162- Minus The Fanfare

Who would have thought that the city could offer a sliver of peace.

Temporary tranquility.

He walked through the Chinese market. He had a satchel in tow. The smells of different raw and roasted meats filled the air. The heat as of late had sliced itself through any sort of clothing. Lots of women parade by. Pretty, fair skinned, all dolled up. Can't tell if they're after peddling themselves on the streets, or simply after a fun night out. 50-50 chance of winning and losing.

Hong Kong on a Friday night could be a mixed bag. Through no fault of mine, I had left London, seemingly on a whim. I had learned many things on my travels- foremost of which being the need to always keep your eyes open to opportunity. Here, there, everywhere, could be a pretty neat story.

I first came to Hong Kong in 1989. This was well before the handover back to China. As a young boy, I had gotten lost near Ocean Terminal. I was afraid that I had lost my mom forever. I was fearful that the perfume and makeup section had kidnapped me from reality. Fortunately, I was young, innocent, and in hindsight, somewhat stupid. Yeah, stupid.

Sai Ying Pun. 2016. I arrived in the neighborhood on a rainy Thursday night. Lots of complaining from my companion. I had made it a habit to reflect on my existence during days fraught with inclement weather. I realized that I had never really seen Hong Kong, never really lived life. I had spiralled down a rabbit hole of infidelity. I had forgotten to be faithful to authenticity. I had forgotten how to embrace "moments" at different times of my life. I had tried. I had failed. I had failed. Perhaps, I hadn't failed as badly as I had assumed. Who or what would judge this, I wasn't sure.

Fast forward to an overcast day in a non-descript beach. I am not a fan of the beach, nor of the ocean. I am only here because of the people around me. I did choose to be here though.

While this is not such a bad deal, I once again find myself wanting. Wanting what, or who, I don't know. It's something I have to discover. Sans fanfare. Quietly. Without restriction. Without hesitation.

MC

161- The Next Phase

There comes a time when you realize that you need to go all in, otherwise, you get bought out. Put your money where your mouth is. Cliches. Making bets. Taking names and hopefully winning big.

I got to visit Las Vegas in 2012. A typical office bloke like myself couldn't help but marvel at the amounts of money being thrown around within mere minutes. What could these guys be thinking? What would it be like to live with a seemingly unlimited credit line? What would it feel like to have the ability to buy away your blues if you wanted to? Or at least, create the illusion of your blues falling prey to whatever currency you pledge allegiance to?

Everything in life is a gamble. Fortunes can change in the blink of an eye. Good risks are taken by those that see potential in sticks, stones, and piles of mud.

But what of risks that are fluid?Risks that are hard to quantify? Risks that you can't simplify? Those are the types of risks that tend to keep those with even the most brilliant minds up at night.

This is sort of like my Vegas. Not because I will likely end up in a "drive-in", but because sooner rather than later, I will find myself at the start of a long road-in a brave, new, world.

I will not be alone.

That in itself gives everything meaning which, similar to the risk alluded to above, may end up being too infinite to really quantify.

MC

160- City Running

I have friends who love running through trails. Off road running and hiking possess a unique, often muddy, charm. I'll give it that.

Running through city streets, however, also does sing quite the siren song.

Years ago I told myself that I would see the world on the run. Such does not imply that I will never stop and smell the roses. Moments of reflection help make journeys worthwhile. Those are the times when emotions, tidbits of reality sink in.

"I'm here. I'm actually here."

"I made it. I finished a marathon through Brighton."

"I never thought this would happen, but hey, it's happened and I couldn't be happier."

City running involves a lot of music, and talking to one's self. Music gives your run an infectious type of cadence, a soundtrack for every moment you hammer down on concrete. The talking part does not always involve talking as in "talking per se". It involves being able to see your thoughts with utmost clarity, and being able to equate your thoughts perfectly with what is happening on the outside. Synergy. The cold, the rain, the blistering equatorial heat, the feeling of water running down your running shirt, every ache that comes with every step. Every sensation has an equivalent fragment of speech, an association with a language that only you can comprehend.

One of the perks of having lived in London was having the privilege of running through such a beautiful city for hours, days, and months on end. Even mundane segments of the metropolis- little pocket parks, thoroughfares near residential areas, back alleys near old factories, ancient tunnels, bridges over the Thames-would often give a runner enough sensory pleasure to last a lifetime.

I have also run in less glamorous places, though. Manila suburbs. Around old buildings in Taipei. In Sai Ying Pun, Hong Kong. In districts far from the glitz of Singapore's central shopping and business areas. Etc. etc. There isn't anything quite like taking in a place at X kilometers per hour while in compression gear and with sports drink in hand.

Hard runs and training weeks physically exhaust me, but I NEVER grow weary of running, and of seeing the world one streetcorner, one city, and one country at a time.

I will never stop running away from living.

Doing otherwise would be ridiculous.

MC

159- Stuck

A bevy of motor vehicles rampage through the city streets. Jaywalkers flood main thoroughfares like ants scurrying away from fire. Manila is lit up by many a light, and yet, it too is enveloped by a darkness that seems all consuming, and very, very, real.

Buxom prostitutes mill about back alleys and streets lined with bars, hoping to snag a tourist looking for an evening of casual sex. Nearby, a group of shirtless men play poker, and drink gin. Karaoke sessions abound, pushing dated standards deep into the night. Somewhere, a teenager dreams of a better life. Somewhere, a once vibrant voice is silenced by abuse.

Millions are spent conjuring up ideas for how to beautify our back yards and make onlookers' eyes sparkle. Polishing our respective dressers- that's all well and good, but of what use is that if our youth remains uneducated, uninitiated in the ways of real life. Familiar only with hard knocks, and melodies of losing faith and the sound of bones breaking upon unforgiving pavements.

People travel, or want to travel, for many different reasons. People go on trips to celebrate successes, and mask failures. Some fly off to escape prosecution, only to be reeled back in by, well, extradition. Travel ensues because of work, because of cravings for pleasures of the flesh, for peace of mind, and spiritual well-being.

What happens, though, when "travelling" is equated with fleeing from life itself? From everything one had ever been exposed to?

In this world, colors easily fade, and musical brilliance metamorphoses into chaotic beats.

When one is unable to leave, he/she does not just feel disappointed at the absence of a luxury that may be deferred. They lament at the demise of all hope, the cementing of an identity that may forever be defined not be stories, but by statistics.

They feel "stuck".

"Stuck" is really the worst place you could end up being in.

MC

158-Fun Times Running

One way to see a new city without breaking the bank is by running in it. Seeing a city this way can provide a fresh perspective on things. Pound pavement instead of being stuck on a tour bus. Pass by little alleyways and marketplace stalls as opposed to just being confined to main roads. Feel the true pulse of your new city instead of just imagining things.

Thinking of this brings me back to a trip I made to Taipei earlier this year. I made sure to sneak in a run in the Zhongshen district before taking the express train to Taoyuan airport on the day I flew back to Manila. 6am. Monday. Stall owners cooking breakfast fare. The streets beginning to fill up with cars. The urban landscape beginning to percolate. Dogs, students, people filing into fast food joints and convenience stores to grab on-the-go breakfast meals. There is something strangely beautiful about seeing all this while moving X kilometres per hour courtesy of the legs God gave you.

Running somewhere also tends to improve your reflexes. You become ultra alert and learn to dodge obstacles like you're the rotund plumber in Super Mario Run. Okay, may Sonic the Hedgehog would be a more apt reference, but, you get my drift. There is nothing quite like experiencing the irony of running fast to see the world in slow motion, and in utmost detail.

I want to run the world. I have an insatiable need to experience. That is really what makes my life difficult. I am constantly restless, unable to reconcile being hire, with potentially being there. It's tiring, that type of life. I will figure everything out eventually. I need to.

Take those trainers out for a spin. There's a decision you can make without hesitation. It's free. It's here. No downsides. Only upsides, and downhills.