Forever the Summer

When we speak about travelling, we often think of extravagant getaways in paradise -- an escape from the dullness and repetitiveness of our reality.

But travelling should not be just about air-conditioned hotel rooms, flawless roads and perfect spots. Seeing the world meant gazing at it in all its glorious little details and also finding meaning from its encounter.

One of such encounters that changed my life came from an unexpected place where people would rather not go. It was around ten minutes away from where I am currently living, but for years I didn't even know it existed. There are no sandy beaches, tall skyscrapers or pulsating night life here. In fact, the place was a quiet provincial jail.

I had expected jails to be a cold, glum place where prisoners are kept inside cells all day. But what I saw in that provincial jail was comparable to a home because the people here treat each other as a family.

On my first day to plunge into the world of jails, there was a worship service being held at the hall. I have never been surrounded with alleged offenders before. They, too, found it odd that a teenager went here without her parents. But their kind eyes, gentle handshakes and smiles caught me off-guard. It almost instantly broke the wall built out of pre-conceived notions.

The detainees, men and women dressed in yellow shirts, gathered around the hall and soon started singing their hearts out in praise of God. Closed eyes, hands held high and tears flowing down their cheeks were a sight to see as their lips moved to the songs they know by heart. It was amazing -- people regarded as criminals by the outside world showing themselves to be vulnerable and human. This closed facility opened my eyes.

From then on, I appreciated taking a look at the world from the inside rather than judging from a distance. It made me relish venturing into unfamiliar, sometimes even uncomfortable, places to find unexpected truths about society and life.