Aren’t we all lost stars, sometimes?

by Phu Tran (Vietnam)

A leap into the unknown Vietnam

Ho Chi Minh City. 10 PM, March 2017. Staring out of the antique windows from my rusty urban cottage, my gleaming eyes were twinkling blissfully with joy and excitement. All the studious planning and preparation for my upcoming trip had been settled 2 days before, and I couldn’t help thinking about adventurous stories to be achieved for the next 7 days. It was not my first-time travel to the Philippines, the heart of South-East Asia islands, where I got laid by abundant hospitality and care of indigenous friends. However, this time, I was not alone. I would not throw myself into crystal oceans from the local’s cuddly ships on my own around Skelton Island or watching and praising flickering fireflies solemnly in Puerto Princesa’s mangrove forests. I managed to find a favourable companion. My bad. With all the luck given from ancestors, across years of behaving good and kind to the world, I was presented a lovely passenger to accompany me. Her birthdate was coming soon, and so was our first-year anniversary. It was 10:09 PM now. The familiar icon and sound from Messenger didn’t take long to catch my notice. Actually, by divine wills, I was set to pick up any activity that might lead to that special companion. There were some exceptionally long texts, followed up by shorter replies, but they took quite a while, and the conversation ended with the good wishes from both sides, just earlier than usual. Until that night, I had never discovered that there was a hidden well in my room, where the theory of relativity abandoned its premises. I heard an anchor sound going relentlessly around in my numb head. My body sank into the floor while the stars seemed to fade into an abyss. “Life goes on”, people often said, even when someone carried your heart distances. Puerto Princesa International Airport, 4:20 PM, March 2017. 3 years from that afternoon I still wondered how I dragged myself in one piece to be there. My friends were supportive and understanding, it was all their credits, but what was the point of a voyage with your soul and your best piece far far away? Even though Filipino’s hospitality did live up to their name, and the wrecked Japanese warships flashed out fascinatingly underwaters, I contemplated in my lonely trip and savoured triggering memories. “I could take a pic from behind when it’s sunset here, you’d look super artistic”. “Wait, look! Isn’t it magnificent?” “Stop where you are, you’re more adorable than needed and I have to capture this”, and so on. Then I heard someone playing Maroon 5 on the busy street. “Everybody hurts sometimes Everybody hurts someday, aye aye But everything gon' be alright Go and raise a glass and say, aye” The rhymes went on, crawling inside out. Did I taste the Kazekame cocktail a moment ago just right? Did I notice the differences in craftmanship on those tiny ship-bottled souvenirs around me? What was the taste of the Greek pizza and the 3-favoured gelato I picked up for dinner? And this road, would it lead to the beach or I would bump into more people instead? Looking at the people around, I was certain that each of them had their concerns, beneath the benevolent smiles they were marching with. But they chose to live in the moment, to be mindfulness about time and places and stay true to the beats of life. Grievances would spare no one, soon or late, so just let it scare us anyway. Only after you have treasured the bitterness of solitude when you can truly embrace the happiness of affection. I went on and dwell myself into those performances of fire-blowing street artists, of a merry beach patrol across dim-light bars instead, and lastly, sitting at the peaceful beach to reconnect with my inner voice. “Que cera, cera. Be thankful for the journeys you had, all the joy and pain, and to be grown up for the next to come.” Dear Kayangan Lake, Twin Lagoons, Barracuda Lake and Siete Pecados, Here I come. Bravely yours,