The ever marching time

I threw out my old toothbrush this evening before I took my shower – and I felt a bit nostalgic about it. I know, just a silly toothbrush, eh? What’s the big deal. However, that’s the toothbrush that accompanied me to ten countries last month – it travelled along with me, from Adelaide, via Singapore to the European countries that I visited. The brush were now out of shape, and a replacement was already purchased this afternoon … I had a similar nostalgic moment when I clipped my nails last week – I remembered that the last time I clipped my nails before that was in Prague … This Thursday, I will have a haircut and I remember that three weeks ago a nice lady who lived in Haarlem cut my hair on the fifth floor of de Bijenkorf, the department store in Amsterdam.

I suppose I am a reminiscing type of person – that’s why my favourite season is Autumn. There’s something nostalgic about Autumn – it has a quiet dignity to it, it’s not loud and bright like Summer, nor as chaotic and buzzing as Spring. It’s not as lonely or as melancholy as Winter. Autumn quietly bursts into colour, as if the trees knew that they would enter a deep slumber afterwards. The winds that were hot and dry before, suddenly have a chill to it, as if trying to give a hush to the leaves, ushering them to dress up before going to sleep. Well, I have next Autumn to look forward to – and see the colours that the maple trees and the ornamental pear will bring to my frontyard …

So, it has been nearly three weeks since I left Europe … this time last month, on 11 August, I were in Tallinn, Estonia – I remember telling my Estonian friend that it was a bit surreal for me to finally be in the Baltics after months and months of planning and then I was there … Unfortunately, I can’t force time to slow down so I can enjoy the experience some more. Now, places that were merely geographic names before, seem to be faintly familiar when I hear them. Vilnius … Brandenburger Tor, Vltava River, Pirita, … Soon, I will finally finish taking out the stuff from the bags that I brought with me to Europe – at the moment, there are still some brochures, train tickets and odd plastic bags in there. I will then have to rely on what I write today and what I documented last month, and by looking at the souvenirs that I bought, to bring me back again to my trip. Funny how memories can be so comforting, but can be so cruel as well – knowing that the things that are in your mind are like photographs that capture moments in time – and then you bring the photographs far away from the objects that continue to change and evolve over time. You are just stuck with the photographs in your mind, of events and environments, never to be relived again, as the circumstances have changed and would have changed.

Maybe it’s true that I inherit the wandering spirit from my grandfather … he must have been quite an adventurous man, daring to jump into a ship that carried him south to Indonesia from Amoy in China. I have carried his legacy now, even moving further south to Adelaide, and still have the vagabond urge inside – to move on and discover new territories …


Published by fuzz

I've finally relented to the lures of blogging - and for those who care, well, I'm a self-confessed geek who's a wanderer at heart, who thinks and analyses too much, and who's trying hard to hold on to his 7-year old inner persona.

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