From the jungles of Borneo to the jungles of Paris.
Theirs was a meeting that modern-day fairytales are made of; replete with a dot com casualty who had no desire to return to “the industry”, lush rainforests, bathwater - warm seas, secluded beaches, lazy indigenous animals that roamed freely, and National Geographic photographers who bought lots of beer for the girl who took them on a little walk that ended their weeks of casing the dens of the wild bearded pigs.
An equally contemporary relationship was nurtured with surprising ease, considering the very long distance between their worlds. They defied time zones and spanned continents and oceans with very long conversations, many long e-mails, Skype, countless hours on intercontinental flights, stubbornness, instinct, and with more faith in each other than a fear of the unknown.
[Enter] A tall French boy from Paris, traveling on one of those long European holidays with his friend, Jeremy.
[Enter] A girl from San Francisco, vagabonding solo for several months after dancing out the door of a start-up that she lived and breathed for four years.
He first noticed her during breakfast hour at the canteen, the only eating establishment on the island that served breakfast, lunch and dinner and nothing at all in between. Despite her facade of local coloring, his observations of her famous I’m-suffering-small- talk smile, coupled with her tie-dyed tank top (that hid dirt well) screamed westerner to him loud and clear. Seeing no other companions of her ilk or likeness in the vicinity, he deduced that she must be traveling alone. He wondered what her story was.
They exchanged polite nods later that day on a small beach that is the reward at the end of a 2 hour hike and 10 minute descent through the vegetation cliff of the Telok Pandan Kecil trail. He watched her modeling potential as she posed for her new Finnish journalist friends, wondering what-the-hell she was doing. He thought that the little show was quite amusing, if not downright hilarious. She is embarassed to this day, but featured in a Finnish travel magazine, nonetheless, even if the photo is postage stamp sized….
A meeting was initiated hours later back at camp, by Jeremy. With moves that would not be described as smooth, Jeremy abruptly stood up from their bench as she passed behind them on the path toward the mangrove forest. “What’s your name?” he asked. This would be their very last chance to meet. As any street-smart, travel-savvy solo female with a heightened sense of awareness in a foreign country should not do, she blurted it out immediately; practically before he finished asking. Regaining some common sense, she provided canned answers to predictable questions of “Where are you from?” “Who are you with?” and “What are you doing here?” When Jeremy asked what her plans were for the evening back in the mainland city of Kuching, she casually mentioned that if they were interested, she was arranging a meeting with friends at “that cafe at the end of the waterfront, ” a restaurant with the name that she couldn’t remember. She continued her stroll toward the mangrove forest, not expecting that they would make an appearance at dinner.
Surprisingly, they were already seated at the restaurant when she arrived late (not surprise, some would say). She had put the pair completely out of her mind and it took a moment to recognize them. She sat in a seat next to the tall one and told the same story that she’d told hundreds of times over about where she’d been, what she was doing and how she had so much time off to travel. He asked many, many questions and answered none of her own with any level of detail. She began to share very vaguely with him about a recent trip to otherwise inaccessible regions of Burma, expecting the normal response of glazed eyes that knew nothing of the obscure whom, what, where, why or hows of the utmost important lessons of her life, on life.
To her utter amazement; however, he knew the tribe, the region and the country. Furthermore, he was well versed in their history, their plight and their politics. He, in turn, was impressed that she had managed to somehow spend some the time in a banned region that most could only read about until that point. He was the very first person who felt the reasons she would take such a trip. Mutually impressed on an emotional and intellectual level, they exchanged e-mail addresses with plans to write at “some time later”. As she jotted his name, she made him slowly pronounce his last name “(fo-vee-o)”. She said, “What?” And again, he said, “fo-vee-o.” Those French phonics are tough, she thought.
He persisted on talking to her throughout the night, though she was obviously having a good time with other friends. At a bar later she observed that he would try to talk to her, get sent away, talk to other girls and come back; repeating the cycle several times. “We’re moving on to a local Iban bar outside of town, and you’re more than welcome to join if you’d like.” He said that he would go where she would. She wondered why, considering all the pretty girls who were flocking to him. A hitchhike and drive around town later at the bar, she warmed to him slightly when he went alone to find her Malay friend (whom he had just met through her that night) who had disappeared to nurse his emotions. She was further convinced that he might be a decent guy when he stopped her from throwing back a shot of whiskey, compliments of the bartender. Eventually, manage to have a nice extended conversations about people and the minority Malay in Malaysia that evening.
At the end of the next day, as she rushed to catch the car to the airport back to Kuala Lumpur, she was surprised when the caretaker of the creepy Anglican Cathedral where she stayed handed her a note from him. She had just hurried back after a perfect day exploring the town with a friend. He had a nice time getting to know her. “That’s sweet,” she thought. “I’ll shoot him an e-mail later.” She had little intention of doing this at any time soon. It wasn’t until she realized that she had left her sunglasses at a tattoo parlor in Kuching earlier in the day that she sent him (and several other new friends) e-mail, asking them to pick up her glasses on their way out of town. By the time he replied - a very short while later - her new Finnish friends had already confirmed that they had picked up the glasses. Consequently, she wasn’t motivated to reply to his e-mail after that, and didn’t for several days.
But he still wasn’t dejected and he would not be put off. He sent many notes, and even more after finding her online travel journal and travel photos. He was touched by the similarity in their observations on the life that surrounded them. Though impressed and flattered that, at last, someone finally felt her, many of his notes went with no response from her for days. Other notes received late responses such as, “I was staying with friends and and their Internet was down“, or “I couldn’t find an Internet cafe,“although she was in the very metropolitan city of Kuala Lumpur at the time, and “Are you still in town? I hope I didn’t miss you already.” although she had deliberately waited several days to respond and knew that he had left that morning. Still, he persisted with more letters that increasingly revealed a sensitive, passionate man behind his unsmiling, extremely intense exterior. At this point, her lack of response was a result of feeling intimidated and overwhelmed by his attention, though she was curious about him. She would learn later that Jeremy had advised him to give up very early on when there were no-responses. She would also learn that he rarely listens to others when his mind is set.
His persistence finally paid off 3 weeks later when they met again in Bangkok. She didn’t have a place to stay for the night and planned to wander the streets until morning. Understanding that she wouldn’t stay in his room, he wandered from cafe to cafe with her….all night until the sun came up. It was during this interface that they had a true dialogue. Over many (non-alcoholic) fruit juices, she learned that his sensitivity to life wasn’t just an e-mail persona, and that he is as comfortable sharing his thoughts in person with her as he is writing them. When he left town, she knew that she wanted to keep in touch with this man whom she had been dodging for weeks. Coincidentally, the person that she was running from the entire time….the person who intimidated her most of anyone she had ever met while traveling….was the one person who was just like her.
Just the beginning