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

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.