More than exploring places, traveling is gaining awareness about the World and yourself.

Nicaragua

adreamtogo — Thu, 29 May 2014 15:42:00 GMT

Nicaragua,

Voilà une drôle d’expérience à deux. Le moment où le voyage ralentit et où il devient personnel.
Le voyage devenu introspection, cheminement à deux sur la vie, sur le passé et sur le bonheur.
Moments de réflexion contraints tout autant que l’était notre liberté.
Il a fallu apprendre à ralentir. Apprendre à s’écouter et à réveiller ce qui était éteint pour mieux percevoir le renouveau.

Ce n’est pas que le Nicaragua c’est dangereux, c’est juste qu’il est dépouillé et aride. Il nécessite un repli sur soi. Il a fallu accepter notre rôle de touriste, il fallait être prêt à banquer, prêt à faire confiance…

Il en fallait beaucoup. Je ne dirais pas que j’ai aimé le Nicaragua, je dirais qu’il était une étape nécessaire avant le Costa Rica où tout ici éclos.

Noël à Bélize

adreamtogo — Thu, 29 May 2014 15:41:00 GMT

Noël à Bélize

Je pensais avoir posté un mot du Bélize pour vous souhaiter de joyeuses fêtes mais apparemment ce message n’a pas marché.

J’ai quitté le Bélize conquise. C’était un très beau moment. Nous étions sur Caye Caulker, une petite île au large de Bélize city. Les étoiles, depuis le bateau, quand nous sommes arrivés, brillaient de mille feux, j’en avais oublié la beauté.

La plongée avec les tortues, les requins, les raies, les coraux et autres myriades de poissons multicolores valait également son pesant d’or. C’était beau, c’était simple, c’était un chouette jour de Noël.

Le slogan de l’île c’est “Go slow”. J’y serais bien resté plus longtemps. J’avais envie de prendre le temps de vivre et de ressentir encore plus ce sentiment de liberté quand je nageais dans cette eau turquoise. J’avais envie de ce sentiment de délassement et de connexion.

Pour le moment, je n’ai pas envie d’en dire plus mais c’est étrange car hier, en étant à l’aquarium de Baltimore, je me suis rendue compte combien un animal en liberté était bien plus beau, bien plus vif et bien plus sauvage.

Voilà ce que j’ai écrit à ce propos, je voulais vous le livrer. J’ai conscience que cela sonne comme un cliché, mais, quand même, le coeur a parlé:

"Aujourd’hui j’ai voulu passer le temps en allant à l’aquarium après une visite au musée.

Plaisir coupable car réfléchissant aux tenants et aux aboutissements de la situation, j’ai été incapable de trouver cela beau.

Plaisir transformé en compassion/empathie puis dégoût de la situation.

Incapable, je me suis dit, ce n’est pas là que j’amènerai mon neveu, ma nièce ou mon filleul. Ce n’est plus possible.

Je me savais sensible mais je ne peux plus cautionner de voir des dauphins/requins/raies/poisson/tortues,… dans un mouchoir de poche à tourner en rond pour satisfaire ma curiosité d’animal “civilisé”. Concrètement, voir de la vie avec un potentiel d’épanouissement à état végétatif, ça va être compliqué à l’avenir!

D’aucun disait “c’est à ce prix que nous avons du sucre en Europe”, pour paraphraser grossièrement, de même en écrivant ce message, j’ai conscience du système que j’entretiens en payant ce ticket d’entrée. (Cf The cove ; au moment même où j’écris un dauphin albinos va être choisi pour être une bête de foire dans un Sea World)

Bien sûr que j’aime les dauphins et autres veaux, vaches, cochons, bien sûr que c’est beau mais est-ce décent de les voir tourner en rond? Est-ce que j’aimerais, moi, vivre ad vitam eternam, dans une maison, dans un huis clos sartrien? Quel horreur!
Je n’y arrive plus. Ma sensibilité aura eu raison de moi et tant mieux. Elle était plus belle la tortue dans sa réserve marine, à nager et à jouer à cache-cache avec moi. J’avais envie de l’attraper et de jouer avec elle. Il n’y avait pas de vitre, elle était libre de choisir si elle voulait que je l’observe ou non.

J’entends encore la mère dire à ses enfants “ow that´s fish” non sans déconner dans un aquarium il y a des poissons? Comme si en plus la fonction informative de ce lieu, la seule que je trouve valable, ne servait à rien. La pingre mère ne détaillait même pas.

FUCK IT! Chacun ses égoïsmes. Je choisis les miens et ce ne sera pas celui-là! J’ai conscience du chemin que je prends et je franchirai les étapes peu à peu mais là c’est le cœur qui parle et ce n’est plus possible.”

Costa Rica, pura vida!

adreamtogo — Thu, 29 May 2014 15:39:00 GMT

To Maria with genuine love,

Costa Rica, followed a time where we found ourselves in a “in-between land”, unable to feel free so the only way out that we found was to free our minds. We didn’t chose that way, we didn’t really want to explore our “darkest” side on holidays which were, once, also good memories. We simply just had to, this is what I felt when we were there.

It all started actually in San Pedro de la Laguna, where after breaking my toe, receiving an email from an old friend and a weird meeting in the street, actually there are few of them on our way that I started to wonder but actually “Why are we here?”
No seriously, when/how did I get the idea to lose myself in the middle of the world? Why am I plunged into the past? Why am I meeting that guy in the bus with the same book that I was reading? I am not talking about a best-seller, I am talking aboutEnseignements sur l’amour.

I love talking to strangers, especially passers-by because they let you see their soul easily. They let you get into deep and question them in a manner that they let you take them where they might be.
So, that guy, I hardly remember his name, but I think he was called Bob. He was traveling, I guess, after a break-up, trying to find his way among meditation to reach some kind of peace, whatever it is, it’s fine, I am sure he is on the way he wants to be on.

Maria says he was a Buddha, I don’t think he was one for me. I need more to believe so.

Anyway, Guatemala was a weird place of synchronicity (the second book I had with me was about this), with a kind of surrealism, with the touch/signs of magic that you have to grasp. Few elements/people/situation met before heading to Nicaragua that directed my reflexions.

So, let me sum up, Maria and I, lost in the middle of the world, two that met very weirdly last May (for Christians, May, is your month so let’s pick that one) just because we instantaneously connected and our world could echo in certain ways. It could echo because we’ve been through similar feelings, because from the beginning what we were sharing wasn’t superficial and if there is something I don’t like is being (only) superficial.

So, Maria and I, San pedro de la Laguna, 3rd of January, sun like blades on our shoulders, waiting for a shuttle that doesn’t seem to come. Wondering why I just wrote to my ex boyfriend to tell him what he might need to hear the day he broke up (why is my life still echoing to yours?) wondering why my toe is so black, Maria showing me that I might know the guy coming across the street. Oh really, why you here? That is weird, weird like my life. Like signs posted on my way, just the day i myself cut someone off my life.
So, here the “private” shuttle comes, but why, remind me, do we need to take that bus with tourists? Here comes that Bob, with his book on Love meditations, why did you have to read that book? here he goes, leading me to explain him what I went through, when I had in mind trying to see why he was himself reading this book. He was on the road alone to seek himself a path. As we were also maybe? i am sure Bob, you’re on the good way and everything will be fine for you, you had some sorrow, but wisdom emanated from your speech. That was sweet to hear. This is why I let you go without asking for more. Thank you for sharing yourself with honesty, and thank you for the lollipop.

It’s when such discussions arise that I have the feeling to travel and in these moments I tell myself: “this is why I’m traveling and the reason why I am here.” I am just a human being trying to have an open-window on the world and people. This is why I loved New Year’s eve because the window I saw reminded me that I wasn’t an “hapax.” New Year’s Eve and I don’t know why had that taste of “I want to know more” because simply meeting people that remind you of people you love, surely is a valuable gift when you miss them. I should have known by your headband “Feliz Navidad” that you were just a late present. That was very funny and unexpected to meet someone like you too: lazy eye, with a twin, harassing me with questions and leading me to the weirdest conversation I could have had with myself actually.

After the episode of that private shuttle followed by the police who was trying to ensure our vehicle, we arrived in Antigua but the atmosphere changed, it’s not the same than when we left. Fragrance of New Year’s Eve vanished. We were just the two of us. So we went to a “Crêperie” that seemed so far away. We had “crêpes” but its taste wasn’t enjoyable as before. We were cold, exhausted and full of thoughts. Maria was staring at people around us, just couples and here we were plunging into Nostalgia. But why? All in a sudden, I felt something submerging my heart. The question was “Why us?”, “Why the two of us here? We weren’t supposed to be here. I was supposed to be somewhere in Canada building my life with someone. I wasn’t supposed to be here. Neither Maria, she was supposed to be about to leave for some uncertain countryside in Japan and finally we are here staring at each other. I remember those two words slapping my face: “Why me?” That’s a weird feeling when you know you are over certain events of your life but when someone around you is going through it, you can’t help waking up old feelings.

Ow, now Baby, it’s just the two of us. Here starts the journey I came for.
"There was no eye in me for you to hide" I felt as if something changed, as if a heavy anchor was pulling our cheerfulness down. I knew we would make it to the top, and that at some point we would be fine, but on the moment that still felt hard.
That crepe wasn’t good. That same night, we were on the street, waiting for another shuttle to take us to another bus for Managua. While waiting, we met two guys, talked to them and then two others. They wanted us to dance but heart wasn’t there. We talked a little more, then asked him how come he was selling drugs as if all of this was normal. Juicy business around tourists right, everything is good to have more money. I am not surprised anymore to have such conversations with people.

We left for Guatemala city, the tourist agency forgot to book our ticket. We were stuck, put on stand-by. I felt like going “home” (I also realized how I really loved my housemates in Pella during this trip), stopping that travel and being in a place where I am able to decrypt what’s going on around. What happened in one day was very challenging sentimentally speaking.

Finally we took the bus. Maria is sick, my toe is getting darker and darker. We don’t really talk on the bus. But we start opening our hearts (we actually started in Belize on Christmas day around a smoothie). Maria has hard things to say but still good to hear. So I decide to let go things and to tell concerned people what I feel. She goes on questioning things, i do the same. She presses where it hurts, very innocently, I let her see me naked. There are answers that she prefers not to answer. We seldom speak because what we exchange is intense and requires introspection. I also have questions for her that are recurring and that I really want her to answer and finally at the end of the trip she gave me that answer. Maria, if you read this, you will know.

20 hours later, after crossing two countries, we arrive. We start being paranoid. Security obsessed, like we wanted to “survive,” just because we arrived in a country where we had no clue of how things work.

In what world am I living?

Taxi drivers pushing/hustling us to trust them to go to our hotel. Maria stared at me, in a way that says “what do we do?”. Whatever happens we had to leave there and we intimately sealed a pact that we will not take any hasty decisions in the future. From two conscious streams, we were one, she could read me as an open book. Me reassuring her and telling her, if something bad happens, don’t worry, we’ll find a way out, I set my warning on. We, at no point, adopted an adventurous behavior in Nicaragua and we were right not to. French people following us on our way, confirmed that we were right to put our inner alarm on. They almost got attacked by people running after them like dogs. Why again? Why people do that? Why are people animal-like in here? All of this wrapped me into a reflexion state of mind. I had never been afraid of people so far and I don’t want to, but still what’s going on there?

So, in Nicaragua, we behaved tourist-like, impossible to fusion with population. I was even more frustrated not to be able to speak the language because I had tons of questions for them. Tons of question for the father of that child that let him in the street at night. I wanted to know why he let his son asking for food. Why? Why? Sensitivity was at its stake, My guts and my heart spoke. Language was a barrier, now I am learning Spanish, since I am back, sentences are in my head. Am I sincerely considering learning a language each time I want to communicate with someone? I must admit that if something spoke the whole time during this trip it’s my heart but also my intuition and I felt the need to express it out loud.

Actually, I had that feeling of being a tourist since the beginning. In Mexico, it was a bit different because I am immersed into Mexican culture since September so I could see from my eyes what I was experiencing in Iowa with Angie, Aby and Steve. But I had to admit that from the beginning of the trip, what we had been were tourists.
This is not why I came for but what I found was interesting. As I mentioned briefly in my “postal card” from Nicaragua on this blog, we were locked in a nice hotel in Granada/Léon. Our attempt to see Chagall at the museum of arts had been disrupted. So we stayed in, Maria finally consented to open her book on the Art of Happinessreminding me of what I was doing the year before at the same period. Another wink, I know.

The question, was why am I here? What can I do? Why are we here? Why are we converging in the middle of the New continent, in a land of revolution? A friend asked me on my way “Where are you?” I answered, I am lost in the middle of the world. Isn’t weird actually to feel lost in the middle of somewhere? Normally, we tend to feel lost when we are at the edge of things. I was actually lost in a sort of anthropocentrism, reflecting on “Men”, trying to position myself and to see what can I do in this world? I am not ok to be in a hotel locked in because I don’t feel secure. What happened here? Are we all not the same? Ok, life, you got me, I will fight now.

What I loved about Maria is that, she let me get into introspection and she understood that I needed to stop and to be introverted for a while. I remember myself wrapped into a blue hammock, trying to regenerate and to find answers to my questions. Me listening to music, words, lyrics echoing into my head, my mind and my heart. I felt a different energy. Trying to find the right words for that old friend to tell him that everything would be okay for him. But got also time to think, and Maria in this story, why are we here together? There might be something for her. Time to be helpful. It was impossible for me to read and to answer the question I set myself before leaving: “What’s love, actually?”

I could feel ourselves down into depth. It had to stop. So, I thought of what my shiatsu professor told me someday: balance energy flux with your hands. Put an end to this. I offered to massage her, after all it worked for me last year, why not her? At least I was thinking this as a symbolic act, after the message, past is behind.

I remember telling her that night: “Maria, what’s life?”, “Maria, what’s happiness?”

I wrote this, the day I asked her to answer those questions:

"One told me once that I shall find my way where my dreams are and to dare to be that woman…
I had no choice but to be it. He pushed me, threw me on the edge and left with the intimate conviction I could do it and that my way wasn’t the one I was taking.
Here I am, somewhere in this world, confronted to what I wanted, seeing other doors to be opened, going into deep… Going away from old demons.
Here I am traveling, with the thirst of discovering not land but people, with a inner need to understand and wondering if traveling is not more about introspection than anything else..
Here I am in the land of synchronicity, somewhere between past and present… Dawn and future.
Tastes like a dream, life is no more than dreams… No more than a potential that you seize or not…
Doors that you chose to open that have to echo the world you want to be born…
I am sure the ride is worthing if you accept losing your way from one time to another and to adjust your destination.”

Renaissance had come. I focused on freeing it. What is sweet is that I also let her massage me, thing that I normally don’t like. And she told me afterwards: this was actually an energy exchange so she definitely brought me a lot too in this trip. After that session, we went to the restaurant and I knew it was over. I knew we will find answers for what we come because we were two in the middle of the world. I don’t believe in chance, even less after this trip.

Then we got souther, further, we laughed and say hey ok let’s do that “Eat, Pray & Love express.” Maybe, Maria we should write a new tome of the book, what do you think?

And I got to see her face changing with the time, felt like her face was more serene, relaxed and she was the pure reflect of the soul I could read in mails we exchanged in the past. That was extremely beautiful. She was on the beach, the one where turtles come to burry their eggs, and I realized how beautiful her color was. I laughed innerly because I knew that intuitive me was bursting through again. I can’t really get rid of you, can I?

Costa Rica was a nice moment of blossoming, I would remember long walks on the beach; with the feeling of velvet under my feet, with the sun caressing my skin, with moments of fasting, with reflexions on diet, on life, on love and on what I expect from life, how can I get there? I felt in the overall that I was on my way to something great. I would remember Maria at the beginning wanting me to wake up at 7 and to do many things and then letting me going at my pace.. and then coming to me with the reflexion of the day. I remembered her coming to me and telling me that she found answers. I was just happy to see that she was getting to that point. Taking the time, stopping it just as important as breathing sometimes. At some point, I knew she was able to let go and I smiled because I knew job was done. I knew it when I saw her lowering her guard and showing her true self.

I also wondered why I felt home in Costa Rica, I also wondered why a monkey attacked me, but then I stopped wondering and I understood that it was also part of the process.

For my part, I know that everything will come at the right time and that what I am looking for will be on my way and that I don’t have to be afraid because it exists. It’s just rare but it must be somewhere. If I want to find it, I also discovered that there are places that I am more likely to find it and that I definitely have to act and to go deeper into my intuition and my feelings.

I understood that I was like my clarinet teacher: I am not going to follow the path where I know the destination but I may go to the one I could get surprises from, even if it leads nowhere. Boredom is not affordable. There are plenty of ways that deserve to be explored.

Also, I understood that each person has its way to explore things, I have mine and won’t judge yours and I am happy to be this way.

I understood I wanted to take the time to live, I wanted to feel things. I want to live synesthesia like I lived in Costa Rica. I want to feel the music with my ears, corresponding to the softness of the sand and seeing a landscape that reminds me of a painting. The painting I saw at the end of my journey was color wise like Skrik by Edvard Munch but without the feeling of anxiety. That was beautiful. I felt that when I was into the water, another moment of grace like I lived in Bali last year. The flower wasn’t falling from a tree, but waves were here to rock me tenderly.

Bliss and Grace.

Maria, thank you for being an actor of this journey and to be a soul mate, like that Elizabeth Gilbert would say:

“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.

A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then leave.

A soul mates purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master…”

I met few soul mates and I will never forget them, this is how I know I can call someone a friend!

Ti amo!

New Orleans, la dolce vita. Version américaine avec option Spring break

adreamtogo — Thu, 29 May 2014 15:31:00 GMT

New Orleans tombait à pic lorsque le printemps a pointé le bout de son nez. Enfin disons plutôt qu’il a pointé le bout de son nez quand nous sommes arrivées à la Nouvelle Orléans.

City park

Vendredi soir arrive. L’excitation monte assez pour me faire oublier que je vais devoir faire un voyage de plus de 24 heures avant de pouvoir fouler les rues de la Nouvelle Orléans.

16h: Pella - Des Moines en voiture

L’attente a été rendue plus agréable grâce à une de mes élèves, Katelyn, qui nous a emmenées au zombie burger. Je dois avouer qu’il y a des bons burgers sur cette planète. Mais le problème des États-Unis, c’est son manque de variété. Surtout dans le Midwest. Le manque de produits frais. Le sucre partout. Le gras aussi. La viande aux hormones. Les additifs partout, y compris sur mes hanches. Je crois que le pire c’est qu’avec le temps mes papilles ne réagissent plus.

Bref. Hasta Luego mi amor. Direction le sud, la Louisiane, le soleil. Vacances, bonheur, liberté!

23h: Des Moines - Chicago en bus de nuit
6h: Chicago - Métro
10h: Chicago - Atlanta - Nouvelle Orléans - en avion
16h: Nouvelle Orléans - Bus, street car et marche

Quand nous montons dans le street car après s’être perdues en bus, nous avons l’impression de remonter le temps. La magie opère. Nous voyons ces beaux chênes et ces belles maisons d’un “autre temps.” Nous pensons aussi à l’esclavage et aux plantations, à ce triste héritage que nous avons en commun avec La Réunion.

19h: Arrivée chez Couch surfer - Retrouvailles avec Nana - Aucune nouvelle du couch surfer.

Nous sommes à la rue. L’euphorie retombe. Direction une auberge de jeunesse pour la nuit!

Une fois sorties du taxi, car il faut le dire les transports en commun de la Nouvelle Orléans sont hiératiques (d’autant plus quand notre journée a des allures d’Odyssée), nous pénétrons dans cette maison de l’Inde. Cette même Inde qui me suit depuis mon enfance et qui me fait d’autant plus les yeux doux depuis Fulbright. L’accueil est doux.

Nous nous endormons comme un charme, songeant aux aventures du lendemain.

Après une bonne nuit de sommeil, nous nous dirigeons vers notre logement pas très loin du quartier français chez un costumier. Là encore, nous attendons longtemps un bus qui ne vient pas. Ce doit être encore un de leurs truc voodoos.

Une fois arrivées, nous pénétrons dans une maison fantôme. C’est une maison typique de style shotgun. Il n’y a pas de chambres séparées, juste une succession de couloir avec des pièces. En bref, de séduisant, il n’y a que le nom.

Peu importe. Nous n’étions pas là pour ça.

Le marché français , même si très touristique nous permet de nous imprégner de la cuisine cajun. Au menu: les pralines, des saucisses avec un mélange de riz et d’écrevisses, une sorte de soupe qu’ils appellent gombo, des beignets, poy boy et surtout du fried chicken et de l’alligator. Nous n’avons pas tout goûté mais de ce que nous avons pu/voulu déguster, je dirais que la cuisine cajun ressemble à celle de La Réunion: du riz, des grains, une sorte de rougail chaud, de la viande, des piments farcis. Pour la première fois, je trouve une identité culinaire forte aux États-Unis.

Assiette créole

La promenade continue dans le quartier français. En sus des cadavres de bouteilles et des colliers de perles de Carnaval, vestiges des nuits de la Nouvelle Orléans, nous nous laissons enchanter par la musique qui est omniprésente. Ces airs de jazz et de blues réveillent des esprits venus d’un autre temps. Quand je les regarde jouer ou chanter, force est de constater également qu’ils ont de la soul. C’est beau. Les soirées dans les clubs de jazz nous changent du Lampost et confirment l’idée que cette ville a une âme.

Nous avons aussi fait un tour dans les Swamps dans un des parcs nationaux. Cela dit en passant notre séjour a été très parc. La sortie dans les swamps était très sympa, jusqu’au moment où, le guide nous sort un alligator du placard. Là, ça a été l’incompréhension. Si je viens voir les swamps et sa faune, c’est pour ne pas la voir en captivité. Pour ça, nous aurions choisi une ferme.

Swamps

Le soir, il faut se frayer un chemin parmi la foule qui ne cesse de faire la fête sur Bourbon street. Certes, elle est “un peu” ivre, mais ça n’était pas grave. Après tout, c’étaient les vacances de printemps et j’avais besoin de mes descendants d’irlandais pour pouvoir célébrer ma première St Patrick. Il fallait, en effet, trouver une consolation de n’avoir pu assister au Mardi Gras.

Le jour de la Saint Patrick les trèfles ont fleuri un peu partout dans la ville. Nous avons assisté à une vraie reverdie. Nous avons aussi collecté nos premiers colliers, caractéristiques de la Nouvelle Orléans. Nous avons aussi rejoint des américains que nous avions rencontrés à l’aéroport.

Encore une fois, c’était agréable de pouvoir changer d’air. Nos fréquentations à Pella sont très limitées en dehors du département de langues vivantes. Les rencontres de la Nouvelle-Orléans ont été originales: des doctorants marxistes d’une université prestigieuse de Baltimore, des jeunes femmes de Columbia qui logeaient dans la même maison que nous et qui connaissaient un garçon que j’avais rencontré au Guatemala. Un new-yorkais gérant d’un SUPER bar dans la ville.

Avec eux, nous sommes allées dans les clubs de jazz, nous avons fêté la Saint-Patrick comme il se doit, nous avons mangé, nous avons redécouvert le grass hopper, les saveurs de la pomme et autres bonnes choses. Nous avons aussi eu notre expérience du Spring break.

Mais surtout, la Nouvelle Orléans, en termes d’expérience humaine, a été une réussite grâce à Nana et Cécile. De vrais rayons de soleil qui n’arrêtent pas de rire et qui n’ont pas peur du ridicule. Des femmes fortes avec des convictions. Des têtes bien pleines. De belles personnes. Beaucoup d’humilité et de sensibilité qui guident leurs pas. C’est très beau. (cf. vidéo “Happy”)

Nous avons retrouvé Nana à Chicago et nous avons passé une belle soirée avec ses amies couch surfeuses. Encore une fois une très belle expérience. Une belle façon de se dire au revoir. Une belle façon de songer à découvrir le monde.

Om̐

Among locals and travelers, the eye of a stranger

adreamtogo — Tue, 13 May 2014 09:56:55 GMT

As soon as I passed through the porch of the Masjid Sultan mosque on Muscat street, an old man asked me to cover my shoulders, to wear the overall he was giving me and to put off my shoes. So did I.

Tourists were diving into the mosque, they were staring at the chandelier on the ceiling and at people praying.
Meanwhile, I was static and contemplating in silence. When I was putting on the garment, I couldn't help thinking: "How is it possible that I never took the time to enter a mosque before? Is it appropriate to do so? Am I bothering worshipping?"
Once dressed, I started discovering the mosque, looking for key-elements that I saw in school books. Minbar, minaret, mihrab and a red carpet were now under my eyes and becoming concret objects of my world. One of the reason I may not have seen it before is because some mosque are closed to non muslim people or to women.

But actually, adding words to your vocabulary and lowering abstraction also means opening yourself to a new world of possibilities.
Since, I led that kind of reflection the whole week on Buddhism, Hinduism or even about Peranakan and Malay culture, Singapore became the perfect place to reflect on tolerance and multiculturalism.

It also was the perfect place to recenter and to refill in energy, thing that I lacked in Europe because I never took time to stop and think.

At that moment, I couldn't help thinking of how this trip started by a bet and how I boarded on a plane the day after. I understood that this journey would emphasize a reflection on syncretism, on tolerance, on what is life and on how to let go.
Meeting a fashion designer, a Chinese practitioner, an unfortunate sales assistant or even crossing an ocean for someone I never saw before, all of this faces made sense to me. It added an initiatory meaning to my journey. Since I was alone, I could let my reflexions run freely and have time to hear what was around. I was fulfilled.

As soon as that transcendental feeling overtook me, I fell on a sign saying that women couldn't pray with men downstairs. That made me think of woman's conditions even if I respect religious customs. But a man stopped me and started engaging a dialogue with me. He wanted to know what brought me here. After talking a while, he concluded by offering me to pray upstairs at the Mosque even if he knew I am a Christian. I felt honored to testimony tolerance.

That man, without knowing it gave answers to my questions: it's all about hope, time and communication.