Behind and in front, that counts

Last night, a friend emerged into my room and rapidly talked about his new lens. A humongous telelens, but it doesn’t work with his brand new flashy DSLR camera. He wanted to test the lens with my DSLR. I handed him the camera body then he attached the lenses. Nope. Sorry, my friend, it doesn’t work as well with mine. Instantly he thought and uttered that he was going to find another camera body to match his lens. He needed for his bird watching activity. I shrugged and said to him that I would love to have one but as of now I have to be satisfied with my semi-wide lens kit which I love to a bit. We did a bit of talk about digital camera, especially DSLR because he seemly doesn’t tolerate pocket camera. Then off he went.
Alone in my room, I look at my baby, Canon 350D. I caressed it slightly. She’s been with me since… uhm, 2007? Yes, exactly. Well, it was bought in mid 2006, but since 2007 we’ve been traveling intensively.
She’s been working very hard, I must say. Sometimes she doesn’t mind the weather and many times she was very close to ocean. One place that I know is not very good for her health. She’s been switching countries and most of the time has to adjust vigorously to the climate. I took a closer look, she seems to be old. In fact she is old, even the manufacturer decided to stop producing the model.
Do I need to change her for something new? The conversation with me and my friend flashed back. As I recall, I don’t really need new features although the LCD screen is a bit small for mw though. I caressed her black body again. That time I realized I love her so much. It feels like realizing how much you love your best friend and how great she is. I don’t care what others have as gadget buddies, as long as me and my 350D get together well and productively captured every moments of our life. I think we’re gonna stick continuously. There are always scenes to discover through my eyes and her view finder. Changing partner is not necessary because this world is so much to explore.

This is an old scratch written in my traveler journal. Inspired by a talented lady who never gives up on photography regarding the obstacles. That's what I called learning. For me, it is what is behind and in front of camera that count :) And thanks to her, me and my baby will shout to the world even louder through a surprise birthday present from her. Love it to a bit!

Question of Fate

He placed a mat on the floor and all of sudden grabed the candle by the window. The candle was put on top of the table beside the mat. He looked at her and grinned, “I’m going to do my prayer.” She stared away from the book she was reading with the go-ahead look. He was going to do his prayer in his own way, as he is a buddhis, and considered himself as a lousy one. Or maybe a good one, how can she be sure. No clue for this difference practice.
The praying ritual begins with placing his forehead on the mat and then he sat on his legs. It is similar with sujud in moslem praying then istisqa. His small fingers were folded nicely on his lap and he closed his eyes. She continued to read the book, but couldn’t help noticing the notion.
That night, as she watched him praying and she was reading Rumi’s poem silently, she felt like all the candles he lighted in the room were brighter than usual. She felt like there was a chanted music playing in the room, although he has already turned off his iTunes volume. A bliss, something soothing as if her heart wrapped around by her brown polar blanket. The joy being in a little piece of diversity and united at the same time.
She could imagine, her mom would cry a river if she dared to say “Mom, I have a new and he believes in different religion than us.” And she knows exactly the reaction of the big family. The golden-girl aunties most probably would put her in a corner and preach her for days until she have enough and eventually change her mind. She never thought would cross this line somehow, as she always plays in the safe zone, never had an idea to do the twist plot, not even a bend.
But this time she couldn’t help it.
He looks so cute when he prays.

Eye Candy

It is hard not to be jealous of Candy Dulfer. I like her song, For the Love of You and imagine someone's physically ordinary behind this genius song. Beauty and brain would be too much for one girl, no?

But yesterday, I got the opportunity to watch her on stage. She showed up in her sexy white dress that wiggled every time she moved, which was very often. How can someone not jealous of her? She is amazingly beautiful, with her blonde Farah Fawcett hairstyle, and her mischief smile. Her tanned skin was glowing and her hip was flowing along with her music. She clapped her hands in the air and asked the audience to dance. How could anyone say no? Her funky music was groovy, passionate and full of energy.

And when she blew the sax, oh my God, for me that's when she reveals the most of her sex appeal. I always consider someone who can play musical instruments is attractive. And Candy does it in a very subtle way. Smooth, sharp and sexy. There goes the word again. Sorry, I just can’t help it.

Sometimes she came near the microphone to sing several lines. I don't know, is it just me who was so thrilled with her image, or she has a funky voice character? I could not think twice, there she was, asking us to sing along with her.

What a night. Seeing an almost perfect image of a girl. While today I was starring at her photos which were captured by my self, I could not stop thinking. How can a girl be so picturely perfect? And how can anybody else be ordinary? Has someone ever told me about this unfair world?

Uh, no Dita no, you are now in a happiness of all-that-jazz night symptom. It is not the time to be green with envy or being bitchy for other's beauty. So, I tune on to Candy's soothing hits, and sipped my earl grey tea happily. I put on my shades because on sunset time my room usually is too blinding. The sunshine always makes my room warmer and brighter.

Yes sweetie, let people shine, and let them shine on you.

It always rains in this part of the world

It’s been a fine day. I woke up late, and enjoyed the free coffee from the hostels vending machine. Considerably, I woke up quite early, because I manage to have a lazy shower and have breakfast down in the white room. The Japanese guy said hi to me, and said he was leaving Antwerp today. I smiled back and wish him good luck in his Euro trip. After that I surfed the free internet and chit chatted with friends. It is always good to exchange unessential news with your dearest persons.

Then I and my travel buddy strolled around the city. The city somewhat reminds me of my hometown and I embraced the feeling home. It has small nice places here and there. The weather was good but turned out to be dull at the end. Ouch. I sheltered under my cyan umbrella but it was raining heavily. We decided to go into a bar with loud 80ies music. He tried the local beer brand, and I ordered something called “Pintcha.”

I was really glad that we stopped at this place and uttered, “Too bad it’s raining today,” he replied with “You always complain.”

I was shocked. I don’t want to be that kind of person. The sentence with a high pitch “No, I’m not!” was on the tip of my tongue, but I kept quiet. He would have been replied with “You always argue,” and arguing is one thing that I’m not good at.

To my defense I murmured “But I hate rain.” He looked at me sharply, “Come on, that’s life.”

Yeah, I hate the he sometimes right, but that’s life. In life, I can not expect sunshine all the time. The weather is changing, the climate is changing, and what could I do except the adaptation? I got sunscreen and shades for shiny days, I got waterproof coat and umbrella for rainy days. What’s next, extra flashlight for super gloomy day? Yes, sometimes there are things you could not change, and the best is equipped our selves with prevention. Or else, move out. And can you imagine the people who are living in this country? Are they moving away? I guess not. They manage to stay in this lovely town. Where it always rains all the time.

I gulped my last pincha and he took me by the hand, “Let’s go.”

On a failed traveling

So, here I am now, at one (and maybe only) open cafe at this hour. I’m pampering my self with a glass of unexpectedly too-strong Irish coffee. This gloomy weather is killing me. The clouds sucked out my energy andd the raindrops sometimes get me uncomfort. Me and my travelling buddy have been walking for hours under the grey sky and pouring rain. *deep sigh* Sometimes I wish I didn’t expect too much from a holiday, because when you expect more, you’ll often get less. Don’t even dream of romantic getaway, sunshiny day or picturesque scenes, because chances are you might get a clash, dull sky and unmatching mixed-up between historical buildings and modern architectures. When I was trying to enter the museum, it turned out the entrance-fee is not worth the sloppy artifacts inside it. When I want to have lunch in a budget Viatnemese restaurant, it’s not open yet. I’ve been drroling to sit quietly on one supersize-comfy couch in one of the cafes, then the waiter slammed its door in front of my nose. Don’t dream too high baby, unless you prepare to fall hard.
But, this is the part when booze do their job at its best. Thanks for the jam-packed bar with more than 300 beer-brands aligned. Thanks God I’m in Brussels.

I Work With Fire

This end of weekend (how strange it sounds) we went to the park. There was a carnival and a fireworks show by the lake. People stand up and held their head up to the sky. Kids were running around and sometimes plugged their ears with fingers. The photographers set up their tripods and captured the show neatly. And me? I feel like living in one of my dream. The transition between day and night time made everything a bit blurry. But still, I amused my self with the company. Carnival is always about rushing your adrenalin and indulge your sugar level. Couples might love to spoil each others by winning the dolls or watched the town from the top of ferries wheel. Or probably just sit side by side, amongst the crowd watched the bright tones in the sky. Why did people invent this show? Was it inspired by the war? That night I watched the fire in a quiet close distance, and I just realized beside the big bang sound, they made a strange creepy sounds. Well, I know people were there for the visual entertainment, not to spoil their ears. On the contrary it might be damageable.

What do you think? What’s so good about fireworks? The explosion, the color or the shape? The crowd, the lens you have or someone who hold your hand when you watch the last splash?

How old I grow, how far I go

It was a long time ago, but it is still crystal clear in my head. I’ve never been so loved in the correct way and the exact person than this. I was having a fever. The sympthoms were quite common during those days, high fever, sore throat followed up with muscles pain. After got home from the doctor, had a proper meal and drank up the antibiotics, I laid on my bed. I was brwosing through the tv channels while waiting for sleepy eyes. Suddenly he entered my room and sat on the edge of my bed. I have just bought Kenny Loggins albums days ago and the cassette cover was on the floor. He saw it, and recognize one of the song. Then he grabed my classic guitar which is my birthday present from him, and started to pick the strings.

“Somewhere out there, beneath the pale moonlight… Someone's thinking of me, and loving me tonight..”

I also sing softly, but before he finished the song, the sleepyhead has taken me over. I woke up a little when he kissed my warm forehead and left the room.

Eventhough I am 15 years older than I was at that time, but I know. No matter how old I grow or how far I go, I will always be that little girl. A girl who deserves a song to sing, a kiss in the forehead and an everlasting wonderful company as him.

O brother where art thou?

I am the eldest amongst the siblings, but too many people think I’m the youngest. I admit that I do act childish and craving for attention, but I’d rather refer it to the only child characteristics. Those people have mistakenly read the lines.

I was the only child for 5, almost 6, years, then came along my brother. I was very exciting at the beginning, imagining I would have someone to play with, rather than dragged the neighbor kids to stay a while. But when the moment came, I started to realize it might take some times for him to be able to play with me. And then the way people showered him with attention get on my nerve. And it was very upsetting me how everybody let him win just because he’s younger than me. Come on man, in school they taught me about justice, but in my childhood reality it was not realistically exist.

After a while, I was more focus on schools. I’ve always been a bit obsessive about this. On the contrary, I didn’t see it from my brother side. He always seemed chill out and didn’t care about grades. He definitely chose to play with his matchbox cars collection rather than fiddling with math book. Of course, this things drove mom crazy ;)

Time flies. It always does. Right now we are standing physically far apart. It was more or less 25 years that I always had him beside me. Well, not literally beside, but most of the time, we stayed under the same roof. Maybe it’s because the miles distance between us, lately I feel that I didn’t do the elder sister role very well. Amongst these years, how well do I know him? We have never had a close conversation about personal things. Well, he met most of my ex and boyfriends, but do I know something about his personal life? Not a single part of it. But how should I know things?

When he got into education trouble, I tried to find him solutions. Was it the best? How can you be so sure? And after I had a quite satisfactory wages, I managed to spare him a little. The shopping days with him were always the best, because we shared something in common in clothes. Although I sometimes doubt everything. Wasn’t it too spoiling?

Or maybe I was just being too hard on him. After all, I just want him to be strong, struggle a lot in life and take everything responsibly. I really want him to stand tall on his beliefs, his passion, his desire or whatever he feels like doing. As long as they are positive. But then I think again, how can I define one is positive and one is not? Can I figure it out through his view?

He’s a grown up now. I believe, or probably trying hard to believe, that he is a man who head his head up high and deserves to be proud of him self. It is common that we (mom and dad and me) want him to score a goal and we’ll be on the front line, cheering up for him. But hey, let’s just not to be hard on our selves again. After all, I just want him to be his self, and, happy. In your utmost comfortable way.

Happy birthday, Dimas.

Symmetry Mood

I know I must write a lot since I was in a very intense traveling in the past two weeks. I wrote some in my lovely red moleskin journal, but I could not transfer it into digital file. I don’t know why, my self just doesn’t want to do it.

Instead, today I’ve been in a very mellow mood. I am suspicious, well rather convinced then, that it is something to do with my hormonal cycle. It is about time.

And I could not listen to any other song than this.

How I’m loving the opening: I caught in a symmetry of your mind…

I'm caught in the symmetry of your mind

But I'm not happier than you

Did I really see you or was it just a dream

Dreaming that it was seamless

Not a trace of wrong words

That we have spoken

Little did we know

No bigotry no tears shed

Ohh if only

You'd try to be polite

Thinking you were right

Only to find that you're unkind

But ironically you will always be

Belle of The Ball least to me

Symmetry – Mew

Yeah, I am convinced that I miss you. But I am protecting my heart so tight, not to have it wounded. Not even bruished. This long distance relationship has never been kind for me. In anyway.

That Rockaway feeling

I can feel it’s ending. That Sundays, when everyone rushed to the beach just because we had unseasonably warm weather in late September, ...