The end of Ramadan in Malaysia is called Raya. When I think about Raya, I think about cookies. Markets are full of them. They are sold in plastic boxes, layered on top of each other, in different colours. Some are covered in fake chocolate. Green, pink, dark and yellow. They are tiny,the size of a small plum. One fits perfectly in the mouth, making it easy to empty the box in less than a minute. Continue reading How they celebrate Raya in Malaysia
Today, my two friends and I went to an all-you-can-eat durian place. The guys were doing pretty good. Yoshi was even better in eating durian than most of Malaysian people visiting the restaurant. I tried only a few small pieces but it was fun anyway!
When I started my volunteering at Samma Karuna, I thought it would be just another yoga school where I would work in exchange for food and accomodation.
It was so much more. The awakening and healing program felt like a private therapy. I felt accepted and welcomed. So safe, that I even tried to overcome my fears and emotional barriers. Everybody there was like a family. They really understood the meaning of giving, receiving, and sharing love. I started to believe that maybe one day I could just be happy like them. Or even better, in my own way. Continue reading how to find happiness
somewhere in between Penang and Perhentian Islands
lost in a travel
lost in time
thinking about writing to you every day, what is stopping me?
seeing your face in others, your reflection in every piece of this vast continent
Asia is incredible. It cannot be described, explained to someone who’s never been there. It needs to be touched, smelled and heard with all its noise, gorgeousness and uncanny modesty. All this together, the shapes and colours, reveal a picture. It appears there, right in front of your eyes. In that moment, you find yourself being so close to understand this secret law of the universe. Only for a few seconds later not being able to make any sense of it again. It’s beautiful, intense and addictive.It leaves you contemplating your life.
In Asia smoking feels right again. All I want is to watch a thin smudge going up and mixing with the dense tropical air pushed by a fan on the high ceiling. Inhaling toxic smoke, hearing soft sparkling of tobacco with its end lit up in hot sacred orange. I could relish my cigarette and think of you. Sink in the ocean of my thoughts, watch the waves calming down when they follow you. And I could stay there, in this vacuum forever. Lighting up one cigarette after another.