3 of us had a long chat. He would meet up with us if he wasn't living in Zone 12.5. We were in Zone 1 and tube only goes up to Zone 6.
Religious Boarding School
Our stay was filled with moving room every morning and paying rent in cash before noon. The lady receiving the rent was either under a lot of stress or very unhappy in sinful London. She gave us a long face every morning and asked "You're still extending?". Felt just like home.
London, at last!
We arrived really early, I wasn't jet lagged and from that point on, I believe that I'm incapable of being jet-lagged...ever.
She took me around London - the usual touristy places. It was nice. For details of where we went, refer to any London city tour itinerary.
Malaysia Hall of London
After what seemed to be the equivalent of halfway through Silk Road on foot, we found it - the much longed-after Malaysia Hall of London. The only country owned "hall" in an inexpensive land called London. The "hall" consists of 5 blocks of 6 storey apartments among rows of hotels, just across the road from Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park. It houses government departments and also provides accommodation for travelling citizens for a maximum of 3 days, with priority for transiting students. We didn't make a reservation but called before flying and were assured space on arrival. Once again, Miss I-don't-plan-I-just-execute victors. The bitchy party was, we had to move room everyday if we stay more than 3 days. Interesting system, I thought. Until we were briefed that women and men stay on separate floors and no mingling were allowed after curfew. Yes, curfew at 11pm and no alcohol at anytime! Felt like I was in some kind of religious boarding school out of place and time (R.B.S.O.P.T.). It's London for fart's sake!
Bayswater
Was where we got off and finding a unknown address in a foreign land with a huge backpack wasn't exactly a walk in the park. Even the bobbies didn't know the address. As we asked for directions from different people, we were pointed up and down on the same road. I could almost hear my spine and shoulder crack.
London!
I thought "This is it! This is where reality meets my fantasy!". Unfortunately, that was too true a thought. I struggled with my backpack alright. It was about 25 KGs, secure-wrapped twice and on a trolley which was supposed to handle only 15 KGs. It was a 60 Litre backpack and I'm 148 cm tall, 44 KGs. She is not much bigger.
We were both struggling with my backpack, with random strangers helping through the tube ticket machine, on the stairs, in and out of tubes. I was still nowhere near the Big Ben.
At Heathrow
Still dazed from my sleep, we passed immigration swiftly. We went to the desk together but her passport was checked first. I was too dazed to realise how little we were questioned and the officer even missed her visa and gave her a tourist visa stamp which he cancelled afterwards, slightly displeased with the oversight. We were prepared for the worst as Heathrow is known to be notorious to our countrymen. At least I was prepared for one thing.
After all the usual airport hassle, an additional layer of thermal underwear and a much needed smoke, we asked for directions to the Malaysia Hall of London. Got a tube map, marked with interchange and arrival point. We were ready to hit London.
Transit in Changi Aiport, Singapore
We had about 3 hours to kill. For those who haven't been there, Changi Airport is a huge luxurious shopping mall with aeroplanes as the main mode of transportation. Being Asian, we were very amused with the variety of products on sale and facilities of the airport. Too amused. We almost missed the connecting flight to London.
Time to Check In
My mom was very surprised that her backpack was much lighter than mine. Her mother enthusiastically responded in high pitch "She is only going for two weeks!". I had to drag my mom aside to explain as I didn't mention it before.
Time to Go
Our tickets were issued 3 days before departure. It was the victory for Miss I-don't-plan-I just-execute. :D
Friends and families were at the airport to send us off. It would resemble a scene of someone going to Mecca if not for our skin colour and dressing. I remember her mother said to her "It's good that you're not staying there", making sure I heard it. I smiled, just like how I would react to any agitating situation.
No Sense
She was worried that I would be lost in London as I don't have sense of direction. She just wanted to make sure that at least I know how to get around. I refused as I didn't want to drag the non-existent relationship any longer. As far as I acknowledged her good intention but being me, I'm cruel to be kind.
Somehow, she managed to convince me that it was very hard for her to get her 2 week leave approved and she really wanted to make sure I settled in all right.
Time to buy those bloody tickets to London.
The Twist
Sunday, December 28, 2008
A few days before I bought my bloody ticket to London, my new ex-girlfriend invited me for dinner. What the heck, I need to eat anyway. It was munching and small talks through dinner. Right after everything was ingested, she opened a new topic by saying, "It was very hard for me to do this...but I'm going to London with you...for two weeks".
Time for Execution
I had all my groundwork done; ditched my job, my promotion and my 3 year relationship. Don't get me wrong, it was very painful to bulldoze two of the most important areas in my life. I know they don't come easy, I worked very hard on them and I had never had it so good. I just had to grit my teeth and buy that bloody ticket to London.
Decision 06 - Part II (or is it?)
There was no part II as I have left his desk (although with nice thoughts in my head) and I have made myself clear that my principles are priceless (or valueless).
It Just Keeps Getting Harder
When I tendered my resignation, I told my superiors why I was leaving and they accepted it. A week or so before my last day, my manager laid an offer on the table in the vaguest way possible. My decision stood and there was nothing they could have done to make me stay. I remember what he said vividly, "sometimes, principles can be bought". I was not pleased with that statement but declined politely. It only hit me a few seconds after leaving his desk what was on offer. I recalled he mumbled the word "manager" and so images of much bigger pay cheques, luxuries and fame that follow crossed the very principled mind of mine. I could have been the fastest promoted manager ever in the history of that company - I thought.
The Moment of Truth
After much deliberation, with much difficulty, she told me she has decided not to leave.
The Obvious Choice
It was obvious that staying has more pros than going, so I chose to go.
Decision 06
It was April 2006, my 2 year visa to UK has run halfway and I can't postpone it. The working holiday scheme has been suspended indefinitely and I had only two options - let it go or go.
About Me
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Before I go on blabbing about my surreal life, here is some background info about me to get your perspective right (at least a little):
How It All Started
Traveling Without A Plan
Friday, December 26, 2008
After almost 3 years in UK and Europe, I'm finally back to home; to my roots. Still feels surreal somehow. I'm not sure if I'm really here but everything seems to tell me it's real. I've decided to write about it to make sense of things. This was what happened before my arrival in Kuala Lumpur International Airport.