fear and loathing in bali: metamorphosis

when i woke up one morning from troubled dreams, i found myself changed into a snake in my bed.

at first i didn't notice the change. i couldn't feel my arms and legs but in my sleepy state, i had attributed the numbness to the red wine the night before. i rolled over and found that even after 5 turns i was still nowhere near the edge of the bed. truth be told, it was a rather big bed, one of those that you find in lux hotels. funny though, i didn't remember that the bed was so huge the night before.

i must be thirsty, i thought to myself as my tongue kept hanging out of my mouth. i realised that it was doing a flicking motion and no i wasn't thirsty at all. ssssstrange, i said. it was then that i knew something was wrong, terribly wrong.

looking down at my body, i saw a strong supple rope of muscle and scales leading down from my head. i started scrutinising all the details of my new body: smaller scales on the pale underbelly, the tapered tail, the differences in the 5 senses: sharper vision, scenting with my tongue, sensing vibrations instead of being reliant on my ears.

mind alert now, i tried to recall all that i knew about snakes from documentaries. snakes that eat elephants, snakes that swim, snakes that jump from tree to tree, snakes with lethal venom that kills in seconds, snakes that are tiny, snakes that dance and hypnotise, snakes with beautiful patterned scales, snakes that moult.

snakes were pretty cool creatures (i did love my pink snakeskin high heels...) and now i had turned into one.

on closer examination, my scales were in a dull shade of brown. not smooth or sleek like the snakes that i had seen before. i was slowly becoming aware of an uncomfortable sensation, as if i was wearing a jacket that had shrunk in the wash. breathing was a little laboured. i yawned to get more air. the skin around my jaw cackled and seemed to tear away. i took a deep breath and the tearing sensation spread down to the rest of my body.

i was moulting. too much sun at the beach the day before? perhaps. as a snake and i was not too concerned with sunburns anymore.

i jiggled my jaws to further loosen the old skin and gradually worked my way down. i freed myself bit by bit, progressing slowly. it felt like an eternity, and finally, done!

i looked at the old hollow skin next to me, me, glorious me. i was gorgeous in my new coat of shiny bronze scales. sssssso pretty. i hissed with deep satisfaction. how lucky that i didn't turn into one of those puny bright green garden snakes!

beside to me, the boyfriend stirred from his sleep. i had almost forgotten about him in my excitement. i waited patiently until he turned to me.

good morning, sssssweetie. how about a sssssnuggle before breakfasssst?

fear and loathing in bali: dancing with statues

we turned the corner to the front of the temple with some difficulty. the sarongs were wrapped too tightly around our legs.

the women sitting nearby caught sight of us and giggled. in fact, they did more than giggle - they pointed at us and laughed outright. it sounded menacing, though they were only mocking our badly fitted sarongs. one of the women came up, smile of amusement still on her face, and proceeded to help wrap our cloth more comfortably.

with our newly fitted sarongs, we climbed up the stairs leading up into the temple. tranquility. all around us were weather worn statues of deities. i took a few close-ups. one of them winked at me through my camera lens. i reviewed the photos but there wasn't any mischievous glint in the statues' eyes on my screen.

must have been the sunlight, i thought. or the martini that i just had.

i went through a little doorway, just in time to see that a little statue had jumped from its perch and was clinging to the side of my friend's body. she shrieked and jumped about, a crazy dance spurred by horror. the statue held firm and bared its teeth at me.

i shrank back cowardly.

the boyfriend rushed forward and swatted at the stone figure that came alive. it hissed and leaped away into the relative wilderness in the far corner.

all around us, the other statues were beginning to stir...

we hitched up our sarongs and ran out as fast as we could. the mocking laughter of the women still ringing in our ears.

there was a cut on the boyfriend's hand where the wayward statue had lashed out at him. no apparent side effects though he had started complaining about stiff shoulders recently...

fear and loathing in bali : celestial snack

on the beach i sat, admiring the glorious sunset in front of me. magnificent!

the clouds, in shades of deep red, hung so low that i could almost touch them. i reached out and brushed against one with the tips of my fingers. stretching out, i plucked a small red cloud out of the sky.

cool to the touch, it felt heavy and moist. like a damp sponge and not at all like the fluffy cotton candy clouds on hot sunny afternoons! i gave it a slight squeeze, water trickled down my arm. i licked the trail, my tongue following it up my arm, up my hand and then i licked the red sunset cloud. it tasted good, this red sky juice.

i took a hesitant bite at it. and then another. was i munching on a heavenly piece of watermelon or a red cloud from the evening skies? no matter, i was hungry. the air shimmered around me as i munched greedily. i took no notice. i was completely absorbed by my celestial snack. all too soon, i had eaten the entire cloud. i wiped my hands clean on my tshirt. cloud eating was a rather messy affair.

i looked at the skies hopefully. but the sun had set and it was too late to catch another red one. still hungry, i got up from the sand and headed back to my hotel for dinner.

it rained the next afternoon - a huge thunderstorm! i hid under my bed covers away from its angry eye. i cried tears of regret. my teeth that had bitten the red cloud so gleefully the night before now chattered and clattered with fear. i roared with repent when the forked lightning slashed across the grey sky with a crack of the whip.

no, no, never again!

the world turned upside down and i hid, safe under my bed covers, until the storm cloud rained out its rage at me, the insolent cloud-eater.

when i went out to the balcony, i saw the most radiant rainbow arch across the sky.

and i wondered how do rainbows taste like? i reached out eagerly towards it...

history repeating

have you gone through life with a strong sense of déjà vu thinking, this is not happening again.

we go through the same thinking processes make the same decisions and finally we make the same mistakes. learn from your mistakes? that only applies to the young and the very determined. we cannot change who we are or how we function. the layout of our brains has long been hardwired. it would take massive brainwashing from a doomsday cult or perhaps a complete shock to the system to change the way we are.

i don't change. i can't change. i've known that of myself for a long time. i can accommodate, i can adapt. certain things bring out certain aspects of myself but it is still me. i'm always me.

when i was living in all the various parts of the world, i did exactly the same things that i would have done in singapore. i set resolutions to stop drinking, to exercise more, to be more outgoing (essential when you're a stranger in a strange land). in the end, i was always attracted to the same type of friends, did the same activities and never exercised enough to have a healthy heart.

none of my resolutions ever last and i revert to my true self with the passing of time. and i make the same mistakes. over and over again.

this is not happening again.

i ask myself if things were as what i wanted and what i could do to get out of this trap. for it is a trap: it is a groundhog day without any chance of improvements.

i've seen it before, and i'll see it again. just a li'l piece of history repeating...

stop now, stop.

hotel bates

the financial crisis hit and virtually all my work travels had gone... virtual. web conferences, emails and conference calls have replaced my "airports, lush hotels and generous expense account" lifestyle of 2008.

we saved a hell lot of money. we didn't progress very much in our work but that doesn't matter. the bottom line is that we didn't spend any money and the bottom line is all we care about these days.

i fumed away in the office twiddling my thumbs. frustrated by the lack of progress, i managed to squeeze in a trip. but wait, there was a catch! my usual hotel was deemed to be too expensive and i had to stay at another one down the road. what kind of a hotel is it? i'll give you a few clues...

a hotel that hires kids to paint pictures for their walls.


a hotel that encourages their guests to drink tap water.


there were no drinks in the fridge (at least there was a fridge) and no doors for the cupboard either (at least there was a cupboard ).

not that i like to bitch (and i do) but hey, i do like my complimentary bottles of mineral water. this "airports, cheap hotels and meagre expense account" lifestyle for 2009 does not work at all.

i forsee a miserable week ahead. wonder if i can weasel my way home a little earlier...

ugly duckling

i threw a glance at the crying, brawling red faced little thing.

bundle of joy? whoever said that babies were a bundle of joy were either 1)stone-deaf 2)death metal music fans or 3)just darn lucky with a chirpy little thing.

my darling niece at home is definitely not a chirpy little thing. her operatic performance is comes on like clockwork every hour, without fail, night or day. her cries are specially pitched to pierce through the closed doors and thick walls for souring the sweetest of dreams in the deepest darkest nights.

i've always thought that i love kids. but recently, i've been secretly calling her little monster. but only when the rest of the family is not within earshot. i wouldn't want to be branded as the weird evil spinster aunt. i tread a thin line between normalcy and being burnt as a witch. and having a cat doesn't help with the image either.

talking about the cat, she has been feeling anxious about the new baby. we found a few bald patches on her beautiful coat of fur last week. apparently cats over-groom themselves when suffering from great stress or anxiety, resulting to bald areas on their body. i have a cat who's into self-mutilation - my very own psycho-cat! i've been trying to shower her with more attention. i guess it's always assuring to have someone scratch you on the spot between the ear and the nape, especially if you're a cat. *purr*

i think it's working. she spent last night licking my hand instead.

exhausted, the little monster drifted off to sleep. i'm looking at her, a perfect picture of peace now. her miniature fingers, exquisitely formed, were curled up. i caressed her baby soft hair. it was more like a big round head with some strands of jet black hair. not the most beautiful sight in the world, but ever so soft like velvet or silk that i couldn't stop touching it.

was i like that when i was a few weeks old: a toothless hairless red-faced little monster that did nothing but eat sleep cry and poo? how did babies survive in the caveman days? wouldn't indiscriminate screaming on top of your lungs draw unwanted attention from the predators? how did all those eating sleeping crying pooing cave-babies manage to avoid the teeth of the sabre-toothed tiger? do the young of other mammals behave with such casual arrogance? shouldn't evolution reward the defenseless for being discreet?

the baby stirred. her limbs jerked and stretched. i wonder what dreams she was having. she looked quite cute now that she was quiet. i patted her tiny chest.

grow up quick, my little ugly duckling. and please please please let me sleep peacefully tonight. or else... i'll set my psychotic sabre-toothed cat on you.

real to surreal

a friend recently went to the opening of an exhibition held by hermes.

it was the kind of pretentious exhibition where the artists had made a brave attempt to bridge surrealism with reality... blurred images hovered all around while paper forests hinted at lurking paper wolves. anything will look artistic in monotone, or in dramatic lighting, or both.

and there was a vast overdose of both.

although several of my favourite artists, singers and writers were cited as influences for this exhibition (which was why i visited it a few days after the opening), i found this interpretation unoriginal and uninspiring.

neither did it inspire my friend.

rather, it was the barrage of luxury handbags, not those sold in the shop but carried in the well-manicured hands of the perfumed ladies attending the event, that had sent her head reeling. except at the night markets of thailand, she had never seen such a huge congregation of branded leather.

she was carrying her beloved freitag: recycled from tarpaulin, very indie and doesn't cost a king's ransom.

i like her bag. it suits her: well-loved, indie and not extravagant.

i do like leather bags. to me, good quality bags for women are like well-made leather shoes for men. it's a mark of accomplishment. i too own a few expensive branded bags. they were bought in my younger days when i was eager to show off my "accomplishments" that i didn't quite yet achieve. months of my meager fresh grad salary were spent on those luxury bags. they now sit, mouldering silently, in my cupboard. i don't carry them anymore, they don't represent who i am.

these days, i carry a bag that i'd bought in rome during the summer sale 2 years ago. it's an up-and-coming brand that i love that is not yet famous nor extravagant. it was exactly what i wanted: a roomy leather sling bag. it's beat-up and grimy (because it's white) and unique. it will not fit in well in a hermes-organised exhibition either.

but i like my bag. it suits me well: beat-up, grimy and not yet famous.

some time later, my friend received another invitation to another opening of another surrealism exhibition organised by hermes. she asked if i wanted to join her. i said i was free.

from real to surreal? no thank you. that evening, we went out for a nice dinner instead.

happy year of the ox

just home from the new year's eve reunion dinner and i'm ready for bed. but no, it's another hour before we usher in the lunar new year. i'll stay up midnight. it's the year of the ox!

the chinese horoscopes predict a good year for me. i hope it will be true because there are many uncertainties for me this year. i will need all the good luck that i can gather. with my full tummy from dinner, the new year is starting well already. we shall see...

i wish you and your families a happy and healthy year of the ox.

blandness of chicken

i'm cutting down on caffeine, alcohol, nicotine and red meat. it's not abstinence, i still indulge when i'm in the mood.

abstinence doesn't suit me........

......i don't do guilt.

caffeine and alcohol keep my sleep/wake cycle in check. an espresso to perk me up after a late night drinking session; a gin tonic to calm my agitation down. it's a vicious cycle of dependence. the role they play in my life is inseparable: one is rendered meaningless without the other. they exist, still, but are less important in my life now.

it's a different story for nicotine and red meat.

my urge to light up has always been erratic. and i'm bored with it now. without even noticing it, i've stopped almost completely. it's not a conscious effort, in fact, thinking about quitting would probably make me want to light up again. i let nature take its course.

on the other hand, i've been meaning to cut down on red meat but couldn't find a good reason to do it. i love red meat. i love sinking my teeth into a well prepared steak. it's really sissy to give it up for health, but i do have to heed to the possibilities of the clogging of arteries and the mounting of blood pressure. it's so hard to live without red meat... it's not abstinence, i know. i still indulge when i'm in the mood.

abstinence doesn't suit me...

i'm just... re-discovering the blandness of chicken.

stop 4: changing hanoi

we stared at the quiet dark deserted doorway in dismay. it was the right address but the bar had magically transformed into something totally different. my 2 year old lonely planet vietnam was seriously out of date.

it didn't help that the seafood restaurant that we wanted to go to earlier that evening was taken over by a cafe chain called highlands coffee. who wants a mediocre cafe when there was good seafood to be had? well, the population of hanoi, apparently prefers to enjoy their overpriced cappuccinos on overstuffed red armchairs and dimmed lighting. almost a sacrilege considering how heavenly the cheap vietnamese coffee is.

disappointed, we found our way to the irish pub next to the hotel. it wasn't terribly exciting and neither was it listed in my lonely planet. maybe it was too new? but the gin tonic was good and more importantly, we knew it was there because we were there just the night before. fortunately, even hanoi doesn't move that fast.

in europe, things take centuries to evolve. i could return to the same cafe in paris that i'd visited 10 years earlier and still find the same grouchy waiter wearing the same threadbare waistcoat. in asia, nothing stands still. it's a challenge just trying to keep abreast of all the changes.

it was here, exactly here! no matter, it's a quiet dark deserted doorway now.

we need a 4 dimensional space-time navigation system: for places that exist, for places that used to exist, for places that will exist. how does one keep up with the constant flux of change?

is it for the better? in the case of the seafood restaurant, not at all.

time to recycle my old lonely planet.

stop 4: cabaret by the lake

we asked the waiter where the locals go for a good time. he offered to bring us there.

a cabaret, it was. true enough, it was packed to the brim with locals young and old. the children clapped along to the sexy dancing and the pulsating music. their family craned their necks for a glimpse of a naked thigh or a modest cleavage. the girls and their skimpy dresses offered these opportunities a-plenty.

such shimmer, such glamour!

the girls had serious expressions on their faces, exuding some bizarrely stern allure. the line-up of lookalike frowning girls with the same bouncy curls and heavy eye make-up. they were barely in their teens. the dance moves were made without any understanding of the associated sexual innuendo. it felt like a sexed up version of a school dance performance. the family restaurant atmosphere made it all worse.

i suppressed the urge to laugh.

but just as i was starting to enjoy myself, a mouldy old singer came on and he stayed on stage for the rest of the night. he certainly wasn't as entertaining. the families starting leaving, past bedtime for the young ones.

we stayed until closing time but the dancing girls never came back. it must had been past bedtime for the young dancers, too

bundle of joy

my niece has arrived!

i'm now officially an aunt, and it is a huge responsibility to undertake for the rest of my life. i cannot even start to imagine how this will change my life. maybe a little, maybe a lot. maybe not at all.

i hope that i will be as supportive and doting to her as my own aunt had been to me when i was growing up. such warm memories. for years, she would get me ice cream at swenson's and books from mph bookstore after exams every year. it was always such a treat in those days.

and now, it's my turn.

welcome to the world, little one. i hope that you will grow up to be a compassionate, intelligent and charming woman, and have a life filled with laughter and love. definitely, it will be filled with love from your aunt.