Entry 7: It's His Way of Saying, "Stop Being So Anal!"

Song of the Moment: No Letting Go by Wayne Wonder

Being the neat freak that I am, I was so elated to check in (even for one night) at a suite in Somerset. I have my own kitchen (which I won’t be able to use anyway), a microwave, a toaster... And a washing machine! Yahoo!

I was texting Enzo earlier, saying I was too lazy to go explore Ho Chi Minh and I wanted to just stay indoors for an hour or two. But the truth was, it wasn’t because I was too lazy or tired. It’s really because I got so excited over the washing machine, I decided to start washing all my dirty clothes! (Yeah, I know. Crazy girl. I ate lunch a bit late for that.)

If you can recall Entry 1, I talked about having a complete wardrobe plan. What is it, you ask? It’s basically a well-thought out matrix of bottoms+shirt pairing, to ensure there were no fashion repeats during the trip. (Which doesn’t really matter because I’m hardly on the photos.)  I labeled articles of clothing as “Black Pants 1” or “Shirt 1.” So for example, on day 1, I wore Denims 1 with Shirt 1. Day 2 was Brown Pants 1 with Shirt 2. Etc. (Waaaiiitt... Don’t gasp just yet.) Included in the wardrobe plan were provisions for wash days --- like how I really planned to wash Bottoms 1 and Shirts 1 to 4 at Somerset, and wash other articles at Crisel’s apartment. It’s really unnecessary planning at its best, but I guess if you know me well enough, that’s just the way I am especially if I have no intervention from people who will contest on the basis of weirdness.

Anyway, back to the laundry.

I figured out the Whirlpool washer without much trouble. Snaps for me. And I was watching the clothes tumble and turn inside the washer... Oh therapy indeed.

Fast forward to post-drying. When I was taking out the clothes piece by piece, I had a big smirk on my face because they all smelled so good, and they were already dry! I had the ironing board ready, with the iron plugged and heated. *Hissss* Oh yes. That must mean my iron’s ready.

I pulled out Brown Pants 2, shook my head at the unsightly creases and started to iron it.

*Hissssss* NOOOOOOO!

I burned it. I can’t believe I burned one of my favorite brown pants, after all those years of successfully ironing silk to chiffon to cotton to denim. Apparently, that hissing sound wasn’t the natural sound of escaping steam from the iron. It meant that the iron was overheating. And it didn’t take two seconds to burn through my brown pants. My brown pants became unfittingly grunge with burn holes on the knees.

AAAAAAAHHHH!

What of the pairing plan for Brown Pants 2 next week? I’ll have to redo my wash day provisions too! Oh no! Oh no!

Hehehehe. Believe me, those things seriously went through my head the minute the burn happened. But then I stopped short, and started laughing to myself. What the heck. That’s one less article off my luggage weight. And this’ll be my gift to leave behind to beloved Ho Chi Minh.

So I’m letting go of my favorite brown pants. Just like that. I’ll leave it here in Ho Chi Minh, where someone might decide to use it in spite of the huge burns or cut it down to scrap fabrics for handicrafts.    

Ladies and gentlemen, that was how Someone out there hit me in the head and said, “Stop being so anal!”

Entry 6: The Attack of the Swarm of Vs/Bs

Song of the Moment: Doomsday Clock by The Smashing Pumpkins

Vs as in Vespas. Or Bs as in Bicycles. 

It’s funny how I was so excited to take photos of the swarm of motorcycles traversing the streets of Ho Chi Minh while I was on the taxi going to my hotel. But when I was already walking around and crossing the streets because I had to.. O.M.G. It’s a death wish waiting to be realized! These Motorcycles and Bicycles mercilessly speed through traffic, with seemingly no care for pedestrians. Seriously, you can die from getting run over by a V/B! But I trust LonelyPlanet.com with their claim: 

“...crossing the street in Saigon can seem impossible to the uninitiated, but it's actually pretty simple.  Don't bother waiting for a break in the traffic, just step out and walk at a steady pace. Try not to stop and never ever step back. Vietnamese motorists are used to all manner of random obstacles and are perfectly happy to go around pedestrians... after all, running you over is just too much paperwork.”

It’s rather difficult to communicate in English here too. You really have to speak very slowly, in very simple English... Otherwise, you get quizzical looks. I took the tour around the Reunification Palace today and this was a funny conversation between the tour guide and some British woman.

Tour Guide: “Sow at the beck of the recip room is two elephent tus... A gift to the President from the military shojo.”

British Woman: “I’m sorry. A gift from whom?”

Tour Guide: “From the shojo. Military. You know. Shojo.”

British Woman: *thinking hard* ehmmm.. Shojooo...

American Man, Overhearing the Conversation: “You mean, Soldier?”

Tour Guide: “Yes! Yes! Shojo. Military. Shojo.” 

British Woman: Oh Soldier!

HAHAHAHA!

I also went to the War Remnants Museum and really, until I decide to go to Austria or Poland to see holocaust memorials, that has to be the most depressing tourist attraction I’ve ever been to . They weren’t really so GP about anything in the exhibits, meaning they didn’t care if they have little children visiting the site with their parents. You have photos of the mass murders, photos of body mutations due to Agent Orange and photos of tortured men with amputated limbs or deformed faces. They have such wonderful captions too, of actual statements from military generals being so damn proud of the violence they’re doing. Oh goody! Let’s not forget the replica of the Tiger Cages --- the worst kind of prison during the Vietnam War, complete with wax statues of battered, malnourished prisoners and a chamber with the actual guillotine used for torture! WOW! I’d go there again any day!

Not.

Anyway, I’m finally back at the hotel, resting up for the long day ahead. I’ll probably try riding the motorcycle taxi to the market tomorrow. Then, I’ll fly to Cambodia --- the destination I am most excited about.  

So far, it’s been just the right mix of adventure and well-planned chaos. Really having the time of life. :)

Entry 5: "Gotcha Covered." --- Guardian Angel.

Song of the Moment: Angels and Spies by Thirteen Senses

Yet another proof that my guardian angel’s close by throughout the trip. 

It was rather last minute, but I was able to set up a dinner with my sister’s friend, Andrew Goh. He’s a Malaysian of Chinese descent, and he also has a wooden pallet factory in Klang, Malaysia. (Don’t get me started on how we talked palletspeak through the night.) I joined him and his brother, together with their wives, for dinner at this excellent Chinese restaurant that surprisingly served NONE of the normal Chinese lauriat food items. We were served roast pork cuts, fish on a sizzling clay plate, sautéed asparagus tips, tofu with anchovies and king prawns in oyster sauce. (Where’s the sweet and sour pork? The steamed fish?)  

But hey, that’s not my story.

I asked them “locals” for advise re: my dilemma. My flight to Ho Chi Minh the next day leaves 7:30am, and I have to be at the airport by 5:30am. But  let’s remember that the airport is 1 1/2 hours from Kuala Lumpur. So I booked a taxi to pick me up at 4AM and take the three highways to the airport terminal. "Was that a safe choice?" I asked.

Andrew would hear none of it. "It's not safe."

He and his wife offered to let me stay at their place for the night (that is, 20mins away from the airport), so they can drive me there at 5AM. 

I tried to resist. Promise.

But I couldn’t.

So I checked out from Novotel, rode their car to suburbs and next thing I know, I was taking a shower at their house, sleeping at their daughter’s room, and accompanied to the airport through security checks, check-in, etc. WOW. I’m really lucky to have such a wonderful surprise host family. I can’t imagine what my morning would have been like if I took that taxi alone to the airport at 4AM. That would have been another suspense thriller waiting to happen.

Thank you thank you, Goh Family. I am forever indebted. And for that, you'll be invited to my wedding too. Hehehe. 

Entry 4: The Best Place for an Architecture Lesson

Song of the Moment: Alone in Kyoto by Air

I did the most tourist-y activity in Kuala Lumpur --- take the Hop-On Hop-Off Bus around the city! It went pretty well actually; I didn’t have to struggle with a map and an MRT route. Plus I maximized my RM38 for two whole routes, jumping from the Craft Cultural Complex to the National Museum to the Petronas Twin Towers to China Town (Petaling Street) and finally, the Central Market. There were loads of photos along the way, presenting the progression of improved photography skills. Little Enzo’s looking better each time. 

All I have to say is, Malaysians are probably the best modern architects out there. Of course, I have to give primary recognition to the Petronas Twin Towers. These magnificent structures look like they jumped out of the drawing board — almost looking animated and 2-dimensional, which is impressive for something 3D. Putrajaya was of course just ridiculously extravagant, in a modern way. They don’t have a lot of tours going that direction, but if you get the chance to drive by before entering KL, you should. It’s worth watching the light hit the glass buildings when you get there.

Oh and a little tip, when you get to the Central Market, look for the small stall that offers a 10-min foot reflexology for RM5. The catch? They use fish (and no pun intended). These little fishies bite off your callous feet because for the first time, there are actually creatures that get excited over dead skin cells! They have something similar at Underwater World Sentosa (Singapore), but they charge an arm and a leg. Trust me, 10 minutes is enough. The European ladies who sat next to me were squealing to no end! Hahaha!  

Entry 3: How To Be A Classy Hitchhiker

Song of the Moment: The Way We Get By by Spoon

Remember those movies that featured hitchhikers who turned out to be serial killers? Well, what if the hitchhiker was a twenty-something lady who was using an iPhone, had a Liz Claiborne shoulder bag and was speaking fluent American English in a Muslim country? Would you let her hitch a ride with you?

A Singaporean and a Malaysian did. Hehehe.

En route to Kuala Lumpur on a budget flight, a Singaporean Chinese man in his early 40s sat beside me. We started chatting. He was in the businesses of sports apparel direct selling (e.g. Adidas and Nike, y’all!) and a new business project (ready-mix cement) brought him to KL with a Malaysian business partner. Next thing I know, I was taking the 1 1/2 hour car ride with them from the airport to Kuala Lumpur on a well-preserved vintage Jaguar, with a brief stop at Putrajaya to take photos of the beautiful government buildings. I could have decided not to hitch a ride with them, but  the idea of taking a 1 1/2 hour bus ride with Indonesian domestic workers who have no sense of personal space gave me goose bumps. So I took the lesser evil. Hitchhike it is. 

Many Putrajaya photos and light conversation topics after, I found myself also having lunch with the two men at a rustic Malaysian restaurant called Sakura (Since Year 1977). I finally got to sample authentic Nasi Lemak and Chicken Satay, “as preferred by the locals,” and said to be better than the Singaporean counterparts.  I offered to pay for lunch at the least cuz they were being so kind to me, but nooo.. The Singaporean man just kept saying, “Oh no no no.. Take advantage of the Malaysian hospitality. Because Malaysia is Truly Asia.” 

The two men dropped me off at my hotel, and it was a jovial handshake here and there. That’s it. 

Suspense thriller novelists will probably whine and say, “Whaaaatt?? Where’s the catch?” I guess, for a change (and don’t take my word for it; this was a RARE occurrence!), being a hitchhiker isn’t always synonymous to a disaster or crime scene waiting to happen. 

I guess, someone out there’s making sure I go through this trip smoothly. 

PS: Enzo dear, I know the minute you read this, you’ll probably get mad at me. But what the heck. Hehehe. 

Entry 2: The Land of the Odd Mythical Creature

Song of the Moment: Get There by Boa

The moment I saw the odd-looking cartoon on the 5-min film, I couldn’t help but chuckle. 

I was at the Merlion attraction of Sentosa yesterday; it was basically an airconditioned room for those who have been walking under the sun for too long that includes a five-minute clip that explains why Singapore’s national, uhm, creature is the Merlion. The lion image is derived from the story that the young prince who discovered a mysterious island encountered a lion upon setting foot on the shore. And they had an eye-to-eye moment. And soon, there was mutual respect. 

Hmmm. 

And then the “Mer” part comes from the nation’s tribute to the sea --- remembering how the sea has been their source of livelihood in the early years. Put them together, you have a fierce lion head with a graceful fish-like body.

Hmm.

Whatever oddities that can be observed, Singapore still ranks number one on my ridiculously organized places list. It’s that place that puts signs like “Steep Road in ____ Meters, Get Off [Your Bicycle] Now.” Or has time indicators for everything (e.g. bus arrivals, MRT arrivals, road traffic). Or has everything plotted out for the inexperienced traveler. It’s the best place to test drive my “surviving alone” skills, because, well, I’ve been fairly spoiled by an overly OC country that is probably so close to thinking for you. The city’s alive and I could have sworn I was being watched all the time (apart from Bangladesh immigrants who weren’t taught that it’s rude to stare).    

Anyway, the theme of the Singapore leg was: “How To Get Muscle Pain”. A great part of the trip was spent walking and taking the MRT and climbing stairs and walking some more. In a nutshell, I spent my time eating local street food around Bugis, got lost in Chinatown, had a Singapore Sling at Clarke Quay, walked along the Orchard Road and Novena, took the Sentosa Express for beach & garden photos, scaled VivoCity and Plaza Singapura, tinkered with every video clip at the National Museum and finally rode the Singapore Flyer with Kat and Carl. I will post the photos on Multiply soon.. And you’ll see Little Enzo walking quite the stretch.

Let’s just say that when I woke up this morning, I had to give myself a full blown foot and leg massage to lessen the pain. I promised myself I won’t do a lot of walking in Kuala Lumpur, but we’ll see about that.  

Entry 1: Leaving on a Jet Plane

Song of the Moment: Butterfly by Mariah Carey

Location: NAIA 1 Waiting Area, next to Great Panda Chinese Food and Duty Free Liquor and Cigarettes Section.

The scenario looks like this: A girl in black (from the clothes to the MacBook) is seated on non-ergonomic indigo chairs, killing an hour or so by writing about the excitement she has all bottled up inside her. She’s all alone, ecstatic, and if it were not for her composure, she would have been sent to a psychiatric ward cuz she has the tendency to start skipping around in extraordinary glee.

Here I am, people. Waiting for the boarding call to the ultimate vacation of a lifetime.

For the next 14 days, I will be hopping from one city to another all over Asia in this order: Singapore, Kuala Lumpur, Ho Chi Minh, Siem Reap, Bangkok, Hong Kong and Macau. I will be all alone (hence the excitement) albeit equipped more than ever. I have the following neatly organized in my hand carried Samsonite bag:

• my Black MacBook;
• a flexible point-and-shoot Canon PowerShot SD1000;
• barely enough cash as my credit card will be my friend;
• too many hotel vouchers and one-way e-tickets booked by yours truly;
• a mapped out daily wardrobe plan because yes, I planned that too, including wash day provisions;
• medicines and kikay essentials;
• and a ‘lil ol companion who will be known henceforth as Enzo.
  

I’ve been traveling with family since I still had bangs (and it’s worth carbon dating those bangs photos btw); and I’m so thankful I’m from a family that loves to travel. I have all these magnificent memories from unique experiences all over the world: marveling at the great Iguazu Falls, wine tasting at Robert Mondavi wine country, spending the night at the Palace of the Lost City Hotel in South Africa, watching an authentic Argentine Tango Dinner show, pigging out at a real life Hawaiian Luau, climbing the Great Wall of China, exploring the Louvre Museum, trying not to stare at real hookers at red-light stores in Amsterdam, getting soaked in London, and so much more.

But admittedly, this is the first time I’ll be flying out of the country on my own without a semblance of family as a safety blanket. (Okay, Japan doesn’t count cuz I had a foster family there.) This comes as a much deserved break from a near imprisonment I had the past year, being the caretaker of the family business while the parental units travel all over the world. But more importantly, this is the trip that will test my readiness to be thrown out into the ocean and survive with ease. This is going to be THE trip of ALL TRIPS (and previous travels have set the bar high) that will go down in history as the ultimate experience I’ll have before I get married.

I’ll come back a reinvigorated woman, with stories to tell my friends and family.. And soon, my children and my grandchildren.