I've become some kind of traveling salesman or paid wanderer, both blessed and doomed to travel this world until I can't anymore. Funny what happens when your dreams come true.
My pal A.A. Gill once suggested that the older he gets, and the more he travels, the less he knows. And I know what he means now. Seeing the planet as I'm seeing it, you are constantly reminded of what you don't know – how much more there is to see and learn, how damn big and mysterious this world is. It's both frustrating and addicting, which only makes it harder when you visit, say, China for the first time, and realize how much more of it there is – and how little time you have to see it. It's added a frantic quality to my already absurd life, and an element of both desperation and resignation.
Travel changes you. As you move through this life and this world you change things slightly, you leave marks behind, however small. And in return, life – and travel – leaves marks on you. Most of the time, those marks – on your body or on your heart – are beautiful. Often, though, they hurt.
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It's an irritating reality that many places and events defy description. Angkor Wat and Machu Picchu, for instance, seem to demand silence, like a love affair you can never talk about. For a while after, you fumble for words, trying vainly to assemble a private narrative, an explanation, a comfortable way to frame where you've been and what's happened. In the end, you're just happy you were there – with your eyes open – and lived to see it.
~ Anthony Bourdain in The Nasty Bits
When I read what Bourdain wrote in the introduction of his book The Nasty Bits, I knew exactly what he meant (by the way, I would LOVE to do what he does). In fact, I had written to a friend just a couple of days back, which touched on the same subject.
"Yes, I know what you mean...there always seems to be something else to do and see. The world isn't small enough for people like us! I think having a curiosity about the world is both a blessing and a curse. That curiosity makes you a more worldly person...you become more sensitive to and aware of cultural differences...it spurs you on to want to learn more about the world, people.
Yet, this wanderlust stirs this constant restlessness which is not altogether healthy. Being 'settled' has its bliss too."
The words sum up the situation I'm facing right now with my life. How do I reconcile my love for travelling with a job that makes me bound to Singapore all the time? It's not that I don't like being based in Singapore. I do like it. It's an easy place to live in. I've tried living abroad and it didn't quite do it for me 'cos I felt too lonely. I told myself that if I'm ever going to relocate again, it'd have to be with a partner (boyfriend/husband/de facto/whatever). I figured I should have tried out being a flight attendant years ago. But since that's not a career option right now, I just have to contend with occasional holidays out of Singapore. Why couldn't Singapore be bigger????
So my wanderlust has stirred again and I'll be in Australia from 19 June to 2 July. From the 19th to 22nd I'll be in Hamilton Island to take part in the Hamilton Cup, which is an outrigger canoe race. Am looking forward to ogling at all the hotbods at the race. Hee.
After the race, I'll be in Sydney from 23 June to 2 July to catch up with family and friends. I know, it's the umpteenth time I'm visiting Sydney, but I love returning to this beautiful city which is very special to me. There's always a sense of comfort returning to a city that one knows well.
I've also booked myself on the A380 to experience what flying on the jumbo jet is like. OK, I'm not in the first-class suite but I'm after a cheap thrill. Heh.
Anyway, am always glad to go back to the land of Oz with its lovely beaches, great people, and delicious food!
I like to eat fish and I had always thought I was the at the top of the food chain when it comes to my relationship with fish. I didn't think the direction of the relationship between us could be reversed until Saturday.
Well, OK, I'm still alive but some part of me has gone to fish – a dead part of me to boot! On Saturday, I made the acquaintance of many fish of the species Garra Rufa. Out of curiosity, I went to a fish spa with two friends.
All these small fish which come from Turkey are also known as Doctor Fish. They supposedly nibble at the dead skin cells on your body and promote blood circulation. They are supposed to be able to lighten scars on your skin too. It's also supposed to be a cure for psoriasis, a kind of skin disease.
So we are made to wash our feet and our lower leg before lowering our legs into the pool. The fish then swarm around the submerged part of our leg and start nibbling away. It's a ticklish sensation and it takes some getting used to. The fish don't have teeth so they kinda suck away at your skin.
I paid $30 (including GST) for 30 minutes of fish therapy, but it's something I won't do again. It's a novel idea, but I remain unconvinced of its effectiveness. Give me some exfoliating scrub, dry bristle brush, or pumice stone any time!
I know many people out there don't like durians, but I do. I don't care if my breath stinks or that I keep burping awful smells after eating them. I can't understand how people can describe it as tasting like puke, or smelling like rotten food. Somehow my brain and taste buds have been wired to think otherwise.
And so with that, I find a certain glee and an element of fun in sitting on ugly stools and similarly ugly and un-sturdy tables along the seedy streets of Geylang (Singapore's red light district), chomping away at durians.
Mind you, some of these roadside stalls even put tissue boxes on the tables and have water coolers and plastic cups for you to help yourself to. There is a huge plastic basket beside each table where you will find empty durian shells, durian seeds which have been licked clean of their pulp and crushed tissue paper all thrown in.
Going to Geylang at the weekend, however, is a nightmare. The place is teeming with foreign workers (blue-collar workers from China and India going there to buy cheap toiletries, phone cards, etc) and prostitutes plying their trade. Neon-lighted signs bear the name of brothels, sleaze clubs and coffee shops where many sleazy 'Ah Peks' sit around drinking beer and leering at women. Driving along the streets of Geylang is hazardous as there is always a danger of running someone over, what with all the foreign workers giving no regard to traffic rules and turning a blind eye to the existence of traffic crossings. They rule the roads and us drivers have to comply with THEIR rules by slowing down our cars in an attempt to not knock any one of them down while they weave in and out of traffic in imaginary pedestrian crossings which they had conjured up. Parking is another nightmare as there are very few legal carpark lots. So nevermind, break the law and park illegally somewhere along some 'Lorong' (small lane) and head to the durian stalls!
OK, it's nightmarish driving to Geylang, but I accept that that is part of the experience of heading there. Without that, Geylang wouldn't be Geylang. You almost don't feel like you're in otherwise squeaky clean Singapore when you're there.
So anyway, there I am with my cousins, sis, mum, aunt and uncle, sitting around a small table, tucking into two Super D-24 durians. I love the act of tossing the seeds and empty shells into the basket. It's almost like playing durian basketball. Haha. Except if you miss, it'd mean you're really shit at aiming. Eating durians at roadside stalls in Geylang is truly one of those really Singapore experiences one could offer to a tourist. It doesn't get any more local than that!