14 days of whatever.

so the Outward Bound season is over. and, of course, due to geographical difficulties i was unable to attend any courses this year. which was fine by me initially. i mean, i figured you know, i've been to OBS every year since 2002..it's about time i gave it a rest.

anyway, i was looking through photos taken by people i knew who went to obs this year and suddenly i started feeling strange. somehow, there was just this sense of displacement; as though i wasn't where i should be.

seeing those photos made me realise how much i actually miss the annual visits i paid to the place. i can still remember the first time i stepped foot in to the school: me and TPL were the last ones to register ourselves in because we were LATE. as both of us hurriedly sat down at the Irau table during registration (how cool is it that we were both in the same watch!?), i took a glance at the other people at the table and thought to myself, "Oh boy (see, back then, fuck wasn't in my vocab), this might be worse than i thought." i wasn't very outdooors-oriented last time, and obs was definitely someplace out of my comfort zone.

but wahey, i loved it and everything about it.

as i said before, there's something in the air at obs. whether you loved it or not, something will always tug at the back of your mind and draw you back. i've seen (and known) people who keep going back year in and year out...they're almost as bad as me.

although i must admit, things have changed a great deal at obs since the first time i was there. people i remember have come and gone. but that's the beauty of it, i guess. you get to meet new people everytime and with new people comes new experiences and memories...and your little circle of friends expand just that little bit more.

so that is why, maybe when i was looking through the photos...something struck me as being nostalgic. the call was there, but this time around, i chose to ignore it like the fucktard that i am, and can be, sometimes. do i regret it? well, yes, maybe i do..just a little.

lying down on the orange sides of the plastic tarp sheets.
the mossy wet smell of the forest during land expeditions.
swinging from hammocks.
seaspray on the way to Teluk Sekadih.
the Chickacha dance.
laughter.
passing out from sheer exhaustion most nights but readily waking up the next day to rewind and repeat all over again.

why wouldn't anyone miss it?