Looking at this balloon, all solitary in the air, gave me a sense of peace. It ascended slowly at first, gaining its momentum in an effortless, floating manner before gracing the sky full-on. I began imagining the ride itself. The heat roaring from the craft. The buoyancy of the entire journey. The earth appearing small beneath our feet. It’d probably make one think of how insignificant our troubles really are and realize that there’s bountiful of beauty laid out in those landscapes for us to enjoy. As learnt from my recent balloon ride in Siem Reap, everything appears to be thousands of times more beautiful from above. It’s certainly easier to take for granted of such charm while we’re leading our daily lives on the actual grounds.
We were in Putrajaya, an old stomping grounds of mine, for this year’s hot air balloon fiesta. The fiesta was a three-day affair with plenty of international balloonists from Japan to the Netherlands parading their air crafts in the sky. The city, though gorgeous and futuristic-looking, is quiet at most times (well, I should know because I lived here with my family for a while). Despite its course of architecturally-impressive administrative buildings, Putrajaya is possibly best described as the ‘introverted’ cousin of DC. Even so, the city would come out of its shell a few times a year by playing host to international festivals like this. I’d been to one or two firework shows done here but this was the first time I’d been to the hot air balloon fiesta though it’s been a staple event for a good few years.
That Sunday evening saw many faces from across the valley crowding at Precinct 2 to see balloons take off. We squeezed our way through the heavy crowds and cheered as the balloonists heating up their rides at the launching field. The balloons were simply giant blow-ups. We saw Van Gogh’s ginormous head bobbing in the air and a penguin with a camera hanging from its neck, looking like a tourist. Then came the moment when four of the balloons went up, up and away. We looked at the balloons float wherever the wind takes them. From the ground, the appeared to be nothing more than miniature rainbow-colored light bulbs. Many waved at the balloonists while picnicking by the lake. Children even blew giant bubbles that reflect the floating balloons from above. There had only been a handful of times like this when it felt good to be out and about amongst other city folks, just enjoying the colorful lineup of balloons and the hip music blaring in the air.
We loved every minute of this until the drizzle burst our bubble. The rain poured soon after, stalling the rest of the balloons from taking off. The crowd sighed almost in unison. What a shame it was! We got into the car just in time before the rain came down heavier. I wondered what happen to the four balloons that were already up in the air. I could only hope that the balloonists were able to navigate their ways safely to the ground. The silver lining was, of course, the fact that I got the chance to enjoy a picture-postcard view of those balloons mingling with the birds. Perhaps one day I’ll be able to get a ride, relish a mouthful of panoramic landscapes and just grab hold of my fear of heights by the horns.
