Dear Diary,
Ah…a friend returned to the UK today. Going back to work and hopefully on to a better one. Sadly the prospects of anyone looking for jobs in the land of fish and chips are not very rosy. Instead, it is like the chips that have been left too long on the counter drenched in vinegar, rock salt and too much oil. With the financial nightmare experienced everywhere now, even more so in the UK, it is going to be one heck of a battle to shop in Marks & Spencer whilst trying balance Tesco, Asda and Morissons in the debit card statement. Perhaps even Ann Summers will wish she is spending the summer of 2009 on some beach in an unknown Pacific island faraway from BBC and Channel 4.
Yet, I wish I was on the same flight as well. I miss the lifestyle, the people, the infrastructure, the culture and values and most of all my friends. I miss everything…even the cracked pavements of Cardiff and the ever dismal English weather. Even the yobs and chavs that frequent the backlanes of the slum hoods. The lagers and spirits. The pub and club culture. The very empty roads. The sandpaper beaches. The temperate-weather flowers. The squirrels that peek at me during my runs. The stretches of green grass in their parks. I can go on.
This entry sounds so egoistical and chances are the impression would be that I am just another star-struck visitor to some foreign country. Poseur even. Unfortunately, beneath whatever façade that people may assume, perhaps not many understand the sadness and longing that hides inside.
It is the same as any country with its fair share of all the lower end of the civilisation spectrum. It is plagued with racism, welfare-abusers (not unlike the cronyism we have here), lousy road system, abysmal weather, and lackadaisical work ethics to name a few. Truly, I do not miss these…at least on the surface. What I miss is the learning culture that is so abundant. Not that we do not have it here( Mas duh!), but I find the culture here way more materialistic. The genial friendliness there (Harrods land) is very expressive. Not that the people here are not, it’s rather they won’t speak unless they’re spoken to in that sense. So a Hello or a Good Morning is the exception rather than the norm. Again, I can go on.
I guess it’s just the relationships that I’ve made there that make me miss them so much more. With eyes wide open, I embraced all the new experiences and I’ve been so enriched. There are the housmates, drinking friends, the home buddies from Msia, the sport teams, the intimate friends, the girlfriends, the work colleagues, the club mates, the Highfields, and even the mailman. Yep, I was that close to him. He would always greet me cheerfully and it is rather interesting that we’ve become so accustomed that we’d recognise each other if we meet outside.
This is such an incomplete entry. The words and emotions are gushing out faster than I can capture them here. I will have to dedicate my full story in another entry or perhaps a book. In the meantime, I guess I just miss you. Oh Zzz...
