Monday, January 31, 2011

Brunch, beach and cocktails.

I don’t know when I will fall out of love from this exhilarating sensation of racing against time, packing up, sleepless nights and of torn green backpack. The whole idea of travelling is sometimes deemed as a total disconnection from well, “the rest”.

Am I happy working hard, earning, and then spending on moving around? Yes. Leaves me breathless whenever I’m back in the office, grasping for some reality check. That sensation, right at that moment when I’m setting up my workstation after an intense holiday – right that moment, is an unidentified dot that connects me back to that life. I feel like a bullet train, stopped with signs, but of course wrecked regardless eventually after a bit of travelling. And truth is, I see the cracks, I feel it, and loved the experience that it gave me.

Like how love and other drugs give you the greatest strangest sensation, traveling is an utmost exciting drug that I can’t seem to find a placebo of. Not through reading, not through watching. It has to caress your skin, it has to brush of your cheeks, it has to go in between your fingers, it has to be real.

When I was on my way to Singapore for Laneway Festival (I was late by the way, reached the check in counter 10.25pm, when plane was supposed to depart at 10.35 pm, by grace I had no idea how I manage to convince them to let me in) and when I went into the plane that mean woman had to give me the very corner of the last seat while the rest were still unoccupied – I picked the magazine and it had the perfect title I’ve been wanting to find out what is it about travelling that gets me the most.

It was brunch, beach and cocktails.

Urbanites underestimated the power of brunch, when we have been the evangelists of it all of our life especially during the weekends. And then there’s the beach. Something about being able to wake up and see an indefinite stretch of blue gives you an amazing comfort and that splashing songs of waves. And with a little intoxication, sand turns into a dancefloor. The 3 possibly simplest words that stroke a chord.

Everyone needs some brunch, beach and cocktails.

Laneway Festival post coming right up.

Love & peace,

Jacqueline Rowena @ Jacqkie.

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