Stranger in a strange land

I've always had a soft spot for the beach. 

The strong, powerful wind - invisible yet so present - the crazy whipping action of your hair against your skin, fabrics flying, your scarf moving. 

The numerous sand particles - solid, hard, black and yellow - yet pours out in singular granules as you sieve them through your fingers, time and time again, and you pick at your eye as it hits into them by mistake.

The vast ocean - so loud and majestic - tastes like a pack of salt as you accidentally open your mouth with glee, heap full of salt entering your system, and you suppress your laughter with a wide grin, and think about how much shampoo you will need to get your hair back on track.

I miss the beach. Its one of those things that I've taken for granted, yet it has never failed to enlighten my spirits. Every visit makes me feel like a kid again, and Mika is always allowed to walk out alone into the horizon. Casting glances over his tiny shoulders for signs of his parents. Such a wonderful boy.

This is his 2nd photo of him walking alone in an empty stretch of sand. Yellow, barren. A hint of anxiety as the waves crash in and scare him silly. I introduced him to seashells this time. And the ATV.

I somehow cannot be bothered to talk about my Eid celebration. This photo itself stamped more meaning and memory than the gluttony and controlled emotion I had to suffer during Eid. 

You are always an outsider no matter what color shirt you wear. 

A stranger, in a strange land, his t-shirt read.

Hello Mt Kina

Hello, Mt Kina. How are you? How have you been? Has it been a long lonely silence, enveloped by your own grandeur? You are a mountain, bolted down to the earth. Could your own dreams ever lift you away?

This was one of the trips I decided not to tell too many people about, rather drop it nonchalantly when discussing dates of open houses and Raya plans. It was two weeks post raya, I opted to take the least favored week off because I am such a nice colleague - putting others ahead of me and letting my office mate enjoy a 2 week break in Indonesia instead.

I was not in shape, I try to be but it was fasting month, and I had a roller coaster of a ride keeping up pace with Mika alone at the time. He has been such an angel, and I had some major issues of my own to overcome. See how much I needed this?

The stars aligned and I got my slot without much fuss. Normally you would have to make bookings months ahead. I just gambled and thought I would have it, if it was meant for me. Else we could go rock climb or something in KL. 

The climb. Wow. Where do one begin? It is endless miles of stairs, steep, slopes, all I could think about was how massive my thighs must be post Kina. The cold wind is a contrast juxtapose making the climb both unbearable but pleasant?! We did it in a short climb of 5 hours, arriving at the base camp of Laban Rata way before dinner was served. The night of, I could not sleep. My chest felt heavy, and my head was spinning. Every creak and bounce of a spring woke me. I was doomed.

And doomed was I. The 2am upward climb to Low's Peak was a treacherous on, in poorly lit conditions and the cold air whipping in between the very threads of your clothes. All I wanted to do was sleep behind a rock. Everytime we stopped - at my mercy of course - I would try to steal 1 or 2 seconds of sleep. A few kind passerby's did ask me if I was OK.. Could not believe we eventually made it to the top. It was an infested site, almost like a sacred spot for the religious. A few ladies decided to shout in glee as they made it to the top but were shushed by the guides - ' you cannot tell who will be bothered by your shouting' totally zipped their mouths shut throughout the decend. The weather was lovely and cold up there. I wanted to spend at least an hour devouring the view and snapping pictures but my fingers could not handle such cold and numbness. I ate a 5ringgit piece of nestle chocolate wafer in greed as I sat at one of the corners. Battling lack of sleep, hunger, fatigue and awe all at once. 

Abby was our guide, he had the record of bringing up the water tank to Laban Rata, and as F would call him 'ayam lamo' as he tought me some basic local dialect and we discussed the track and how much more harder it gets as the distance goes by. We were rushing to Timpohon Gate. And to meet Pondok Kandis. 

Happy to be at square one, where we started, back home with Mika. But of course saddened to say goodbye to the majestic peak of my country. You are such a beauty, and I am so so so glad I decided to go say hello to you up close.

How technology has spoiled me.. this is too neat.

Run baby run

Its been a while we last ran together. Mens Health and Shape night run in Putrajaya this time around. As I write this I actually have finished the SCMKL but feel obliged to write about this too. I think this year was a bit packed, and signs of aging is slowly creeping in. Both my knees are a bit worn out post Kinabalu (yet to write about it too) and the sudden run right after ain't helping.

My playlist is a bit of a weird mix. Arctic Monkeys and my oldies yet goldie Butterfingers. I always run with my hands a bit fanned out as I pretend to sprint but in reality its my attempt at jiving to the song while I pound the pavement with my heavy load. 

It was a humid night, the crowd was anxious to start. The rain seemed to be teasing us by light drizzle and then pouring it all out after the run had ended. We missed all exits to Jalan Tun Razak. My dear friend was a bit upset we took her to Bangsar for a late night makan as we both thought it was 'along the way'. In all honesty I do not want to recall that night in that manner, how making assumptions can make the worst of situations. I had it happen to me twice. Anyways. 

I was a great night for a run. But I doubt I'd do another night run just cause it makes me so worn out anticipating gun time the whole day long. 

Will always be the morning person I am.