Jan 20, 2021
Emotional Baggage
It was a bright, pleasant Saturday eve. The winter weather is doing a bit justice so I thought to go out for a walk. I ditched the idea of cooking and ended up choosing a restaurant to wine and dine on the way.
The evening was fine and the weather was calm. I find myself lost in the fragrance of a freshly prepared proper meal. I often say to my folks that a properly cooked meal with perfect zing is more of a nostalgic experience. You experience it only once in a lifetime. You can’t feel the same even with the same person cooking for the next time for you. It is not about the food… it is about the experience.
I completely got lost on a plate of handmade fresh, cheesy, twisted, and tangled Italian pasta. To accompany that, I had Montepulciano d’Abruzzo; a dense cherry-based red wine adding a tangy, luscious fruity flavor with an excellent aroma to your palate. If anything that could tranquilize your evening; it could be a glass of fine wine and a delightful dinner.
When the sun hits the horizon I hit the waves. Unlike Sri Lankan beaches Korean beaches are calm and quiet. They are purposely blocked their wave actions by the inbuilt breakwater around the Korean peninsular to make it calmer and splendidly smooth. Gwangalli Beach in Busan is one of them. It is famous for its long bridge with radiant, artistic colors. The area has its own charm.
From a Geek perspective, this is where a piece of Black Panther (a sci-fi movie) was shot. I guess that, as well, counts my nostalgia over this place.
I have nothing much to do on Korean beaches (it’s obvious I travel alone). Just I took some pictures and sat by the sandy shore. It is always relaxing to do nothing but look at the waves dancing to the shore, splashing, and returning back to the sea. Like a young teenage boy trying to impress his girl. But when she says ‘NO’ to the guy he gets disappointed rolls back, and another guy tries to impress her with better moves. Every time, I run different narratives. Some of them weird some of them hilarious. But kills my time.
I don't know when I started my love for the ocean. I remember during my childhood my Aunt takes me to the beach in my hometown (Batticaloa); which is a 30-minute ride on her mo-bike. It was a Honda Chaly bike. White and red-colored one. That was one of the fanciest for women, back in the ’90s. We used to hang out by the beach and trash talk. Thinking about those times; I realize it is not about the person but is also about the place that brings nostalgia.
Now that it has become part of my career I visit the beach or a coast every f*cking week. Every time I visit the ocean, for research or for time-kill joy; I get an utterly different but unimaginable variety of experiences.
I learned the word ‘Thalassophile’ when I was in high school days. From that day I introduce myself to the others as a ‘Thalassophile’.
For those who are not familiar, ‘Thalassophile’ is a Greek-derived word referring to Thalassa means sea, and phile or philos is a person having extreme fondness towards something. In short; Thalassohpile means a person in intimate love and magnetic attraction towards the sea (or ocean).
Greek mythology refers to Thalassa as the goddess and spirit of the sea.
The feeling of missing people who love; is somewhat of a worse, unbearable emotion. I felt that over a couple of years now. But somehow when I visit the beach (not for research purposes though) on a fine evening and sit by the sandy shore; I see that small girl inside me walking behind my Aunt’s skirt holding her fingers, ready to run away into the waves but cannot because I am on a watch :)
I feel that little girl excitedly waiting inside me to hit the waves and get lost inside the deeper, darker ocean. She pops out every time I walk towards the beach. She is nothing but a crazy little maniac, fond of that magical, big blue water bath. She runs along the serene sandy shore with a pure heart, musical chuckle, and an innocent smile.
I might never get those days back again. But there will be always time for me to cherish the beautiful memories and the divine, irrevocable moments.
