RESTLESSNESS

Part 1 : Where do broken hearts go?

It was a miserable October evening in London, I was running to catch the underground but I could hardly see anything in front of me, not because of the heavy rain but my tears would not stop, not yet anyway.  I was as shocked as the people I passed who stared back with pity, sympathy or whatever emotions my tears had stirred in them.

Me – this strong headed, hard-hearted woman working with my male engineering colleagues, how could this be happening to me?

It was pathetic really, I could see myself from outside.  This stupid weepy woman, waiting for her train.  Had somebody died? 

It was all going really well until his best friend walked back into his life and nothing was ever the same again.  

“We need to talk about our priorities”, I said the night before.

With a smirk, he said, “ I HAVE my priorities…”

“Yes, I know it is Matt, Matt and Matt….”

“No, you are wrong, it is Matt, work, travelling, my parents and then maybe…you…”, he was deliberately taunting me.

“Get out of my house and I never want to see you again!”

All he said as he left was, “See you at work tomorrow!”

“Oh my God ….”  My heart was racing furiously with anger, anguish, hurt and so much pain.  I never thought I could feel so much pain.  It was all so new to me.  I just sat crumpled on the sofa, crying my heart out until I had to get up and go to bed.

Although I managed to stay strong at work and avoid him totally the next day, I fell apart when I stepped out of work.

Was it fate that when I opened the door to my apartment, a glossy magazine, with the Pyramids at Giza and the Sphinx on the cover, was waiting for me.  It had always been my dream to visit Egypt.  Something possessed me to go ahead and book this trip.  It felt incredible to be so spontaneous.  

My boss was happy for me to go on the trip as, of course, he knew what was going on.  

A week later when I was on the flight to Egypt I still did not believe that this was really happening.  The excitement of the travel had dulled the pain that I had experienced the day my heart was broken.

Part 2: Egypt of my dreams

Cairo was manic and the constant noise of cars, lorries, buses, people, street sellers, carpet sellers, street children, stray cats and dogs mixed with the smell of tea, spices, souks, and sewer was overwhelming.  I did not mind it because this was Egypt.  Cairo certainly bombarded all my senses and it woke me up from my daze.  I wanted to savour every moment I was in this ancient world.  

I fell instantly in love with the long dead young Tutankhamun, while wandering around in the Egypt of 3000 B.C.  People were preoccupied with their cameras, but I did not want to see and feel Egypt like a visitor through my camera lenses.  It was like coming home.  Everything felt familiar. Going inside the Pyramid, I had mixed feelings.  Was it really alright to invade this place of afterlife that the ancient Egyptians believed in?  

The bonus about this trip was the people in our group came from different walks of life and this was a special trip for each of us.

There was Paul, who lived in a log cabin that he built himself, with water from a bore hole and he had his own generator.  He was totally self-sufficient, growing his vegetables, had a farm with a few animals, hens to provide him with eggs, when he needed wood he chopped a tree from his land. In the eighties, he was considered strange and even simple by most of us.  We clicked straight away and he nick-named me “Indian Princess”.  He knew I needed to feel special.  Through him I saw that there is a different way to live that did not involve materialism.  The others could not see what I could have in common with him.

Hilary and Patrick, who coincidently went to the same university as I did, were questioning me about what is so interesting with simple Paul.  I was defensive of him, but if they hold it against him for not pursuing a career, that was not my problem.  Paul was refreshing and a free spirit and his free spirit started rubbing off on me.

Pilar, was a very special lady, who offered me a book by Isabel Allende, who then became one of my favourite authors.  

The House of the Spirits was the inspiration for my first novel that I wrote years later (The Snake Spirit).  I was thus introduced to the genre that I absolutely love to write, Magic Realism.  

Often, Pilar, Christine, Sheila, Valerie and myself, the five single ladies aged from thirty to fifty-five went to dinner together or just hang out to chat.

Christine and I shared a room on the first day and she was such an easy room mate that we decided to share for the rest of the trip.  Her attitude was always: “Live and let live.” She had no airs and graces, very bright and never meddled in anyone’s affairs.  She was happy to do things on her own or as a group.  I had never travelled alone before and seeing her gave me a new confidence.

Sheila was an Australian lady having her overseas experience after a messy divorce.  She had some great stories about Australia and because of our chats Australia ended up on my big trip’s itinerary.

And Valerie, what can I say about her? She was the first one I poured my heart out about my broken heart, only to find out that she is serial broken hearted person.  She goes from one bad relationship to another and cannot help herself.  As the trip progressed I saw she was spending a lot more time with Patrick, while Hilary would go to bed early.  I was shocked when we all went to a club while Hilary went back to her room and there was Patrick and Valerie in a corner kissing.  I thought even if Valerie likes married man, it was not something one would do on a trip with the wife there!  I realized how naïve I have been.

Michele our tour guide was the life and soul of the party.  She was a natural born leader and we could not fault her at all.  I got the impression she took a shine to Paul, but kept it hidden, until on the last day, she told Paul that she was returning to England until her next tour to an empty house and invited Paul to stay with her.  So these holiday romances between tour leader and tourists do happen as well.

Everyone else had a story but 2 weeks was too short to get to know everyone, but we all managed to work out whatever we had to work out on the trip.

The Magic of Egypt is hard to capture in words:  the desert with the Pyramids of Giza and Sphinx in the backdrop while driving around, sitting in a café in Luxor with the valley of the kings on the other bank, where the Pharaohs are still living their after-lives, the cruise on the Nile with every stop revealing a hidden temple dedicated to Nefertiti, Rameses I, II, III, having cocktails and watching the sunset at the old Cataract Hotel, spending the day at Karnak temple in its glory from sunrise to sunset, riding with the wind on those white Feluccas on the gleaming water of the Nile, reading hieroglyphics as if they meant something to us, how can I do justice to this majestic land?  I still thank the spirits of Egypt for having picked me up from rock bottom and launching me on an unforgettable journey of self-discovery.

While sitting on our small cruise boat, with only our group, I had a lot of time to reflect on life and what I really wanted to do with my life.  Did I really want to be a successful engineer/manager?  Did I want a family, children?

The answer came to me very clearly.  I was a free spirit and I did not want to just be an engineer.  I wanted to try and see different things.  Engineering from now on was only going to be a profession which would provide the finance for my other true passions.

This is what I wrote in my journal: “This trip has been absolutely fabulous and beyond anything I had imagined.  I cannot remember ever feeling so happy. I feel I have just woken up to a spiritual and mystical me.  Last night I could not sleep at all as I kept thinking of the ways I could take a year off from work and go back-packing.  I know it is now or never and suddenly this urge to go and explore our magical planet is bigger than anything else”.

I started working out a plan and as the trip was drawing to an end, my plan for my year around the world was getting firmer.  

The last day of the trip was upon us and there was a sadness in the air.  Everyone of us had such a great time that we really became like a family.  Michele had promised us that the last evening would be unforgettable.  We went on a cruise on the Nile and we were all up there dancing with the professional belly dancers.  Too much wine and so much fun!

The flight back was not as exciting as the flight to Egypt, but I had decided to carry on travelling.  I suddenly realised I was restless and just wanted to keep moving on.

Part 3: Free until the end

“You can’t just pack up and go!” my father was trying hard to convince me.

“I can and I have everything organized. My apartment will be rented out for a year.  My job will be waiting for me for a year.  I have enough American Express Cheques to last me a year.  I have packed one rucksack and I have all my plane tickets and visas and nothing is going to stop me.  I really feel this is my destiny”

I left with a 25 kg backpack and a 10 kg front-pack, my passport stamped with visas, a bunch of travel books, travelers cheques and my sense of adventure.  I spent six months in South America, covering long distances from Rio through the amazon to Venezuela, the land of waterfalls and butterflies.  I carried on to Ecuador and the Galapagos Islands, where Darwin came up with Evolution.  I went to Amantani island on Lake Titicaca, the highest navigable lake in the world and the night sky was unique.  Drove through the Andes, waving at the locals. Did my pilgrimage up Macchu Piccchu, flew over the Nazca lines, and had a ball at the Carnaval de Rio.

Then crossed the world to India, where I found my real roots and discovered buddhism, went trekking in Nepal, walked along the great wall of China, nearly got attacked by Komodo dragons in Indonesia, held a Koala and watched sunset at Uluru down under.

When I like a place I stayed longer if not I moved on. It was so invigorating.  I met locals and travelers all the time.  When I met similar minded travelers I would join them for a while.  I also had numerous adventures that I would not dare tell anyone. The sense of total freedom also made me a more calm and relaxed person.

In the end I was not the same person when I went back to England. I became a restless soul, maybe I had always been but never realized it. 

I ended up leaving the UK to work in Malaysia, where I met my soul mate, another restless soul.  Together we have travelled to the furthest corners of our planet and lived in several continents.

If I had a choice now, I would still have that broken heart that started a chain reaction and changed my life from an ordinary life to an extraordinary one.

We are living in Spain now, but already talking about moving to Portugual.

However, this is the first time in my life I feel that restlessness is leaving.

Was it the broken heart that led to the restlessness or was it the other way around?

Part 4 : Bonus Poem for my readers

Growing up:

Restlessness blew me away

From the solidity

Of my family

Restlessness blew me away

To this place

Of magical charm

Restlessness blew me away

Like the wind

Blows away leaves

Trying to settle down:

For a little while

I thought I was still

I thought I was at peace

I almost believed

Restlessness had abandoned me

It did not last.

Best time of my life:

We travelled the seven seas

Restlessness and I

We saw the far reaching continents

Restlessness and I

We saw the northern lights

Restlessness and I

We were inseparable

Growing old

As I become confident

Restlessness becomes weak

As I become mature

Restlessness becomes confused

As I find True Love

Restlessness becomes jealous

As I grow old and frail

Restlessness becomes scared

The End



Finally Restlessness is gone forever.