As I type this, I am sitting in an airplane, Switzerland-bound from Bodrum, Turkey.
And if I am to be completely honest, I am still asking myself.. What happened in Bodrum ?
I worked in a Japanese restaurant making desserts. I was responsible for the divorce of hundreds yolks and whites daily and I cleaned the ice cream machine so often I might as well live in it. I met an old flame and found a soulmate in a Thai girl. I found some new friends from countries like Indonesia, Germany and even my own, Malaysia. I made friends with a Japanese sushi chef old enough to be my grampa. I've gotten into so much trouble, seen so much drama, cried enough for a lifetime and very dramatically excited the country. But enough about that.
I want to tell you about my friend N.
We were from the same elementary school. I remember his face - he was never very outstanding, seemingly keeping a neutral profile all the way to college, where we studied the same course. I remember him asking me about culinary arts and how working was like. I remember him asking me where I worked at before, and me telling him about the hotel I was an intern at and then explaining how people were like in this industry. I remember speaking to him before in high school, I remember his voice and his expressions and the way he laughed.
I found out just yesterday, that he was gone.
I didn't understand at first. The sad posts on Facebook about someone passing away. The name was oddly familiar, well, I hadn't spoken or heard from him in more than a year now. I did see him post some pictures from college and he seemed to be enjoying it, so I dismissed my doubts, thinking maybe it was someone I didn't know of the same name. Then I saw another post. And another. So I clicked onto his Facebook wall and stopped dead in my tracks.
No. Oh god, please, no.
I immediately texted my mom. Something about what I had read didn't seem right - I didn't think much about it during the time, seeing as I was going to be leaving the country and I, along with three other friends, was trekking around the island in a rented car, lugging along my 27 kilos of luggage to be sent home. It was only when I finished running around, dripping in sweat that I pulled out my phone to see that my mom had texted me back. She's a teacher in my high school, see, so I figured she'd know what was going on.
"N committed suicide. He was having family problems, he jumped from the 7th flood of your college, maybe the hostel. He was still in his chef's uniform."
I was too shocked to even cry. I climbed into the car, stunned, and sat in silence until time went by and something else came to my attention. He hadn't crossed me mind since then.
But now, sitting here alone in this flying airbus over the sea, I have time to think and write and all I could think and write about was him. I didn't know him that well, I probably wasn't significant to him except for being a senior in college, us both one of the few people from our high school who chose to work in the kitchen. But now thinking about all the sad posts I saw on Facebook... I can feel my heart shatter. You know how people start to "remember" and "thank" and place flowers on graves after someone has passed ? Yes, I've read that it's because regret is stronger than gratitude. It's only when someone is gone that the world starts to wonder why they never got to know the person more when they were alive. It's heartbreaking.
The part that struck me most was how hard it must have been for someone to chose to end their life this way. I wish someone could have been there for him. I tell myself I'll never take someone's sadness for granted ever again. And I hope I will never, never see posts like that anywhere, ever again.
Rest in peace, dear N. May you be happy, may the food be good, and may the universe be kinder to you from now. I miss you.
For the chocolate cups :
Milk chocolate, melted
Caster sugar
Cream
Butter
Sea salt
1. Put a tablespoon of chocolate into a little muffin paper cup and swirl it around to coat the inside of the cups. You want to make a shell, like a Reese's peanut butter cup. Pop them in the fridge to set the chocolate.
2. In the meantime, make the caramel filling. Put a cup or so of sugar in a saucepan with a splash of water. Heat until it melts and starts to turn brown, swirling the pan so it browns evenly. Add a
little cream, maybe around a quarter cup and whisk but be careful, it'll bubble up. Add a tablespoon of butter and stir to melt, then remove from the heat and leave to cool.
3. Put a tablespoon or so of caramel into the chocolate shells. Pop the cups back into the fridge to set the caramel, then cover the caramel with the rest of the milk chocolate. Sprinkle a little sea salt over the top. Put them back into the fridge to set completely. Remove the paper cups and eat.
