Lost
My body still hums after the long haul flight and it is trying to adjust to the new country, the new time and the new temperature. I am waiting in front of the baggage claim belt, as I have numerous times before, waiting for my bags to be spat from the depths of the airport. Slowly the amount of people around the baggage area starts to thin as everyone rushes off to their final destinations. I am watching with some trepidation as the number of bags coming up is starting to be few and far between. A small fear is starting to grow within me, but I push it back down and simply do not acknowledge it.
I now find myself standing in front of an empty baggage claim belt as it slowly moves around however, I refuse to accept the inevitable because as long as the belt is moving, there is still a chance that something more is going to be spat out; my eyes are willing with all their might for my bag to arrive. I stand there watching the empty belt as it comes to a halt and take a deep breath as I realise that my bags have not made it to the Philippines. After finding the relevant airline employee I am basically ignored for about half an hour and I use the last of my energy to remain calm and patient. Finally the appropriate paperwork is completed with what I can only describe as complete disinterest. Exhausted, I walk with my shoulders slumped to the next terminal as I now have other plane to catch.
Despite the title of this post, Lost, and my words above this is not about my lost bags for they were merely a trigger for me to realise my true loss, a deep and profound loss that took me some days to overcome. In truth, I actually felt somewhat liberated to not have my big pack tying me down. I thought that one day, what an adventure it would be to get on a plane with nothing more than the clothes on my back.
It was into the evening when I had arrived in Puerto Princesa (Puerto) and found the hotel that I intended to stay at. I showered and struggled to convince my confused body that it was in fact time for sleep. After a while of rolling this way and that in my bed and a number of deep sighs, I managed to descend into the world of slumber albeit somewhat broken.
The following day I was at a bit of a loss as to what to do because I basically had no clothes, the airlines could not tell me when my bag may be expected and my intention had been to leave Puerto immediately. With very few options at hand I decided that after purchasing some necessary supplies, I would take this forced stop over as a time to rest and relax. After all it had been a couple of months since I last had a proper rest.
The thing about slowing down after so much travelling, so many experiences, is that you have time to think; you have time to contemplate; you have time to process; and things have time to catch up with you.
I have often said that the hardest part of travelling is the goodbyes; I have written about it in the past; I have spoken to many people about it; I have developed mechanisms to try and deal with them; and my standard ‘line’ is that while a goodbye is sad I would rather have the goodbye than not have met the person in the first place. A goodbye means there has been shared experiences, there has been shared time and there has been something of us shared. Despite all of my goodbyes, despite all of my preparations, despite my mechanisms, what I had left behind caught up with me and I started to account for what it was that I had lost.
I will take a brief interlude here to acknowledge that the word ‘lost’ is quite a strong description and I am not suggesting that I had lost my memories nor the experiences that I had with people but I had lost the ability to simply chat with the person face to face, I had lost the ability for new memories to be made.
Many special people crossed through my mind during my few days in Puerto, many amazing experiences were recalled and all the time I felt the loss very deeply. I was in a state of melancholy and I started to think about home, was it time to head back to Australia?
Slowly I began to process what it was that I was feeling as a loss. There is no doubt that I have lost, that I have said goodbye to people who have meant so much to me and that under any other circumstances I would choose to spend more time with them but the reality is I will not see them again. So the difficult truth is that while I travel I cannot have happiness without loss. And I say to you – knowing this does not prepare me any better but nor does it discourage me from travelling.
So in the following days my bag arrived safely to Puerto and I was off on the road again. I met amazing people as soon as I opened myself to it and while in El Nido the simple act of walking down the street (or beach) would most likely result in me bumping into friends and we would spend the morning/afternoon chatting, laughing and just generally enjoying each other’s company.
But a humble thanks
I’ve never managed a good goodbye
As the time approaches
Thoughts become muddled
Scrambling I’ve no hope to explain
I mumble this and that
Wishing for more time
But even with that luxury
What words would come
How do you express
Such deep appreciation
For the time that was spent
For the moments that were shared
Before I left Australia
I had lowered my sail
And just sat on the pond of life
Motionless, vast nothingness around
But now my sail is raised
And again I explore the pond of life
Renewed enthusiasm, renewed vigour
Thanks to strangers who became friends
So to those whom I’ve met
Tho we’ve parted ways
You remain in my mind and heart
For you’ve set me again on my journey
The following photos were taken around the Underground River
The following photo was taken in Honda Bay
The following photos were taken around Port Barton
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| The view from my bungalow |
The following photos were taken around El Nido
