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Posted at 16 Nov 10:53 pm. 0 comments
PD was great.
Good food, watery fun, and a brilliant game called Ring of Fire/Four Queens. Subdued debates late at night when most were asleep. We only went to bed hours into the new day and woke early for the hotel breakfast, but while exhaustion was expected it was funny how throughout the entire trip we were rarely all in the same room at the same time. People kept wandering off for catnaps in ones and twos.
Maybe five years earlier, a trip like this meant staying awake for as long as humanly possible, and indiscriminately employing the use of caffeine stimulants if unconsciousness was imminent. Every ounce of fun had to be milked of the time.
Now it’s “Fuck it, I don’t care if everyone’s dangling naked from the ceiling fan, I’m going to bed.”
We’re all getting old.
Then there was the thing about alcohol. I had fun the first night, but when everyone had gone off to bed without a single head spinning from overindulgence I admit to disgust. “Drink with me,” I appealed to Tiger, and he obliged, therefore saving my night.
We had half a cup of langkau each before I stopped, deciding I had enough.
Half an hour later my buzz was completely gone and I found I was as guilty of overcaution as everyone else. Pwned, totally pwned.
—
Rules for Ring of Fire:
People sit in a circle with a shuffled deck of cards. Each open one card at a time.
Ace, 2, 3, 4 – Pick the corresponding number of people to drink a shot – or one sucker to drink all.
5 – Question card. When the person who has this card asks a question and someone answers, the answerer has to drink. If the answerer says “Fuck you,” the questioner drinks. Is nullified only when the next number 5 card is opened.
6 – Thumb on table. Person can place thumb on table (or floor) at any time. Last person to notice and follow suit drinks.
7 – Hand on head. Same as (6)
8 – Strike a pose. Same as (6)
9 – Topic card. Person who opens it picks a multiple-answer topic eg. “Name the types of coffee at Starbucks” and gives an answer, followed by the person beside him and so on. If people fail to answer in time, they drink. Questions may be as obscure as the questioner wishes.
10 – Toilet card. No one may go to the toilet without this card. It may be exchanged for a penalty, eg. finishing their drink before they are permitted to go.
Jack – Ring of Fire: Everyone starts to drink. People may only stop drinking if the person beside them puts down their glass. Pray your neighbor isn’t a sadistic bastard.
Queen – Drink to the Queen. Everyone drinks a shot.
King – The first three Kings escape unscathed. The fourth King downs his entire glass (in another variation, the contents of the glasses of the first three as well).
Posted at 14 Nov 3:16 pm. 0 comments
Everyone’s downstairs in the pool, swimming, taking pictures with poshkin’s underwater camera.
I’m not with them for a number of reasons, but I’ve opened the sliding door to the balcony and parted the floor-length curtains so there’s nothing but a wrought-iron rail between me and the horizon.
I’m curled in a chair with a pillow, basking in the breeze as my fingers coax a story from the keyboard without guidance. The laptop is balanced on my knees, rigged to a speaker amplifying Depeche Mode, and two bottles – one of a strong alcohol mix, the other of cool water – are conveniently at hand.
All I can see is the vast grayness of the ocean and sky, textured with waves and clouds, their immense pent-up power dwarfed by infinite space. I struggle to take it all in, find myself absorbed by it instead, am turned inside out and sent to soar over the endless seascape. The wind in my hair smells faintly of saltwater and ozone.
Words are inadequate for this feeling of security, of happiness and utter peace. My thoughts drift gently with the tide, from imaginary world to real one. Both are equally delightful.
Bliss comes in many forms.
Posted at 12 Nov 1:17 pm. 0 comments
Organizing accommodation for our PD trip was a bit of an eye-opener. It’s not the same as it was when we were students. I only just realized that – slow, I know.
I suppose it’s only natural that when you’re on a tight budget, you’re more casual about your comfort. But for me, squeezing as many people into one bed as possible was part of the fun – that slumber party atmosphere, the whispers and giggles in the dark.
I’ve spent the night four to a double bed, each unable to turn on their side without disturbing everyone else, unwilling to use the ample bunk beds in the next room. On most trips, or even when the boys stayed over on Saturday nights after clubbing, we used to crash three to a sofa bed. And it was fun, convenient even, because if you wanted to stop someone snoring, you could just poke them instead of sacrificing your pillow to throw at their head.
(Sometimes they solved this problem by throwing socks. Dirty socks. Yes.)
It does makes perfect sense that some like their personal space, some are willing to pay for comfort. But though I hate to admit it, I’m nostalgic for unconscious mutterings, increasingly violent shoves against the insensate leg that’s taking up your sliver of the bed, the press of warm bodies in the cold dawn, the comforting chorus of regular, muffled breathing that seeps into your consciousness first thing in the morning.
Posted at 23 Aug 3:54 pm. 1 comment
Was just notified we may be going to Japan (Osaka and Kyoto, possibly Tokyo) in November. I should be jumping for joy, not feeling marginally horrified. I’m just very over traveling at the moment.
Overseas trips I’ve had thus far this year: Pattaya, Hanoi, Guilin, Singapore, Sarawak, Krabi.
Not to mention the road trips and weekends away I’ve been on, and the monthly trips to Graytown. AND we were already planning to fly to Langkawi in October and possibly Singapore for ZoukOut again.
I’d really rather stay home.
Posted at 19 Aug 3:20 pm. 0 comments
Nopparat Thara beach
Ao Nang was, in essence, very hot (did I mention that already?) and rather more expensive than I expected, but they weren’t kidding about the beaches of pristine white sand, picturesque limestone islands and clear blue-green seas.
The heat was probably even a plus given that no fever could survive the amount of sweating it induced; mine certainly didn’t. Beginning the afternoon we touched down in Krabi, Sexybum and I ran the gamut of flu symptoms: fever, chills, body ache, headache, dizziness, sore throat, coughing and sneezing. The worst of it wore off in two days, which was ample time to appreciate the care my amazing boyfriend was giving me while feeling very under the weather himself.
Things which were good to consume:
- Grilled chicken drumsticks from roadside stalls.
- Pancakes from roadside stalls.
- Any food from Jamali’s, which is cheap and tasty… and a roadside stall. It’s situated by the road, round the corner from Ao Nang beach, next to a stall which sells drinks at night.
- Coconuts, and anything in a coconut. Coconut shakes? Yum. Coconut coolers? Wonderful. If they put pig’s blood in a coconut I’d probably drink it too.
- Alcohol in buckets.
Alcohol in buckets. No, I still haven’t gotten over it.
Usually the list of edible local goodies is longer, eg. Hanoi where mouth-watering delights await around every corner, literally. This time, due to where we were we simply couldn’t find any local dives, we couldn’t get around that easily or we just weren’t up to looking. We did discover a no-no though: bottled alcohol made locally. Our last two nights there we celebrated with bottles of Thailand-made Bacardi Breezers and Espy cocktails. The following mornings we woke up with headaches and aching eyes. The local alcohol is seriously dodgy.
A brilliant warning. Also notable is the blue tsunami-exit-that-way sign above it. I’d have assumed “RUN AWAY FROM THE GREAT BIG WAVE!” was only common sense.
I normally micro-plan everything, but this time I didn’t even know where I’d be sleeping that night. Given that unpreparedness and our health we had a really good time, but I’d go back again because for those exact same reasons we didn’t cover as much as I’d have liked to. We slummed it a bit but for the most part rolled with the mainstream tourist crowd – it seemed inevitable. Everywhere we went the streets were swarmed with Caucasian tourists, which meant that local traders used to conversion rates about 40-60 times higher than their own currency were naturally going to hike their prices up.
Conversely, we saw some of these tourists haggle over already cheap items, or things that were non-negotiable – bus fare, for instance. Proving once again that common sense is a rare commodity all over the world.
I leave you with a photo of a fighter’s legs looking cool.
Muay Thai: Sport is important investment for body. Dividends include broken teeth, internal hemorrhaging and fractured ribs. Sign up today!
Posted at 17 Aug 3:00 pm. 0 comments
Our hotel’s charm tries to make up for the fact that it is rather inaccessible: about seven minutes’ walk from the main road, rather than the 2-3 minutes we were told to expect. Cowed by the heat, we turned back less than halfway and breakfasted in the hotel itself.
In a lovely surprise, the van we were expecting to catch on the main street came looking for us instead. It took us to Smart Cook Thai Cookery School, where for about RM100 we were to learn how to cook seven dishes each. Our class consisted of two Australian men, a Japanese couple from Tokyo, three British girls and a lot of story-telling.
We can cook Thai food! Isn’t it great? Let’s go to the mamak to celebrate.
We chopped, diced and pounded ingredients, which are surprisingly similar throughout dishes, listening to our instructor’s tales throughout. “The spiciness of your curry depends on how angry you are,” he told us enigmatically, and showed us what he meant by pounding his chillies with the flat of his knife – the more smashed they were, the hotter the resulting dish. We wrapped spring rolls, made curry paste and mixed salads. We fried, boiled and stir-fried everything. Oh, and if you thought working in front of an open stove on an already sweltering day isn’t a piece of cake – you’re right.
A word to the wise: If you’re planning to take a similar cookery course at this school, don’t bother with lunch. After we finished each dish we got to take it to the tables and sample our creations. By dish no. 2, you’re full. By dish no. 5, you don’t want dinner. By the time it’s over, they have to roll you out to the car because you’re too heavy to walk.
Walking on water.
On the way back we stopped at Nopparat Thara beach and enjoyed a slow(!) ramble over the sands while holding hands, pausing every now and then to take photos of the scenery. As we kissed, the sky flamed a brilliant vermillion above us in one of the most spectacular sunsets I’ve ever seen.
Sunset.
“Have we sufficiently satisfied a romantic cliche?” I asked, because keeping my mouth shut to avoid ruining a romantic moment is beyond me, and he pretended to hold up a list and said, “Check.”
A man after my own heart.
Posted at 16 Aug 2:23 pm. 0 comments
Playing with fire.
We didn’t envy that glass-maker, because by the time we came across him we were drenched with sweat. Fifteen minutes after stepping out of our bungalow we realized dehydration was a serious possibility. Ko Phi Phi in the daytime is seriously, ridiculously, hot.
Stalls deserted in the heat
The insane humidity took the fun out of shopping for knick-knacks – not that the stall-holders, spoiled by European holiday-goers with high exchange rates on their side, were much for bargaining. Slipping into one of the many air-conditioned massage parlors around, we had our muscles kneaded for a blissful hour before it was time to hop back into the ferry for the mainland.
Boats at the jetty
Back in Ao Nang we splurged – yes, splurged – on Ben’s House, a charming little hotel tucked away in a corner off the main street which features beautiful, newly furnished RM70 rooms. But hot, sticky, tired and irritable as we were, who was looking? More attractive to us was the pool it shared with the hotel next door, a lovely triumph of creativity in the limited space available, which featured waterfalls and salted water. From its infinity edge, refreshed and cool, we watched the sun paint the sky orange and pink as it sank gracefully past the horizon.
Posted at 15 Aug 2:49 am. 0 comments
We left our accommodation at the rather misnamed P.K. Mansion (RM50 for a basic bedroom and spacious, clean bathroom) just in time to catch a small parade complete with drag queens in resplendent costumes. What was the occasion? A staff party. It was a taste of things to come in a place where it’s not enough that you’re having fun: you’re morally obligated to make sure everyone joins in on your fun too.
The tuk-tuk arrived soon after, loaded us with our backpacks, and we were off. The fresh sea breeze played havoc with our hair. To our left golden shafts of morning sunlight illuminated the limestone mountains and the vast blue expanse of the sea, dotted with quaint wooden long-tail boats. To our right, in sharp contrast, were gleaming storefronts which housed the icons of the civilized world. A Haagen-Dazs. A McDonalds. And a Starbucks, for crying out loud.
Ao Nang, you sellout.
Railay Beach
The ferry from Ao Nang costs under RM100 per person for a return trip and stops by Railay before landing you at Phi Phi Island. Going by the photo above it may be hard to imagine holding out for something better, but we did. No regrets.
Ko Phi Phi is unlike any island I’ve seen. The entire island is so densely covered with small stalls and restaurants and mini-resorts, there is no road big enough to fit a car. The main route twists and turns and looks more like a series of well-maintained back alleys, branching off helter-skelter to dead ends. Thatch-roofed shacks slouch against brick-and-tile affairs, bamboo-adorned storefronts contrast sharply with gleaming white or brown paint; the whole affair, despite being the physical manifestation of the term ‘tourist trap’, has in its spontaneous haphazardness a certain charm.
Phi Phi Casita
After settling in at P.P. Casita, a community of charming little bungalows connected by wooden walkways, we headed for lunch and then – what else does one do on an island? – the beach.
Stripping down to our swim things, we frolicked in the pleasantly warm waters before retiring to our deck chairs. Beneath a large blue umbrella which shielded us from the worst of the sun, we sipped watermelon shakes and coconut coolers as we buried our toes in the fine white sand. Before us the calm blue-green sea stretched out to the horizon, its surface dotted with craggy limestone islands. Husky Latin singers crooned in the background.
Bliss? Oh, yes.
Coconut Cooler Recipe:
1 young coconut
Triple Sec
Bacardi
Malibu
Pineapple juice
—
- Pour the coconut water into a blender. Scoop out the flesh and add it in.
- Mix in the alcohol. Add ice.
- Blend.
- Shake the resulting sludge of icy deliciousness back into the coconut husk.
- Decorate with an orchid, pop in a straw, and experience heaven on earth.
Ko Phi Phi is a bit of a single girl’s paradise, by the way. Everywhere else in the world women habitually put on make up, dress up, primp and pose; here the ladies were obviously a lot more laid back and it was the men who strutted around nearly naked, their tanned and toned muscles gleaming, hair artfully tousled, sleek sunglasses in place.
Not that I was looking.
Say it with me: awww.
When dusk fell we wandered out in search of dinner and entertainment, which came in the form of pool tables and live Muay Thai matches in a rowdy, double-storey bar. The other options were the annual foam party (I can make one in my bathtub) and any one of the many raucous bars (which KL has no shortage of), but I don’t often get to see sweaty men doing their level best to kick each other’s faces in, live.
No, seriously.
Oh, balls.
When we ordered drinks our potent cocktails came in honest-to-god buckets, albeit small ones, with three straws, because one clearly would feel a little overwhelmed on its own. There was such a blatant lack of finesse in the presentation; the honesty tickled me pink. You’re here to get drunk. Come, let us help you.
Who could resist such an offer?
Alcohol. In buckets.
Posted at 30 Jul 3:29 pm. 0 comments
In my day, when someone had a cold you gave them vitamin C, warm chicken soup and a box of tissues and sent them to their room to sleep it off. Before the week’s end they’d be better. Sometimes a particularly nasty case dragged on another week, but if it did – so what?
“Your mother’s been ill for what, three days now?” my dad said when he called up. “Take her to the hospital.”
“It’s not H1N1,” I retorted, reading between the lines.
“How do you know?”
“She’s only got a runny nose, for starters.”
“There you go, talking like you know it all. Doctors can’t even tell if it’s H1N1 or not and there you go like you know everything.”
My dad: well-respected and feared by many, but he has his really dim moments.
He tried to dissuade me from going to Sarawak too when I was on Day 4 of a cough that Mum had taken five days to recover from (and promptly passed on to me). “It could be H1N1, how would you know? It could turn into pneumonia.”
I touched down in Sarawak the next day, experienced instant recovery and proceeded to run in the rain, hike, club, drink, dance and scream myself hoarse at the Rainforest World Music Festival.
Speaking of which, three perfectly healthy friends of mine actually pulled out of Rainforest last minute, forfeiting their air tickets and paid accommodation in a move that still makes me sigh when I think about it, even though I vowed to be understanding. The rest of us had great fun. We’d have had more fun if everybody had been present, but c’est la swine flu paranoia.
Dear H1N1-phobic persons, please go out and get some perspective. The grip on reality comes free.
Posted at 26 Jul 11:47 pm. 2 comments
Champagne-flavored bubble tea is, as we discovered, bright blue. Walking back to the car with the bright lights of Jonker Street behind us, we shared cerulean-stained kisses.
Avillion Melaka was spacious enough, with a distinctive, elaborate outer facade, but failed to live up to the expectations Avillion PD created. The water chalets of PD were a beachside paradise, with the green-blue sea murmuring under our feet and schools of tiny fish swimming around the stilts that held our chalet up. Gauzy, dreamy ripples of mosquito netting enclosed the beds in privacy. We lounged on the spacious window seat, padded around the spa-like open-air bathroom and, from our deck chairs on the veranda, watched the sun set directly before us: a private, magnificent show of pink and flaming gold.
None of that in the Melaka hotel, which at least still boasted a luxuriously soft bed in a comfortable room. Coupled with the company and a bottle of chilled white wine, it was a blissful private haven.
We sang along to the radio, got lost a couple of times, engaged in heated debates, ate a lot of food, wandered among night market stalls and tried our hand at making ABC (harder than it looks). It was a timely retreat from the world and we didn’t have enough time to do all the things we wanted to do, not by far.
But we’ll be back.
