From Saigon.
It's my first night in Saigon, now known as Ho Chi Minh City. Dinner at an upmarket cafe serving up street fare has cost our table of 18 people 1.75 million Vietnamese dong. Million. Hah.
Most of our time's been spent downtown, but I must say the buildings I've seen so far are pretty darn gorgeous. What I read about French colonial flair sure is true. It's like a prettier and less chaotic Bangkok.
We're staying in a small but rather comfortable hotel right smack downtown, in what our tour guide Van calls "Vietnam's Orchard Road". Vietnam's Palais Renaissance is just two streets away. A huge building housing all the branded boutiques, complete with fairy lights.
I was, and still am actually, apprehensive about travelling in a big group with the extended family. Turns out it ain't that bad, and I'm keeping my fingers crossed it stays that way.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Sunday, May 27, 2007
A drug-free cure.
A drug-free cure.
Apart from necessary trips, like for my final theory test (which I passed haha!), driving lessons and to teach piano, the rest of my time's been spent at home on the couch. In fact, I've lay around so much these couple of days, I'm starting to wonder if the lethargy stems from my post-bug recovery, or from doing nothing much at all.
Potato-ing on the couch isn't much fun at all when it's mandatory. There was nothing I wished for more than a good workout to sort the stiff muscles; and I seriously did wish I were on Siloso Beach watching the volleyball competition instead of watching it on tv. And I kinda wanted to go traipsing around Little India, but I think the smell of spices and cooking curry would have been the last straw towards my so-far-strong-enough-to-refuse-puking stomach. And I seriously don't fancy barfing in public. I don't fancy barfing to begin with.
It's hard to feel all bright and sunny when stuck at home with the sun shining cheerily outside and with Shopaholic & Sister being the sole generator of laughter; but a call from a friend I had't heard from in awhile did the trick for me. I am definitely feeling chipper.
I am contemplating a run outside, but it is a gamble for I've got two dinner parties and a vacation next week. I hope it ain't the lazy bug speaking.
Apart from necessary trips, like for my final theory test (which I passed haha!), driving lessons and to teach piano, the rest of my time's been spent at home on the couch. In fact, I've lay around so much these couple of days, I'm starting to wonder if the lethargy stems from my post-bug recovery, or from doing nothing much at all.
Potato-ing on the couch isn't much fun at all when it's mandatory. There was nothing I wished for more than a good workout to sort the stiff muscles; and I seriously did wish I were on Siloso Beach watching the volleyball competition instead of watching it on tv. And I kinda wanted to go traipsing around Little India, but I think the smell of spices and cooking curry would have been the last straw towards my so-far-strong-enough-to-refuse-puking stomach. And I seriously don't fancy barfing in public. I don't fancy barfing to begin with.
It's hard to feel all bright and sunny when stuck at home with the sun shining cheerily outside and with Shopaholic & Sister being the sole generator of laughter; but a call from a friend I had't heard from in awhile did the trick for me. I am definitely feeling chipper.
I am contemplating a run outside, but it is a gamble for I've got two dinner parties and a vacation next week. I hope it ain't the lazy bug speaking.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
The price of independence.
The price of independence.
Yesterday's saga with the tummy bug had me thinking. I had plenty of time to do that for there was nothing else I could do lying in bed, and there's only so much a girl can sleep.
As I willed the discomfort away and prayed for sleep to take over, I started wondering how it'd be like if I were this ill while I was all alone abroad. Dreams require a bit of practicality too don't they?
Fortunately for me, apart from the occasional sore throat, I've never fallen sick whilst abroad. That said, being miles away from home can make even the tiniest of coughs feel like a lung-busting hack. What then, touch wood, would a stomach virus feel should it get to me overseas?
I sure hope I'll be lucky enough to never have to deal with something like this, but you'll never know would you? It's gonna be one heck of a recovery process, that I can be sure.
Ah. Dreams. Costs.
Ah.
Yesterday's saga with the tummy bug had me thinking. I had plenty of time to do that for there was nothing else I could do lying in bed, and there's only so much a girl can sleep.
As I willed the discomfort away and prayed for sleep to take over, I started wondering how it'd be like if I were this ill while I was all alone abroad. Dreams require a bit of practicality too don't they?
Fortunately for me, apart from the occasional sore throat, I've never fallen sick whilst abroad. That said, being miles away from home can make even the tiniest of coughs feel like a lung-busting hack. What then, touch wood, would a stomach virus feel should it get to me overseas?
I sure hope I'll be lucky enough to never have to deal with something like this, but you'll never know would you? It's gonna be one heck of a recovery process, that I can be sure.
Ah. Dreams. Costs.
Ah.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
How it feels like to have your knees give way.
How it feels like to have your knees give way.
I hate stomach-related illnesses. What I would give to actually have the power to prevent stomach flu and food poisoning. The painful twitches. The nausea. I hate puking.
This may sound funny, but I've never had diarrhoea in my life, and while I've heard plenty about how one can be struck so bad he/she can hardly stand, I've never had any first hand experience.
The weird twitch in my tummy at seven in the morning increased in regularity, and I soon lost my diarrhoea-virgin status. That said, I don't think I had it that bad, but three times in the loo gave me a pretty good idea of the phrase 'weak in the knees'. Coupled with burning up, nausea and what felt like a rock in my stomach, I barely procrastinated a visit to the doctor.
I quite almost keeled over on the journey there and back a couple of times, but 12 hours later of groaning and fitful sleep later, I think I have pretty much regained enough strength to keep me sitting up. With a backrest of course.
So here I am, not quite fresh as a daisy, but with enough strength to start fretting about the final theory test I never got the chance to revise for today. Should I or should I not?
I hate stomach-related illnesses. What I would give to actually have the power to prevent stomach flu and food poisoning. The painful twitches. The nausea. I hate puking.
This may sound funny, but I've never had diarrhoea in my life, and while I've heard plenty about how one can be struck so bad he/she can hardly stand, I've never had any first hand experience.
The weird twitch in my tummy at seven in the morning increased in regularity, and I soon lost my diarrhoea-virgin status. That said, I don't think I had it that bad, but three times in the loo gave me a pretty good idea of the phrase 'weak in the knees'. Coupled with burning up, nausea and what felt like a rock in my stomach, I barely procrastinated a visit to the doctor.
I quite almost keeled over on the journey there and back a couple of times, but 12 hours later of groaning and fitful sleep later, I think I have pretty much regained enough strength to keep me sitting up. With a backrest of course.
So here I am, not quite fresh as a daisy, but with enough strength to start fretting about the final theory test I never got the chance to revise for today. Should I or should I not?
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Forgiveness: Priceless.
Forgiveness: Priceless.
Photo: TFM Distribution
HH and I were this close to giving the movie a miss altogether due to our clashing schedules, but I am so glad we finally got around to watching it today. It's not mindblowingly good, but good, which is honestly, good enough for today's cinema offerings. I haven't watched that many French films, but Priceless is definitely up there with Love Me If You Dare and He Loves Me... He Loves Me Not.
On a different note, I finally confronted an issue I'd been running away from for the past five months. It wasn't easy, for it was so much easier to avoid and not think about it; and it was much easier to remain angry than to deal with the hurt. While jabbing at not quite old wounds hurt initially, anger soon gave way to logic.
Grudges, I've concluded, are manifestations of procrastination. Quite like an overdue fine or a friend you have been meaning to call for ages, grudges unknowingly weigh you down. So pay that fine and call that friend. You'll feel much better, trust me.
Photo: TFM Distribution
HH and I were this close to giving the movie a miss altogether due to our clashing schedules, but I am so glad we finally got around to watching it today. It's not mindblowingly good, but good, which is honestly, good enough for today's cinema offerings. I haven't watched that many French films, but Priceless is definitely up there with Love Me If You Dare and He Loves Me... He Loves Me Not.
On a different note, I finally confronted an issue I'd been running away from for the past five months. It wasn't easy, for it was so much easier to avoid and not think about it; and it was much easier to remain angry than to deal with the hurt. While jabbing at not quite old wounds hurt initially, anger soon gave way to logic.
Grudges, I've concluded, are manifestations of procrastination. Quite like an overdue fine or a friend you have been meaning to call for ages, grudges unknowingly weigh you down. So pay that fine and call that friend. You'll feel much better, trust me.
The art of cycling.
The art of cycling.
1. Hit an ulu beach with 2 goofballs.
2. Choose a small-enough bicycle to start.
3. Don't be afraid to use protection.
4. Exasperate your teacher.
5. Finally get it right with pointers from a helpful ah pek passing by.
6. Take a breather on swings.
7. Laugh at your friend.
8. Cool down and hydrate.
9. Refuel.
10. Hop on the bus to town.
11. End it all off with munchies and hilarious boardgames.
12. And really awful drawings.
1. Hit an ulu beach with 2 goofballs.
2. Choose a small-enough bicycle to start.
3. Don't be afraid to use protection.
4. Exasperate your teacher.
5. Finally get it right with pointers from a helpful ah pek passing by.
6. Take a breather on swings.
7. Laugh at your friend.
8. Cool down and hydrate.
9. Refuel.
10. Hop on the bus to town.
11. End it all off with munchies and hilarious boardgames.
12. And really awful drawings.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Sometimes, I smile so much my cheeks ache.
Sometimes, I smile so much my cheeks ache.
I have been jolted by the realisation with increasing regularity these days. Midway in a conversation with someone, I'd be painfully aware of the ache in my cheeks and the tension in my temples. The PR smile has become second nature, and while my subconscious may not register the fakery, my facial muscles certainly do.
And for a couple of moments after, I attempt talking sans expressions, when all I really want to do is scrunch and contort my face to loosen the tightness.
I am a walking circus act. There's a certain humor in such situations, but I can't help wishing for more occasions whereby my smiles are from the heart, and not out of politeness.
Wednesday night was a much anticipated catch-up session with my CPM babes. It was so good, reminiscing our final year project for Sentosa - site visits on construction areas in our heels; Mar's cutesy intepretation of the toilet layouts; late-night sessions in the computer lab; confessions of "sins", and endless bantering... I really do miss those days of camaraderie.
The good old tau huay days.
Someone took a candid shot of us at our project meeting, poring over the architectural layout plans.
Just before the final presentation of our poly years.
At our post-project celebration at Blu Jaz and Ambrosia.
And finally, this is us a year from then.
Yvonne's impromptu "2nd 21st birthday" celebration - the taitai, the "bimbu", the stewardess and the writer.
How we've grown and changed, and how, at the same time, we have not. The boisterous laughter, incessant teasing and odd cheers. The smile on my face while posting this definitely comes from the heart.
Off I go to bed for a quick session with Nora Roberts and her Irish tales. I've got a brunch date in the morning, and we're driving to Botak Jones in the night!
I have been jolted by the realisation with increasing regularity these days. Midway in a conversation with someone, I'd be painfully aware of the ache in my cheeks and the tension in my temples. The PR smile has become second nature, and while my subconscious may not register the fakery, my facial muscles certainly do.
And for a couple of moments after, I attempt talking sans expressions, when all I really want to do is scrunch and contort my face to loosen the tightness.
I am a walking circus act. There's a certain humor in such situations, but I can't help wishing for more occasions whereby my smiles are from the heart, and not out of politeness.
Wednesday night was a much anticipated catch-up session with my CPM babes. It was so good, reminiscing our final year project for Sentosa - site visits on construction areas in our heels; Mar's cutesy intepretation of the toilet layouts; late-night sessions in the computer lab; confessions of "sins", and endless bantering... I really do miss those days of camaraderie.
The good old tau huay days.
Someone took a candid shot of us at our project meeting, poring over the architectural layout plans.
Just before the final presentation of our poly years.
At our post-project celebration at Blu Jaz and Ambrosia.
And finally, this is us a year from then.
Yvonne's impromptu "2nd 21st birthday" celebration - the taitai, the "bimbu", the stewardess and the writer.
Off I go to bed for a quick session with Nora Roberts and her Irish tales. I've got a brunch date in the morning, and we're driving to Botak Jones in the night!
What's your story?
What's your story?
I am a piano teacher on Sundays, albeit not an excellent one. I see my students only once a week, and only for an hour each time. I can't say I know them, but yet, I am tuned to their unique idiosyncrasies.
Today, I will talk about C.
She's 13, and one of my new students with signs of teenage angst. Taking up piano was her mother's idea, and it pains me somewhat to watch her mechanically play her pieces. And while it frustrates me the moment she transfers her angst towards banging out the scales she can't get right, I am reminded a little of myself, back when I was practising for my Grade 8 practical. Scales suck. I tell her that, but my words seem to fall on deaf ears.
Yet, the face that is devoid of emotion lights up when she talks about her interest in literature and electric guitar. I wish piano brought her such joy, but this is a passion that cannot be imparted. I wish I could, but I don't think I could alter her resentment towards the piano.
If I can't bring her solace through music, I hope to at least bring her solace through an avenue for the freedom of expression. If I can't give her the love of the instrument, I hope to at least give her 45 minutes each week to be herself. Not what her mother wants her to be, but the person who lights up talking about Shakespeare I glimpse behind the surly persona. Our weekly meeting may seem like a prison term to her right now, but who's to know what the future brings?
I am a piano teacher on Sundays, albeit not an excellent one. I see my students only once a week, and only for an hour each time. I can't say I know them, but yet, I am tuned to their unique idiosyncrasies.
Today, I will talk about C.
She's 13, and one of my new students with signs of teenage angst. Taking up piano was her mother's idea, and it pains me somewhat to watch her mechanically play her pieces. And while it frustrates me the moment she transfers her angst towards banging out the scales she can't get right, I am reminded a little of myself, back when I was practising for my Grade 8 practical. Scales suck. I tell her that, but my words seem to fall on deaf ears.
Yet, the face that is devoid of emotion lights up when she talks about her interest in literature and electric guitar. I wish piano brought her such joy, but this is a passion that cannot be imparted. I wish I could, but I don't think I could alter her resentment towards the piano.
If I can't bring her solace through music, I hope to at least bring her solace through an avenue for the freedom of expression. If I can't give her the love of the instrument, I hope to at least give her 45 minutes each week to be herself. Not what her mother wants her to be, but the person who lights up talking about Shakespeare I glimpse behind the surly persona. Our weekly meeting may seem like a prison term to her right now, but who's to know what the future brings?
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Immortalising love on film.
Immortalising love on film.
I've always thought it would be tough.
Love is such a complex emotion, and there are so many aspects of love to be explored. Love is inexplicable as it is in real life, and it seems like an inhumane challenge to convincingly tell a love story within two hours of screen time.
I don't deny that I am a sucker for romantic comedies, but more often than not, I watch it not expecting a realistic potrayal of love. Instead, I willingly hand over my money anticipating the unrealistic situations and scenarios that ironically make us females go weak in the knees. I turn to mush, despite the often present loopholes in the plot - like is it really possible to fall completely in love with someone you've never met? And I've never thought it possible that one could chart the growth of love and the development of a relationship within a movie.
I've never felt particularly compelled to watch classics like Gone with the Wind or Breakfast at Tiffany's either, so I can't comment on how true reviews that read "the best love story of all time" are. Neither can I give a convincing argument that the portrayal of love in movies has been frivolised over the years.
What I can tell you however was how The Notebook blew me away.
picture from www.impawards.com
I've always thought it would be tough.
Love is such a complex emotion, and there are so many aspects of love to be explored. Love is inexplicable as it is in real life, and it seems like an inhumane challenge to convincingly tell a love story within two hours of screen time.
I don't deny that I am a sucker for romantic comedies, but more often than not, I watch it not expecting a realistic potrayal of love. Instead, I willingly hand over my money anticipating the unrealistic situations and scenarios that ironically make us females go weak in the knees. I turn to mush, despite the often present loopholes in the plot - like is it really possible to fall completely in love with someone you've never met? And I've never thought it possible that one could chart the growth of love and the development of a relationship within a movie.
I've never felt particularly compelled to watch classics like Gone with the Wind or Breakfast at Tiffany's either, so I can't comment on how true reviews that read "the best love story of all time" are. Neither can I give a convincing argument that the portrayal of love in movies has been frivolised over the years.
What I can tell you however was how The Notebook blew me away.
picture from www.impawards.com
I've heard from friends about how good the movie was, but I never got around to catching it on the big screen. Truth be told, I was pretty skeptical for I live among people who deem Batman Begins as mindblowing. No offence to fans, but I just don't share your sentiments.
I finally got around to renting the dvd last Friday, and I forgot about it actually until I remembered that I had to return it tomorrow. And so, with my aunt, I settled onto the couch, all prepared for a mediocre tale like the last remake of Nicholas Sparks' novel A Walk to Remember.
I sure got way more than what I had bargained for.
In The Notebook, love was not something that involved kissing frogs, dying in war or escaping sinking ships. There were neither cheesy lines nor extravagant gestures; love was shown as how love is. The plot was neither surprising nor particularly different from many romance films out there, yet the simplicity made it all the more compelling. More than anything else, this movie had what many romantic flops lacked - truth.
I had a hard time holding back my tears but I didn't want to cry in front of my aunt; but the floodgates opened the moment the show ended.
It was a tale that wrenched my heart a couple of times, made it ache, made it sing... and made it believe. And I think that's what a great love story is about.
I finally got around to renting the dvd last Friday, and I forgot about it actually until I remembered that I had to return it tomorrow. And so, with my aunt, I settled onto the couch, all prepared for a mediocre tale like the last remake of Nicholas Sparks' novel A Walk to Remember.
I sure got way more than what I had bargained for.
In The Notebook, love was not something that involved kissing frogs, dying in war or escaping sinking ships. There were neither cheesy lines nor extravagant gestures; love was shown as how love is. The plot was neither surprising nor particularly different from many romance films out there, yet the simplicity made it all the more compelling. More than anything else, this movie had what many romantic flops lacked - truth.
I had a hard time holding back my tears but I didn't want to cry in front of my aunt; but the floodgates opened the moment the show ended.
It was a tale that wrenched my heart a couple of times, made it ache, made it sing... and made it believe. And I think that's what a great love story is about.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Where have all the cowboys gone?
Where have all the cowboys gone?
feeling: giggly
music: the very best of asia lounge - pacific wave
An old friend commented that my writing's improved, and that I've developed a style of my own. I don't know how true that is, but I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that I no longer blog about the tiny mundanities. Nevertheless, it is a compliment much appreciated s.o.s. :)
Bloggers all write for an audience, but I don't have an intended audience anymore. Writers are all to a certain degree narcissistic exhibitors, but my writing of late has become more of self-satisfaction. I write for me. Not a bad thing' cept that I'm trying to make it as a writer, and writers are meant to spin tales and touch lives with the humble magic of language.
I am neither inspired to spin nor weave. I am not inspired, period.
Only at night, as I lay in bed, do vague ideas flutter around in that hazy web of sleep. And I awake, ready to spend another day stuck in the rut.
I'm allowing myself just that bit more of stagnancy. Just a bit more, before I bid goodbye to this aura of grey.
I need to do a lot of reading on Bali if I intend to spin a credible tale. Soon, I will haul myself to the library and then to Pacific Coffee with my macbook. Soon. Soon.
feeling: giggly
music: the very best of asia lounge - pacific wave
An old friend commented that my writing's improved, and that I've developed a style of my own. I don't know how true that is, but I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that I no longer blog about the tiny mundanities. Nevertheless, it is a compliment much appreciated s.o.s. :)
Bloggers all write for an audience, but I don't have an intended audience anymore. Writers are all to a certain degree narcissistic exhibitors, but my writing of late has become more of self-satisfaction. I write for me. Not a bad thing' cept that I'm trying to make it as a writer, and writers are meant to spin tales and touch lives with the humble magic of language.
I am neither inspired to spin nor weave. I am not inspired, period.
Only at night, as I lay in bed, do vague ideas flutter around in that hazy web of sleep. And I awake, ready to spend another day stuck in the rut.
I'm allowing myself just that bit more of stagnancy. Just a bit more, before I bid goodbye to this aura of grey.
I need to do a lot of reading on Bali if I intend to spin a credible tale. Soon, I will haul myself to the library and then to Pacific Coffee with my macbook. Soon. Soon.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
In a holiday state of mind.
In a holiday state of mind.
feeling: exhausted, tickled.
music: jennylyn mercado feat. janno gibbs - if i'm not in love with you
After weeks of procrastination, I finally got down to clearing out my hall room yesterday. I didn't have much of a choice actually - it was the last day for eviction. What a word, haha.
Barren, back to how it was 2 semesters ago. I haven't spent as I should have in here, but there were some pretty awesome memories.
Goodbye Hall 4.
feeling: exhausted, tickled.
music: jennylyn mercado feat. janno gibbs - if i'm not in love with you
After weeks of procrastination, I finally got down to clearing out my hall room yesterday. I didn't have much of a choice actually - it was the last day for eviction. What a word, haha.
Barren, back to how it was 2 semesters ago. I haven't spent as I should have in here, but there were some pretty awesome memories.
Goodbye Hall 4.
Met my bitch for a swim in the morning, before hitting the town together to conquer the shops. I haven't spent the way I did today since I realised the importance of saving for my travels. BUT it's the weekend of dad's birthday + Mother's Day (presents for both mom and auntie) + brother's birthday + piano kid's birthday, so spending's justified, no?
Walked past Singapore Pools at Lucky Plaza and shared a 4D ticket on impulse. I think bitch and I are telepathic - she chose the number that flashed into my head. Let's hope telepathy pays well, haha.
I don't know if it was the post-purchase endorphins or the Mike+Ike sugar high, but we laughed our way through dinner with Ceci and Edmund. Red Indian jokes and make-believe tribes.
The show continued back home, this time on MSN with Jared and Jinli. Pirated celestial heavens, Tu Di Gong, Sun Wu Kong, Queen Mother, Zhu Ba Jie, Chang'e, Nibushinanya, Verena, Vandana, Alfred Choi, and dead bunnies.
I don't think I've laughed this much since a very long time ago. Ache abs, ache.
Walked past Singapore Pools at Lucky Plaza and shared a 4D ticket on impulse. I think bitch and I are telepathic - she chose the number that flashed into my head. Let's hope telepathy pays well, haha.
I don't know if it was the post-purchase endorphins or the Mike+Ike sugar high, but we laughed our way through dinner with Ceci and Edmund. Red Indian jokes and make-believe tribes.
The show continued back home, this time on MSN with Jared and Jinli. Pirated celestial heavens, Tu Di Gong, Sun Wu Kong, Queen Mother, Zhu Ba Jie, Chang'e, Nibushinanya, Verena, Vandana, Alfred Choi, and dead bunnies.
I don't think I've laughed this much since a very long time ago. Ache abs, ache.
Monday, May 07, 2007
The unconventional beauty.
The unconventional beauty.
Day 1
I jetted off to Langkawi with every intention of living it up a little, unlike the past few penny-pinching trips I've gone on. I'd seriously impaired my bank account, thinking I had paid for: a breathtaking view of the sea and an infinite horizon; powder soft sand; days of endless sunshine; ink black nights sprinkled liberally with countless stars; a "I'm so classy; bite me" resort; a loungey live band...
Needless to say, I was less than impressed with what greeted us. A beach with imported sand that leads out to seasonal jelly-fish infested waters; a kid-infested hotel pool; a horizon obscured by bridges and what-nots; ominous rain clouds above us; and a 'live' band that pre-recorded its accompanying music.
I barely had time to recultivate my pre-arrival anticipation before we had to head off for our island hopping tour.
This is Pulau Dayang Bunting, otherwise known as the Isle of the Pregnant Maiden - see the silhouette of a pregnant lady lying on her back in the fourth shot? It is believed that the waters of a large lake grant barren women fertility. I don't know about that, but stripping down for a dip in the cool waters sure was refreshing after the trek up.
While dark clouds pretty much shrouded the island, sun rays shone optimistically in the distance. Magic, is the only word I have to describe the sight. It makes me wonder if the Ireland I read about so often in Nora Roberts' novels are like that. Langkawi, with its multitude of lush moutains, can probably be its Asian equivalent.
"On the road to nowhere". I really like this black and white shot of the broken jetty.
Went by to watch the eagles feed after our dip in the lake.
After which we headed for Pulau Beras Basah, the Island of Wet Rice. No rice paddies spotted here, but it was rather charming in a Robinson Crusoe kind of way. There was nothing much to do 'cept to lay on the sand, honestly.
After a trip back to the resort for a shower and to get out of our sea soaked clothes, we hopped on a cab down to the gypsy night market (they move around the island daily) at Kuah Town. We were f-a-m-i-sh-e-d. We'd entirely forgotten about lunch.
Not much different from the pasar malams we have back here.
They've got chatty waiters cum teh tarik men, ever ready to show a trick or two for the camera, though.
I wasn't too enthusiastic about the ayam goreng and the Ramly burger, but the ban jian kueh (peanut pancake) sure made my day. Nobody prepares them the way the Malaysians do.
We befriended the band, D'Cresendos, as well. That's Tonggo, Ceci, Flora, myself, and Russell. We got up and sang with them for a bit. Pretty much butchered the songs, but it was all good fun.
I thought we handled our disappointment pretty well, and made the best out of it. It turned out to be quite a good night after all!
Day 1
I jetted off to Langkawi with every intention of living it up a little, unlike the past few penny-pinching trips I've gone on. I'd seriously impaired my bank account, thinking I had paid for: a breathtaking view of the sea and an infinite horizon; powder soft sand; days of endless sunshine; ink black nights sprinkled liberally with countless stars; a "I'm so classy; bite me" resort; a loungey live band...
Needless to say, I was less than impressed with what greeted us. A beach with imported sand that leads out to seasonal jelly-fish infested waters; a kid-infested hotel pool; a horizon obscured by bridges and what-nots; ominous rain clouds above us; and a 'live' band that pre-recorded its accompanying music.
I barely had time to recultivate my pre-arrival anticipation before we had to head off for our island hopping tour.
Snapped this during a quick stop at Cenang Beach to pick up our fellow hoppers. I couldn't help but envy the man in the chair, for I was still sore about my artificial stretch of sand.
This is Pulau Dayang Bunting, otherwise known as the Isle of the Pregnant Maiden - see the silhouette of a pregnant lady lying on her back in the fourth shot? It is believed that the waters of a large lake grant barren women fertility. I don't know about that, but stripping down for a dip in the cool waters sure was refreshing after the trek up.
While dark clouds pretty much shrouded the island, sun rays shone optimistically in the distance. Magic, is the only word I have to describe the sight. It makes me wonder if the Ireland I read about so often in Nora Roberts' novels are like that. Langkawi, with its multitude of lush moutains, can probably be its Asian equivalent.
"On the road to nowhere". I really like this black and white shot of the broken jetty.
Went by to watch the eagles feed after our dip in the lake.
After which we headed for Pulau Beras Basah, the Island of Wet Rice. No rice paddies spotted here, but it was rather charming in a Robinson Crusoe kind of way. There was nothing much to do 'cept to lay on the sand, honestly.
After a trip back to the resort for a shower and to get out of our sea soaked clothes, we hopped on a cab down to the gypsy night market (they move around the island daily) at Kuah Town. We were f-a-m-i-sh-e-d. We'd entirely forgotten about lunch.
Not much different from the pasar malams we have back here.
They've got chatty waiters cum teh tarik men, ever ready to show a trick or two for the camera, though.
I wasn't too enthusiastic about the ayam goreng and the Ramly burger, but the ban jian kueh (peanut pancake) sure made my day. Nobody prepares them the way the Malaysians do.
Swung by our resort's beach bar after dinner, hoping to cap our first day on the island with some loungey live music. The band turned out to be a Filipino duo who fancied 80's and bubblegum pop, and the bar was empty lest for a table of enthusiastic dancing Caucasians. We soon made friends with Tonggo, the friendly waiter who then dedicated a song to us. Can't remember the title though!
We befriended the band, D'Cresendos, as well. That's Tonggo, Ceci, Flora, myself, and Russell. We got up and sang with them for a bit. Pretty much butchered the songs, but it was all good fun.
I thought we handled our disappointment pretty well, and made the best out of it. It turned out to be quite a good night after all!
29 April 2007
00:41 hrs
Langkawi Lagoon Resort room
"So, Langkawi didn't turn out like I had imagined. I wasn't expecting clear blue waters, but I was expecting a 5-star resort and a view out to the infinite horizon. The actual Langkawi did rain on my parade a little, but once again, the locals here made it all okay.
I didn't get my 5-star pampering, but I got to instead banter with locals at the night market and jam with the D'Cresendos at beach bar. It would have been so easy to hang onto my reservations and refuse the invitation onstage, but the thought of it being a once in a lifetime chance had me tossing my inhibitions to the wind. Afterall, what's a holiday without a couple of cringe-worthy memories?
While a tiny stubborn piece of me still wishes we were shacked up at a Banyan Tree-like resort that oozes posh, I am glad we ended up where we did.
A posh resort may be all pretty with impeccable service, and its live band will probably be a classy act miles away from stuck-in-the-80s D'Cresendos, but I don't think I'll ever get a high like I just did butchering songs on stage.
Pleasant memories versus travel tales to tell my grandchildren. I'll take the latter any day."
Day 2
Our morning plan to hit the pool and laze by the beach was shelled the moment the initial sunny skies gave way to rain. While the weather quite literally rained on our parade, it was quite nice, in an un-beachy way, to watch the rain fall from inside the restaurant where we enjoyed a lazy breakfast. Thank goodness we had already set aside the day for shopping in town and not for a trip out at sea.
The rest of the day was typically female - spent a good 5.5 hours at a two-storey shopping mall, whose shops can barely rival Far East Plaza. We walked into Factory Outlet Store and emerged a good 1.5 hours almost a 100 Singapore bucks poorer, but 10 tees richer.
Nursed our aching limbs at Arts Cafe at Langkawi Fair, a cafe not unlike the one inside Eclectic Attic at Plaza Singapure. This light lemon cheesecake was quite a gem. It was late evening by the time we got back to the resort, and we were seriously too pooped to go anywhere else. What better way to recuperate than to plop our exhausted bodies onto beach chairs with a novel each to watch the sun set?
00:41 hrs
Langkawi Lagoon Resort room
"So, Langkawi didn't turn out like I had imagined. I wasn't expecting clear blue waters, but I was expecting a 5-star resort and a view out to the infinite horizon. The actual Langkawi did rain on my parade a little, but once again, the locals here made it all okay.
I didn't get my 5-star pampering, but I got to instead banter with locals at the night market and jam with the D'Cresendos at beach bar. It would have been so easy to hang onto my reservations and refuse the invitation onstage, but the thought of it being a once in a lifetime chance had me tossing my inhibitions to the wind. Afterall, what's a holiday without a couple of cringe-worthy memories?
While a tiny stubborn piece of me still wishes we were shacked up at a Banyan Tree-like resort that oozes posh, I am glad we ended up where we did.
A posh resort may be all pretty with impeccable service, and its live band will probably be a classy act miles away from stuck-in-the-80s D'Cresendos, but I don't think I'll ever get a high like I just did butchering songs on stage.
Pleasant memories versus travel tales to tell my grandchildren. I'll take the latter any day."
Day 2
Our morning plan to hit the pool and laze by the beach was shelled the moment the initial sunny skies gave way to rain. While the weather quite literally rained on our parade, it was quite nice, in an un-beachy way, to watch the rain fall from inside the restaurant where we enjoyed a lazy breakfast. Thank goodness we had already set aside the day for shopping in town and not for a trip out at sea.
The rest of the day was typically female - spent a good 5.5 hours at a two-storey shopping mall, whose shops can barely rival Far East Plaza. We walked into Factory Outlet Store and emerged a good 1.5 hours almost a 100 Singapore bucks poorer, but 10 tees richer.
Nursed our aching limbs at Arts Cafe at Langkawi Fair, a cafe not unlike the one inside Eclectic Attic at Plaza Singapure. This light lemon cheesecake was quite a gem. It was late evening by the time we got back to the resort, and we were seriously too pooped to go anywhere else. What better way to recuperate than to plop our exhausted bodies onto beach chairs with a novel each to watch the sun set?
Day 3
Awoke at 6:00 a.m. the next morning to prepare for our snorkelling trip out at sea. The sky was dark when I awoke, and we finally managed to see the stars which weren't visible in the night! How odd.
(l-r) The Sea Village rooms we couldn't afford, an old-school travel agency that reminded me of the shophouses that house surname clans back here, the jetty at Pulau Payar Marine Park, Ceci and I resting from snorkelling part one.
I wasn't that keen on snorkelling initially - my virgin experience in Bintan's murky waters didn't leave too good an impression. However, my travel buddy has a thing for fishes, and I'd be mad to not want a day out at sea.
Swimming with baby sharks; holding a wriggling, water-squirting sea cucumber in my hands (most disgusting thing ever - feels like an obscenely overweight worm); feeling wary then increasingly fascinated by the sea urchins; cupping Nemo in my palms; swimming past boundaries with Adi in search of barracudas and sea turtles; feeling fishes nibble at me; and that inexplicable freedom of being in the waters.
I am so glad we went, for this trip changed my mind entirely about snorkelling. The thought of being in the sea, vulnerable to its marine life, has honestly always scared me a little. I had never quite understood the allure of the ocean divers talk about, but now I finally do. I can't wait for my next snorkelling trip.
How often do you manage to capture happiness on film? Most happy moments either go by uncaptured, or are captured as posed shots on happy occasions (think people gathering around the birthday boy/girl for a snap).
Ceci went ashore earlier as she was feeling slightly ill from the bobbing (the waters were pretty choppy), and snapped this pic of Adi and I coming up from the sea (3rd picture from left). I think we were walking pretty quickly, but despite the shot being off-centre, I can feel my happiness and exhilaration each time I look at the picture. I was on such a high!
Sat on the open deck on the ferry trip back. Met with a storm along the way, and while rain and unrelentless wind left our sea-drenched bodies freezing, the smoky mountains provided the perfect accompaniment for my marine-reminiscing.
Snapped a few shots of the sunset whilst waiting for Adi at the lobby. I'd always thought that the most beautiful sunsets were fiery with rosy golden hues. The one we saw this evening was in varying shades of gold-tinged blue, and we couldn't even see the sun, but it took my breath away unlike any other sunset.
The beauty did not lay in the setting sun, but instead the ever-changing clouds, which seemed to radiate an entrancing light from the unseeable sun.
Never thought I'd see the beauty in unicolor.
We took Adi up on his offer to take us out for seafood, but 30 minutes before we were to meet him, the post-snorkelling high wore off and logic led to me suggesting that we get the number for the police. It wasn't necessary though, for Adi, and his friend (also named Adi) turned out to be perfect gentlemen.
Would have loved to go to the Reggae Bar at Pantai Cenang the locals were raving about, but we'd a date with Tonggo and D'Cresendos at Laguna Bistro.
Laguna Bistro - the bar where our happy memories originated.
A final shot with Russell and Flora. It turned out to be D'Cresendos' last night at the bar as well, for their contract had expired, and the duo were to head down to Penang. Emails were exchanged along with handshakes and friendly pats on the back; Ceci and I may just pay Flora a visit on Boracay next year!
Three whole days flew by in a blur of activities, and the time soon came for us to bid the island I'd fallen in love with goodbye.
Langkawi is like the unlikely lover who I unknowingly gave a piece of my heart too. Like the dishevelled man at the corner you walk by everyday, barely noticing his presence, until the day you realise that he is no longer there. And that routine morning walk starts to feel a little empty, and it hits you that you had noticed and even possibly taken comfort in his presence afterall.
Langkawi, with its stuck-in-the-80s vibe; messy landscapes of cows, rusty van frames and flooded paddy fields; mystical mountains in the background, and ever-friendly island locals.
Langkawi, who took my breath away with its unfiery sunset, and who introduced me to the wonders of the marine world.
Langkawi, where I met the most amazing people, like Tonggo, Flora, Russell, Adi, and Adi.
Langkawi, where I visited 15 years ago, and I will before another 15 years go by.
Awoke at 6:00 a.m. the next morning to prepare for our snorkelling trip out at sea. The sky was dark when I awoke, and we finally managed to see the stars which weren't visible in the night! How odd.
(l-r) The Sea Village rooms we couldn't afford, an old-school travel agency that reminded me of the shophouses that house surname clans back here, the jetty at Pulau Payar Marine Park, Ceci and I resting from snorkelling part one.
I wasn't that keen on snorkelling initially - my virgin experience in Bintan's murky waters didn't leave too good an impression. However, my travel buddy has a thing for fishes, and I'd be mad to not want a day out at sea.
Swimming with baby sharks; holding a wriggling, water-squirting sea cucumber in my hands (most disgusting thing ever - feels like an obscenely overweight worm); feeling wary then increasingly fascinated by the sea urchins; cupping Nemo in my palms; swimming past boundaries with Adi in search of barracudas and sea turtles; feeling fishes nibble at me; and that inexplicable freedom of being in the waters.
I am so glad we went, for this trip changed my mind entirely about snorkelling. The thought of being in the sea, vulnerable to its marine life, has honestly always scared me a little. I had never quite understood the allure of the ocean divers talk about, but now I finally do. I can't wait for my next snorkelling trip.
How often do you manage to capture happiness on film? Most happy moments either go by uncaptured, or are captured as posed shots on happy occasions (think people gathering around the birthday boy/girl for a snap).
Ceci went ashore earlier as she was feeling slightly ill from the bobbing (the waters were pretty choppy), and snapped this pic of Adi and I coming up from the sea (3rd picture from left). I think we were walking pretty quickly, but despite the shot being off-centre, I can feel my happiness and exhilaration each time I look at the picture. I was on such a high!
Sat on the open deck on the ferry trip back. Met with a storm along the way, and while rain and unrelentless wind left our sea-drenched bodies freezing, the smoky mountains provided the perfect accompaniment for my marine-reminiscing.
The beauty did not lay in the setting sun, but instead the ever-changing clouds, which seemed to radiate an entrancing light from the unseeable sun.
Never thought I'd see the beauty in unicolor.
We took Adi up on his offer to take us out for seafood, but 30 minutes before we were to meet him, the post-snorkelling high wore off and logic led to me suggesting that we get the number for the police. It wasn't necessary though, for Adi, and his friend (also named Adi) turned out to be perfect gentlemen.
Would have loved to go to the Reggae Bar at Pantai Cenang the locals were raving about, but we'd a date with Tonggo and D'Cresendos at Laguna Bistro.
Laguna Bistro - the bar where our happy memories originated.
A final shot with Russell and Flora. It turned out to be D'Cresendos' last night at the bar as well, for their contract had expired, and the duo were to head down to Penang. Emails were exchanged along with handshakes and friendly pats on the back; Ceci and I may just pay Flora a visit on Boracay next year!
1 May 2007
1:25 hrs
Langkawi Lagoon Resort room
"I wish I were a beach girl.
Not the beach-going bunny I look like, but a bona fide beach girl. One who was born by the waters and spent her childhood diving and petting sharks. One whose daily life revolves around swimming in the sea and meeting the seasonal island tourists.
Langkawi is so laidback, I cannot imagine not being bored after a month. Yet, this seemingly mundane routine is life for the islanders, and life seems good to them. Meeting the same people; doing the same things.
Bali still holds the top spot on my list of places I wish to stay longer, but Langkawi definitely has its own unique charm."
1:25 hrs
Langkawi Lagoon Resort room
"I wish I were a beach girl.
Not the beach-going bunny I look like, but a bona fide beach girl. One who was born by the waters and spent her childhood diving and petting sharks. One whose daily life revolves around swimming in the sea and meeting the seasonal island tourists.
Langkawi is so laidback, I cannot imagine not being bored after a month. Yet, this seemingly mundane routine is life for the islanders, and life seems good to them. Meeting the same people; doing the same things.
Bali still holds the top spot on my list of places I wish to stay longer, but Langkawi definitely has its own unique charm."
Day 4
Three whole days flew by in a blur of activities, and the time soon came for us to bid the island I'd fallen in love with goodbye.
Langkawi is like the unlikely lover who I unknowingly gave a piece of my heart too. Like the dishevelled man at the corner you walk by everyday, barely noticing his presence, until the day you realise that he is no longer there. And that routine morning walk starts to feel a little empty, and it hits you that you had noticed and even possibly taken comfort in his presence afterall.
Langkawi, with its stuck-in-the-80s vibe; messy landscapes of cows, rusty van frames and flooded paddy fields; mystical mountains in the background, and ever-friendly island locals.
Langkawi, who took my breath away with its unfiery sunset, and who introduced me to the wonders of the marine world.
Langkawi, where I met the most amazing people, like Tonggo, Flora, Russell, Adi, and Adi.
Langkawi, where I visited 15 years ago, and I will before another 15 years go by.
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