The Past

The Nekat Traveler: The Best Is Yet to Come.

Cambridge, Cambridgeshire

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I was putting Cambridge a lot more responsibility as this city was the first city to begin whatever I was trying to begin with. And the job was well done. Cambridge treasures most of the bits I fancy about Britain's architecture which would come up within the list of why I love United Kingdom if someone ask me. Not quite sure why, but I feel safe in Cambridge more than any other places I have visit. Walking through the dark and quiet alley did not bother me much. All the posh colleges transmitting the aura of intelligence. Injects you with endearing imaginary passion to get accepted in to one of the fortune-cost universities. Honestly, I like that. I fall for Cambridge instantly. As if we are best friend in some other parallel universe.

York, Yorkshire

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It takes a while to get to York from Cambridge by train. Two stops. A small town called Ely and then Peterborough. Seeing York was like looking at one lousy charming gentleman, traveling with a guitar case on his back. Very, very attractive. But in the same time you could feel irritated with the scruffy beard, giving the sense something dangerous and rebellious hidden.

In terms of the structure, York wins out of everything. The old buildings, vintage-like alleys made you forget you were on the 21st century The existence of iPad nor auto-tune. It felt more like you were in the middle of Hogsmeade; somewhere behind the aged pub door, might lead you to a secret passage to Hogwarts.

Rain was pouring hard when I got out of the hotel. Gloomy weather probably one of the least thing any traveler wished for. Although, the wet and everything adding the art of traveling. I believe, without rain York would looked better. It still looked great under the rain, though. 

Durham, County Durham

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Pronounced, Darem. The idea to visit Durham came less than ten minutes when I stepped on York train station. At first, I thought we were going home. However, this city was very mysterious. It was like the  small version of York. Up hill high street, a massive cathedral, river with bridges. My bad, my feet did not fully support me to discover this city with proper enthusiasm. Also I got there when the sun already set. Spent only couple hours.

But one thing Durham got me going; the mysterious bookstore. There was one bookstore at the end of the main street, deep down where shops were getting least interest and less lightings. Waterstone. The Durham University merchandize that first pulled me in, while I could see from the outside, there was nobody inside but the cashier lady.

The magic neatly hidden on the second floor. Visitor might just lose the attention on the first floor because there was not much going on. But on the second floor, for me personally, I found a whole rack of my sanctuary. All kinds of philosophy books voicelessly calling out my name. I found my favorite bookstore in the whole world, in Durham. The city I never knew before I went to York train station!

In conclusion, this trip saved me. x
A piece by : Fiya Muiz

I Remember, I Was Once Happy

I have been going around this country little by little. It might look tempting from the outer look, but it actually involves a lot of feelings. Being here, away from home, in such early age as most of the people judgement, allows me to feel a lot of things. Staying sane and surviving everything takes a lot either. I am not going to say it is easy because it definitely far from it, but this makes me feel real. Feeling everything, making me feel more real than ever in my existence as if I can feel my own presence in this world by trying to survive the whole deal.

Oh, boy, this takes a lot. I am traveling mad as rabbit -- I do not think I would do any of this if I am in Indonesia. This, just one of those things happens once. Since the relationship between me and plans, are not going very well. I am being the most spontaneous version of myself more than I have ever been throughout the last nineteen years old life.

I just came back from a trip to three cities without hotel or any transportation booking in advance. This time, my partner in crime was Fikri, a dear friend back in Junior High. No, actually we were not much of a friend. We fight a lot. But we are a good friend now. I might have gone mad if he was not around three days ago. I will have a special post for the further details about this awesome trip, soon.

And meanwhile, here I am, alone on a double bed size I have not had for a while, under flower prints duvet, in southern London. Feeling awkwardly grateful. I am currently staying at my uncle's friend place for several days, having no plan at all. I am just trying new things. Thing I have never done before. Observing local family, for example. Living how they live daily between this cold weather. And not denying any rumors, so far they are more than lovely.

Although I am aware morning will come eventually and ask me what's the plan for tomorrow which I do not fancy that. I have been living these past two weeks without plan. I always come up during the last second. Quite thrilling, yet the pressure for having plans is overwhelming and irritating in the same time. Thus, I prefer midnight than morning. Which the complete opposite of me, a month ago. As life goes on, things change. Or as things change, life goes on. Same difference.

I beg your pardon for the lack of post. I was not in the best shape to control my state of mind during this Christmas holiday. I just can not wait to get back on track and live the life of happy days again!! Oh, happy Christmas and new year in three days!! :) x x

A piece by : Fiya Muiz

Dear Santa

Dear santa, if you do really exist, but do not worry, I am starting not to doubt the existence of a lot of things recently, do not feel excluded or anything. there is no offense implies here.

How are you, Santa? Hope you are doing well. My name is Fiya, has been 19 years old for approximately two weeks and two days. Assuming going through the phase of thirteen years old teenager all over again. I am new in this town, Bournemouth. Small town on the Southern part of England, the one with the lovely beach. Sixteen hours away from the first home. Busy making this town as the second. Getting there, I believe.

It is just this Christmas thing, Santa. This is my first year spending Christmas holiday where everyone actually celebrates. Both in a way the majority of people's beliefs and/or just an inherited culture. And this might be the first time I ever feel this lonely because most of the best people I know in this new town, are coming home. Home where the loved ones are, doing mostly what I have always looking forward during Ramadhan.

I have no rights to declare this is not fair, because this is a rather very sensitive situation as I am seeing everything through a subjective perspective, the natural selfish human being kind of way. Gah, I despise it because by only acknowledge it does not help AT ALL. If my life is a TV series, the other supporting characters that builds the story going, will soon to be leaving the scene for quite a long while. Nearly one month. Thus, the tendency to feel like going home increased 110%.

Daniel, the racist German, a walking general knowledge book, a prick and full time best friend, going to thy green Scotland meeting his lovely girlfriend. Hidetaro, the punk rock Japanese guy slash soon to be psychologist and a prick, going to Amsterdam and Poland to get basically shitfaced and collects the best of freedom along with the English Alex, who basically only worship single life freedom and being a prick as his part time occupation. Whilst Kim, the Korean prick who believe he was half black, already in London as we speak. And so on, and so on, this list might still on going contains nearly 98% of jealousy hence I'd better end here.

Here I am, on the floor, typing, with 1/4 cold crepes Dan bought at the Christmas market earlier, technically trying to let go the fact that I am not going to come back home in the next three weeks and pretty much have NO idea what am I going to do the next days forward. It has to be noted, not that I hate this town or country, it is simply because the undeniable tension to spend this kind of free days with the loved ones and familiarity of Jakarta won't leave me alone especially when it stays within my unconsiousness.

I might as well stays on this floor, in front of this laptop for the next three weeks. I might. Although unlikely to happen because I believe by then I might lose my mind, and I have moved to the mental hospital. Juuuuuuuust kidding. My family and friends especially Daniel and Hide would have kick my arse already. Which they already kind of did this past one week though the result seemingly not yet responding. YET.

I might just write a blog forever until the next term start and when I get back with actual things to do. Oh Santa, I just want to spend this festive holiday with my loved ones. Family and friends. Considering I have no boyfriend to mention. Quoting once the famous Britney Spears' song, my loneliness is killing me. Maybe Santa, just a little hopeful maybe, you might help me. Rumor has it, there is this Christmas miracle.

I have no chimney, I won't open my window cause baby, it's cold outside and I will lock the door for the sake of feeling safe, but Santa, I still hope for Christmas miracle. Not sure how you delivers the miracle package and in what kind of form, but you can tell the sun as the light creeping in through the window every morning where I always am in the most vulnerable state during the whole day, or through the cold winter air, slides in between the small gaps underneath the door, and everywhere.

Santa, I am not crying, I am not pouting and I have been a good girl according to my dictionary so please. I know you are coming to town, make sure you come to Bournemouth. Then prove me, okay? glühen wine on me if we meet. The talking goose on the German market really entertaining, I tell you. Oh, hope you do surf on the internet otherwise you can not read this lonely letter of mine.

Don't keep me waiting. You know we all hate that. Looking forward to hear from you. x x

Your curious yet desperados little fan,


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A piece by : Fiya Muiz


"Life is a series of pulls back and forth. A tension of opposites.

Like a wrestling match.
Which sides win?

Love wins. Love always wins."

(Morrie Schwartz, 1997)
A piece by : Fiya Muiz

It Contagious

Everything strikes as soon as I am alone. After the last goodbye hug. Following each steps from the sidewalk till the brown carpet staircase. I despise everything that is not on my hand. That I am not in control of it. That has been wired as my default settings. I despise with all the blood running on my vein as I worship the weakness within me; unconsciously surrender soon enough without carrying out relevant effort to stand up.

It contagious; relying on the result, everything will look terrible without bothered trying to be one. Bad mood against the world.

I feel very human for this past week. As I hardly satisfied with everything. As I always wanted for more. As I barely able to made up my mind. As my mood swings like pendulum. As I kept crossing my own rules. As the guilty pleasure follows.

Like a plastic jar of water accidentally hit by tiny bit of sharp pin, I broke down. It suppose to be nothing but I can feel this small hole, allow me to burst quietly, then tear me up. It suppose to be nothing. But I am weak enough to surrender towards my weakness and just fell. Not living the moment as I was told to. The thing about surrender in to a bad mood is, every good things are hidden somewhere unknown; and my mind is not willing enough to simply see and look for it, while sometimes actually good things are right in front of my eyes.

We all are the same. Human. The worst and best living thing in history of universe. Knowing what should not, but not doing anything to get away. I can go on for the next three years listing what human do. Mostly about the unqualified righteousness manner.

I know everything is alright. This just me and tiny scope around my head, transmitting such unwanted vibes. Nothing is wrong, really. I know what should I do, it is just a matter of willingness which I have not yet gathered to move. England is nice. I won't ever blame this country for my stupid mood. It has nothing to do with England. It has something to do with.. never mind.

Hi December! I promise jolly post coming up soon.

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A piece by : Fiya Muiz