Growing up in a tropical country means that you only witness two seasons, wet and dry. The dry season is a bit of a misnomer because, in a tropical country, that means humid. One tends to sweat profusely and it is inevitable to feel sticky even with the slightest movement. The wet season more than lives up to its name. It brings about typhoons that are characterized by torrential rains and ultimately causes catastrophic floods. Having lived through humid days and typhoons, I am unable to share the fascination of westerners towards tropical countries. It is natural I guess for them to fancy the sunny days that we have as opposed to the dreary cold weather they seem to have for most of their year. Legitimately too, people from tropical countries fancy the cold weather the other half of the planet has. This queen is no exception.
I have always fancied living in a cold place, where snow covers the landscape and angels can be found on your lawn or out the front of your house. There is an eerie sense of comfort that I draw from seeing the horizon as white as the clouds above. The first time I saw snow falling down was in Georgia. It was such a magical experience that I still think about it to this day. The memories I have from that trip are as precious to me as the make-up I put on every day - indispensable. For four days I was a kid again seeing the world for the first time. It made me realize how big the world is and how much of it there is to know and experience. It wasn't my first trip to another country but it was the first trip where I was able to relive a childhood that I never had. It did not suffice that I got to experience one of the coldest climates in the planet, I had to experience snow again.
It was February of 2015 when I made a trip to Chicago. It was the dead of winter but I didn't mind because it was exactly the season that I wanted to experience. It was snowing hard when I landed and I was dressed with only a shirt, a trench coat and a muffler. It was freezing cold, 14 below. My uncle and aunt were waiting for me outside and after getting my luggage I went out to meet them. As soon as the airport doors opened, the cold breeze greeted my skin with such brutality that I shivered intensely. It was a welcome disturbance of my body's core heat. The icy sting was knocking my senses to life; invigorating an exhausted body that has labored through a narrow leg space for sixteen hours. Shamelessly, the first thing I did when I got out of the airport was to take a selfie in the snow. I couldn't help but keep on clicking on my phone's camera, snapping pictures of the snow-covered landscape as we made our way to my uncle's home. Navigating through the snow was such a surreal experience that I could barely pay attention to the conversation I was having with my uncle.
Since both my uncle and aunt had work that week, I was left to navigate the city of Chicago and discover it on my own. My uncle would drop me at the train station in the morning and come to pick me up later at night on his way home from work. I remember having coffee at one of the Starbucks in the city, trying to figure out how to find my way to the nearest catholic church. After convincing myself that I already figured it out, I made my way to the streets of Chicago. I took a right from the corner where Starbucks was and headed straight down the road. It was sunny when I left the coffee house but the weather changed abruptly and snow began to fall carrying with it a strong gust of arctic wind. After about half an hour of walking and not seeing any signs of the church, I realized that I was lost. By this time the chill in my body was already unbearable and I felt my entire face go numb. I feared that I would faint from the sheer cold of Chicago winds. I couldn't find any place that I could just go into and warm myself up. I found myself in the suburbs of Chicago where there were only houses and apartments, no pubs or stores where I could find temporary respite from the punishing cold. Still, I braved the streets in search of that church because that same chill that was freezing me from the inside out was also the same thing that was keeping my spirits alive in gratitude. I was thankful simply for the experience of being in a city that was once just a dot on the map. It is an acknowledgment of the privilege that I have been given that not everyone has access to. It is knowing that while I have countless of internal struggles I have this moment with myself experiencing what others only read about in books or on the internet.
The snow subsided after another half hour. Exhausted, I decided to hail a cab to take me to the church as I didn't think I could last another half hour in the middle of the freezing cold. I laughed at myself secretly when I reached the church because I realized that had I turned left from Starbucks, I would've found the church in less than ten minutes. I charged it all to experience. Cliche as it is but I would have to say that getting lost in a new city is the only way to get to know it. By getting lost, I was able to see the hum-drum of Chicago's daily life and observed the differences as well as the similarities of it all to my home and the life that I live.
Travelling on your own has a specific sense of accomplishment that is to me, unparalleled by any other experience. It gives you a sense of independence and joyful wonderment as you gallivant your way around an unfamiliar city. Every sight, smell, and vibe that you pick up along the way are a lasting memory that is emblazoned on your soul. You develop a real sense of scale by seeing how much the world has to offer beyond what you have already seen and are already familiar with. There is a promise of better tomorrows and bigger dreams that would make anyone believe that anything is possible - that our goals are tenable. I would have never thought that I'd get the chance to travel to the states but there I was exploring an unknown city on my own, living one of my most treasured dreams.
That experience taught me more about the world and life than all the books in my castle. A queen has dreams too, and sometimes, they do come true.
xoxo
QB
I have always fancied living in a cold place, where snow covers the landscape and angels can be found on your lawn or out the front of your house. There is an eerie sense of comfort that I draw from seeing the horizon as white as the clouds above. The first time I saw snow falling down was in Georgia. It was such a magical experience that I still think about it to this day. The memories I have from that trip are as precious to me as the make-up I put on every day - indispensable. For four days I was a kid again seeing the world for the first time. It made me realize how big the world is and how much of it there is to know and experience. It wasn't my first trip to another country but it was the first trip where I was able to relive a childhood that I never had. It did not suffice that I got to experience one of the coldest climates in the planet, I had to experience snow again.
It was February of 2015 when I made a trip to Chicago. It was the dead of winter but I didn't mind because it was exactly the season that I wanted to experience. It was snowing hard when I landed and I was dressed with only a shirt, a trench coat and a muffler. It was freezing cold, 14 below. My uncle and aunt were waiting for me outside and after getting my luggage I went out to meet them. As soon as the airport doors opened, the cold breeze greeted my skin with such brutality that I shivered intensely. It was a welcome disturbance of my body's core heat. The icy sting was knocking my senses to life; invigorating an exhausted body that has labored through a narrow leg space for sixteen hours. Shamelessly, the first thing I did when I got out of the airport was to take a selfie in the snow. I couldn't help but keep on clicking on my phone's camera, snapping pictures of the snow-covered landscape as we made our way to my uncle's home. Navigating through the snow was such a surreal experience that I could barely pay attention to the conversation I was having with my uncle.
Since both my uncle and aunt had work that week, I was left to navigate the city of Chicago and discover it on my own. My uncle would drop me at the train station in the morning and come to pick me up later at night on his way home from work. I remember having coffee at one of the Starbucks in the city, trying to figure out how to find my way to the nearest catholic church. After convincing myself that I already figured it out, I made my way to the streets of Chicago. I took a right from the corner where Starbucks was and headed straight down the road. It was sunny when I left the coffee house but the weather changed abruptly and snow began to fall carrying with it a strong gust of arctic wind. After about half an hour of walking and not seeing any signs of the church, I realized that I was lost. By this time the chill in my body was already unbearable and I felt my entire face go numb. I feared that I would faint from the sheer cold of Chicago winds. I couldn't find any place that I could just go into and warm myself up. I found myself in the suburbs of Chicago where there were only houses and apartments, no pubs or stores where I could find temporary respite from the punishing cold. Still, I braved the streets in search of that church because that same chill that was freezing me from the inside out was also the same thing that was keeping my spirits alive in gratitude. I was thankful simply for the experience of being in a city that was once just a dot on the map. It is an acknowledgment of the privilege that I have been given that not everyone has access to. It is knowing that while I have countless of internal struggles I have this moment with myself experiencing what others only read about in books or on the internet.
The snow subsided after another half hour. Exhausted, I decided to hail a cab to take me to the church as I didn't think I could last another half hour in the middle of the freezing cold. I laughed at myself secretly when I reached the church because I realized that had I turned left from Starbucks, I would've found the church in less than ten minutes. I charged it all to experience. Cliche as it is but I would have to say that getting lost in a new city is the only way to get to know it. By getting lost, I was able to see the hum-drum of Chicago's daily life and observed the differences as well as the similarities of it all to my home and the life that I live.
Travelling on your own has a specific sense of accomplishment that is to me, unparalleled by any other experience. It gives you a sense of independence and joyful wonderment as you gallivant your way around an unfamiliar city. Every sight, smell, and vibe that you pick up along the way are a lasting memory that is emblazoned on your soul. You develop a real sense of scale by seeing how much the world has to offer beyond what you have already seen and are already familiar with. There is a promise of better tomorrows and bigger dreams that would make anyone believe that anything is possible - that our goals are tenable. I would have never thought that I'd get the chance to travel to the states but there I was exploring an unknown city on my own, living one of my most treasured dreams.
That experience taught me more about the world and life than all the books in my castle. A queen has dreams too, and sometimes, they do come true.
xoxo
QB
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