A dream I had in Paris

2009.06.22

I was in my hotel bed sleeping; dreaming. In this dream, for some inexplicable reason, I needed to delete something to free up the memory in my brain (I choose to associate this with Sherlock Holmes’ idea of how the mind works, instead of relating this with computer science…).

 

All around me were hundreds of replicas of my brothers, Vincent and Steven, at different stages of their lives running round me. Then I had this brilliant idea of leaving one copy of each, and delete the rest. The first I deleted was Vincent when he was around six — the age when he was possessed by the devil. I chased him down, snatched his card, pressed it, and he vanished. Okay, now my next victim.

 

I found Steven in his primary school uniform standing next to me. He was seven years old and unlike now, he was very skinny and easy to get a smile out of. I look down at him and asked him for his card. Without a second thought he just handed it to me, looking up with his head tilted and smiled; just like in a picture of him next to a mean looking teacher during a school picnic. He looked at me so trustingly, utterly oblivious of what I was planning to do… and I found I couldn’t make myself press the card. I gave it back to him, and at the same time knew I didn’t have the heart to delete any more replicas.

 

At this point I woke up, and found that I was crying in my sleep.

 

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It was our last day in Paris and I was a bit subdue that morning. We were going to the Basilique du Sacré-Cœur (a catholic church in Montmartre), and the rest of the day free to wander wherever we want.

 

It was small and not as majestic compared to the others we’ve seen throughout our Europe trip (I remembered Janette saying half jokingly that she was picking which one to have her future wedding at). It was a very long walk up to the church and after having a brief tour inside, we decided to sit and rest at the back rows of pew. Facing us was a huge mosaic art of Jesus with open arms.

 

I didn’t know what I was actually thinking for the whole morning, except for the vivid imagery of my dream. Janette was just mentioning how this church didn’t make her feel like praying, unlike the other grand ones we’ve visited, when I said I was going to go pray and asked her to wait for me awhile. I went right to the middle of the church, far from Janette but still away from the more devoted prayers at the first twenty rows, knelt down, not exactly sure where to place my elbows but finally got into a comfortable position, and began talking to God.

 

I always saw myself as a Christian but never outwardly presented myself as such (which should be explored in another blog post in the future). I asked God to take care of my brothers and the rest of my family (“I’m on it! But keep asking once in awhile in case I forget.”). I told Him about the dream, wondering why I had it (“Cos you miss them, you idiot girl” God, ladies and gentleman); I asked why I always had this void in me and the hidden coldness of all things around me; I asking why at the very bottom of my heart, I felt pain which I never truly realize I had until I’ve put my life on hold (“There there now…”). For the second time that day I wept silently, secretly but as always, felt absolutely nothing. I looked up at the mosaic Jesus and wondered how many turned to him out of loneliness instead of remorse.

 

I took a deep breath and gave out a small sigh. Double checking that my tears were dry, I stood up and walked back to Janette, saying “let’s go” with a small smile. I decided to send my brothers another postcard, just to let them know what a weird dream I had last night and hoped everything was going on well for them.

 

 

Eccentricity in Venice II

2009.06.18

It was our last night in Venice; Janette and I were desperate to check something online. Fortunately the person we were sharing the room with, a French student, had a laptop with him, so we offered to pay for an hour of the internet to share and he would lend us his computer. We ran downstairs to get the Wi-Fi login, and there was that man again.

“I’m busy. Come back in an hour.” he said, his eyes without leaving his screen. Our new roommate apparently hadn’t really met the hotel management and attempted to reason, only to get the same reply. So we went back to our room and waited; 45 minutes later we went down again, thinking whatever he’s doing, surely he could spare some time to write the combination for us.

“It’s not an hour yet.” he said with a temper.

Tired of walking up and down the flight of stairs again, we decided to wait at the sofa next to the reception. But then we realized we didn’t bring a pen with us (for what I’ve already forgotten; Tannessa’s phone number?), and we were hesitant of disturbing the man again. Without giving much thought I offered to go back to our room again to get one. But when I went down again, it seems the man had already lent them a pen. Anyway I waited for our roommate and Janette to finish before having my go, so I could have some quality time alone.

After the WiFi connection was cut, I got up to return the pen and hit bed. The man was watching a film on YouTube and I stood there watching the loud men in green running around with guns for awhile until he turned to me.

“Thank you for the pen.” I said, handing it back to him “What’s the name of the movie? I might watch it when I’m home.”

“It would bore you young people; only old guys like me enjoy watching World War II movies.” Me ‘Young people’, yes!!

“I like watching different things once in a while,” I said with a shrug. “and you’re not old, just mature.”

He smiled as he said he was a war film buff and thought the movie was just mediocre, so he wrote me a few movie titles I could look up.

“You are a beautiful person” he suddenly said as I was thanking him for the list. Oh… okay. Seeing my skeptical expression he kindly assured me he was telling the truth; that he had met a lot of people during his time. In a fatherly fashion, he asked if I was seeing anyone and I shook my head. “One day someone will see what I see” he said gently. I replied with a wry smile.

“It’s been a pleasure knowing you.” he said and asked me to keep the pen. We shook hands and I went up my room, mystified and pained at the same time.

Eccentricity in Venice I

I kept on hoping I would eventually continue (and finish) writing about my Europe trip more than a year ago. Overly ambitious, I thought I could write what happened every single day of the three weeks. There were a few memories in particular I’ve been waiting to write… but I have come to see I should just jump right into it.

 

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2009.06.19

 

Janette and I arrived at Venice rather late so we were eager to find the motel. Accommodation was expensive when we got around booking rooms and stuff in Venice, so there weren’t a lot of choices left that were within our budget. Luck for us there were road signs for hotels/motels all around, so it wasn’t difficult to find our way. Interestingly just below the names of these signs were stars, which I deduced indicated the hotel ratings. Ours was a “one” so we were starting to fret.

 

When we found our motel, there was already a Chinese couple at the counter. The staff, an old man probably in his mid-sixties with an American accent, didn’t acknowledge our presence so we just sat by meekly and waited for them to finish. From their conversation, I understood they were a couple of newlyweds and the Chinese man was asking the old staff something about their rooms. The old man gave no signs of trying to be pleasant, so pretty soon the Chinese guy was fed up with the service he paid for, and demanded his money back. Naturally the man at the counter had to be sarcastic.

 

“Of Course I will give you a refund.” he said and resumed to whatever he was busy with originally. The Chinese guy waited for awhile.

“Would you give us the money first?” he tentatively asked.

“I’m not giving you any money.” replied the old man as he continued writing without looking up.

“You just said you would!” The Chinese exclaimed.

“I’m not giving you any money.”

The Chinese paused. “I’m not staying here after all this.”

“Feel free to leave.”

The Chinese turned to look at wife, who was tired and clearly upset by this exchange.  He eyed on their luggage. “Give us our keys to our room.”

“Why? You said you were leaving.”

“It’s late and I cannot find another place to stay. Give us our keys.”

“I’m not going to service someone that is this impolite.”

The Chinese paused, obviously couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but ultimately had to admit defeat. “May you please give us the keys to our room?”

The old man, still not looking up. “I’m now busy. After I’m done I’ll give you the keys.”

 

(you see how I can remember all this vividly)

 

Being a fellow Chinese, to witness how the Chinese man was being somehow bullied was particularly painful. It also reminded me how I’ve never got why people expect obviously non-native speakers to be able to speak or understand colloquial English flawlessly. I was indignant and thought if that man thinks he can do that to us, he better think twice.

 

It’s so easy to be bold inside your head.

 

After the couple went upstairs (perhaps kicking themselves for not paying more money for better hospitality), I went to face the man at the counter. As I always do with people or situations that slowly pisses me off, I get extra polite.

 

“Hi, I’ve booked a room and this is the confirmation and our passports.” I said pleasantly as I handed the documents to him.

“Hallo.” he greeted amiably as he stood up. He was tall and tan, and was wearing a casual shirt. “I’m sorry you had to see all that; I have nothing against Chinese but I just don’t understand how someone can be so impolite.” Don’t comment Jennifer.

“I think it was just a big misunderstanding.” I said noncommittally but still pleasant. He scrutinized our passwords through his glasses. He held out mine.

“This is an American passport.” he said with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes it is” I agreed.

“You’re Chinese.” He stated.

“Yea, I was born there.” I said with a nod.

“Jennifer is not a Chinese name.” He again stated.

“I think my parents wanted me to have both a English and Chinese name.”

 

I guess some people might find the questions obnoxious somehow but I guess he could do more worse and I felt it was more like a test. Anyway, after a few more odd questions, he gave us our key and a few instructions and advice around Venice. He was being quite nice to us and courteous, so I guess I had somehow hm, passed.

 

Explain how this is crazy…

It was said that resolutions were made to be broken.

One of my new year resolutions: write weekly.

*********

When I told people what I was planning to do on the very last day of 2010 the responses were rather mixed. Naturally they all asked why – Lillian thought it was romantic; Cass thought it was the sort of crazy I typically do; my mom thought it was scarily insane and was really distressed when she couldn’t convince me not to go; forgot what Apple’s response was but I’m pretty sure she didn’t find it that weird (I wonder what does that say about her); and Tannessa thought it sounded like a suicide story in the making.

What was I up to

Nothing exciting actually; I just went to Dai Mei Duk. the “country side” in the New Territories, which was at least one-and-a-half hour away from Hong Kong Island. People go there to have barbeques (HK style), maybe go fish or row a boat… so to give my trip some meaning, I thought “okay I will go see the last sunset in 2010″. But honestly, honestly I just wanted to go there to see the sea at night time, and it was better if I go during day since I don’t exactly know how to get there on my own. After sunset it’s night, so the story fits my plans perfectly.

Why I just Had to go there

Two years ago at a friend’s birthday, while everyone was having fun at the barbeque and I probably wasn’t in the truest sense (which happens often enough for me to deduce that Jennifer doesn’t know how to have fun), I left the crowds to sit at the docks to get away from the noise… and the unexpected serenity and peace I found there made me promise myself to come back one day.

What drawn me back after so long

The 270-degree view of the ocean and the shimmery lights that highlighted the mountains at the background (being astigmatic makes everything look very pretty at night). The staircase that led right into sea; its surface so smooth that it seems if I were to walk on water and towards the lights, I easily could (hmm turns out Tannessa had a point over there…). It’s all very simple, nothing spectacular, and probably not what most would call “scenery” but I guess that’s why I like it so much. It was just somewhere I could just empty my head, but still conscious to be enjoying the simplicity of existing, if it makes sense…

So how did it go yesterday?

I sat by the docks and read under the sun, oblivious if people around me were staring; I watched the sun set and whilst slowly wait for night to fall, school kids with foul mouths and tiny fishing nets went right in front of me, knelt so close to the edge that I feared if one were to fall in, I would be blamed for not looking after/pushing them. I did however, kindly offered advise when they argued at the top of their lungs about how the tiny fish was dying cos he/she wasn’t willing to go get something to hold the fish and water while shake it in the air. After they left and forgot their fish I had a few minutes of silence and took in the night sea when three teenage girls came over and talked about how low they’ve sunk to please their boyfriends. I then realized I’ve stayed for almost three hours and decided it was time to leave. Not that I didn’t enjoy having a glimpse of young minds today but it was an easy decision when all three of them found out the other two smoked.

Despite not getting my peace I was hoping to experience again I’m very glad I did go. Maybe next time I will go later at night now that I know my way. Although I get why people think it is, but not really comprehending, is why it is “okay” if I do this with other people, but “crazy” if I do it alone.