I got a message from my friend Phil a few months ago. He said he was in Sydney, and wondered if I wanted to catch up with him in town. I haven’t heard from Phil since undergone major surgeries. It’s going to be a long road to recovery, but also it’s comforting to find out finally he got it done.
So I caught a train to Circular Quay station and walked out from the station toward the Museum Of Contemporary Art (MCA). Standing in front of the MCA, I could barely recognise him. He had lost weight so much.
Though his face was bony and pale, the deep marble eyes remained the same. I couldn’t help myself hugging him. Things had changed since we first met on the opening night of the Ubud Writers & Readers Festival — UWRF — in Bali, October 2014. …
If man be solely a body, its loss indeed the final period to identity — Paramahansa Yogananda.
On my first visit to Bali, probably it was eight or nine years ago, I met a man, he was young, probably twenty-three years old. He was a popular, outgoing boy, juggling between work and Uni, independent with an adventurous spirit. I was, no more than a heartbroken tourist — a lost tourist who didn’t want to be found.
His name was Lee Julianto. Lee took me under his wings.
Broken heart healed, I came back to Bali more often ever since, and we developed a genuine friendship. Following our adventures and a few of misadventures in Bali, I self-published — via Apple books and Amazon — a travel memoir ‘Of Fire, Water, Earth’. …
I stumbled upon an old photo taken me back in October 2014. It was the time when I traveled to Ubud and stayed there for a month. Since then, I have always been looking forward to coming back to this tiny village in Central Bali for many good reasons. But why do I, and also for many other travelers, keep coming back to this little village?
When the car ran through windy, narrow roads, lush green terraces of paddy fields with cool tropical breezes, it was warm welcoming. I found myself fall in love with Ubud at first sight.
The following morning, soon I got my rented scooter, I made a little trip to many temples around the village. One of them was Gunung Kawi temple. So, following the GPS from apple maps and was relying upon the technology, I got lost on my motorbike in search of one of the oldest temples in Bali, Gunung Kawi temple. Thanks, Apple maps. …
On October 7, 2019, I published a travel story to Japan that it went through the Medium curation. Though I didn’t expect and even didn’t want it to gain large numbers of viewers, it just keeps getting viewers — even until now. Pandemic mess everything in our lives, then suddenly the story became irrelevant, and from there it gets fewer viewers. In case you wonder what the article is, here it is:
The more comments I got, the more I didn’t know how and what to answer to them. Though I did appreciate their times reading and writing their concerns, I wasn’t good at putting on my face on the frontline. …
Today I just watched the day roll on. I didn’t write. I didn’t know what to do. I felt the emptiness inside me. My brain is like a hollow that I see nothing, but I watch any words and ideas are just flying away into thin air.
I wish I could write a thousand words a day, but here I am, contemplating a blank screen on my laptop. Switching from one web to another, reading, checking out Amazon prime day. What did I want to buy from there?
I always wanted to give something to Dad for Xmas. A gadget perhaps, but I bought him an iPad air last year and the year before that, a smartwatch. …
The two grounded A380 Singapore Airlines turned into pop-up restaurants for two days, and surprisingly it turned out to be a good idea because it’s quite popular. Only in 30 minutes of booking, people bought the tickets to enjoy the small meal on a fold-down airline table.
But I am not surprised because I quite like the airline meal. I remembered my trip to Japan with ANA (All Nippon Airways) last year. The tray with tiny bit pieces of Japanese meal handed out by a flight attendant turned out to be a nostalgic moment. Don’t mind the squeezy part during the flight anymore. Turning planes into restaurants might be the last bit for airline companies to save them from the revenue plunge. …
Racism has always been hot, saucy sensitive topics and debates of the twenty-first century. An issue such as racism is one of ‘human interests’ subjects’. It has been ongoing studies and research in many universities. But lately, the tensions are inevitably the boiling water in many heads.
When a writer discusses racism, dragging readers into opinion isn’t wrong as long as research, studies, investigation support the argument and of course, acknowledge the resources.
When the opinion is merely from ‘what I think’ without any references, then it is a baseless argument. A baseless argument is like building a house with no foundation. …
Do you remember when you first found out the ‘follow me’ on social media — was it on twitter?
You frowned upon the word ‘follow’ that, for you, it always means ‘to go or come after’ when someone or something moving ahead. There is nothing personal about it, but rather a centralised direction to travel behind a leader.
I cringed and thought how weird that was that a stranger asked you to follow him/her. But it got even strange that in reality, I just said ‘follow me’ to build a new friendship. …
Disclaimer: To enhance Your best reading experience, play ‘Don’t Leave Me This Way’ by Thelma Houston.
We’re processing your story. Hang in tight.
There’s no more anticipation for our stories to be curated. Done and dusted! But, Medium, don’t leave me this way. Because
I can’t survive, I can’t stay alive, without your Curation.
The wind of change has come, and Medium is all about readership and relational — , so it claimed. What was it all about? While this message isn’t new and in fact, it all sounds too familiar. Like the other previous pioneers of social media always claimed: it’s all about user experience. …
During the lockdown and travel restrictions, decluttering has become one of many things I put myself into it. One final decluttering job was the basement storage. Looking around piles of junks collected over the years and thinking where I could start first, my eyes caught a pile of shoeboxes covered by a thin layer of dust.
There were nine or ten of them piling up against the wall. Each one was labelled with a country and the year of visit. I was drawn to the one that I had forgotten for long. It was the one with the label ‘Vietnam’. …
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