It was like a ghost relation.
First time I saw in on the boat to Thai island. I smiled. There was something in it. He made me curious. I didn’t have to wait longer. We met, by accident, on island’s main street, the same night. Few beers with others.
In life he was in the middle. Not middle age but between two jobs, two countries, waiting for a visa. He made me nervous.
Next days I got sick, sleeping more than 24 hours in the row. When I met my travel friends in the morning, they hangovered after some big beach party, mentioning they were asking – where is Kasha. They were with Dan, wondering, was Kasha a ghost? I’ve never met Dan again. Never on that island. Never in Thailand.
Just few days after in the center of George Town, Penang, Malaysia. Ghosts meeting on the street. Wow. We should meet. You should join. Let’s drink.
We became lovers. Summer lovers who ended with the stupidest thing ever – fight on the party the second night of our romance. He though I behave bitchy. I didn’t agree. I though he behave like an idiot. So shame cause summer romances has to be perfect. I suppose I will never meet him again. I didn’t plan, didn’t desire, didn’t whatever.
Two days after I saw him on the street in town 300 km from Georgetown. Ghosts between the tea hills. He wasn’t too friendly. Two strangers between tea hills? Goodbye. I should never see him again.
Besides the beginning of my crazy night in Kuala Lumpur. Bar. OK – maybe expats place. OK – maybe LonelyPlanet place. But still – ghost hours ghost place? How is that possible? He wasn’t too friendly. Goodbye. I should never see him again.
So I am talking to that German guy in Bangkok’s hostel. One of those travel conversations. But I am leaving and he has just came. He is planning and I am writing down my ex-fullfilled-plans. My sweet heritage.
It is whole Bangkok.
You’ve just came here and wondering when next how next where next. Or you changing. Or you waiting for your flight back home. Like that guy from my room who is going to come back after 6 months. But he didn’t tell anybody at home. Just one friend who’s organizing barbecue for his friends and he will be just a very special surprise there.
I try not to wait. I try to keep that illusion and be here for 100%. Use every hour.
My stories about cutting hair will become a legendary collection soon. In East Thailand I was probably first female in some crappy hair “studio”. Part of my hair went black in Cambodian town in guesthouse bathroom. Now it’s time for Malaysian story.
I wanted to cut my hair short, was sick of long hair in tropics, wanted to do it by myself, as in the movies. I tried to borrow scissors from the reception on Langkawi. They didn’t have any. Desperately I bought one but it didn’t cut hair – probably only paper. In George town, on Penang island, I tried again.
I asked for scissors on the reception. The guy looked at me shifty and asked: what do you wanna cut? Me: just cut. He: but what? – My hair – I added shy… He: I can do it for you! I was a hair stylist whole my life. Training in London. But now I am retired and work in hostel is calmer. Hair salon many problems. I cut your hair.
So we did IT in the hostel bathroom. I took my “piece of material” used before as a scarf, blanket or sheet. We did IT secretly, that his boss cant see it on cameras. He took a challenge and used crappy paper scissors. Now you look nicer, younger, very nice. He said when he finished.
His name is Rudi. He liked me very much for some reason, telling me some stories and gossiping every morning.
When I was leaving he shouted – see you soon!
I met him on Malaysian island. We took a motobike trip together. F. is fascinating. The kind of open person who can make friend with anyone. No name here cause I didn’t ask for permission.
F’s been probably everywhere but still he has that kind of hunger for life.
He is fascinating. Because I enjoy conversation with him and at the same time I realize how much more is in him and wondering how to open that box.
He travels 8 months now but wants to stop for a while – sometimes I need my own pillow. And I don’t wanna reach that point when I see elephant on the street an I say, o, another elephant; when new things wont amazed me anymore.