RIFLE RANGE BOY: phobia

Boracay, The Philippines. © DKLA

Even though my cousin had spent time studying overseas, with umpteen times of flying in and out of the country, lately he has developed a kind of aversion (is it bordering to phobia?) of flying. Maybe it is because of his new passion for big bikes and motoring long distances. Whenever possible, he quickly jumps into his riding gears to enjoy the swooshing of the wind on his face and body as he cuts through space and time. The periodic gusts of intoxications must be addictive since, instead of flying to places when his family and friends want to spend their holidays, he vehemently chooses to ride there on Harley Davidson or BMW Superbike. He does not mind the inconvenience of having to leave earlier, the discomfort of being intimidated by reckless lorry drivers and the safety issues surrounding travelling along the long lonely road out in nowhere. Then he has to be at the receiving end of the fuss of cheeky border personnel who find pleasure in asking for the unheard and the uncertainty of road, the weather and vehicle conditions.

Still, to this, he replies, "Pleasure is in the journey, not just the destination!" The best way to learn about a country is to travel amongst and together with the commoners, not as shielded tourists who are shown the watered down and whitewashed version of the country, geography and history.

That is a metaphor for life anyway. Life is a journey with its undulating paths. It is sometimes smooth and sometimes stormy; still and restless. The joy is in curbing the troughs and the riding the peaks, the lows and highs. At the end of the journey, one can look back, give a sigh of relief, and re-live in the memories of the sights, sounds, smells, sweats, tastes and the experiences that no well-planned pleasure cruise can give.