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Pre-trip (08/08/2006)

My father wanted my travel itinerary. I cobbled together two pages of places that I could think of from the top of my head in Excel. I dreaded the upcoming Q/A session.

He checked the list against a stack of maps that he had bought. His eyes and finger ran from list to spread-out maps on the floor. When my father hit Thailand, he stopped and asked “Why are you going to South Thailand? You know there’s fighting there.”


“So why are you going there?”

“It’s on the way.” I shrugged

He snapped “You want to see fighting?”


It ended there. Just like that. He folded the map and picked himself up from the floor. He rubbed his back gingerly. Then he eased into a stringed chair to stare at the television. Some cheesy Hong Kong drama was on that evening.

 I hate talking to my parents. It always ends in criticism (warranted or otherwise) and me suddenly struck deaf. It’s gotten to a stage where I don’t want to fight for my rights or to be treated as I think is fair. Instead I do what I deem fit and damn the consequences.  

It’s not fair to them.


It is just as silly and childish as getting angry over being asked for something. It happens more often now. And each time, I keep it buried in my gullet. It threatens to blow up in my conversations with my parents. I can feel it bubble under my skin when I ‘converse’. And it distances us.


It’s not fair to them.


Later that night, My father came into my room.


“Call back when you get in and out of every town” he said gruffly. Suddenly he looks burnt, old and worried. I agreed. I wanted him to leave my room. He left shortly after lingering for a bit. I ignored him.


They’re worried, so very worried for me.

And I find it so very hard to appreciate or even understand them.

Pre-trip 2

“Where are you going to? What are you going to do?”

"I haven’t a clue. I’m going to Taman Negara to climb a mountain. Then… along the East Coast of Malaysia and up into Thailand. Then into the rest of South East Asia. I’ll go to Tibet as well. Maybe I’ll do the Silk Road.”

“… How am I going to get you?”

 “Maybe by email? There are internet cafes everywhere. I’ll bring my handphone along.”

 “Why are you traveling?”

 “…I’ll tell you when I get back.”

Categories: Uncategorized
  1. xi
    February 23, 2007 at 6:10 pm

    sounds so familiar for me. sometimes i feel the same way that it s hard for me to appreaciate my dad even just understand him.   no matter how uncomfortable i m with him, i cant change the fact that i cant jump out of this relationship forever. well, there is a story in every family. just hope everything will turn out alright, and i believe so.


  2. February 28, 2007 at 1:09 pm

    The more you parents ask you ther more they care, they worry about you. They have generation with you, just like my parenets.They dont really understand us. But, anyway,we know they care us 🙂 Don\’t push more pressure on that, they just care you.


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