Fratelli d'Italia, L'Italia s'è desta

It's a bit too late to start talking about this, I know, but I just can't let it go.
Because this, could've been one of the best moments in my life.

Oh, "could've"? No.

This is, one of the best moments in my life.

[pics coming soon]

Dancing with a Stranger

Imagine that you meet somebody you know at heart.

But this time they're acting different. Stranger different.

You went to this club you've always been to, danced the moves you've always danced. And that was it. No talks, no exchanges. Just dances to the music, as strangers usually do.

It's exciting, yet on the same time, confusing.

Because they seem to be ignoring you. Yet they want to connect with you. You seem to know exactly what you need to do. But still they're playing hard to get. Their moves, their signals, make you think about the things they do. Until they left, without saying anything. You know they want you to come, because basically you know them. So you come. To their place. And they light the fire. And now you know exactly what you have to do. You take control. Start dancing again the way you danced inside the club. This time more intimately, more warm, as if the stranger in them had gone, and that somebody you know at heart finally come back.

Crazy how they play with you like that.

But this stranger feels addictive.

That when you wake up the next morning, you feel like you're clearly not over them.

That when the night comes back on, you feel like you don't want to be alone tonight.

Look what you made me do, Bali.

I'm dancing with somebody new.

Your new you.

It's still you, yes,

But it's like dancing with a stranger

Two Sides of A Coin

I've been to Bali for, too many times.

But never once in those "too many times", did I visit the island as

A solo traveler.

Crazy how I've never been there alone! Because I always travel solo. Vicky Amin equals solo traveler. Yet Vicky Amin never been solo traveling to Bali? Yea I myself don't know exactly why. It's always been with my friends, or my family, but never with just myself.

So it just felt so weird to treat Bali this time as I treated any other travel destinations. Because all these years, I've always traveled Bali differently. Nicer hotel, nicer dining, car rentals, not too ambitious itinerary, because well, I was always with somebody. Now that I was alone, it's always the cheaper local foods, and going here and there by ojek, and packed schedule, and even a hostel with sharing dormitory! Something I always do when I solo travel abroad, but never even once in Bali!

I even made new friends during this super short trip. A French, an Australian, and a numerous locals. One was my dorm roommate. One I met at the club. The rest were everywhere else. Exchanging stories, exchanging contacts, listening to each others small talks and brags. Something I always do when I solo travel abroad, but never even once in Bali!

It's so weird to be for once a traveler in this place, and not a tourist.

But it's even weirder because I was bearing one other role there.

Also a new one, a role I never did while traveling to the island.

A business traveler.

Yes. The reason why I dragged myself and forced my ass to do this semi-urgent solo trip to Bali, was partly because I had this article to cover. For a Singaporean news portal. What it was about, and who I was contributing to, it's still a secret because I'm currently still cooking it.

I don't know which part I enjoyed the most: solo traveling part, or this article covering part. Because I'm actually living life as a travel contributor here! Making appointments with sources, coming down to multiple venues to gather information, holding a freaking interview with each informants, getting completely-new insights while trying to dig some other completely-different things, pivoting through my plans and making last-minute changes, discussing the topic with my editor remotely, starting to write down anything that came up my mind, laying down restlessly thinking about how I could nail the final article, dang! Can I stay like this forever??

With the fact that this was also my first solo trip to Bali, turned this trip to be wholesome despite the short duration. At some point I even felt like the 3-day trip brought way richer experience than any of my previous Bali trips, combined.

Just a hint of the article I'm covering.

Mandatory solo traveling memento: Vicky Amin's selfie.

Imagine.

It was just only two of my faces, two sides of me which colored this trip.

What if I came here also as an explorer? Or a content creator? Or an investor?

And what if I came here for a week? Or six months? Or even move in here?

There are many other Bali adventures waiting for me to uncover.

So maybe next time I must arrive here with my other side.

Which one?

Barcelona y Madrid

With lots of places visited and tons of amazing things happened, it would need a dedicated, separated medium to tell all about my Iberian Peninsula journey. Yea, it's still about that. Sorry not sorry, but I just can't get over it yet.

But this one is different.

This needs a special place in my blog.

Because this is what made my Spanish trip, Spanish.

Football.

Yes. Yes. YES!!!

Would I not talk about it?? I'm a lunatic if I don't. This is Spain, for the love of God, the place where football runs in everyone's blood. The site where stars were born, nurtured, and sky-rocketed to the highest rank of football empire. And ultimately, the home of the world's two biggest football giants!

Even if I'm the biggest arch-nemesis of both clubs, I'd still seek for their presence anyway. Spot the people wearing their jerseys, buy any unnecessary tidbits, or come to their official stores—I definitely would! But hey, it's not Vicky Amin if he didn't do it all out. And so, he was not just spotting the people wearing their jerseys, buying any unnecessary tidbits, or coming to their official stores.

He paid pilgrimage to the stadiums.

Freaking both of them.

I didn't even think twice. The second I arrived in Barcelona, letting all the city's atmosphere came rushing inside of me, I bought the tour already.

I just, cannot NOT to. This is Barcelona we're talking about. Just listening to the name reminded me of all the maroon-blue-covered players with their first-class La Liga vibe. Some people even know the football club more than the city itself so... I'd be damned if I leave the city not visiting

Camp Nou.

So it was December 26th, 2018. I left to the stadium so early, because I know I'd need more than 3 hours for this tour. It was cold, but I didn't care. I had to walk a bit from the nearest train stop, but I didn't fvucking care. Because even from the front gate, passing under the majestic signage of the football team, and entering the outer precinct of the stadium which was still like 500m away, I felt like all the struggle was paid off already. It was also still empty. Because opening hours was not yet there. So I had to wait, in cold crisp air, alone, while others were in either couples or groups. But still I didn't care, and just breathed the air as much as I could because hey, that was the air that Lionel Messi usually breathed in!

When finally visitors were allowed to enter the front building, walked through the aerial tunnel connecting the front hall and the main stadium, the air of wonderment came rushing in. Museums of the club's history was the first to welcome me, with tons of amazing stories I never knew much from Barcelona FC before, about how it all began from the grassroot, from commonfolk, and how it became a vessel for the proletariats to shout their voice. Amazing stories which really made me subconsciously in love with the club. Then came the trophies. The wall of fame, the jerseys from time to time, all those elements that made Barcelona FC like it is today. Until finally, of course, came what everyone there came there for.

Now I know that THAT motto has a deep meaning.

The Pitch. The Heart of Camp Nou.

I swear all the hair in my body stood up like spectators celebrating a goal in the stadium, while I walked out of that outer museum edge, through the opening double door into the bright winter light, when wind blew and the colors of blue and maroon filled my eyes. I'm no fan of Barcelona FC but I'm a human. With emotions. And appreciation of something colossal. So I have to claim that, it was one of the most amazing experience I ever felt in my entire life.

It took me more time in this place than the museum, to just stay there by the spectators seats, just sit, watch the greenery blend well with the club's colors above it, enjoy the magnificent historical view with some strangers that were also blown away. I made some small talks with other visitors, shared our common amazement towards the whole stadium, took photos of others and asked others to take photos of me, and it all just add up to the whole package.

I walked out of the stadium thinking that I would not ever felt the same shit towards a football stadium like this, ever again. Because this was Camp Nou, for God's sake, home of the world's biggest football club. Of course the feeling is grand, and no other would ever beat that.

But of course I was wrong.

For whenever we talk about Barcelona FC, we cannot forget the fact that it has its eternal rival that will shadow their every moves whenever they go. And that includes a trip to the stadium.

Yes. Real Madrid FC.

And its home which I also visited,

Santiago Bernabeu.

December 31st, 2018. With a not-so-high expectation, and this motive of "alright I'm in Madrid let's get this over with and visit the HQ of the club because if I don't I'm an idiot" I found my way to the stadium. It was located right in the heart of the city, not somewhat near the outskirt like Camp Nou. The path towards the building was dodgy, because visitors had to climb some sets of outside stairs, all concrete and grey-like, wasn't at all grandeur like its Barcelona counterpart. Got welcomed like this, in such non-dramatic fashion, really, I underestimated it at first. Until I reached the end of the stairs, and got to see the pitch from above.

It was quiet unexpected. I was hoping to arrive at some appetizer part of the stadium, like museums or what not, but here I was, on top of Santiago Bernabeu, with the whole view of the stadium in front of my very own eyes. I must say that I loved this surprise, and I actually spent so much time here in just the very first part of the tour. After this, the route suggested us to explore the top part of the stadium, including its commentators' box, VIP visitors seats, and cameramen corners.

After that, we went down the stairs again to enter the museum. And here, I had my second surprise. No, none of the stars of Real Madrid was there. And no, none of the inside of the museum was outstanding. The collections was more or less similar to Camp Nou. It was how they showcased it though, that took me by surprise. Because it showed how Real Madrid sits on a different level. It showed class, it boosted  pride and sophistication, it screamed "Royal" as their name suggest. Barcelona might be a club that's owned by people, but Real Madrid appears as if the club OWNS people. I always take granted on how people boasted Real Madrid as the richest club in the entire globe until today, when I actually felt how expensive they are as an entity, and how proud they are of that. And the glorious anthem of "Hala Madrid" repeatedly playing throughout the galleries oh God, I swear I never got goosebumps that real!

Museum sections slowly faded, replaced by the actual stadium facilities. Baths, showers, massage rooms, locker rooms with the players' actual stuff hanging around their spots, and, finally, the tunnel. The actual tunnel where them players always run to battlefield. The actual tunnel that led us, players and visitors, to the main section of Santiago Bernabeu.

Losing words.

And my underestimation simply just gone.

Crazy. Crazy how I started the tour with "meh" yet ended it with "fuck". Again, I'm not a fan of this club, yet I felt like one just by visiting its home, and not even seeing them in action nor at least meeting one of the players. I felt so bad for underestimating the whole experience even before it started.

So was it better than Barcelona's Camp Nou?

The answer is, I can't tell.

Barcelona and Real Madrid, along with their headquarters, sit on a different level. Both have prides so high I'm sure real fans wouldn't ever want to even think of getting near the rival's basecamp. But those prides are totally different. One is bound by common struggle, the other is bound by common interest.

Fortunately, I'm neither one of their fans.

Fortunately.

Because having this privilege,

I got the chance, and the guts, to see both their homes.

I got the chance to role play and imagine if I was their fan.

I got the chance to explore them in totally neutral way,

Without having the pressure to answer the question of

"Barcelona or Madrid?"

Hola, Loca

No, I didn't get a job in Spain.

Well I kinda wish to have a job abroad, though.

But no, I didn't go to Spain to get a job there.

So I left Ogilvy. But you didn't think that I left my precious job with no offers waiting for me around the corner, right? I'm a man of plans, yes, but this time, no, I haven't got accepted anywhere by the time I left Ogilvy.

Es muy loca. Crazy.

For other human being's standard, it's bad.

For Vicky Amin's standard, it's crazy.

But it wasn't like I didn't have any plans at all. I was on an interview stage at some other company, big one, and by the time I left Ogilvy, it was down to my last round and then salary offer -lol yea of course I was still employed when I did the first two interviews. Was it really worth trying? To leave a job while the next one is not even confirmed yet? Well, yes and no.

Yes because it killed me inside.

No because, it was one of the best decisions I ever done. To have an indefinite free time, most of which was spent on one of my longest abroad trip -21 days in Spain and Morocco!- without having to worry much about submitting my annual leave and dragging my team down for my absence, and all that was done when I was on top of my burnout stage—that was a priceless experience.

Es muy loca. Crazy!

But the craziest thing happened just before I flew to Spain. That big company I had been interviewing with, offered me the role. With salary almost twice as much as I got in Ogilvy. I was like... I don't know. When the recruiter delivered the news, and the number, I didn't even think about negotiating because it was all beyond my expectation. And it's not just about the number.

It's the company itself, which I could relate a lot like, A LOT, because one, it's in the traveling industry.  TRAVELING! And two, it's a startup, which will definitely suit my flexible self. And the fact that now I'm no longer on the agency side, with all its typical corporate perks but covered in a youthful startup culture. And last but definitely not the least, it's the hugeness of the company. It's famous, it's popular, and I just can't state how much I'm excited to announce to everyone that now I'm a part of

Traveloka.

 

¡Es muy loca!

It's been a week now, and so far so good. Too good, if I can be honest, because everything is just so different in this part of the world. I don't want to spoil how much different -and how I'm so grateful of these differences- because hey, Ogilvy had its own goods and I used to make a living from them so of course I ain't gon talk bad of them.

Plus I don't want to jinx anything yet. It's obvious that new joiners will always feel like this new world they just stepped in is the most beautiful thing they ever experienced. Well because they don't know yet what's in it. So yea, no, no jinxing yet.

Let's just enjoy this new craziness first dulu.

And then see what kind of craziness it has...

Kemudian.