For Malaysia

Martin was leaving today. In fact, Deir Mar Musa was not in his itinerary. I was the one who convinced him to come.

Martin and I met each other not merely because we stayed in the same dormitory in Amman but the coincident, sudden and yet unanimous decision to hit the road together to the Dead Sea. After traveling together for a couple of days, I found that we have similar idea and concept on traveling which always chimed in easily and perfectly.  It was like ‘I hate taxi’ and I happened to say ‘Me too’, ‘I want to set up my tent on the rooftop of that abandoned building’ and I happened to heed his call by saying ‘Let’s go’! ‘Taking bus is unacceptable, I want to be on the back of the truck’ and I said ‘Yes! Bravo!’ He is the one initiated me to travel by hitchhiking and Couchsurfing. In fact, we decided to meet again in Damascus after some wonderful moment in the Dead Sea. 

Martin was ready with his backpack on his back. He told me I was crazy because I insisted on walking alongside with him down to the hill instead of saying goodbye and giving each other a warm hug and call that a farewell. I knew he was going to be on the road alone again. And so am I, soon.

Finally, I have been able to wash all my disgusting clothes, trousers and towels which have been left for more than 3 weeks in stink. Yucks! Well, what can I do? This is traveling, man! Oppsss…I forget the only sweater of mine which I have been wearing over and over continuously.  Oh no! I need it! I can’t live without it! I will certainly die of hypothermia without putting any jacket to protect my weak body in such mountain coldness.

In fact, I wake up early this morning because I don’t want to miss the Sunday mass which was scheduled at 8am. This was the first time I attended a Sunday Mass in my life. To be honest, I felt pretty bad to have missed the Vesper last evening. Martin and I, together with a couple of European whom I believed just arrived hours ago have been locked from outside the church when the Vesper started. All religious ritual including mass, meditation and Vespers were usually carried out in Arabic and French. This was why I get shocked when I heard the following at the end of the mass:-

Inside the warm monastery where the daily masses were conducted

‘Let’s pray for Malaysia for its multi-racial society which consists of Malay, Chinese, Indian, etc, in the hope that each of them can live a life of harmony blessed in peace. Amen’

Thank you Father Paulo for praying for Malaysia during the Sunday mass this morning.

Yes, for Malaysia.