The Collection Thief
I figured since I was going to be a thief, I might as well be of the most despicable type. Rather than steal individual items, I thought I’d go all the way, and steal effort as well. Money can be replaced, time and effort never. If you are talking about value, I pull off the most invaluable heists, simply because effort and time have an infinite, arbitrary value. It is not as though I was born a thief, nor did I aspire to become one. I never stole till I turned 25, not even a sweet from a classmate or a shower cap from a hotel.
The first collection I stole was from a Friday night house party, one of those shallow little things you do not really look forward to but go for anyway, to eliminate all chances of feeling bad that you are at home on a Friday night. The party was hosted by a friend of a friend, someone I have never seen or heard of before. The volume of an old Dandy Warhols album swelled as the door opened, and the host of the house greeted me with a firm handshake. I couldn’t really hear what he was saying, but his name was Weijie. I know at least 4 Weijies. His Siglap apartment was nowhere as mundane and generic as his name was. Furnished simply and effectively, I wondered how someone as boring looking as Weijie could have planned the place out so well. There weren’t many pieces of furniture, nor were they exquisitely made, but they were extremely well positioned. So much so that it felt as though the furniture spoke to you, asking you to make full use of them.
I took a seat on a very comfortable sofa, and my friend walked off to do socializing. Occasionally someone would sit next to me, not exactly to talk, I suspect more to rest their feet on the lovely sofa. After an hour or so Weijie for some unexplainable reason disappeared into a bedroom, and after a brief moment reappeared clutching a brown leather folder. The fifteen or so members of the party continued with their conversations but each kept a curious eye on the leather folder.
‘This, is a collection of ‘DO NOT DISTURB’ and ‘PLEASE MAKE UP MY ROOM’ signs that I have collected over 9 years. They originate from more than 23 countries. Angola, Oman, Laos, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Canada, Djibouti, Taiwan, Portugal, Mongolia.. I can’t even remember all of them.’ He explained as he carefully took each sign out of their individual plastic wrappings.
Clearly none of the people gave half a fuck, but me, I was spell bound. I knew I had to have that collection along with that effort and persistence. A few people took polite glances at the door signs and returned it to him. I’m sure Weijie could tell no one really cared. He returned the door signs to the folder walked back to the bedroom.
I figured I would pretend to get drunk so that none of them would get suspicious if I left too early. I took about 7 shots of vodka and 2 large glasses of beer and pretended to be inebriated but I knew what I was doing. It is just another day at work for my seasoned liver. Some really drunk girl with half her breasts swelling out of her tight dress brought another six shots of vodka over. I drank one in front of her but while everyone was caught up with one thing or another, I tipped the 5 shots into the cats drinking bowl. Half an hour after midnight I excused myself to use the toilet, but I was headed in search for the leather folder. Weijie had made the mistake of leaving it conspicuously on a made bed. I looked out of the 5th floor window and spied a small garden with a single dim lamp post. Without thinking I flung the folder out into the bushes and returned to the party, all the time thinking when I should leave. After a couple of people had left, I decided it was time to make a move. I told Weijie and the mutual friend I had to go home and have sex with my girlfriend, which was not entirely untrue. They did the usual guy thing of persuading me to stay ‘just awhile more’, but I was firm and thanked him for the ‘great party’, and left quickly.
On the way down as the uniform buzz of the ventilator spun in my head I was stabbed with guilt. Why am I dong this?
‘Because that collection is fucking great!’ I quickly answered myself. I have not looked back since.
I looked around a couple of times casually to check if the coast was clear, and it was. I found the leather folder exactly where I had seen it land. I stuffed it under my shirt, leaving the condominium coolly, walking past the security guard who had his eyes fixed on the largest cause of security lapses; solitaire.
I hailed a cab and in the backseat I grinned to myself, feeling like I had just scored a winning goal for Singapore in the world cup finals, knowing damn well there was no pride in what I was doing. When I got home I locked myself in the toilet, so anxious to go through the loot I was perspiring. With trembling hands I examined each sign front and back, counting seventy four signs in total. He had visited numerous towns in each country, collecting from the various hotels and guesthouses he stayed in. The hotels he stayed at ranged from the extravagant ones like Hilton and Hotel Intercontinental to the local hotels. The local hotels mostly had the signs printed in the local language. I was impressed at the countries he had visited.
Suddenly three crisp knocks came from the door. I placed the leather folder under a towel on the bathroom counter and opened the door.
‘Hey baby..what is taking you so long in there?’ my girlfriend asked. I could see that she had just woken up.
‘Just taking a big dump,’ I lied, thinking to myself I had just created a lie that I’m going to have to keep up with.
‘I don’t smell anything. You normally stink up the place.’ She replied, with her eyes narrowing in on mine.
‘Well, next time I’ll be sure to keep some of my shit for your aromatic perusal,’ I joked.
Theft and lies, all started in one night.
She laughed and rolled her eyes.
‘Come to bed soon alright?’
‘Sure,’ I said watching her walk off, eyeing her bum through her think silk pajamas.
I showered and got into bed. That night we made love but all I could think of was the next collection I was going to steal.
My life went on as per normal, apart from breaking up with my girlfriend. I couldn’t imagine marrying her anyway. After a week of feeling sorry for myself, I put her in the section of my brain which stored useless memories and facts that did not benefit me whatsoever. It is very hard to forget things that you once knew existed without a shadow of a doubt, so the least that could be done is to render them functionless. In that section of useless things in my brain along with ex-girlfriends were the names of once famous football players and murderers, disgraced politicians, bad advertisements and algebra.
I did not have to lie or make any special effort to conceal the first theft. Three months went by, and I thought less and less about the next theft. That was until Chinese New Year came about.
While visiting a distant aunt, I had noticed a series of Chinese calligraphy that hung listlessly on various walls around the house. Although I had no prior interest in Chinese calligraphy, and I still don’t, I knew again right away that I had to have some of these paintings. This however was not going to be easy as the first theft. Majority of the calligraphy was hung in the living room which was filled with visiting relatives who were handing out red packets, snacking on New Year goodies, and talking about how much the kids have grown since they met last New Year.
I pretended to receive a call of certain importance and excused myself, walking towards the backyard, slowly surveying the calligraphy on the walls and peering into rooms. On the 8th or 9th piece of calligraphy that I had observed, I stopped dead in my tracks. This was it. I read the artists signature slowly, again and again. I had heard or read of his name somewhere but it took me awhile to recognize whose it was. This piece was painted by the younger brother of the last emperor of the Qing Dynasty, Prince Pujie. I grinned slightly impressed that I managed to recall some history I had studied in secondary school. I walked deeper into the guestroom, towards the calligraphy. I closed the door enough to block me from sight of anyone passing in the corridor.
In my haste to find the perfect calligraphy, I had not realised that there was a cot in room. And in the cot, was my cousin’s 20 month old son, who was asleep.
I hurried over to the wall. The calligraphy was easy to remove. It hung on a single plastic hook. I rolled the scroll up and as delicately as rape shoved down the length of my jeans. I probably should have handled it better but time wasn’t on my side. I took another two smaller calligraphies that hung on the wall and did the same, rolling them up and shoving them down my pants, into my socks.
When I turned around to beat a hasty retreat I noticed the baby awake and staring at me. The baby was strangely still and its gaze was frighteningly conscious.
‘Look away baby!’ I whispered, knowing damn well that the baby would not understand.
I left the room as quickly as I could before the baby cried for his parents. I walked towards the car via the side of the house, through the backyard, keeping the stolen pieces in the recess of the boot where the spare tire sat.
I returned to the house and sat on the sofa coolly eating Bak Kwa and peanuts, hoping that no one would discover the missing pieces anytime soon. As luck had it, no one did, until a day later when the maid had went in to clean up the room. Even my cousin had not noticed the missing calligraphy when he had went in to get the baby.
‘I wonder who would be as cheap and disgusting as to steal as a guest!’ my mother said to me a few days later when I went over for dinner.
‘Beats me mom. How low of the thief,’ I said with a perfectly straight face.
And for the next 3 years this went on. Every now and then I’d find a collection of something that I wanted desperately, and I’d steal it. When I saw these things it felt as though I couldn’t possibly continue with my life if I didn’t have it. Kleptomania? I don’t think so. I do not even believe such a thing exists. It is just a fancy medical term people use to cut themselves some slack, when all there is to any sort of theft is, plain and simple, greed and the lack of moral fiber to prevent succumbing to temptation.
In 3 years beginning with hotel signs I stole from the Friday party till now, I have stolen lunchbox collections, key chain collections, vintage jazz vinyl collections, SIM card collections, bus ticket collections, the list goes on. Each time I stole something I’d feel like it was effort and time I gained. I never sold anything I stole. I kept all of them. Sometimes I’d just lose track of time looking around my house taking a tour of everything that I’ve stolen, and I would equate each stolen collection to days, weeks and hours.
It is possible to be successful as a thief. Most people get away with it a couple of times, but the difference between a successful thief and a failure of a thief is that the successful thief knows when to bail. There is a right time for everything and when luck runs dry, a wrong time. As long as you know the safe duration between aborting and when shit goes down, you are a successful thief.
I bailed one sudden day, realizing its time to quit this once and for all, to remain successful. I had let the whole rush of gaining time and effort suck me through a tube and convince me that I could attempt to steal a collection of tropical fishes from a pretty fish tank display in a car dealers two levels under the office that I work at. I had made friends with a security guard as he did his rounds, and got to be quite close with him. I’d buy him a beer sometimes if I knocked off really late. Eventually I bribed him. There is no honor in that but somehow he was unaffected, and as I began an attempt to explain to him how it was just the fish I wanted, he told me he did not want to hear my story and handed me a bunch of keys, not before stuffing the five crisp 50 dollar bills into his breast pocket.
That evening I found myself wearing an ex-girlfriends unwashed stocking over my head, standing over the 6 foot high fish tank trying to net a beautiful Aztec Cichlid that kept evading my advances. And just like that, I realised it was time to bail. I left the car dealers office immediately.
Another random Friday, while cutting loose with my mates at a bar, a girl of about 20 comes up to me with a drink in her hand. Her type is obvious; the young, totally plain and normal kind of girl who wants to be different, special, and treated with unearned respect. We talked to each other at a corner of the bar further away from the jukebox.
‘So you are 28, single, and work for an events management company. Is that it? Don’t you have any hobbies or collect anything?’ she said, obviously losing interest in me, disappointed by my boring answers to her boring questions and the way I led my boring lifestyle.
‘I used to collect collections,’ I said before excusing myself to return to my friends, drinking till the pub closed in the gentle hours of the brand new Saturday morning.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Friday, November 13, 2009
12th November 2009 - Absent Rain
today i took it easy with a nap in the afternoon after sparking up. a while before the sun completely set i walked down to the mekong river and asked a boatman whether he could take me on a sunset trip down the river. we agreed on a price, 50 000 kip, about 5 usd. for about one and a half hours we just cruised about in the presence of the setting sun.
as usual at night as i drank a beer, ong came and sat with me to talk. i bought him a pepsi. soon enough another little girl who was selling bracelets on the street took a seat and demanded more than asked for a coke. i've seen her before, she had asked me to buy her a drink, which i did.
'ok' i said.
she chose a black tea drink which cost two times more than the coke. this is what she did the last time too, ask for a coke, and then choose the most expensive drink.
i bought the drink for her and resumed my seat, careful not to look like michael jackson. after another beer i waved goodbye to them and returned to my room where i read a haruki murakami book until i fell asleep.
as usual at night as i drank a beer, ong came and sat with me to talk. i bought him a pepsi. soon enough another little girl who was selling bracelets on the street took a seat and demanded more than asked for a coke. i've seen her before, she had asked me to buy her a drink, which i did.
'ok' i said.
she chose a black tea drink which cost two times more than the coke. this is what she did the last time too, ask for a coke, and then choose the most expensive drink.
i bought the drink for her and resumed my seat, careful not to look like michael jackson. after another beer i waved goodbye to them and returned to my room where i read a haruki murakami book until i fell asleep.
11th November 2009 - Budget Hotel Blues
this morning i woke up from some hammering coming from somewhere outside my room. ah, the agonies of staying in a budget hostel. you get what you pay for and occasionally more or less, and that is a gamble you have to take. my room as i found out, is above a kitchen. so one night my room can smell like pizza, and another night like meatballs and spaghetti. i'm not complaining, its fine by me. it smells like delectable fare anyway. i guess that explains the two strong ventilators in my room, they work great! i can smoke in my room and in the morning it won't smell at all. it is only when i leave the room and the ventilators aren't on that the cooking from the kitchen wafts in. in my room, the standard clumsy mistake that hotels often make strikes again, a big mirror in front of a bed. just so that you can wake up in the morning and shock the shit out of yourself at how awful you look when you just wake up.
in the morning i walked out for a breakfast of pad thai and on the way back a japanese lady with her eyebrows drawn on stopped me, and asked me something in japanese, pronouncing every word perfectly, as though she was reciting poetry. i explained to her that i was not japanese. like my father i can pass off as a citizen of quite a few asian countries.
anyway, she apologised for her mistake and then repeated her question in english.
'where are you staying now?' she asked.
i pointed out my guesthouse to her.
'how much does it cost?' her eyes doing more talking than her voice.
'$15 and it is quite nice although the water pipes make a lot of sound at night.' i explained.
'oh alright..i was looking for something cheaper..' she said, her sentence didn't seem to end although she had stopped speaking.
i was unsure of how to answer her.
'anyhow, thank you. see you', she said.
'see you around.'
in the afternoon i saw her at the fruit juice stand across the street drinking an orange juice, with a yellow flower tucked behind the tiny cavern of her pale ear. i asked if i could sit next to her politely, and she said sure with a kind smile.
'do you mind if i smoke?' she asked me, producing a crumpled near empty packet of local honghua cigarettes.
'please do.'
with a small disposable lighter, she lit her cigarette, inhaling deeply. her teeth showered that she had probably been drinking too much coffee and smoking too many cigarettes.
i found out that she was planning on staying in laos till 2010, and had quit her job in japan to make this happen. she had no ticket home, and no plans at all.
'sounds great!' i told her.
i shook her hand and told her my name. hers was aoko.
at night as i drank a beer on the curbside, a boy who helps out at the fruit juice stand that i patronize frequently comes up to me and without saying hi said to me, 'i saw you talking to the japanese girl.'
i was not sure how to respond.
'she ask you question there, then you sit there and she smoking and her eyebrows like this..' he said in halting english, motioning with his hands to support his words. i was surprised he noticed her eyebrows. he is only 12. at 12 all i did was play soccer and take irregular shits.
'she is 28 and just now i saw her drinking beer by the river,' he went on.
that night i sat outside a convenience store drinking beer lao, while my new friend ong sipped a cold can of pepsi i bought for him.
when i returned to my room i rank and smoked so much my head could not stop spinning. eventually i fell asleep.
in the morning i walked out for a breakfast of pad thai and on the way back a japanese lady with her eyebrows drawn on stopped me, and asked me something in japanese, pronouncing every word perfectly, as though she was reciting poetry. i explained to her that i was not japanese. like my father i can pass off as a citizen of quite a few asian countries.
anyway, she apologised for her mistake and then repeated her question in english.
'where are you staying now?' she asked.
i pointed out my guesthouse to her.
'how much does it cost?' her eyes doing more talking than her voice.
'$15 and it is quite nice although the water pipes make a lot of sound at night.' i explained.
'oh alright..i was looking for something cheaper..' she said, her sentence didn't seem to end although she had stopped speaking.
i was unsure of how to answer her.
'anyhow, thank you. see you', she said.
'see you around.'
in the afternoon i saw her at the fruit juice stand across the street drinking an orange juice, with a yellow flower tucked behind the tiny cavern of her pale ear. i asked if i could sit next to her politely, and she said sure with a kind smile.
'do you mind if i smoke?' she asked me, producing a crumpled near empty packet of local honghua cigarettes.
'please do.'
with a small disposable lighter, she lit her cigarette, inhaling deeply. her teeth showered that she had probably been drinking too much coffee and smoking too many cigarettes.
i found out that she was planning on staying in laos till 2010, and had quit her job in japan to make this happen. she had no ticket home, and no plans at all.
'sounds great!' i told her.
i shook her hand and told her my name. hers was aoko.
at night as i drank a beer on the curbside, a boy who helps out at the fruit juice stand that i patronize frequently comes up to me and without saying hi said to me, 'i saw you talking to the japanese girl.'
i was not sure how to respond.
'she ask you question there, then you sit there and she smoking and her eyebrows like this..' he said in halting english, motioning with his hands to support his words. i was surprised he noticed her eyebrows. he is only 12. at 12 all i did was play soccer and take irregular shits.
'she is 28 and just now i saw her drinking beer by the river,' he went on.
that night i sat outside a convenience store drinking beer lao, while my new friend ong sipped a cold can of pepsi i bought for him.
when i returned to my room i rank and smoked so much my head could not stop spinning. eventually i fell asleep.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
10th November 2009 - Luang Prabang
on the 10th of november i moved to thanaboun guesthouse to make way for some tourist who had previously booked a room at the sopha guesthouse. the new room at sisavangvong street cost 5 USD less, at $15 USD. i did some quick math in m head and figured i really do not have a large amount left to spend, not that i ever had a large amount to start of with. having checked in i booked a seat in a minimus to kwangsi waterfalls, a 30 minute ride from the hotel. this set me back by 60 000 kips, about 6 USD. at 1:20pm as instructed i turned up and was shown into the minibus with 3 other tourists, some cat from san francisco, and two chicks from denmark. we traded traveler stories and after coursing a few winding roads flanked by breath taking misty mountains, we arrived at the waterfall.
zephyr, the dude from cali, told us he knew of a little spot away from the crowd that was a hike away. going with the flow we all agreed to head up to his 'oasis like spot', realizing quickly that we had to take a ridiculously dangerous route up the mountain. the gradient was unforgiving and nearly every other rock was covered in slippery moss. some rocks gave way altogether when you stood on them. a few parts we found ourselves walking sideways adjacent to the pounding currents of the waterfall on a half meter slippery path wit a sheer vertical drop at least 60 meters down on the other side. i was not going to be the motherly naggy fun spoiler, if it was any fun at all, so i just trekked on. an arduous twenty minutes later we found the spot, and no one was in sight. we quickly dumped our bags on the wet muddy rocks and stripped our clothes off, walking into the curtains of cold rushing water. i had planned to smoke up here but i figured i would probably fall off and die if i attempted to get down high. we swam around and occasionally took a break from the pounding water in the small rocky caverns. i ran my fingers along the rocks where the water has been coursing for an infinite unknown number of years and found they were as smooth as pearls.
after an hour in our little private corner of kwang si waterfall we went down where most of the tourists were and swam in the faintly milky blue water stained by the minerals and calcium from the rocks. i watched as guys showed off their balls and jumps off a clumsily made swing on an old tree which ha a thick slippery branch stretching over the water. one guy with dread locks took a huge leap off the tree clutching tightly onto the frayed green rope. at the apex of his swing, instead of letting go to everyone's horror he continued to hang on tightly. retracing the path he had sailed through, crashing into the rough jagged stump of the tree with his ribs. everyone went 'ouchhhhhhhhhhhhh' together.
we left not long after that and our little group went our separate ways one we were dropped off at the tour agency. i took a shower and then bought myself a birthday dinner of lasanga, which came with a generous serving of salad on the side, from a swedish bakery for 29 000kip.
i went to bed early after a few beers realizing in the quiet of the night that a water pipe which led to a large angry pump was in the ceiling above me, making constant vibrations and groans every three seconds rhythmically, constantly, without fail.
no wonder my room was so cheap.
zephyr, the dude from cali, told us he knew of a little spot away from the crowd that was a hike away. going with the flow we all agreed to head up to his 'oasis like spot', realizing quickly that we had to take a ridiculously dangerous route up the mountain. the gradient was unforgiving and nearly every other rock was covered in slippery moss. some rocks gave way altogether when you stood on them. a few parts we found ourselves walking sideways adjacent to the pounding currents of the waterfall on a half meter slippery path wit a sheer vertical drop at least 60 meters down on the other side. i was not going to be the motherly naggy fun spoiler, if it was any fun at all, so i just trekked on. an arduous twenty minutes later we found the spot, and no one was in sight. we quickly dumped our bags on the wet muddy rocks and stripped our clothes off, walking into the curtains of cold rushing water. i had planned to smoke up here but i figured i would probably fall off and die if i attempted to get down high. we swam around and occasionally took a break from the pounding water in the small rocky caverns. i ran my fingers along the rocks where the water has been coursing for an infinite unknown number of years and found they were as smooth as pearls.
after an hour in our little private corner of kwang si waterfall we went down where most of the tourists were and swam in the faintly milky blue water stained by the minerals and calcium from the rocks. i watched as guys showed off their balls and jumps off a clumsily made swing on an old tree which ha a thick slippery branch stretching over the water. one guy with dread locks took a huge leap off the tree clutching tightly onto the frayed green rope. at the apex of his swing, instead of letting go to everyone's horror he continued to hang on tightly. retracing the path he had sailed through, crashing into the rough jagged stump of the tree with his ribs. everyone went 'ouchhhhhhhhhhhhh' together.
we left not long after that and our little group went our separate ways one we were dropped off at the tour agency. i took a shower and then bought myself a birthday dinner of lasanga, which came with a generous serving of salad on the side, from a swedish bakery for 29 000kip.
i went to bed early after a few beers realizing in the quiet of the night that a water pipe which led to a large angry pump was in the ceiling above me, making constant vibrations and groans every three seconds rhythmically, constantly, without fail.
no wonder my room was so cheap.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Sunday 8th and 9th November - Vientiane, Laos Part 2 AND Sunday 9th November, Luang Prabang, Laos
i rested my feet at a cybercafe near the riverside, and spoke to katy online. the cybercafe had webcams so we webcammed. in the hour or so that we spoke online i saw her light at least 4 cigarettes. i noticed she had painted her nails red too.
i returned to the hotel and took a shower, taking my time to scrub every square inch of my body. when i was done i packed my bags for tomorrows departure and laid out a fresh change of underwear and a shirt.
for dinner i went down a block and stopped at a random local restaurant and ordered a bowl of beef noodles. it was one of the best noodles i've had in my life. everything was that was served in the bowl was sublime. the delicious bowl of noodles was served with a standard plate of basil, mint, bean sprouts, lettuce, a wedge of lemon, and a small saucer of delicious chili sauce. the slices of beef are placed into the bowl raw, and piping hot beef broth is poured right over it, which cooks it instantly, leaving it tender. the beef balls are springy and delicious. an iced drink that looks like chrysanthemum is served for free as well, but it tastes like strepsils water. i was so impressed with the meal after i left i thought about it until i went to sleep. the beautiful harmony of noodles, salad, beef, and soup.
i slept early that night after having three beers and of course a spliff, waking up extra early to return to the beef noodle shop before i catch my flight to luang prabang.
9TH NOVEMBER
i wake up at six thirty. the sun had risen and when i left my room the hotel staff were mopping the coridoors leading to the lift. so i took the stairs instead.
'excuse me, excuse me. i think you smile very nice smiling!' the pleasant young lady told me.
'thank you very much. big smile to you keke' i said, while smiling of course. i guess it pays off to smile alot in laos. people reciprocate your smile often, and it is a win win situation.
i had half an horu to have my beef noodles. it was jut as good as the night before. a large brown dog sat next to me as i ate my breakfast, occasionally prodding my leg with its snout to ask for food.
'sorry mate', i said to the dog, and devoured the noodles. walking a block back to my hotel i watched as vientiane slowly rose in unison with the sun that hung low in the cloudless sky. the morning air was cool and the dust on the streets was beginning to get kicked up by the early bustle of commuters.
remembering suddenly that i had a huge bag of chronic with me i bundled it up in two layers of plastic and went on a street corner where there was an abandoned building, and left the bag on top of a tall letterbox. if it is there when i return then great. if it is not then too bad i guess.
i checked out and in five minutes arrived at the wattay international and domestic airport. on the left the international terminal, and on the right the domestic terminal. it was the oldest airport i've been to. there were no TV screens to display flight info, no air conditioning, and no conveyor belts to transport checked in luggage. instead, a boy in a faded blue untucked uniform came to place a tag on my backpack and carried it away on his back.
in between the departure hall and the arrival hall was a small cafe. wattay airport cafe. i had a coffee for 50 cents. this is the only airport i know that you can smoke in. there are no smoking signs around but you can smoke in the cafe.
soon enough i was on the plane, i have never been on such a small plane in my life. there were 2 rows of 2 seats. i had an aisle seat next to a local man who was referring to a lao to english dictionary and writing something in his notebook. although the plane was very small, the entire process was so much mroe enjoyable than a 50 minute flight from singapore to kl. since the plane was so small i could feel every manoeuvre it made. i sat in the plane for 10 minutes waiting for everyone to board and secure their luggages in the overhead compartments, and in that 10 minutes the plane was absolutely motionless with no hum of the engine whatsoever. once the doors closed, the ignition came on as speedily as that of a car's would, and the propellers spun steadily to life. as quickly as it had started the small plane quickly sped down the highway on the sun baked tarmac and leapt off into the light breeze. it was a short flight, and in no time we were descending upon the low lying clouds that blanket luang prabang. at first it was all hazy and visibility was zero but once we fell out of the bottom of the clouds, the beauty of luang prabang was evident in the landscape.
the security at luang prabangs airport shocked me. there was no one to check my passport. people collected their luggages and bags right out of the cargo compartment as though they were taking it out of a buddies car. as it is peak season in luang prabang, the prices of the guesthouses go up. i walked along the river asking if they had vacancies and it was not long before i found one. for 20 usd a night i got a room next to the mekong river. it was large and clean although old. the day passed slowly as i knocked back beer after beer seated on a concrete ledge by the river mekong. at night i had a plate of fried rice for dinner, then headed to the snack stand to buy a dragonfruit shake. while ordering i thought i would indulge in a nutella with banana crepe. i sat by the roadside on a tiled stone chair and thought of absolutely nothing at all. a little girl in a dusty little sweater plonked herself on the seat opposite me and asked if i were interested in purchasing a bracelet from her cardboard display. i declined but offered to buy her some food from the snack stand. her eyes lit up and she asked to have what i was having. sure, why not? i thought.
'drink?' i asked her.
'yes coke and cola!!' she said excitedly.
so i ordered the crepe and cola for her and we sat eating together. she spoke a lot and told me how much she loved nutella and coke. explaining in halting english learned from hawking her wares to tourists, she told me her school horus and general things that affect a 12 year old girl. janleng was here name.
the sun had gone down. as i took off my sunglasses that were hiding my red eyes, i noticed her watching excitedly to see my eyes.
she smiled sweetly, the way people do when they find out harmless and meaningless little things. i sat in the hotel lobby drinking beer, and when i got bored, bought a few bottles from the convenience store nearby and returned to my room to watch the pink panther and tom and jerry while smoking up. this is how i spent the last night of my teenage life.
i returned to the hotel and took a shower, taking my time to scrub every square inch of my body. when i was done i packed my bags for tomorrows departure and laid out a fresh change of underwear and a shirt.
for dinner i went down a block and stopped at a random local restaurant and ordered a bowl of beef noodles. it was one of the best noodles i've had in my life. everything was that was served in the bowl was sublime. the delicious bowl of noodles was served with a standard plate of basil, mint, bean sprouts, lettuce, a wedge of lemon, and a small saucer of delicious chili sauce. the slices of beef are placed into the bowl raw, and piping hot beef broth is poured right over it, which cooks it instantly, leaving it tender. the beef balls are springy and delicious. an iced drink that looks like chrysanthemum is served for free as well, but it tastes like strepsils water. i was so impressed with the meal after i left i thought about it until i went to sleep. the beautiful harmony of noodles, salad, beef, and soup.
i slept early that night after having three beers and of course a spliff, waking up extra early to return to the beef noodle shop before i catch my flight to luang prabang.
9TH NOVEMBER
i wake up at six thirty. the sun had risen and when i left my room the hotel staff were mopping the coridoors leading to the lift. so i took the stairs instead.
'excuse me, excuse me. i think you smile very nice smiling!' the pleasant young lady told me.
'thank you very much. big smile to you keke' i said, while smiling of course. i guess it pays off to smile alot in laos. people reciprocate your smile often, and it is a win win situation.
i had half an horu to have my beef noodles. it was jut as good as the night before. a large brown dog sat next to me as i ate my breakfast, occasionally prodding my leg with its snout to ask for food.
'sorry mate', i said to the dog, and devoured the noodles. walking a block back to my hotel i watched as vientiane slowly rose in unison with the sun that hung low in the cloudless sky. the morning air was cool and the dust on the streets was beginning to get kicked up by the early bustle of commuters.
remembering suddenly that i had a huge bag of chronic with me i bundled it up in two layers of plastic and went on a street corner where there was an abandoned building, and left the bag on top of a tall letterbox. if it is there when i return then great. if it is not then too bad i guess.
i checked out and in five minutes arrived at the wattay international and domestic airport. on the left the international terminal, and on the right the domestic terminal. it was the oldest airport i've been to. there were no TV screens to display flight info, no air conditioning, and no conveyor belts to transport checked in luggage. instead, a boy in a faded blue untucked uniform came to place a tag on my backpack and carried it away on his back.
in between the departure hall and the arrival hall was a small cafe. wattay airport cafe. i had a coffee for 50 cents. this is the only airport i know that you can smoke in. there are no smoking signs around but you can smoke in the cafe.
soon enough i was on the plane, i have never been on such a small plane in my life. there were 2 rows of 2 seats. i had an aisle seat next to a local man who was referring to a lao to english dictionary and writing something in his notebook. although the plane was very small, the entire process was so much mroe enjoyable than a 50 minute flight from singapore to kl. since the plane was so small i could feel every manoeuvre it made. i sat in the plane for 10 minutes waiting for everyone to board and secure their luggages in the overhead compartments, and in that 10 minutes the plane was absolutely motionless with no hum of the engine whatsoever. once the doors closed, the ignition came on as speedily as that of a car's would, and the propellers spun steadily to life. as quickly as it had started the small plane quickly sped down the highway on the sun baked tarmac and leapt off into the light breeze. it was a short flight, and in no time we were descending upon the low lying clouds that blanket luang prabang. at first it was all hazy and visibility was zero but once we fell out of the bottom of the clouds, the beauty of luang prabang was evident in the landscape.
the security at luang prabangs airport shocked me. there was no one to check my passport. people collected their luggages and bags right out of the cargo compartment as though they were taking it out of a buddies car. as it is peak season in luang prabang, the prices of the guesthouses go up. i walked along the river asking if they had vacancies and it was not long before i found one. for 20 usd a night i got a room next to the mekong river. it was large and clean although old. the day passed slowly as i knocked back beer after beer seated on a concrete ledge by the river mekong. at night i had a plate of fried rice for dinner, then headed to the snack stand to buy a dragonfruit shake. while ordering i thought i would indulge in a nutella with banana crepe. i sat by the roadside on a tiled stone chair and thought of absolutely nothing at all. a little girl in a dusty little sweater plonked herself on the seat opposite me and asked if i were interested in purchasing a bracelet from her cardboard display. i declined but offered to buy her some food from the snack stand. her eyes lit up and she asked to have what i was having. sure, why not? i thought.
'drink?' i asked her.
'yes coke and cola!!' she said excitedly.
so i ordered the crepe and cola for her and we sat eating together. she spoke a lot and told me how much she loved nutella and coke. explaining in halting english learned from hawking her wares to tourists, she told me her school horus and general things that affect a 12 year old girl. janleng was here name.
the sun had gone down. as i took off my sunglasses that were hiding my red eyes, i noticed her watching excitedly to see my eyes.
she smiled sweetly, the way people do when they find out harmless and meaningless little things. i sat in the hotel lobby drinking beer, and when i got bored, bought a few bottles from the convenience store nearby and returned to my room to watch the pink panther and tom and jerry while smoking up. this is how i spent the last night of my teenage life.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Sunday 8th November 0857 - Vientiane, Laos
it gets dark early in laos and most shops close early. combine that with the fact that the roads are very poorly lit, i'm back in the hotel by 8 most days, and sleep by 10. today i am up at 8 and i have the very plain breakfast of tea and a small pastry with jam at the hotels lobby. there are a group of elderly french people sitting next to me but we don't look at one another.
i take a shower and walk to the laos national museum. the entrance fee is 10 000 kip, and i was given a key to a small plywood locker to keep my bag in. there are 16 exhibits in the laos national museum and most of them are quite interesting. however there are a few sections with no english text, just in french and laos, so i have no idea what the exhibit is about.
exhibits included the development of the ministry of education, ministry of agriculture and forestry, the laos revolutionary youth union, a big wall of lao national heroes and many more. one exhibit stood out, an extremely grotesque picture of Vang Pao commander of special forces, the key henchman of the US imperialist. he was standing in front of two detainees, one had just been shot in the head and the other was awaiting the same fate, smiling as though he was in a birthday photo in front of a cake. in the same section where i saw this, were walls full of photos of monks killed by US bombs, little children with horrific wounds, sacred places of worship bombed to rubble, all courtesy of the US.
there was an interesting section on communism in laos with lenins communist ideals translated into laos. however this did not have english texts so i just made up my own stories to the pictures and exhibits.
my 2nd favorite exhibit is a tai leu masterpiece budda carving made out of teak wood from the 1850s, carved in the hongsa region. the statue of buddha captured him with sloping shoulders and a pot belly. the one remaining eye on the statue is a piece of cloudy old mirror, and as the english text states, 'the most unusual aspect is the two hands down on his knees on folder legs, the pose buddha assumed when he gave his last teaching. not one buddha in 100 000 is in this provocative death pose.' i looked at this immense carving for a long time.
my favorite exhibit though was the development of public security corner. behind a thin glass counter, not unlike the kind you find at a provision shop, and in the glass counter lay 200 amphetamine tablets, a palm sized packet of black tar opium, a fucking kilo brick of cannabis (seized in 1997), another 50 gram baggy of weed with the sticks and seeds very visible, 358.48grams of heroin, skeleton keys for stealing motorbikes, a pistol, and a home made meth bong made out of an old moisturizer bottle, tape and aluminum. bong making seems to be quite similar internationally. i wondered what it would be like smoking 12 year old weed and considered for a moment performing a kung fu kick on the display, tucking the kilo of weed into my shirt and sprinting my motherfucking ass off. but of course i didn't do that.
there were many other interesting exhibits like dinosaur fossils found in laos, to be precise 16 parts of a sauropods tail and 65 million year old wooden fossils from luang prabang. i left the lao national museum glad that i visited.
i legged it from the national museum to wat sisaket. along the way i stopped at some small local eating establishment and for 13,000 kip i had a tasty bowl of pork noodle soup, an omelette, and a bottle of water. when i was done with that i smoked a cigarette and spoke to some indian swedish guy. just friendly mandatory conversations when you share a table with another traveler like 'how long are you going to be here?' or 'where to next?' and 'where are you from?' such and such. when i asked which part of sweden he was from and politely suggested gothenburg, which was correct, he reacted as though i discovered gravity.
another 20 minutes from where i ate was wat sisaket. when i reached at 11:58am i was informed that they close for an hour at noon and reopen at 1pm again. so i trudged off in the wicked noon sun to talat sao morning market which did not have many stalls open. i bought a new empty book to write in for 70 cents and returned to wat sisaket to wait. it was a good half an hours wait. i found a cool spot under a large old tree with big branches that stretched far out and took a seat next to a group of policemen and women. actually they might have been trainee police as they were all so young. a pleasant looking policewomen in a well ironed uniform said to me, 'hello hello, what is your name?'
and i told her my name.
something about my name made the entire group break up into laughter. when they asked my age and i told them i was 19 turning 20, they broke into infectious laughter, and soon i was laughing at my own age too.
'do you have girlfriend?' asked one young policeman who had taken his uniform off to reveal a thin white cotton shirt. when i smiled and said no, instantly the 5 male police officers suggested that i 'love you to her', pointing at the female police officer who i later found out was 20. she giggled and looked away.
a few minutes later another female police officer rode in, and all the guys once again suggested that i 'love you to her', which made her face turn redder than strawberries.
wat sisaket is actually pretty small. half an hour is more than enough to take a leisurely stroll around and make small talk with youthful monks eager to practice their english. i removed my shoes and stepped into the temple to observe the lovely architecture. i thought a hundred years back, wondering what it was like to be a teenager in the 1800s. what would i do for recreation and leisure man! maybe i would have a girlfriend, maybe i'd be born into a farmers family to work the fields. i don't know.
i left wat sisaket and walked for 20 minutes to a japanese restaurant i had passed by the day before. it was called osaka and it advertised as being 'open by japanese.' i ordered a nigiri sushi set and a large bottle of beer. the sushi was not much to shout about. the meal set me back by 11 USD, my most extravagant meal in laos so far.
i had to wash my hands before teh meal so i went to the aft of the restaurant in search of a washroom. very common in laos and countries in south east asia are toilets that are built in the limited space under the gradient of a stair case. this one was by far the smallest one i've been in. the ceiling over the toilet bowl was so low you had to assume a limbo dance position, arching back as far as you can to take a piss. for ladies it would have been just nice, with about 10cm between your head and the ceiling if you sat on the toilet bowl. so i did my little limbo piss, nearly falling back and cracking my head on the aged porcelain sink.
to be continued
i take a shower and walk to the laos national museum. the entrance fee is 10 000 kip, and i was given a key to a small plywood locker to keep my bag in. there are 16 exhibits in the laos national museum and most of them are quite interesting. however there are a few sections with no english text, just in french and laos, so i have no idea what the exhibit is about.
exhibits included the development of the ministry of education, ministry of agriculture and forestry, the laos revolutionary youth union, a big wall of lao national heroes and many more. one exhibit stood out, an extremely grotesque picture of Vang Pao commander of special forces, the key henchman of the US imperialist. he was standing in front of two detainees, one had just been shot in the head and the other was awaiting the same fate, smiling as though he was in a birthday photo in front of a cake. in the same section where i saw this, were walls full of photos of monks killed by US bombs, little children with horrific wounds, sacred places of worship bombed to rubble, all courtesy of the US.
there was an interesting section on communism in laos with lenins communist ideals translated into laos. however this did not have english texts so i just made up my own stories to the pictures and exhibits.
my 2nd favorite exhibit is a tai leu masterpiece budda carving made out of teak wood from the 1850s, carved in the hongsa region. the statue of buddha captured him with sloping shoulders and a pot belly. the one remaining eye on the statue is a piece of cloudy old mirror, and as the english text states, 'the most unusual aspect is the two hands down on his knees on folder legs, the pose buddha assumed when he gave his last teaching. not one buddha in 100 000 is in this provocative death pose.' i looked at this immense carving for a long time.
my favorite exhibit though was the development of public security corner. behind a thin glass counter, not unlike the kind you find at a provision shop, and in the glass counter lay 200 amphetamine tablets, a palm sized packet of black tar opium, a fucking kilo brick of cannabis (seized in 1997), another 50 gram baggy of weed with the sticks and seeds very visible, 358.48grams of heroin, skeleton keys for stealing motorbikes, a pistol, and a home made meth bong made out of an old moisturizer bottle, tape and aluminum. bong making seems to be quite similar internationally. i wondered what it would be like smoking 12 year old weed and considered for a moment performing a kung fu kick on the display, tucking the kilo of weed into my shirt and sprinting my motherfucking ass off. but of course i didn't do that.
there were many other interesting exhibits like dinosaur fossils found in laos, to be precise 16 parts of a sauropods tail and 65 million year old wooden fossils from luang prabang. i left the lao national museum glad that i visited.
i legged it from the national museum to wat sisaket. along the way i stopped at some small local eating establishment and for 13,000 kip i had a tasty bowl of pork noodle soup, an omelette, and a bottle of water. when i was done with that i smoked a cigarette and spoke to some indian swedish guy. just friendly mandatory conversations when you share a table with another traveler like 'how long are you going to be here?' or 'where to next?' and 'where are you from?' such and such. when i asked which part of sweden he was from and politely suggested gothenburg, which was correct, he reacted as though i discovered gravity.
another 20 minutes from where i ate was wat sisaket. when i reached at 11:58am i was informed that they close for an hour at noon and reopen at 1pm again. so i trudged off in the wicked noon sun to talat sao morning market which did not have many stalls open. i bought a new empty book to write in for 70 cents and returned to wat sisaket to wait. it was a good half an hours wait. i found a cool spot under a large old tree with big branches that stretched far out and took a seat next to a group of policemen and women. actually they might have been trainee police as they were all so young. a pleasant looking policewomen in a well ironed uniform said to me, 'hello hello, what is your name?'
and i told her my name.
something about my name made the entire group break up into laughter. when they asked my age and i told them i was 19 turning 20, they broke into infectious laughter, and soon i was laughing at my own age too.
'do you have girlfriend?' asked one young policeman who had taken his uniform off to reveal a thin white cotton shirt. when i smiled and said no, instantly the 5 male police officers suggested that i 'love you to her', pointing at the female police officer who i later found out was 20. she giggled and looked away.
a few minutes later another female police officer rode in, and all the guys once again suggested that i 'love you to her', which made her face turn redder than strawberries.
wat sisaket is actually pretty small. half an hour is more than enough to take a leisurely stroll around and make small talk with youthful monks eager to practice their english. i removed my shoes and stepped into the temple to observe the lovely architecture. i thought a hundred years back, wondering what it was like to be a teenager in the 1800s. what would i do for recreation and leisure man! maybe i would have a girlfriend, maybe i'd be born into a farmers family to work the fields. i don't know.
i left wat sisaket and walked for 20 minutes to a japanese restaurant i had passed by the day before. it was called osaka and it advertised as being 'open by japanese.' i ordered a nigiri sushi set and a large bottle of beer. the sushi was not much to shout about. the meal set me back by 11 USD, my most extravagant meal in laos so far.
i had to wash my hands before teh meal so i went to the aft of the restaurant in search of a washroom. very common in laos and countries in south east asia are toilets that are built in the limited space under the gradient of a stair case. this one was by far the smallest one i've been in. the ceiling over the toilet bowl was so low you had to assume a limbo dance position, arching back as far as you can to take a piss. for ladies it would have been just nice, with about 10cm between your head and the ceiling if you sat on the toilet bowl. so i did my little limbo piss, nearly falling back and cracking my head on the aged porcelain sink.
to be continued
Sunday, November 8, 2009
7th November 2110 - Vientiane, Laos
happy birthday han. it is hard to believe that just this morning i was in KLs crappy bus pick up point, and now i am in vientiane, laos! the budget flight was delayed an horu, so i reached vientiane at 10:40 LT. for 6 USD i bought a taxi coupon to avalon hotel. i was checked into a neat little room, very basic but nice. the lobby is lovely too. now i'm having an 80cent cold beer lao, which is honestly one of the best beers i've tasted. i dumped my backpack in the room and walked out to find my bearings. i walked and walked, and when there was nothing left to do i walked some more. i had a couple of beers at a corner roadside shop before noon and i continued walking more.
when i was nearing avalon hotel i stopped by a cybercafe to email some people on a keyboard with the faulty letters A and R. when i stepped out i felt like some herb so i hit up a tuk tuk driver on the curbside. with in 2 minutes for 10 dollars i walked away with a big bag of what i was looking for. crossing dusty untidy avenues and police posts i stopped at a chinese-lao restaurant and pointed at a random picture on the wall. i was hungry enough to eat anything. the lucky dish that i chose was called 'spock with fried rice.' what spock is, i do not know. when the dish arrived, it looked good. i finished it promptly along with the tiny bowl of broth. still, i have no idea what the fuck spock is.
i took a good bath and came out of the shower feeling like i was worth a million bucks although i aint worth one. i took a nap, but not before rolling a fat one, shifting the bed so that i could open the windows. i was floored for 3 hours after that. potent stuff.
when i woke up from my coma i walked to a road side stall to have noodle soup. it cost $1.20. it was great. i took another long walk down the river, stopping for a beer at a swedish pizza parlour. the beer was cold and tasty and i drank it with great appreciation. this was 90cents. on the way back i met 2 singaporean girls from the same flight. i waved and they waved back but being singaporeans, we didn't say nothing to one another. they reminded me of the people on the last flight from kuala lumpur, in partciular this group of ladies, middle aged. the median being 55 or so. they were all on some group tour, and that few that i noticed were just too ridiculously hot. one of them might have been nearing 60 but i couldn't help thinking of some nasty shit. alright enough info!
they were all so hot, they looked like ex models. their light make up did not make them look any younger but it made them look just so sexy for their age. one of them caught me looking at her. i quickly looked down and blushed like a high school girl. they spoke in a mixture of english and hokkien and on the flight they stood up and walked to each others seats to chit chat as though they were in a cafe. i would not mind running into their tour group for sure!
tomorrow i can wake up as late as i want. i just went out on some dark corner under someones verndah and sparked up and had a few beers. i'm going up to get more money to get another beer. it is going to be such a chore peeling myself off this sofa...
when i was nearing avalon hotel i stopped by a cybercafe to email some people on a keyboard with the faulty letters A and R. when i stepped out i felt like some herb so i hit up a tuk tuk driver on the curbside. with in 2 minutes for 10 dollars i walked away with a big bag of what i was looking for. crossing dusty untidy avenues and police posts i stopped at a chinese-lao restaurant and pointed at a random picture on the wall. i was hungry enough to eat anything. the lucky dish that i chose was called 'spock with fried rice.' what spock is, i do not know. when the dish arrived, it looked good. i finished it promptly along with the tiny bowl of broth. still, i have no idea what the fuck spock is.
i took a good bath and came out of the shower feeling like i was worth a million bucks although i aint worth one. i took a nap, but not before rolling a fat one, shifting the bed so that i could open the windows. i was floored for 3 hours after that. potent stuff.
when i woke up from my coma i walked to a road side stall to have noodle soup. it cost $1.20. it was great. i took another long walk down the river, stopping for a beer at a swedish pizza parlour. the beer was cold and tasty and i drank it with great appreciation. this was 90cents. on the way back i met 2 singaporean girls from the same flight. i waved and they waved back but being singaporeans, we didn't say nothing to one another. they reminded me of the people on the last flight from kuala lumpur, in partciular this group of ladies, middle aged. the median being 55 or so. they were all on some group tour, and that few that i noticed were just too ridiculously hot. one of them might have been nearing 60 but i couldn't help thinking of some nasty shit. alright enough info!
they were all so hot, they looked like ex models. their light make up did not make them look any younger but it made them look just so sexy for their age. one of them caught me looking at her. i quickly looked down and blushed like a high school girl. they spoke in a mixture of english and hokkien and on the flight they stood up and walked to each others seats to chit chat as though they were in a cafe. i would not mind running into their tour group for sure!
tomorrow i can wake up as late as i want. i just went out on some dark corner under someones verndah and sparked up and had a few beers. i'm going up to get more money to get another beer. it is going to be such a chore peeling myself off this sofa...
7 November - KL
i have never paid so much for a taxi ride that has been that short. the arranged pick up time was 0445, and the unfriendly driver arrived at 0443. better punctual and unfriendly than friendly and late i suppose. bursting through red lights we reached kl sentral bus station one and half minutes later. this one and a half minute ride cost me 20RM.
i was awoken at 0310 by a ridiculously loud phone. i picked up and said hello, but i realised it was an automated wake up call. i put the phone down and brushed my teeth and slipped my jeans on. while standing in the toilet i realised in the vast morning silence there was a gentle yet maddening polyphonic ringtone. it was very silent but at that moment it was the only thing that played in my head. it went on and on as i stuffed my sandals into my backpack. i was starting to fear that when i opened the door the volume would jump up. when i finally opened the door, the mad polyphonic tone stopped, and was almost instantly replaced by the dry clicks of business shoes. they seemed to echo my footsteps, but the timing was way off. it could not be.
i paused, and three clicks later, it stopped too. when i started walking again the clicks resumed after i had taken a few steps. i prsesed the down button at the lift landing. the anonymous dry clicks from someones heel increased in frequency and volume. it appeared to be walking very quickly towards the lift from some unknown direction. when the lift doors opened the footsteps died off instantly. i urgently pressed the close button three rapid times.
i'm not proud to admit it but i swiped an edgar allan poe book that i had been reading the night before from the book exchange. it is really good. i just want to grab some breakfast from the airport and get to vientiane.
i was awoken at 0310 by a ridiculously loud phone. i picked up and said hello, but i realised it was an automated wake up call. i put the phone down and brushed my teeth and slipped my jeans on. while standing in the toilet i realised in the vast morning silence there was a gentle yet maddening polyphonic ringtone. it was very silent but at that moment it was the only thing that played in my head. it went on and on as i stuffed my sandals into my backpack. i was starting to fear that when i opened the door the volume would jump up. when i finally opened the door, the mad polyphonic tone stopped, and was almost instantly replaced by the dry clicks of business shoes. they seemed to echo my footsteps, but the timing was way off. it could not be.
i paused, and three clicks later, it stopped too. when i started walking again the clicks resumed after i had taken a few steps. i prsesed the down button at the lift landing. the anonymous dry clicks from someones heel increased in frequency and volume. it appeared to be walking very quickly towards the lift from some unknown direction. when the lift doors opened the footsteps died off instantly. i urgently pressed the close button three rapid times.
i'm not proud to admit it but i swiped an edgar allan poe book that i had been reading the night before from the book exchange. it is really good. i just want to grab some breakfast from the airport and get to vientiane.
6th November - Departure Singapore Arrival KL
the flight takse off in 20 minutes for kuala lumpur. i have no hotel bookings nor do i have any luggage to check in. everything i have is in my backpack, some shirts, a towel, a pair of jeans and two pairs fo shorts. it feels good to be leaving. the state of things in singapore ahve gotten far too mundane. my last exam paper was yesterday, a resit paper. it went alright, and i think i can clear it this time.
this morning my father drove me to the airport, and the ride was a silent one. we exhanged a few words abotu the traffic but that was it. as he pulled into terminal one i saw a fat rat scamper across the road into a small drain.
when my dad stopped the car i hopped out and grabbed my bags from the boot. i waved goodbye to him from a distance and he waved back, but i couldn't see the expression in his eyes, his spectacles were fogged up with the sticky november air.
2 days ago in was in school studying till late. as i rode home, somewhere around keppel road it started to rain heavily. then my front tire got pucntured. soaked to the bone i knelt at the petrol kiosk air pump trying to inflate the tire, but all my efforts were futile. i rode home with a flat front tire. when i got home i realised my cell phone was spoilt in the rain.
last night my computer crashed and my father raised his voice at me for nothing. that sums up my last few days in singapore. about as enjoyable as beastiality.
so the flight took off 25 minutes late. budget airlines are graet, although they are about exclusive and extravagant as a prison communal shower.
from singapore, you can visit so many beautiful south east asian countries on a budget, and the flights do not take long either.
think of the destination, don't think of the flight and the people on it. it is a very crude generalization but budget flights normally cater to the lower class families which, and i make another crude but true generalization, lack social etiquette. as i boarded the flight an extremely obese lady with huge soft rolls of dark fat flowing out of her hideous sari kept pushing me from behind, as though pushing me would get her fat ass to her seat faster. i wanted to knee her face in but of course i just turned aroudn and looked at her, and she stared right back with her bug eyes oozing pure hatred and disgust for me. eventually i found my way to my seat, in between a bespectacled quiet young man and a nice french lady who i later found out was touring singapore and malaysia.
when the flight finally took off people cheered like they were watching a violent sport. thank goodness it was a fifty minute flight. throughout the fifty minutes i was treated to a spoken performance by a young irritating fat kid who had a headful of thick adolescent hair matted down with a generous amount of gel, and from what i gather, next to nothing inside but gibberish and the remarkable ability to piss off everyone. he shouted everything that came to his mind.
i closed my eyes and imagined performing various uppercuts and hooks on the fat kid and the fat lady for the rest of the flight.
when we landed i sailed through immigration quickly and with no baggage to collect, strolled out to a booth to purchase a 2 way ticket to KL sentral and back to the low cost carrier terminal. i missed teh first bus because it was full, so i was first in line for the next one. i smoked a cigarette and waited. a queue formed behind me. i found out that the queue lasts only as long as the bus is out of sight. once the bus pulled into sight everyones urged forward conducting themselves as though they were at a children of bodom gig.
half the seats on the bus were occupied.
the highway sights in malaysia are pretty uniform. lots of palm trees, overheard power cables, billboards advertising shit for 2 years ago that have never been taken down, abandoned construction projects, the occassional mosque and a couple of lonely looking cows chewing on some grass.
i wouldn't be surprised to find out if this driver learnt how to drive in italy. he drives ilke a maniac with a fetish for inertia. when i closed my eyes i could easily imagine i was in in south africas serengeti plains riding on the muddy back of a mentally deranged wildebeest. i can't wait to find a hotel, dump my bag and grab some lunch. until then i watch in awe as the middle aged lady next to me applies eyeliner in this mad ride, while i struggle to put pen to paper. she better have good insurance coverage.
4:53
It was about 70 minutes from the low cost carrier terminal to KL sentral. from there, i bought a taxi coupon and caught at axi into petaling street, and promptly found the chinatown hotel. when i opened the door to my room on the third floor i saw a baby roach. i suppose it is still somewhere under the bed.
the taxi driver was a cool young guy with a sparse goatee. he did not speak much english though, so i had to speak to him in my broken malay, and he seemed genuinely impressed and thanked me for making the effort. malay i suppose is one of the simpler languages to learn. in the bus i saw a billboard advertising for 'eksklusif banglo', which as you can guess means exclusive bungalow. with so many words pronounced about the same as in english, it does help in making conversational malay esaier to pick up. i washed my face and smoked a cigarette upon checking in, then looked around the room. they provide the standard little items like soap, shower cap, and little hand towels. i've stayed in way grungier places. there is a little tv set too that has axn and hbo. i watched spongebob squarepants in malay and the voice over for spongebob sounded like one of my friends. i thought of him for a moment.
the hotel is on petaling street, which is pretty much like singapores bugis street, only rowdier. or like thailands patpong, but less rowdy. as soon as i step out of teh hotel i see rows of shop carts parallel to one another selling pirated DVDs and imitation clothes. most of the shops seem to sell the same thing. i had lunch at a nearby kedai kopi. wan tan mee and ice milo. i walked around aimlessly often finding myself following the tail of some equally lost caucasian tourist. walking behind them, not once did i get stopped or offered a massage or to buy some dodgy article of clothing. the store keepers instantly gravitate towards the caucasians who all seem to have gullible looks on their faces.
i took a nap and went out to a reggae bar in the later afternoon. a man from mandalay joined me at the table and we spoke briefly about general topics. his name is jimmy, and like many people in south east asia, has moved across the land looking for the best place to settle down in.
easy skanking my bob marley played and i thought of katie and what she was doing. probably at home in some $500 pair of jeans stoned out of her skull listening to bob marley, smiling at the terrapin in the womb of the dying sunlight.
i left after awhile and walked randomly into a pet store, and looked at puppies and kittens for a bit. i stood for a minute looking at a baby beagle, who looked right back at me with large sad hazel eyes that said 'this place is fucked, i'm sick of lying next to my own shit.' i sympathized with it for abit and left the shop, returning once again to the hotel. this time i sat in the lobby and watched 'wipeout' with an elderly man. he had a stern face and his hair thinned suck that it looked as though it was trying to escape his scowl. i was pleasantly surprised when he let out a ridiculous high pitched laugh upon seeing some contestant on the show fail miserably at attempting to hop across four large red balls. since 2009 is ending, i crown the laughter of the year to him. the best sneeze for 2 years in a row goes to the gentleman on the two twenty bus from phnom penh to battambang, who sounded like a baby flying dinosaur. i have not heard a sneeze better than that.
2130
tonight i met a malaysian gentleman who resdies in luzon, philippines, in the lobby of hotel chinatown. aged 54, he is a grandfather, his eldest son 32. my dad is 54 and i'm 19! this gentleman spoke english well, slowly and clearly, taking his time to pronounce each and every word slowly. he sipped tea as i drank beer. we spoke in short slow periodical bursts, then settled into stagnant silence until we had something meaningful to say. i found out he was in malaysia for an operation. he lifted his shirt to reveal a large white bandage neatly taped across his rib cage.
after arranging for a taxi and a wake up call at the reception i shook this gentlemans hand earnestly and wished him all the best.
'God bless you and all the best with your travels. Goodbye', he said slwoly and steadily. tonight i will fall asleep thinking of all the people i have met but for a fleeting moment, on the ship and in my travels. for a moment every ounce of focus i have is diverted to ponder on what these people have to say, shunning my very own private apathy, even though i know i will never see them again. it is somewhat upsetting but hitherto, there has been no regret.
now with this riot of people whom i would never see again in this life, i try to fall asleep to catch tomorrows 4:40am taxi to the bus station, the bus to the airport, and a flight to vientiane, laos.
this morning my father drove me to the airport, and the ride was a silent one. we exhanged a few words abotu the traffic but that was it. as he pulled into terminal one i saw a fat rat scamper across the road into a small drain.
when my dad stopped the car i hopped out and grabbed my bags from the boot. i waved goodbye to him from a distance and he waved back, but i couldn't see the expression in his eyes, his spectacles were fogged up with the sticky november air.
2 days ago in was in school studying till late. as i rode home, somewhere around keppel road it started to rain heavily. then my front tire got pucntured. soaked to the bone i knelt at the petrol kiosk air pump trying to inflate the tire, but all my efforts were futile. i rode home with a flat front tire. when i got home i realised my cell phone was spoilt in the rain.
last night my computer crashed and my father raised his voice at me for nothing. that sums up my last few days in singapore. about as enjoyable as beastiality.
so the flight took off 25 minutes late. budget airlines are graet, although they are about exclusive and extravagant as a prison communal shower.
from singapore, you can visit so many beautiful south east asian countries on a budget, and the flights do not take long either.
think of the destination, don't think of the flight and the people on it. it is a very crude generalization but budget flights normally cater to the lower class families which, and i make another crude but true generalization, lack social etiquette. as i boarded the flight an extremely obese lady with huge soft rolls of dark fat flowing out of her hideous sari kept pushing me from behind, as though pushing me would get her fat ass to her seat faster. i wanted to knee her face in but of course i just turned aroudn and looked at her, and she stared right back with her bug eyes oozing pure hatred and disgust for me. eventually i found my way to my seat, in between a bespectacled quiet young man and a nice french lady who i later found out was touring singapore and malaysia.
when the flight finally took off people cheered like they were watching a violent sport. thank goodness it was a fifty minute flight. throughout the fifty minutes i was treated to a spoken performance by a young irritating fat kid who had a headful of thick adolescent hair matted down with a generous amount of gel, and from what i gather, next to nothing inside but gibberish and the remarkable ability to piss off everyone. he shouted everything that came to his mind.
i closed my eyes and imagined performing various uppercuts and hooks on the fat kid and the fat lady for the rest of the flight.
when we landed i sailed through immigration quickly and with no baggage to collect, strolled out to a booth to purchase a 2 way ticket to KL sentral and back to the low cost carrier terminal. i missed teh first bus because it was full, so i was first in line for the next one. i smoked a cigarette and waited. a queue formed behind me. i found out that the queue lasts only as long as the bus is out of sight. once the bus pulled into sight everyones urged forward conducting themselves as though they were at a children of bodom gig.
half the seats on the bus were occupied.
the highway sights in malaysia are pretty uniform. lots of palm trees, overheard power cables, billboards advertising shit for 2 years ago that have never been taken down, abandoned construction projects, the occassional mosque and a couple of lonely looking cows chewing on some grass.
i wouldn't be surprised to find out if this driver learnt how to drive in italy. he drives ilke a maniac with a fetish for inertia. when i closed my eyes i could easily imagine i was in in south africas serengeti plains riding on the muddy back of a mentally deranged wildebeest. i can't wait to find a hotel, dump my bag and grab some lunch. until then i watch in awe as the middle aged lady next to me applies eyeliner in this mad ride, while i struggle to put pen to paper. she better have good insurance coverage.
4:53
It was about 70 minutes from the low cost carrier terminal to KL sentral. from there, i bought a taxi coupon and caught at axi into petaling street, and promptly found the chinatown hotel. when i opened the door to my room on the third floor i saw a baby roach. i suppose it is still somewhere under the bed.
the taxi driver was a cool young guy with a sparse goatee. he did not speak much english though, so i had to speak to him in my broken malay, and he seemed genuinely impressed and thanked me for making the effort. malay i suppose is one of the simpler languages to learn. in the bus i saw a billboard advertising for 'eksklusif banglo', which as you can guess means exclusive bungalow. with so many words pronounced about the same as in english, it does help in making conversational malay esaier to pick up. i washed my face and smoked a cigarette upon checking in, then looked around the room. they provide the standard little items like soap, shower cap, and little hand towels. i've stayed in way grungier places. there is a little tv set too that has axn and hbo. i watched spongebob squarepants in malay and the voice over for spongebob sounded like one of my friends. i thought of him for a moment.
the hotel is on petaling street, which is pretty much like singapores bugis street, only rowdier. or like thailands patpong, but less rowdy. as soon as i step out of teh hotel i see rows of shop carts parallel to one another selling pirated DVDs and imitation clothes. most of the shops seem to sell the same thing. i had lunch at a nearby kedai kopi. wan tan mee and ice milo. i walked around aimlessly often finding myself following the tail of some equally lost caucasian tourist. walking behind them, not once did i get stopped or offered a massage or to buy some dodgy article of clothing. the store keepers instantly gravitate towards the caucasians who all seem to have gullible looks on their faces.
i took a nap and went out to a reggae bar in the later afternoon. a man from mandalay joined me at the table and we spoke briefly about general topics. his name is jimmy, and like many people in south east asia, has moved across the land looking for the best place to settle down in.
easy skanking my bob marley played and i thought of katie and what she was doing. probably at home in some $500 pair of jeans stoned out of her skull listening to bob marley, smiling at the terrapin in the womb of the dying sunlight.
i left after awhile and walked randomly into a pet store, and looked at puppies and kittens for a bit. i stood for a minute looking at a baby beagle, who looked right back at me with large sad hazel eyes that said 'this place is fucked, i'm sick of lying next to my own shit.' i sympathized with it for abit and left the shop, returning once again to the hotel. this time i sat in the lobby and watched 'wipeout' with an elderly man. he had a stern face and his hair thinned suck that it looked as though it was trying to escape his scowl. i was pleasantly surprised when he let out a ridiculous high pitched laugh upon seeing some contestant on the show fail miserably at attempting to hop across four large red balls. since 2009 is ending, i crown the laughter of the year to him. the best sneeze for 2 years in a row goes to the gentleman on the two twenty bus from phnom penh to battambang, who sounded like a baby flying dinosaur. i have not heard a sneeze better than that.
2130
tonight i met a malaysian gentleman who resdies in luzon, philippines, in the lobby of hotel chinatown. aged 54, he is a grandfather, his eldest son 32. my dad is 54 and i'm 19! this gentleman spoke english well, slowly and clearly, taking his time to pronounce each and every word slowly. he sipped tea as i drank beer. we spoke in short slow periodical bursts, then settled into stagnant silence until we had something meaningful to say. i found out he was in malaysia for an operation. he lifted his shirt to reveal a large white bandage neatly taped across his rib cage.
after arranging for a taxi and a wake up call at the reception i shook this gentlemans hand earnestly and wished him all the best.
'God bless you and all the best with your travels. Goodbye', he said slwoly and steadily. tonight i will fall asleep thinking of all the people i have met but for a fleeting moment, on the ship and in my travels. for a moment every ounce of focus i have is diverted to ponder on what these people have to say, shunning my very own private apathy, even though i know i will never see them again. it is somewhat upsetting but hitherto, there has been no regret.
now with this riot of people whom i would never see again in this life, i try to fall asleep to catch tomorrows 4:40am taxi to the bus station, the bus to the airport, and a flight to vientiane, laos.
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