Every trip needs a red thread. Every trip is part of the red thread through your life.

I was trembling and freezing. In shock. With every kind of emotions: I felt happy and sad; enthusiastic and scared. I felt lonely, I felt safe. Lost, at home.
Was this my new home? Sure it was. Or let's say at least for the next period. How long would this period be? One week? One month? A lifetime? God knows.
Did I like it? No. I loved it. I adored every little part I had seen so far of this wonderful country. My entire body screamed: "More, more, more. But stoooop! Not that fast. I want to enjoy this. I want to soak in the air, the atmosphere, the people's faces, their expressions, their language, their environment; the silver trees, the blue mountains, the white buildings and the colorful streets; the mangos, the ananas, the rice….". I could continue like this forever. But instead, I would like to talk about something else.

Normally when you start a trip you feel motivated and you are full of adrenaline and endorphins that make you feel dizzy and tipsy and satisfied with everything around you. Then the days pass and you realize that you are still in the same world; that even if you have passed an ocean or travelled hundreds and thousand of kilometers you are still thinking about the problems of the place you came from and you start to transfer habits, thoughts and doubts into this world, of which you are not sure if they should belong to.

Anyways, this trip to Malaysia was the whole opposite. These feelings I named before where not ones of the first day after having embarked of the airplane. No. I had already days and weeks and months of travelling behind me. Through China, Japan, Cambodia, Thailand,… but still. None of these countries could make me feel the way I felt in Kuala Lumpur.

Or on Perhentian Island. Indeed, I think this place could even better represent my love to this small little country in between two oceans, at the end of south-east-asia. I remember the day I sat on some rocks, alone, watching the waves of the pacific ocean in front of me, daydreaming, until I hear some barking. But where did it come from?? I hand't seen dogs in ages, even less on this island where it seemed that only geckos and birds exist. And then I saw it: 1,2,5,10,18 sea-dogs swimming towards me and trying to communicate with me. Oh lord, they were huge! And I thought: "Well, they want to play with me. Why not?". So I stood up, took of my pants and my shirt and jumped into the ocean. The next moment it was silent and the my playmates were away. But I felt great.