“这是什么鬼声音？”在从屋外高音喇叭里传来的男人的嘶吼声中，我从睡梦中惊醒，四周仍然一片漆黑，拾起手表，原来还五点不到。这是我第一次听到伊斯兰教念经，分贝之高，方圆五里之内无人幸免。后来才知道这一天五次的念经是穆斯林生活中很重要的一部分。

借住在韩国朋友Kim家，总不能白吃白喝吧。尽管几年不曾进过厨房，还是索性起来准备早餐，和面做汤圆果羹——这还是RY去亚齐之前教给我的。之后也仍然只会做这个，还是会弄得一地面粉（当然后来打扫干净啦~），窘样还是会惹得Kim大笑。

这不是我唯一的一次做饭的机会。在Redang岛做义工的最后几天，带来的“Lovely bones”早已读完，空闲时便更着当地的马来员工学做马来菜，蛋包饭、椰浆饭，泰国的东荫汤，当然还有最为大众化的咖喱鸡、牛肉。现在回到家，由于找不到香料能做的就只买咖喱回来煮一大锅……发现其实烹饪还是挺好玩的。

在Cameron highlands (金马伦)，和加拿大的M君一起分担房费。让人惊奇的是他竟然是背着一把大吉他旅行了一年…真是不怕沉。。。入夜，他坐在花园里弹起“Falling Slowly”，（《曾经》的主题曲），接着越来越多的背包客被吸引过来，开始天南海北的海侃。这在这么一个小地方，M居然还遇上了他高中时候的TA，世界真是不一般的“小”。

在棉花岛上遇到了芬兰的L君，绝对的自然主义者，崇尚极端的简约。在岛上，他的住处就是悬挂在两棵树干上的睡袋，外加一个蚊帐…如果下雨，他就躲在蝙蝠洞里。看储存在其相机里的照片就像是一场历险，“Pabua”，我第一次听到了这个印尼的地名。当地部落还过着完全的原始生活，穿着草裙，拿着弓箭狩猎。每次提到“Pabua”，他的眼神里都是无限的眷恋。

“Could we share a room, if you don’t mind?” 这个只问过一次，出口以后感觉自己像是”pimp”… 在丁加奴的旅店，宿舍住满，又不愿自己一个人包一个房，难开口的还是得开口不是吗？ 呵呵

后来又通过网络联系到了丁加奴大学的Yeo, 便搬到了他和其同学一起租的一幢别墅里（确实是一幢，800RMB每月...)，第一次坐他的摩托车，狂飙后没把我吓的半死。他的室友也很好啊，晚上开着车待我到处逛，代价就是帮其中一位朋友写英文的读书报告…

从棉花岛回丁加奴市区体验到了马来短途公交车的效率。。。足足等了一个小时才来了一辆破破烂烂的车，果不其然上车后不久就坏掉了，全车下来换成另一辆。。。 这时L开始传授经验了“Always use the local transportation.” 好吧，看在两马币的份上，我等。。。后来去Yeo家，Yeo竟然不知道公交线路， “we don’t use the bus, we have the motorcycle.” 后来一问才知道那趟公交一天就发四次，每次间隔两个半小时…

装备的升级是在印尼。随着行头越来越多，40升的包终于升级为70升！一开始还有很多空间，而最后回桂林时，70升得包都已经满满当当塞不下了，于是就有了大闹马来海关的意外…

到了柬埔寨，发现千万不要相信价目表上的价格，那是给西方游客的。一定要坚信一条原则：万事都可以讲价，小到路边饭馆，大到柬埔寨国家博物馆。后者要是实在讲不下来也可以让其赠送一个语音讲解服务~

吴哥窟网络上讨论得最多的就是怎么包车，包突突车还是包汽车，雇什么司机之类的。但guest house 不是大都提供免费自行车和地图，为什么不好好利用呢？ 坐车像是在做点与点之间的位移，而通过自行车丈量过的风景才是实实在在的。当然，前提是得有体力…

再回到吉隆坡，Kim已经到巴基斯坦去了，我只有移居唐人街，那里绝对是这一路走来性价比最低的旅店：同等价位条件最差，同等条件价格最贵。吵杂，乱七八糟，规矩也很多：竟然不许带榴莲入内！！ 好在随身备了睡袋，这样床褥再脏也不拍了~

P.S. 楼下朋友去三亚一周就可以花掉近一万，住的是星级酒店，吃的是大餐。他们很难想象同样的钱可以在其他国家或地区旅行一至两月。你说奢侈游快乐吗？应该是吧，要不怎么会有那么多人前赴后继呢。但是穷游也有穷游的乐趣啊，旅行中的节约有时并不是为了钱本身，而是为了让旅途增添一种真实感。旅行不是观光，也不是仅仅为了拍照留影纪念；而是为了一种体验，体验一种游离于自己固有生活轨迹之外的生活。

我爱穷游！

As the speed boat approached the island, the mobile signal waned till it completely disappeared. The sea breeze tickling our hair, water splashed on our clothes, someone exclaimed “Look!” When we thought we were almost there, the boat suddenly halted about 5 miles from the shore.

“Swim,” The captain commanded us from the stern.

“What?” I couldn’t believe what I’d heard. “Swim?” Instinctively clutching my lifejacket, I looked around, only to find, despite the waves, some grotesque rocks sticking out of the sea. “Seriously?” I murmured, “I can’t even swim.”

“Nah, the captain was just joking,” some soon clarified my concerns.

“Joking? All right…”

Though the volunteer work was to assist the nest checking and tagging of the marine turtles, what awaited me first on the island, however, were not them.

Bathed under the bright sunshine, the cabin, surrounded by thick tropical trees, seemed veiled with a fanciful mystery. All the windows and doors opened to their utmost, though, the cabin’s interior was nothing but dim. Inside, there lied two folding camp beds, with mosquito coil and the remains of candles strewn about on the floor.

Humming, and still indulged in the excitement to start a new life on the isolated part of Redang Island, I was arranging my stuff in the cabin. Something was moving overhead, I suddenly sensed. Looking up, what caught my attention was something hung on the beam, dark, fuzzy and consolidated into a lump.

Switching on the light, step by step, I was approaching the lump when it trembled, slightly yet still noticeable. More closely, more slowly I was moving. The creature’s wings suddenly spread wide open and swiftly shut close, as if protesting me, the intruder. One of them yawned, just awaken by the human movements and still sleepy. I counted, seven - total of seven bats hung on the beam of my cabin!

Backing, I could hear myself murmuring “It’s going to be OK. They are not moving and they are not going to hurt you.” However, the lump was all stirred up before the tales on Vampire could register with me. Wings flapped, a bat swooped down, circling in the air and driving the astonished me out of the cabin.

“What’s going on?” Wei Kean, my roommate, asked me outside the cabin, “I heard you scream.”

“Me, screaming?”

“Yeah, very loud.”

“All right. Maybe I was too shocked to realize it.” It was the only way I could come up with to explain my “blacking out.”

With my seven “little brothers” settling in my room, I was forced to stay outside for the rest of the afternoon, either wandering on the beach, lying in the hammock or sitting on the bench in the kitchen.

Probably because of the serenity of nature and slow pace of life we were indulged with for the afternoon, when the storm hit the island at dusk, we were completely unprepared. Without our knowing it, light already absorbed into the thick clouds, the storm ripped open the heaven, rain pouring from the sky. Trees trembled under the shower, leaves stripped off and scattered all around. When I rushed back to the cabin to shut down the windows, it was already too late. The bulb, along with the string that tied it, was swinging in the wind. Switched on, the bulb radiated no response. It was dead. Torchlight shone throughout the room, my “little brothers” left no traces but some “shit” on the Wei Kean’s camp bed. I may they would never come back.

Though the plastic curtain rolled down, water still splashed into the half open dining hall, table and bench all wet. It was in the storm, with the pouring rain and howling wind, that we had our first dinner on the island- Malaysian chicken curie.

To save power, we shut off the light powered by solar energy. At only 19:30, it was all pitch dark, only the dim candle light still wavering. Some ghost stories started to register with me. I recalled Addie, the administrator of the turtle house warned us not to whistle, a gesture, in Malaysian context, of calling upon spirits. The fear did not really take shape as long as I stayed with my teammates. Yet holding a torch, barging into the toilet outside the cabin was a different experience. Torchlight shone on the mirror, trust me, you’ll see another you coming from the other side of the world.

At the first night, it was my turn to take the second-round night shift, between 3:00 a.m. and 6:00 a.m. Before going to bed at 10:00 p.m., I had to do some precautions: lighting the mosquito coil, spraying the mosquito repellent all over my legs and arms, arraying the torch, water and shoes just beside the bed. Then, poof, the candle was blown out, everything devoured by the darkness. Wearing the eye-patch Kean had lent to me, I kept telling myself not to think of the bats, spiders, ants and whatever insects settling on the island. “Relax. Don’t always assume that insects are going to hurt you,” Kean said. “Learn to live with them.”

Still giddy and sleepy, I was ten minutes late for my night patrol. Back to the hall, my teammates Bingsee and Mei Kun were already waiting for me. Outside, the storm had swept away the heat, leaving a bitterly cold night for the lodgers. Still cloudy, the moon and stars unrevealed, the moonlight was striving to shine their way to the ground. Off shore, on the horizon line where the sea and the sky met, a lamp on a passing ship was giving off light, unsteadily twinkling yet still assuring for people who ran across it. Water receding to its low, grotesque rocks submerged under the sea in the day were now lying naked on the sea bed. With a fixed rhythm, waves were clapping on the rocks, soothingly monotonous, eternally energetic. The beach was enclosed on its three sides by hills and wild forests, only its heart confronting the sea.

The light was weakest after 5:00 a.m., moonlight fading away with no sunlight to substitute it. Having adapted to the environment on the beach, I, even accompanied by the sound of waves, felt all around tranquil, deadly tranquil.

One patrol through both ends of the beach took approximately 20 minutes. In search for the traces of turtles landing on the beach for nesting, our efforts were frustrated. The storm not only drove away the heat but also the mother turtles.

Thus, till the end of the first day, I still had vague idea of what the adult turtles looked like in reality.

A Map for Saturday: Our Year around the World 由<星期六的地图>激起的记忆

在旅行的第四天， 当RY 离开吉隆坡前往苏门答腊岛时，我一个人的旅行正式开始。走在吉隆坡街头，拿着几乎未打开过的地图，站在十字路口，不知道应该往左还是往右，但心里却仍感到莫名的一阵狂喜：因为这就是自由。

在旅行第八天，金马伦高原， 夜，我告诉已经旅行了一年的Michael我已经开始想家了。他笑着说你会习惯的。

在旅行的第18天，在丁加奴，又是一个告别的时刻。镇业开着车把我，伟权和Susani送到长途汽车站。车里的音乐有些抒情，我一直尽量的忍着，但是眼泪还是止不住。伟全和Susani陪我等到晚上九点一刻，然后乘夜车回新加坡。我终于又落单了，又回到了那周围为没有任何认识我，我也不认识任何认的日子。

14个小时以后我战战兢兢地来到了印尼日惹。当别人问我从哪儿来，我得犹豫些许再说“China。”

第二天在火车站巧遇学生游行，见其头戴鬼神面具，手舞白旗，领队的还拿着喇叭呼吁着什么。不得已，我又被迫退回旅游区。

接下来，从婆罗浮屠到火山再到Prambanan；从生死时速地根打瞌睡的司机狂飙了13个小时，到凌晨三点起来作吉普然后爬火山；从街边席地而坐的小吃岛路边认识林丹的鲜榨果汁点老板娘；印尼让我彻底忘记了旅游的孤独：因为每一天都是惊喜。

在旅行来到地32天，到了柬埔寨，日子过得有些麻木。为了躲避游人高峰，我听从店老板建议凌晨四点起来骑自行车到巴垦山看日出，当时并没有想到这一骑就是14个小时。。。吴哥群里见到的第一座寺庙是：Bayon。 震撼。45座浮雕像从360度俯视着你，他们神秘的微笑让人无处可逃。

最后一天在暹粒，朝拜吴哥窟。我却早没了那种新鲜感和好奇心，面对着吴哥窟心里泛起的竟是：只是又一座雄伟的寺庙。。。

就像这部纪录片里说的“

This long term turns out to be a bit emotional anti-climax all the big feelings at the beginning of the trip, but eventually you get numb to how great the lifestyle is and how tough the goodbye is conveyed

”

但是这些当时觉得麻木的场景，在回忆起确有泛起阵阵暖意。

旅行结束近一个月，心还是没有完全平静下来，常常望着远处发呆。 “你在想什么？”面对这样的问题我怎么能回答呢？ 我们的provisions已经不再重合。最怕被问到的是“How is the trip?” 常常唐塞过去说”It’s great!” ，因为知道对方只是出于惯性来问这样一个问题，即便明知没有人真正愿意用五到十分钟听我絮叨旅行中的一个片断。

但是我还是得面对现实。看着当时和我一起在Phoenix实习的同学已经在独立做新闻了，看到别的同学拿到了德勤的Offer， 有时我质问我自己：这次旅行值得吗？

答案是，值得。

听到有人这样说：“你以为别人不喜欢旅行吗？他们现在没有，只是因为他们知道这样的机会以后会有的是。”

我对此没有异议，因为人的观念是不一样的。但是当我知道我用半学期挣来的足够支撑这趟旅行，当我意识到提前到电视台实习让我有了40天的假期，当我知道我不愿用这四十天去准备没有意义的GRE时，我决定离开了，去实现自己积累已久的梦。

旅行十天和四十天的差别在于一个以随时可以望见尽头，另外一个则不能。前者让你放松踏实，后者彻底奔放而不确定，让你抛开你原本生活中那个自己。

以下是在观看这部纪录片时摘录的一些引起我共鸣的话。

1.“People always say you are lucky to travel. No, it’s not luck. it’s just a matter of attitude.”

2. A: “Why not start a career? Why do you choose to travel?”

B: “Because I’m young now.”

3.The simple way of life.Material goods don’t mean as much as it used to.You have everything on your bag.  That’s something you take with you for the rest of your life.”

4. If I don’t do the things that I can now, I’m afraid I’ll never be able to.”

5. With backpacking, you get to know one another so quickly, and I love the fact that you’re friends straight away, with such a bond between one another.

6. The hardest part of travelling is saying goodbye to people, because you just become friends and you have to split. you might never be able to meet again.

7. The more you see the world, the less exotic it gets for you. You get to know the differences between countries are smaller than you expect.

8. people are always telling me that they don’t think they could do the trip for a year,  but until the point where I’m, OK a year is a long time to travel, but a short time to have a lifestyle. A life style that never keeps you in a place for more than a week, and people you run across are people that you are never going to see again, and people that you didn’t even know the day before.

9 (From an American perspective) Americans are not used to long-term budgeted travel, and because we don’t do it. Among the southands travellers we meet in my time away, only two are americans travelling for a year. Whent the competing commodity of time and money collade, our nateion’s choice is to sacrifice free time to earn additional money; but other rich countries make a different bargain, trading their money for the wealth of leisure times. Maybe because our travel is short, they are selling us extravagant, and price too hight to be enjoyed for long.

10.A(From the US):what do you think when you encounter an american?

B (From German): I hate him.

11:This long term turns out to be a bit emotional anti-climax all the big feelings at the beginning of the trip, but eventually you get numb to how great the lifestyle is and how tough the goodbye is conveyed

12. Since I’ve been away I realized everything else is material. A job is just a material thing. It gives some money. Where you live doesn’t matter, I mean I’ve been living in hostels for a year, it doesn’t matter where you live. I hope when I go back home, I’ll still think like that.

14. I took the trip, because I wanted to get something out of my system, just to see the places. But it doesn’t work, because the one thing that has changed about all of us who took this trip is that a normal life really doesn’t seem that attractive at all anymore, I can’t imagine not travelling again; I can’t image going back to do a real job.

15. Part of that loneliness is like a connection to yourself, because you reall become your best friend, because it’s just you.