A week in hometown

At first when I decided to fly to Sandakan to pay my grandparents a visit, I was still struggling myself whether to stay in a land of isolation but a food paradise; OR, back to where life is fun and not paying them a visit at all.

Now I am with my girlfriend, in KLIA 2 international airport in Kuala Lumpur, the capital of this country. A step away from going back to where I come from, the place where I used to grow, play, and kids of the same age and all. After all, you know you should never forget the place you come from, right?

I visited grandparents' friends places, passing roads which never changed, congesting myself among the locals and the bumiputeras, nothing has failed to be the same. It's the second largest town after Kota Kinabalu, a place of good economy, affordable seafood, notable historical values and cultures. Best of all, there is no much entertainments facilities around. A week in this place staying in my room going no where but the wet market is more than torturing. Days of dry and hot weather without rain is almost poisonous for a heat-intolerance man. No transportation, no friends, unlike before, siblings are all gone for their own life and way.

There is one good thing at least, to pay my grandparents a visit and making myself a company is no better than a best idea. They are lonely  all day except the time when their son come back from work and staying for a 5 minute stop before going back to his own family. That's all, a week in my hometown, a big but not-that-big town which I planned to come back a year later and every year after.

Only when you sit down and recall your past, you know time is never by your side, a week is never enough for them although it is hell of a long week for you, always hold things hard when it is still in you hand.

Not that easy to find houses among the trees anymore? Houses beside the sea?