359: Trash or Treasure?

In the process of moving, I had to discard loads of things.  Room 217 was practically half stockroom so I found myself clearing most of it.  The room that we're moving into is also a storage room so imagine the frustration of moving and getting settled in when you still have a lot of things to put out.

Piles of old clothes and toys and kitchenware were thrown into bags.  We thought it was impossible but we emptied the room after two hours.  It could have been faster if we didn't look into those bags.  Early on I already told my housemates that we should not even open the bags and boxes and just throw them out.  But there's always that curious part in us that wants to know whether there could be something useful.

I am not interested in fabric so everytime we open a box full of folded cloth I'd yell out "trash!" but my female housemate would say keep it.  I'm partial to toys so they always get saved.  In the end we only managed to throw half of the things that we have all agreed to dispose.

The stuff that eventually made it to the rubbish stack outside the house were not exactly the kind of trash that comes out of your kitchen so we decided to move them to the refuse area outside the compound.  There, an old woman waited excitedly for our arrival.

The Refuse Site (circled) outside our compound on the right.

The little old lady had the softest voice I've heard but she was far from weak.  She carried each bag all by herself and she made it look effortless.  Each time we got back to her with more trash, she looked more and more like a fisherman reeling in the biggest catch of the day.  I was somehow delighted that we are not exactly putting all of the "trash" to waste.

This afternoon we threw a few more items and as expected, she was there on guard at the refuse site.  She looked a bit disappointed that we didn't bring in as much as we did yesterday but she still gladly took charge of the unloading and said the gentlest "thank you" that I've heard (in Chinese anyway).

Quick Question of the day: Are you a pack rat?  Why or why not?
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360: Leaving 217

"Last coffee in Room 217," I held up my cup and Van and I drank to that.  For five minutes, everything seemed just like any other day.  But of course it wasn't just any other day.  It's the day we leave our flat.

Photo by Van Tengga / 365 Project

It could have been worse.  We could've been fired.  Our visas have just been renewed and in return we were stripped off of some privileges we used to enjoy.  

We began packing like crazy.  I uncovered some things I have completely forgotten about but there was no time for nostalgia.  Books in a box.  Shoes in a bag.  Clothes in the luggage.  There was rhythm in our packing, probably because I blasted Pomatic's mixes just to fill the room with a certain amount of joy.

By 2:00 PM we were done and ready for the van.  We had an hour before the van arrives so we decided to have a late lunch.  Walking to the nearest shopping center, the beauty of our neighborhood flooded back to me.  From the moment I walked out of the building to the time we reached the estate's shopping mall, it was complete bliss.  You pass through a playground when you get out of our building.  Children play under the shade of a huge tree.  Old people chat the day away on benches that line the path of the estate.  A few more steps and you reach the overpass that will take you to the shopping center.  A small building that houses the basics of estate living--a McDonald's, a grocery, a wet market, flower shop, beauty salon, computer stores, restaurants, convenience stores, etc.  Below is an LRT station, the first stop of the train that comes from the station in front of our building.  It is that convenient in Yau Oi Estate.  And I'm sad to leave all of these perks.

When we got back to the flat, we packed our lappies and so we had to stop the music.  The mood became somber.  We were quiet for a while as we surveyed the room.  The room is now almost empty save for the bed, the sofa and the shelving unit that used to hold the TV.  Van let out a shout.  It startled me.  And so the move began.

Room 217 will be greatly missed.  Somehow it was close to our hearts, for me especially, because my mom also lived there.  The walls in that flat have witnessed the way we have grown in the last two years.  Right now, for me, it symbolizes freedom.  Because at least in that room, we could be as we are.  And when you can be as you are in a place, then that's where you are most comfortable--as comfortable as home.

Quick Question of the day: Would you trade privacy for a bigger living room?
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361: Two Years Living in a Paper Bag

I'm keeping this short because I only have hours left to pack and throw away two years' worth of accumulated bachelor junk (as I'd like to call it).  Tyler Durden would have advised me to burn down my flat and start from square one but I'm not that rich yet.

Moving has its pros and cons.  For the record, I'm moving to a much nicer flat but the room itself is smaller than what I'm used to.  And, as it turns out, privacy has a high price, and a bigger bathroom is just not worth it if you can't run around naked in your own space.

So excuse me while I sort my things and enjoy my last night in Room 217 or home for the past two years.  In the meantime, stay positive with me--a change would do me good, right?

Quick Question for the day: Old things, throw or keep?
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