We were travelling through Borneo by bus – for hours and hours – through the pouring rain – border stop after border stop – crazy pouring rain. The kind of rain you rarely have in Europe. The kind of rain that causes a natural disaster in Europe. But we were on our bus happily riding along. Many woman of the Islamic faith as I could tell by their clothes and their kids. The board entertainment was switched on and I do not know who chose the movies, but it was from a gore library. I didn’t understand a word but there was blood and screams and death. Pouring rain outside, raining blood inside. In between my friend Mik and I. Doing our tourist things. Doodling, listening to music. Fumbling around with our phones. Staring at the blood, staring at the rain.
Our destination was Brunai I do not know what the lesson was to be learned here. Hm… maybe tolerance? Maybe that I think I have “an idea” about how things are and then travelling showed me that I blew up a tiny fraction of what I saw before somewhere or were told to be the whole reality and I could not have been more wrong. People, places, countries, villages there’s so much to learn, to discover, to admire, to enjoy on each and every corner.
The tour guide points out one thing, and then you emerge yourself in the place, and it’s that thing from the tour guide and 1.000 other things too and often they do not make sense, contradict each other, they do not fit into my Instagrammed cliche picture of the place and it’s horrible and sad, and wonderful, and surprising.
Another thing I learned looking back today that I grew up in a time and place that allowed me to make enough money to travel while travelling was cheap and I took the chance. I am looking back at my carbon footprint in shame, and I didn’t have time for a relationship let alone family and I have travelled the world, and now I hold it dear in my heart and it gives me strength and gratitude and most of all tolerance and humility.