Wanderlust

A term I was introduced to by Tasslehoff Burrfoot the Kender, who due to his susceptibility to it, found that he was constantly landing himself into ‘trouble’, as the more ‘serious and responsible’ would say. But I think he would have preferred the terms ‘adventure’ and excitement. Think about it, you lose yourself in a strange land where you know no one and speak not the language. It’s enough to make your palms go sweaty, your heart race and your skin crawl… I mean come on, that’s got to be a good thing! After all, correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t those symptoms remind you of a certain past time we humans love to indulge ourselves in from time to time?

Anyway, I suffer the same torment Mr. Burrfoot did, almost every hour. I knew from a very young age that I was destined for foreign lands… across mountains and valleys, rivers and seas… but when exactly that would be I have yet to find out. I’m still stuck on a smidgen of an island a mile away from my country of birth, and to add insult to injury, the number of foreign lands I’ve had the privilege to frolic in (excluding my current smidgen of an island), are a pathetic 3! Them being the United Kingdom (of which I’ve been to 3 times… why, I don’t know), Germany and Indonesia (or more precisely, Bintan and Batam). I am therefore either much much more resistant to this awful affliction called Wanderlust, or I’m just financially strapped. (Anyone care to make a guess?)

Now, I had a mini discussion with a dear cousin of mine, who at 35, has settled down, is ‘serious and responsible’. Seeing that he was born and bred in Europe, being ‘serious and responsible’ probably wouldn’t come close to what that would mean if applied to Asians. He has an awesome sense of adventure, is willing to take risks, and lives by the moment! And then… deng deng deng… He turned out to be worse than a 70-year-old who had mortgages by the dozen, 10 mouths to feed (still??), and good for nothing children who wouldn’t contribute a cent to pay for his stay at the Peace Lodge Home for the Aged. He basically crushed and ground to a fine powder, my plans to succumb to the call of the wild (i.e country-hop every two years or so in order to experience the rest of good ol’ Mother Earth). His reasons? Sorry REASON?

‘Think about your pension!! You won’t get one if you don’t stay put in one place? You have to think about your future!’

‘But, but, but… I’m young! With years and years ahead of me! If I don’t do it now, I’ll never do it! And I AM thinking about my future, thank you very much!’

I protested. (pouted more like). How dare he? This is my life! I shall do with it as I please!

I didn’t argue my point for long though. I was afraid he might drop some reality check bomb on me and I’ll be transformed into the ‘serious and responsible’. But the damage has been done. The seed of doubt has been planted and it’s growing ever so slowly but surely… sucking dry my ambitions and dreams as the days go by. (Oh I hate you Ian!!) I just know that at this point I’m still trying various brands of herbicides on that damn sprout… the battle has just begun…