Back at home, I could go places further than one would care to admit so it goes without saying that coming to a new country felt like erasing my personal map - or rather, hiding it and using a new piece of parchment for a new journey. When I first came to Malaysia, everything was so foreign to me. Everything was blurred, I could walk five steps forward and feel lost already. Crossing the road felt backwards - literally.The first few weeks were the hardest, of course. Walking around with no idea where you're headed nor coming from. I don't believe that it was luck that kept me alive, I think it was more on my paranoia. Being extra careful with every turn, looking over my shoulder for any unknown predators lurking, etc.
I felt proud that I made it to church in one piece, it's far from near my place of residence. It even involves a 10 minute bus ride. Being capable of going that far by myself gave me a sense that I was getting to know this place better - I felt more accustomed.
Everything went pretty smoothly, now that I think about it. I didn't encounter any obstacles, I didn't come across any potential hazards, but there was one pinch at the end. As I sat down after the tiring walk and getting on a bus of which it's destination I had no clue of, I breathed a sigh of relief. It was then that the sermon began - in Chinese.
So I sat there for about an hour or so, oblivious to any lesson the priest was trying to send to me. It was embarrassing, having to stay quiet through the songs. Mumbling gibberish to myself when the priest gave the cue for a response.
When all is said and done, I didn't hate that day. It turned out to be a huge learning experience for myself. Now I'm even more prepared for anything.
