Oh my, what I thought was going to be a 2.5 days usual business meeting turn out to be one of the most valuable experience in my life.

First, it was the ‘Shopping Race’ or a local Amazing Race that really excited the adventurous side of me. It made us taking the monorail, jumped into MRT, run around China Town and Central Market to collect pieces of jigsaw puzzle so we could accomplish our final task. Although it depend on running speed and thank God because of my recent London trip I now have a pair of trained feet, I could not help not to let my eyes wandering around in between running. I mean, I have been in KL many times before but the trip usually consist of airport-hotel-office-KLCC-office-hotel so it was not really memorable. But this time I was so amazed and want to memorized everything. A pair of chinese little red shoes (so cute!) dangling next to a stuffed baby crocodile (ew!), smell of chinese food being cooked in a small alley, some youngster trying to get to know my boss (who is a cute small bond english woman). What a start, ha?

Next day, we were asked to cut and patch pictures from magazines that represent our self. Hm? I never thought about that. I knew that I did a lot of self contemplation to the point of over analyze my self, but I never visualize it into symbol. So I carefully chose pictures of children (Mika & Pascal), man in safety equipment (hubby who have always been my saviour), wallet (financial independence), pink (favourite colour), books & under water world (hobby), capuccino with dollar sign (self explanatory), tables of movies (planning & scheduling), toll road (straight forwardness & infrastructure) and red brick house (travel). When we put it on the wall and viewed others pictures I gasped and marvelled at how different people perceived their life. My boss’s poster is very deep and philosophical. Others are quite clear and some are truly inspiring and I was curious why it was like that - I found out more about it later on.

We later on discuss about type of people. I surprisingly found my self more as an introvert as oppose to extrovert. Hmmm…sometimes the picture of my chattery self does not quite fit with that but upon careful look, I found out that although I ‘displayed’ my self as typical extrovert actually I am an introvert to the bones. All the sign is there, the self preservation, the need of privacy, the peculiar idea to observe others, the thought and the thinking, I felt it like is actually it was already stamped on my forehead I just did not see it. I simply forced to repress it as I was raised by an extrovert mother and being an only & eldest daughter (and therefore a family representative in most family function), I am expected to be an extrovert. So I did (and do) not have much choice then and now. But deep down inside, I knew that I never feel comfortable with this role. But I guess that’s a non negotiable obligation that came upon me so I learn to master it.

The last day session was the one that moved me so much. We were asked to draft a graphic of our life. As I drafted it I remember all my ups and down. Mostly my struggle with Lupus. And when I present it to the group, I was surprised to find the load of emotion built up inside me just speaking about it. I thought I have accepted it as part of me and it’s a subject that I should have found easy to share. A condition (I hate to call it an illness) that will limit my opportunity to enjoy the life as it fullest at some point but yet also something that impact my personality and character tremendously. It energized me and it made me accept life as continous blessing. But talking about it in front of a group of people with old memory flashed around like broken record was proven to be more difficult than I thought it would be. The dissappointment of being told not too study too much and therefore I must forget my goal to go to State University. The frustration of not able to have activity under the sun and all the restriction imposed to a (used to be a very active) teenage girl. Not to mention endless medicines, endless doctor visit, endless reading - bear in mind that it was in year 1990 there was not much literature about it and on top of it endless worried of not knowing what would happen. I remember clearly the feeling of worried my stomach churned when the doctor told me at the delicate age of 17 that from 10 Lupies, only 1 who will survive. So only 10% that will remain alive? Hmm…

It took quite a while for me to accept that my condition does not make me less special as a human being. I could die at anytime but so does everybody else, am I not correct? That’s what I keep on repeating to my self and I surprisingly feel better and I did get better.

The other thing that I marvelled so much from this session is that the realization that within my team, I am surrounded by so many strong and courageous people (mostly women). People who had experienced bad things in their life and yet they survived. Some of the experience was so bad -I must admit that I cried a lot during this session- but yet they felt comfortable enough to share how they made the best out of it. I felt so honoured to be among them. I guess it took a lot of courage and high level of trust to be able to do that. Compared to them, my problems seemed very trivial I felt so embarrased to even consider it as problem. We revealed our selves significantly so at the end of the day, we felt so much closer to each other. Target accomplished and I guess we understand each other better. Gosh, what a serious posting, I need a coffee.

Over and out.

The rain is pouring heavily outside my house. I switched off the air conditioner as the temperature is nice and cold already. I always love it when it rains. I like sitting and listening to the noise it made when it hit the roof and window. I love to see it pouring outside and know that I am warm and safe inside.

What a perfect Sunday.

This morning, it was warm and sunny. The whole family went for a swim in our regular sport club and meet our old family friends. It was already good to be under the sun and surrounded by water so to have old friends and their kids with us was like an additional bonus.

The couple and us went to the same kindergarten, elementary, junior high and senior high together. Husband and I started dating each other 2 years earlier than when they started to see each other. We were always part of the same crowd who went to see the music show, soccer game and also regular movie goers. And when Mika born 2 days earlier than their eldest daughter - Diany, we knew that we will spend lost of time together and watching the kids grow together. And so there we were. Two families with young kids having fun together. What can be more fun than that?

Pascal hit the water and paddling right away. I have always been amazed with this little guy natural reaction towards water. Mika, as usual, needed a lot of encouragement before daring him self to take the plunge. Diany was good in water, and little Ditya was very brave paddling around with his little floater. Rany, who is 5.5 months pregnant, does not look pregnant at all whereas her husband, Ferdy, look even more pregnant than her. Ha!

We swam for about an hour when the sky begun to turn grey. So we stopped. I scooped Pascal out and bathed him in the near outdoor shower. Mika next. It took a little longer for me to bath and not in the outdoorshower of course (mind you!) and the crowd in bathing room delayed me a bit.

When we reached home, I felt so hungry I felt that I could eat a horse. So here I am with contented stomach having such a relaxing time watching the rain whilst Pascal asleep with hubby and Mika played with his nanny. Oh and did I mention that I have finish packing for my trip to KL tomorrow? I don’t think life can get any better than this…

…I am not sure whether that’s the correct term, anyway ever since I returned from my maternity leave 8 months a go, that has been the view of my cubicle window. Yup, there is a an office building construction phase going on right next to ours. It was not a nice sight but sometimes it provides food for thought. Just like this morning.

As I looked down over steaming cappucino, I saw group of workers assembled for what (most probably) a morning briefing. A group of supervisors stood in front of the line and one of them were giving direction. It was interesting to see how they were colour coded based on rank. White helmets are for supervisors. Among the workers, there were orange helmets and blue helmets. It’s very interesting. I am sure that it would make identifying process easier but it also made the supervisor an easy target. White helmets among the brown soil and grey cement. Hmmm…it’s very easy to accidently drop something on them. Oops! My imagination running mild, if it was up to me, I will color code the supervisor with pink, and the workers purple and ocean blue. I will blend the cement with pink ingredients so it’ll turn pink (just like play dough) to make the supervisors less identifiable. I am sure they will like it. Ha!

The briefing lasted for about 10 minutes and afterward the workers swarmed through the construction site. The blue helmets were doing something in one side whereas the orange helmets were doing something in another side. I guess that’s why their helmets are differentiated. The white helmets were standing, supervising and chatting among them selves. They wore green uniform, I wonder whether it is their safety outfit. The workers wore their usual shabby clothes. Hm, uniform for supervisors but not for workers. Interesting. I was wondering how construction company structured their compensation. The blue and orange helmets might be a daily worker. Whites are not. Will they get commission on a percentage of total project if they performed? I heard that some oil service companies imposed such ‘carrot’, what about construction companies?

In the middle of the site, a crane stood proud and high. An operator had sat there, moving things around. I remember that in the early months of having Pascal, I was craving to climb that crane. I want to know how it feels like to be up there and moving those things. With the wind breeze playing my hair and people look so small down below. It must be quiet and serene (maybe not!), anyway it must be marvellous! Unfortunately, no friend of mine who work in construction business would like to risk their insurance coverage by taking a pregnant woman to it nomatter how badly she plead and beg. What a shameless behaviour!

As the sun set higher, my capuccino is getting colder. I need to start working.

My eyes were bleary of scanning through pages of tables and digesting numbers. My shoulders were so sore I have to keep on reminding my self not to slouch. I cut my fingers it bleeds from fiddling through sharp papers in a hurry. My cognitive function seemed declining after two days daily banter of so many mind buzzling arguing over policies and its interpretation. I had again another late lunch and shopped for Mika’s friend’s birthday present all in within 30 minutes. I had my second cup of coffee before 3 pm. I ran out of stamp duty I had to borrow it from my colleagues altogether 13 of them and I tried to go home at 4 pm but managed to do it only at 4.30 pm (not bad!) to be caught in traffic jam and reached home by 6.30 pm (bad!).

That was Tuesday and now is Wednesday. My agenda looked worse than ever. Finishing off payroll before 11 am, internal meeting 11.30 - 12.30 am, external meeting some place else 1 - 4 pm and I have to take Pascal to see the doctor again this evening at 7 - 8 pm. I have not had the time to see our SAP guy to ask how to view several invoices that had been queuing in my mail box since last week. I have not been able to up date our employee data base and it will not get any lighter as time goes by so I’d better go now.

Thank God it’s Wednesday!

Today was such a long day and I am so behind everything. Task over task come pouring on me, my long weekend is really over. I looked at my watch and it’s almost 5.30 pm whereas my job is nowhere near finish. I grew weary and my mind failed on me. Fortunately my dear friend kept on playing this song from her CD and I felt a bit better…

“She Will Be Loved”
by Maroon 5

Beauty queen of only eighteen
She had some trouble with herself
He was always there to help her
She always belonged to someone else

I drove for miles and miles
And wound up at your door
I’ve had you so many times but somehow
I want more

I don’t mind spending everyday
Out on your corner in the pouring rain
Look for the girl with the broken smile
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile
And she will be loved
She will be loved

Tap on my window knock on my door
I want to make you feel beautiful
I know I tend to get so insecure
It doesn’t matter anymore

It’s not always rainbows and butterflies
It’s compromise that moves us along
My heart is full and my door’s always open
You can come anytime you want

I don’t mind spending everyday
Out on your corner in the pouring rain
Look for the girl with the broken smile
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile
And she will be loved
And she will be loved
And she will be loved
And she will be loved

I know where you hide
Alone in your car
Know all of the things that make you who you are
I know that goodbye means nothing at all
Comes back and begs me to catch her every time she falls

Tap on my window knock on my door
I want to make you feel beautiful

I don’t mind spending everyday
Out on your corner in the pouring rain
Look for the girl with the broken smile
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile
And she will be loved
And she will be loved
And she will be loved
And she will be loved

Please don’t try so hard to say goodbye
Please don’t try so hard to say goodbye

Yeah

I don’t mind spending everyday
Out on your corner in the pouring rain

Try so hard to say goodbye

I just realised that I brought 2 beasts inside me from London. One called irregular sleeping pattern. And the other one called loosing appetite. I am a bit grateful for the later one but a bit concern with the first.

Usually I am a person who hit the sack around 8 - 9 pm and awake around 4 am. Fresh and well rested. Ever since I return from London a week a go, this has changed. Few days a go I slept around 8 - 9 pm as usual but at 12 - 1 am I was fully awake. There was nothing I could do to get back to sleep. I watched, I read, I browsed, I smsed, I took pictures of my sleeping children, I buried my self under the blanket…nothing. I was wide awake. And if I managed to sleep, it was troubled sleep. I was tossing and turning in my bed like a jumpy 5 years old who had too much fun during the day. If it happened during the weekend, I could compensate it with taking few naps in a day. This is something that I have never done as well. I never take a nap. Even when I am sick or pregnant or anything, I never take a nap. Now I seem to take a nap twice a day. An hour in the morning and an hour in the afternoon. So the circle of evils continues.

Last night was the worst. I felt so sleepy during the day but as I spent my Sunday in my mother in law’s house, naturally I managed to stay awake. I thought I could sleep around 9 pm as usual but no, I felt as fresh as strawberry yoghurt. Fortunately there are some weekend workers who keep me company by sending regular work up date through my blackberry (yippie! Finally, something to read!).

Since today is Monday, I knew that I’ll be in trouble. So after a lot of effort, I finally managed to fell asleep around 1 am this morning and woke up around 4.30 am. As predicted, I am in total mess today.

My head is aching, my eye lids are heavy, I kept on yawning…my beauty sleep is stolen from me. Please, whoever, return it to me. I need it to keep my sanity. I’d better go and get my self some coffee…

Mika’s school is going to celebrate Kartini Day this coming Friday. For those of you who is not familiar with it, Kartini was an Indonesian noble lady who voiced her concern about the same education opportunity between man and woman. Back in the Dutch time in Indonesia, only rich and blue blooded noble Indonesian family who can send their children to school. And usually they will prioritized to send boys instead of girls as girls were seen to have more domestic function later on anyway and therefore, no need to get educated. To have vision like Kartini on those days were exceptional. Nevertheless, she was also unable to fight the tradition and end up marrying a much older guy. However, her thought are still captured and it showed that she was such a special woman for her time.

Funnily, Kartini Day usually was celebrated with things that have nothing to do with her valuable vision. For example, Mika’s school is going to conduct a Javanese traditional dress festival just because Kartini was a Javanese woman. I have a lot to say about it but I will save it for another post. Meanwhile, being an enthused (ambitious?) mother, I prepared Mika to join the festive. It started with looking for costume to rent.

Needless to say, finding the costume that would fit Mika’s err..bulky body (and pot belly) was quite a challenge. The rental lady had to open so many beskap (Javanese man traditional dress) before finding one that could cover his belly. Next challenge is to keep him wearing it as after 5 minutes he already complained that it itched. I made a mental note to find him some sort of cotton bicycle pant so his tender skin would not have to rub the fabric directly. The beskap it self was quite nice. It was bright blue and it was not too thick. It was made of silk and quite easy to buttoned. The saroong however, was rich and fully embroidered by gold material. It was a bit tight on Mika’s wide hip. That’s what made him itch all over.

After I put on the second layer of stagen (sort of very long belt) Mika started to complain again that he felt tired already of standing all the time. He wanted to sit. Aya! I started to feel a bit desperate with the whole thing. To boost his spirit (and mine) I informed him that the costume will come with a real sword (keris to be precised but he would not know what keris is -since neither Power Rangers nor Kamen Ryder used keris- so sword it is). Probably this was a mistake as by the time I said that his eyes glittering with malice and he demanded to see the sword. Since it was real keris I handed it to him cautiously, I could feel hubby looked at me critically but it was too late. I warned Mika not to open it and I also made mental note to seal it with cellotape. Mika laughed a bit estatically and started to swing it. Help came from hubby who firmly told him not to do that. Fortunately he obeyed. I told him again that it should be open only to attack bad guys. This was most probably my second mistake as he then looking for bad guy. Oops! I could feel hubby’s look burnt a hole at the back of my skull. What was I thinking! This little warrior did not need such encouragement! I could feel his excitement in searching for bad guys growing intensely and I started to feel really worry. I begun to get vivid imagination of being called to the principal office due to some ‘innocent’ stabbing and kindergarten blood bath.

OK probably I had active imagination but why taking chances? As we go through the layer of costume, I carefully told him that there will be no bad guys at school. There will only be teachers and friends therefore there is no need to swing it. But I guess it’s a bit too late as he kept on asking, “But what if there are bad guy attacking me?” I told him that’s impossible but I could see that he made up his mind already. It’s time to put my foot on the ground. I told him that if he even try to unsheath it, the teacher will confiscate it. His eyes went as big as plate and he protested, “But what if the bad guy attack when the teachers were not looking? I will need something to protect me for sure!” I remained him again about not talking to stranger and he challenged me again, “I was not talking about talking, I mean this bad guy will just jump and attack me! He will not even bother to speak to me! Without my sword, what will do?!” He was on the verge of hysteria and I could see hubby rolling his eyes up.

Nevermind, I will just make sure that it is sealed. I certainly hope his kindergarten has metal detector.

…I believe it is the most difficult job if you want to do it accurately. Naturally there’s always battle on how you view your self vs how others viewed you. Being a painfully practical and insensitive person (that’s how I viewed my self, at least) I took a course where we suppose to develop an intuition in guessing people character. The final test was guessing the other participants character and confirm it with them whether they think our guess is close to how they think they are. You’ll be amazed at the difference on what you think about a person and how that particular person viewed them selves. It is quite expected though as we’ve met for only few days but that’s the course is all about, how you made a snapshot on one character and came close to the real one. In the recruitment world, you don’t have time to socialize with the candidate, mind you!

Anyway, the reason why I suddenly recall this course was a colleague and also a dear friend of mine (read: a person who spend her time with me for at least 40 hours a week - working hours permitted by the government in a week) said to me today, “It must feel good to be you, you are so plain, you never angry, you never panic, you never worry…just plain, plain, plain and plain!” I laughed my head off, secretely amused on how could she think I am plain. The truth is, of course I am not! I am a human being after all. Of course there were times when I really angry, I was so angry I threw my fist to the window and crushed it - my hand was bleeding so badly I had to be taken to the hospital to get it stitched (yup, that’s me, surprise?), there was time when I was panic when I suddenly found my self unable to breath and must grasp something to stay standing and there were many times when I worried, I worried so sickly my stomach churned and I felt as if my heart stop beating. But the truth is, I seldom feel that way. It will take a lot of things to bring me up to that level and I guess that’s why I was viewed as a plain person. Always happy and smiling, never carried grudge and seemed to have thousand of excuses to forgive someone. But am I really? (or in your case, are you?) Of course I am not. But I think what differentiate me with that dear friend of mine is I am a strong believer that you can control how you feel towards something. I fully believed that you hold full control of your own emotions. And believe me, when you have Lupus, you won’t have time to steam up negative emotions as stress is one of the thing that triggered inflamatation most. I learned the secret of it when I was 17. I learned it hard and quick.

I’ve learned that once you let something upset you, your lungs close down. First you’d feel difficult to breath. Second, your legs and arms are numbed. And third, your face turn blue and somebody will need to put oxygen mask on you. Not nice, eh?

I had 2 options, let my feelings get the better of me or train my self to choose how I felt towards something. For the sake of my own health, I chosed the later. And it works!

The implementation is close to this: a jerk said something awful about you. Take a deep breath, look him (or her) in the eye and vowed silently that you won’t let it ruin your day. It is he (or she) who has problem so hear what he (or she) said, scan for some self assesment (just in case there are some truth in it - you must not be THAT thick either and have perfect illusion about your self) and if it is not, put it in your delete folder. You can’t control somebody not to be a jerk but you can control your response to it. By doing that you are not only saved your self from having a bad day but also teach that jerk a lesson that you can’t be provoked to go down to his (or her) level. Easy, right?

The result is astonishing. Once I accepted the fact that there are many unpleasant things would happen to me and stop questioning why it should happen to me (and not to somebody else), life seemed a bit lighter in that respect. My Lupus even went into remission for years when I came to acceptance that I may die any minute because of it just like everybody else who is breathing, am I not correct?. So, why should we overly worried about something that will happen anyway? Why should we question somebody else’s action (as a matter of fact I still do sometimes, however, out of curiosity of the motivation rather than feeling hurt) if we can ‘taylor’ our response?

Now back to my friend and the way she judged me, I am sure if she spend her time with me 24/7 365 days a year she would see that other side of me. It is impossible to be happy all the time but when you optimise the ability of creating your own happiness, you’ll be surprise how fun this life actually is.

One of the fun I have been having consist of trying to understand other’s character by listening to what they said and see things that they do, comprehend the reason of their action, see the facts, check it with what they said, contemplating whether the character in the surface match the fact finding and if not what is the real motives beneath it then hopefully I will be able to understand their values as motivation driven by values and values is what you really are.

Am I being painfully analytical again? I guess I need a cup of warm milk to put my mind to rest…

A year a go, it was our third days at home with baby Pascal and this little gentleman was calmer if I compared to his brother.

I remember cradling him close to my breast and he looked at me seriously. Bundled in blue blanket, he looks cuter than ever. Baby Pascal seldom cried. And when he does, it was sort of gentle cry who brought pity rather than agitation. Agitate? Yes, I agitated quite a lot during my first child birth. I don’t mean to sound as if I love Pascal more than I love Mika or Pascal was an easier new born compared to Mika but I guess this is more to anticipating new life.

Lets face it, I was not a kid person. If there was a kid in sight, I usually skirted my way around these little creatures nervously. I guess I was not train to deal with them. I was not prepared on how to look after them. I know that this may sound funny or even a bit weird coming from a woman who suppose to be born with maternal instinct, but that’s the fact. The funniest thing though, kid usually liked me. As I did not tend to speak in high pitch noise to them and hugging them too tight. In fact, I respect them and treat them like an equal. More often than not - I had serious conversation with them about how rain is created, why Kent loves Barbie and this seem to keep them happy.

I could tell that hubby was frustrated with this lack of motherhood and I learned to coup with it. It took a while but finally I managed. Or at least I hope I had managed. Therefore, when I finally got pregnant again, I vowed to my self that I will enjoy it as this will be our last baby (yes dear hubby, Pascal is our last baby. No question about it) and my last chance to feel the gift as a mother. No more worries about miscarriage or still birth or any potential birth defect, basically I want to enjoy every second of being pregnant and having a baby.

This little baby surprisingly agreed to work with me making my vow happened since he was inside my womb. Baby Pascal did not kick as much as his big brother and as he grew up, he proved to be more resilience baby having to compete with a boisterous brother. More adventorous and adaptable. I don’t mean to compare my children, but when you look both of them I could not see any similarity between them. Sometimes I found it hard to believe that they both were born from the same womb. Mika is as brown as ginger bread, big and sturdy with curly spikey hair. There’s an air of macho boy but yet his heart is so tender, so sensitive, he knew when I am upset without me raising my voice.

Pascal is totally different. He is fair, small and yet very athletic with straight brown hair. He was sometimes mistaken for oriental baby boy and once a friend of mine asked whether I was dreaming to have an oriental guy when I was carrying him. What a thing to suggest! Well, Jet Lee maybe! Or Russel Wong. Maybe that’s the reason why he is so valiant. He is so brave and use to fight his brother relentlessly when his toy is taken or when he wanted to play with Mika. He even jumped on his brother’s back and tried to pull his hair. Needless to say Mika was screaming on the top of his lunges.

Anyway, I was saddened that I was not with my valiant little baby when he celebrated his first birthday. But as hubby said, don’t get melancholy. Do what you have to do and make the best out of it. He’s right, of course. But again, when I compared it to Mika, he seemed to get my fullest attention for his first birthday party.

So dearie, if you read this when you grow up, I am sorry that I was not there when you had your first birthday. But it does not mean that I love you less than anything else for I love you and your brother more than anything else in the world. I was thinking about you constantly and I hoped I can be with you for your next birthdays. I love you and happy belated birthday.

It’s been raining quite heavily last night and I saw on TV that some part of Jakarta is started to sink under the water. And after 12 days away from my desk, so does my work.

I must admit that it was a little bit depressing to return and found bunch of envelopes all marked urgent piling up on my table. It was even more depressing to open my mailbox. One consultant urged me to send the report by today. Another one sent me a schedule and asked me to confirm whether I could make it. Colleagues badgering for closure and up date. Candidates called in. Some calls need to be made. Some pleasant, others aren’t. Lots of meeting and lots of updating things were requested. To make things worse, my boss is planning to take leave tomorrow. Hm, I felt a bit suicidal after a while.

Nah, just kidding. I like coming back to the office and sliding back to my daily routine. Standing in front of the capuccino machine listening its brewing and smelling its aroma whilst chatting lightly with friends, sipping it whilst sorting through e-mails and feel its bitter taste against my tongue, replying the urgent e-mails and deleting the old one, make some calls - write some notes, see my colleagues to catch up with latest news (and gossips!) and most of it, relieved that things are pretty much in shape thanks to my dear colleagues who keep it running during my trip (I love you girls!).

Now here my things to do:

1. Finishing up Hay salary survey (almost there, I promise, I almost there…)

2. Preparing IICS/Watson Wyatt salary survey (reality check needed!)

3. Preparing April payroll (URGENT - ready to give our payroll consultant another set of abusive manner)

4. Keeping track on latest recruitment offer (check with boss: am I expected to close down some of it?)

5. Up dating SEA Headcount list

6. More headcount report to the government

And as I’ll be travelling to KL from 24 - 27 April, looks like I have to finish all of the above items by next week. Hmm…looks like I may have to do some serious reality check of keeping habit of not working after 4 pm and not working over the weekend. Plus some extra work to get rid of my procrastinating habit. Now it’s 2 pm and I could feel the heavy lunch settling down. My lids grew heavy and my tongue start lolling out craving for some sugar to boost my energy.

Fancy a cup of coffee anybody?

Sitting in Heathrow lounge sipping my second glass of orange juice and finishing my oatmeal for very late breakfast, as I went through deleting old messages in my blackberry I mirrored back at what I have experienced for the past 10 days in London. I could feel my lips curling into a smile and my mind goes thinking, “That’s what I called a trip!”

It started with arriving on Wednesday 29 March in a rainy night, my life has gone into series of tour to the museums and visiting old buildings. My eyes were adjusted to see the leafless tree and neat row of red bricks houses. My foot were trained to have a long walk and my nose were bleeding from cold weather. I thought that this must be how it feels like when you changed from human to vampire (read: Interview with the Vampire), everything looks new and it was truly fascinating. The sight of the people towering around me hurrying they way to go to some place else, hearing so many languages in so many accents being spoken at once, battling the chilly winds and numb fingers whilst fiddling through layers of clothes, navigating around this beautiful old city trying to comprehend the map and most of all, feel the friendliness of the Londoners which I thought I would never be able to experience.

It was more than once I was moved at the thoughtfulness of some Londoners who approached me to find out whether I was lost and need some help. And I was indeed lost having to travel all by my self for the first couple of days.

I will never forget how a pretty young girl with dark long hair came and informed me that I waited in the wrong bus stop, my mind goes to a darling old lady who paid for my bus ticket when she knew that I did not have coins (nor realise that my oyster ticket actually can also be used to pay bus!) and my thought flew to a UPS guy who unfolded his map to show me the way.

I have some back up though from a dear friend of mine who let me use his flat as base camp and a group of Indonesian youngsters (when I said young usually it means that they are around my age) who’d taken the liberty to take me into their responsibility and showed me around. Because of them I have managed to see places whose my boss in London will not be able to see it in a year! My list goes from British Museum, Tate Britain, Madame Tussauds, Riding the London Bus, London Eye, Oxford Circus, Piccadily Circus, Trafalgar Square, National Gallery (twice!), Tower of London, Tate Modern, Bull Ring in Birmingham (yup, I travelled all the way up to Birmingham), and series of very interesting culinary experience.

I surprisingly managed to work in the middle of this journey (oh before I forgot, that’s actually why I ever come to London - sorry, boss) and met my colleagues in London who are also nothing but nice and helpful and kind despite of what some of my ungrateful colleagues said about them. We had good dinner and good laugh. It was fascinating how different a perspective can be and yet how fundamentally similar they actually are.

At the end of the day, I feel a bit sad to leave. But I missed my family very much, I don’t think I can stay back for another day. This must have been feel like to be an expatriate. Once you grew fond of something, you must leave for something better.

Now whenever I look up at the blue sky above, I will always remember of how different things run in other part of the world and yet, how similar life actually is wherever you are. People are the same, they different with each other and they contributed to your life in their own way.

So Grace, Benny, Chandra, Lucy, Ronald, Djatu, Dedi, Djohan and Arryati if you read this…this post is for you. Thanks for making my trip wonderful and memorable.