Hats

I would never have thought it possible to write about Hats. But whilst reminiscing about my past travels, I was reminded of the important role the proverbial hat plays. Such a simple item it is. Yet, its purpose is not only multi-facetted, the hat holds great importance on many levels, including emotional.

There exists a bond between my hats and me. One without words. For they are not necessary. We communicate through merely being in the moment. Together. Their silent presence is enough. They have taught me a valuable lesson. That of saying less and listening more.

They have travelled with me on most journeys. Through countries not of my own. They have heard languages spoken of foreign nature. Japanese, Mandarin, Swahili, Cantonese, Filipino, Khmer, Zulu, Norwegian, Myanmar and many, many more. 

My hats have witnessed temples magnificent, humble and haunting. They have sensed the ghosts of the past lingering. With deep respect they look upon the sacred. Sensing the essence of intrigue and of mystery which lingers deep within the ancient walls. They respectfully hold the space for stories to unfold.  In silence they remain in awe of Man’s brilliance too. 

Upon ancient walls they have rested. Motionless. Never wanting to intrude. Only to admire. Their respect for both Man and everything in existence is profound. Their immense powers of silent observation allow them to withhold judgement. For they see the reality. Not only that which they wish to see. They are the loyal keepers of my stories never shared.

Deep into the African continent I have travelled. Cairo proudly shared her pyramids with me. Nairobi displayed her insane city crowds. Tanzania gifted me her magnificent natural beauty. Together with my pith hat, I climbed onto the roof of a truck to glimpse Mount Kilimanjaro as the clouds parted, creating that precious moment. My hard-shell Pith helmet protected me from the harsh, unforgiving sun. It absorbed the unbearable heat. Never complaining. Only to protect me. Zanzibar’s Old Stone Town shared with me her mystical beauty and intrigue. I spent many hours walking along the pristine beaches of Zanzibar – in the shade of my faithful hat.

I shared treasured moments of sipping coffee on the streets of Hanoi. Slurping delicious Mohinga-noodles from beneath my hat in Yangon. I cycled through the temples of Bagon. I have walked the early morning sidewalks of Siem Reap. I sailed the murky brown waters of the Mekong River in Laos. My hats kept me cool as the gentle breezes of Italian waters greeted us during the brutal Italian summer heat. Walking the pavements of Berlin, I appreciated a palace, spectacular parks, remnants of the Berlin Wall and graffiti-covered buildings. My hats always beside me.

Hats have been everywhere with me. When living in Brussels as a baby, I wore a hat. Later in Johannesburg, as a toddler, a bonnet of sorts was placed upon my head. In my early teens, my sister and I wore thick woollen hats whilst hiking with our very intrepid Mom, through Norway – The Land of the Midnight Sun. And in Holland, we wore hats whilst exploring windmills and tulip farms.

During the early days of working in a newly constructed school in Yangon, Myanmar, I went to work in a hard hat. I visited the penguin colony along the Cape Coast in South Africa. The scorching sun that day fiercely piercing any exposed skin. My hat protected my head whilst watching thousands of penguins bobbing in the icy cold waters, creating huge black patterns upon the shimmering sea. My hat too, shielded my eyes against the setting sun as we witnessed tens of thousands of bats flying out of a cave in Battambang, Cambodia. In search of food.

My hats have no doubt suffered in silence, enduring temperatures of minus twenty-eight degrees Celsius at times. Truly committed they were. Together we slipped and fell in Harbin, The City of Ice. We wandered through ice castles and ice hotels. My thermal beanie hugging my head tightly within its grip. Providing warmth as I witnessed the brilliance of the Chinese ice sculptures. They patiently held my head within their thermal grip. And felt the impact each time I fell hard on the snow. They withheld judgement as I attempted to ski in the mountains near Beijing. And kept me warm during long hikes into the Chinese countryside in search of temples and history.

I have walked along the mountain paths in South Africa. The beaches in Myanmar, Vietnam, Thailand and the Philippines too. My hats shared all of that which my eyes witnessed. When taking naps on hot beaches, my hats formed curious pillows, supporting my head. They too allowed me to gaze at beautiful people from under their rims. The wider the rim, the more I could stare. Undetected. 

On boats they have traveled. Through marshes and swamps in Cambodia. Playing host to many a mosquito. They have suffered the damp of Myanmar, only to recover once again under the powerful sun. They have stared out to sea with dreams far beyond the waters of Thailand. Smothered in salty air, polluted air and the champagne air of Hermanus, they have continued to silently serve. 

Not only did my hats provide me with physical protection. Together we discovered a far greater purpose. That of emotional support. Throughout my childhood, I remember well my Oupa and my Ouma always with a hat. It was unheard of to be without. Now I hold those memories close to my heart. Wondering if their hats too, provided some sort of emotional blanket. 

Hats have always fascinated me. I have collected mine along the way from faraway places and distant shores. They have brought me joy. I have captured their beauty in many a photo.  Where each hat was created remains a source of interest. What they have endured and what they have seen, remains a mystery.

With admiration and gratitude, I gently placed my hats upon the antique Chinese chest. Beside my bag. They rest, as do I. What they have seen and where they have been. A million words could be written. I hold them valuable. For they hold the secrets of the day tightly within their rims. Never to be shared or forgotten.

Wherever I found myself, my hats patiently sat with me. Observing. When uncertainty reigned and decisions were needed, they allowed me to move inwards with my thoughts. Providing silent support. They gave me time to navigate the complexities that are Life. Witnessing my mistakes. Withholding judgement. My constant companions. They looked on as I bid farewell to people. Those I have loved and those not. They supported me from atop the many boxes as I moved homes across the world. Always ready to up and off on the next adventure.

Wherever I lay my hat is my home …