the 2nd hardest thing I've had to do

Bangkok Travel Blog

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It's 5 pm. 1/2 hour before boarding. I'm at the Bangkok airport waiting for my flight to Auckland, New Zealand. My dream destination. Has been for years. And now I'm actually waiting for the flight that will get me there. In less than 12 hours I will be in New Zealand. So how do I feel? Excited? Overjoyed?

No. Not at all. I'm distraught. I'm stuffing my face with oreo blizzard to cure the pain. It doesn't work. I feel worse. I don't have any cigarettes and I don't really want any, but I need something. Anything to give me something to do and to get my mind off of what's happening?

What is happening?  In the taxi Charlie brushed my hair and held me close and we both comforted the other through the painful 3 hour ride away from our home.

Away from our friends. Away from our pets. Away from a way of life, a family, that over the month we had grown to love and inadvertently fallen in love with. Neither of us were ready to give it up. 

It was only my home for a month. I didn't know anyone there for more than 4 weeks of my life. I never even touched most of the animals (technically). So what is going on? Why am I bursting out in tears? I miss my life at the centre! I miss all my friends!!! Dan! Holly! Charlie!!! I miss them sooo much. I miss the welcome home committee of Daisy, QD, Lady, Cookie, Scrappy, Samson. I miss beautiful, smart, lovely, classy Pookie. Most of all I miss my macaques. I miss there little faces, little hands. I miss Georgie and his sex face. I miss Seb and his sincere sex face.

I miss Pocky and her lip shmacking. I miss ChackChan bouncing off the walls and tearing down a scarecrow me. I miss SumChai and his badass attitude. I miss joey, but not quite as much now knowing that he's a happy little fellow only days away from the field. I miss Schmeck. My regal Schmeck. I miss Tieu. Giant red faced stump tail that he is. I miss the babies. Bandit, Item, Wandi. I miss Item's swimming moves. I miss Wandi's baby face. I miss Sunny. Oh dear god Sunny. My thoughts and prayers are for Sunny. Hang in there beautiful sweet girl. You're strong you can do this. She was rushed from the centre with a 30% chance of survival. The hosital is 3 hours away and they have the tools Dr.Yo needs to operate. She'll need treatment on an open wound by her upper thigh for the bone.
Not sure of the technical details of the surgery. But when you're a 2 month old, 8 lb. baby macaque that's been turned inside out by a full grown gibbon who has a history of hopitalizing men, you know some sort of surgeries going to be involved. It was a devastating morning. It's a day of mourning really. This day never should have happened. It never should have come. We need to stop and go back. Please! Everything's happening too fast. I rushed my morning. I didn't get all contact info. I didn't give out my proper good byes as personal as I would have liked. I didn't get Eck an email address. I didn't get Emma a gift. I didn't get to say good bye to Joey or Mien or Meow or Samson or Sam or the forest gibbons or rose. This isn't right. Outside the centre is rush rush rush.
Busy people, busy cars, busy lights, sounds, pictures on the television. People yelling. People not smiling. Buy this designer, buy that duty free. Buy buy buy. I hate this world. I want to slow things down. I want to stop time. I want it to go in reverse. I want it to be day one at the centre. Go back a month and let me relive it. I'm not ready to move on.

So here I am. Feeling dread and a feeling of force pushing me onto a plane that a month ago I would have skipped overly enthusiastically onto. I'm struggling to believe this is actually happening. I need to accept it though. But I don't want to. When I land in NZ after an 11 hour plane ride and a long sleep and plenty of distracting movies, maybe then I'll be in a better state of mind, and heck if it's the centre I love so much I could always go back, right? But there's no chance of getting that experience replicated ever again. It was a once in a lifetime.

 

 

 

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photo by: Deats