December: in retrospect

Wow. 2018. I’m still reeling from it. I’m still not excited about life in general, but damn am I excited that finally I can kiss 2017 good bye. See you never. I know, it’s not good to look into the past, but I’m a firm believer that whatever you have today is the fruit of your yesterday, ergo humour me by looking back at whatever happened in December of last year (oh man, you have no idea how great it feels to type last year for 2017, ha!)

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November: in retrospect

Wow, November already? I honestly can’t say that I’m surprised. It’s only a matter of time that the year ends anyway. That being said, it means that I’ve been in Bogota for three months already. Three long excruciating months. Ah excuse the drama flare.

Not much had happened. It’s work, complained, work, and more complaining.

On another different topic, I’ve finished my 2017 reading challenge! Which is just crazy, because the last two years I would have finished the reading challenge halfway through the year, not a month before the year ends.

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October: in retrospect

Another entry into the #RetrospectSeries, I feel like I am going to always be looking forward to this. I can’t believe it’s been three months since I came to Bogota (lies!).

To be completely honest it felt longer. I can’t believe it’s only three months!!!! It should have been longer!


Brb, whilst I scream in agony.

Right, I’m back.

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September: in retrospect

Ten days into October and I finally am back with my #RetrospectSeries. Was I lazy? Yep, most definitely. Was I just being forgetful? Quite possibly, since I only have a memory span of a goldfish. Was I busy? Well, if you consider wallowing in self pity is a major activity, yes I am most definitely busy that I didn’t have time to write and post the September #RetrospectSeries.

Remember when I said that August was a blur?

Yeah, well, September was no better. I felt like I was just running around doing loads of stuffs.

I went to Cartagena.

For work, mind you. Was it fun? It was work, what do you expect? Being in Cartagena cemented what I have been suspecting for the last six years, I am not cut up for the job that I have right now, but after investing six in a half years of my life here, the most responsible thing to do would be to stick it through until the end. Sounds like a coward’s reasoning? Maybe.

The search for the perfect apartment has come to an end.

Okay, calling it the perfect apartment is stretching it, but it is as close as I can get.  After a long debacle of finding the apartment, it all boils down to top three. The first apartment was a one bed room apartment with a tacky ceiling. And after awhile, I made peace with it and was about to sign the lease, but I was still holding on hope to the second apartment.

The second apartment was a two bedroom apartment. The owner speaks English which bodes well with me, and was very accommodating. Well, that was until they said I had to pay a deposit worth of three months rent of the apartment, and that I was only able to rent the place for only a year! Are you kidding me? I have to pay a three months deposit only to be kicked out by next year and have to go through the whole process of apartment search again? Nay!

During this ordeal, I randomly stumbled upon the third apartment. A one bedroom apartment that was strategically located and the owner was incredibly nice. Fast forward to mid September, I finally have my own apartment.

Filling up your house is not like in The Sims.

After I signed my contract to rent the apartment, I immediately went on a shopping spree to fill up the house. At that moment, I had only have a bed and a sofa bed. No TV, refrigerator, heater, plates, washing machine, etc. It was crazy! It was not fun! It was nothing like decorating your house in The Sims. And to top it all off, I had only a handful of Pesos with me, because half of the pesos was used to pay for my rent.

At the end of the day, however crazy it was, September has come to an end.

And I still haven’t felt like I’m home.


August: in retrospect

August was definitely like a blur. I know I’ve used the term ‘blur’ quite a number of times, but I think August fits the bill as being the month that is a blur to me.

I feel like I have travelled halfway across the world..

..and maybe I did. One day I woke up in the basking sweat of Jakarta. The next time I went to sleep, I woke up to the sunny and intimidating sun of Amsterdam. The next time I went to sleep again, I woke up to the chilly and sunless sky of Bogota. How do you collect the scattering thoughts you have and compile it into one single post when I still can’t comprehend that I am now halfway across the world from all things familiar?

I feel homesick but I am technically homeless..

..much like where I was back in the beginning of 2017. I was in Abuja feeling homesick but I am homeless. Cut to August, and I am back to square one. I had missed my home and I am homeless. How am I suppose to pour down what I feel when I am overcome with thoughts of missing my home?

I feel alone in a sea of smiles..

..and whilst it sounded like what a teenage girl would write, it is indeed what I’ve felt for the better part of August. Day in and day out, I’ve passed it with a smile that is so strain that by the end of the day, I feel like I have pulled a muscle on my face. I was smiling when my heart felt so alone and isolated. How do I write about these lonesome feelings, when I have to be strong the next day?

I feel lost..

..and indeed I am lost. I questioned everything that had happened, that is happening, and that will happen. Was it everything I had hoped for? Was it everything I had planned for? Who can say for sure?

I feel like 35 months is a long way to go.

July: in retrospect.

Three more days, mate. Three more days and I won’t be where I am today. Three long and excruciating days ahead. For months I’ve been dreading the day, and now there seems to be no point about dreading it, for the day shall come.

I have a lot going inside my mind right now, but it seems so hard to put into words. The anger, the sadness, the hollowness, the tears, the laughter, all seems like a blur; you know that it’s there, that it was what brought July came to life but it seems like a daunting task to bring it back to life once more.

I’m going to miss my family,

and as hard as it is to comprehend, I will most definitely miss them. Three years is a long time and 19,810 km is a huge gap to cross. I hope that the three years and the 19,810 km between us will not change us into a completely different human being. I would like to go back to the same Mum and Dad, brother and sister, aunts and uncle, and even cousins I have yet to enjoy the time spent with them.

I’m going to miss my husband,

and for all the bravado I’ve said about 8,985 km not being a problem, I have to accept that it is indeed far and a six hours time difference is hard to come by. I hope that the love and the commitment we’ve shared for the past six years serves as a strong foundation for what we’ve planned for our present and future.

I’m going to miss Elvis and Joplin,

and for all the tears I refused to shed when I last held the both of them last Sunday, I know that no one can be sure if three years is short enough for me to be able to hold you both again. I hope you stay strong and healthy, for you are my best of friends and that I have had the best time of my life giving my best for you both.

I’m going to miss my friends,

and for all the cold shoulder I seem to be giving them, I just don’t know how to best express how much going away this time around is very hard for me. I hope the best of everything for us, and that in three years time we will be a better version of who we are today and that we could pick up where we’ve left off.

I’m going to miss Jakarta,

and for all its traffic jam, this was the land where I was born and raised and I will always have that teeny tiny feeling of wanting to always come back here.

Here’s to the next big adventure to the unknown! 🍻

June: in retrospect.

Ah the dreaded July is coming tomorrow, which means I literally only have a month left to wallow in self pity before I actually have to pull my shit together and actually face the music, that is to say actually accept the fact that I am indeed moving to Colombia. Yay?

I still hate spending Eid Fitr.

Now don’t get all your knickers in a twist. I don’t hate the day, but I hate the activities and the things that happened on Eid Fitr. In Eid Fitr, I am supposed to spend it with the whole lot of family, and although they can be bearable (if I really try my best), more often than not, they are shitload of troubles; what with the nagging, the complaining, the whining, and the “let’s-pretend-we-all-like-each-other-for-a-day-but-comes-tomorrow-we-would-all-pretend-we-don’t-know-each-other-until-next-Eid-Fitr“. It’s just tiring. I am not even remotely nice on my good days, imagine how horrible I am on my bad days, especially when I have to pretend that I’m okay?

Apparently logic doesn’t exist.

I was asked whether or not I have finally been impregnated, even it is clear as a crystal that I haven’t met my husband for four consecutive months. Two things why this bothers me; (1) what I do and what I don’t do in the bedroom with my husband is my personal shit to deal with, please don’t poke around; (2) why the fuck would I be pregnant after not meeting my husband for four consecutive months? Would that not be posing another question as to whose kids would the baby be? But you know what? Fuck logic, because people seems to just want to see every couple to be pregnant, because it’s so interesting to know that people have sex and are expecting kids.

I guess not everyone is familiar with the concept of cause and effect.

I was compared with a neighbour’s kid the other day by me Mum. And then I was compared again with another kid by me Mum. The problem is that, it seems that my Mum might have forgotten that things just doesn’t happen because it wants to happen, things happen because there is something that triggers it. Hence the concept of cause and effect. Exhibit A; you can’t expect the kids to want to spend time together all the time when we were raised to not found comfort in spending time together, ergo the effect (not enjoying time together) is because of the preliminary cause (being raised not to enjoy time spent with family).

When cornered, just throw someone else under the bus (except that, you shouldn’t).

First off, let me tell you that this matter was actually already resolved but I feel the need to note this on my retrospect series, because after all this did happened in June. There was a time when my sister was cornered by our Mum regarding a certain delicate matter. After repetitive follow up questions from our Mum and she couldn’t handle it no more, she did the next best shitty thing; threw someone else under the bus, and that someone else is none others than yours truly. Look, this is just shitty move; first of all, I did not partake in the any decision that my sister made, and suddenly I’m playing shield for her to threw our Mum off of her? Yeah, pretty shitty if you ask me. I talked it out with her and she was sorry, but let this be a lesson that never, not in any circumstances, should you throw anybody under the bus when you are cornered, especially if the other party knows nothing about your situation, or even if they knew still don’t do shit like that.

I am seven days away from RAM coming home!

Okay, that’s just self explanatory.

Well, there goes my June. I’m not going to be cliche about welcoming July or anything, especially since I just want the earth to open up and swallow me whole before July comes around. And yes, I was being dramatic and I was speaking figuratively.