Perspective

I'm sitting in front of my MacBook on a Saturday afternoon, burnt to a toast, wanting to be lazy but telling myself that if I don't do this now - or soon - I'll never get down to it. Of course, 'this' would refer to my post on the just-concluded 3 day, 3 night getaway to Krabi. Any written account is certain to fall short of the actual experience, but perhaps words and pictures - which will be up soon, I tried uploading them a moment ago but for some reason that was unsuccessful - may present a more comprehensive outlook and preserve the experience, or at least the more memorable and enjoyable aspects of it.

Having arrived in Krabi airport in the evening, there was not much to do except stroll down Ao Nang, a stretch of tourist kitsch not dissimilar to Phuket's Patong, consisting of a road set back from the unremarkable beach and lined with restaurants and convenience stores (including the 7-11 where we procured cheap alcohol) on one side and tall, swaying palm trees demarcating the boundary with the beach on the other. Dinner was at a nondescript Thai restaurant serving relatively overpriced and mostly unremarkable cuisine, bar what I'd like to call the eviscerated catfish dish and the MSG-laden vegetable concoction.

Day 2 and we headed on a speedboat to Phi Phi Island and surrounds, taking in Bamboo Island, Phi Phi Leh (where The Beach was shot at Maya Bay, which we visited), and stopping at numerous sites for snorkeling. The water was so clear it hurt, especially at Maya Bay where it was mesmerizing turquoise. We stopped at Phi Phi Don for lunch and saw two HOT HOT HOT Asians, who must have been models, one of whom had a ridiculously sculpted body, I couldn't resist a triple take. When you're in a sea of Caucasians, some cute, some old and flabby, a hunky Asian man is the proverbial needle in the haystack. After lunch we stopped for more snorkeling, and I relished swimming in the heart of a school of fishes, especially when they congregated to wherever bread was thrown, although Jerrine seemed to be a prime target for this. It wasn't exactly a life-changing experience, but will certainly be one of the distinct memories emblazoned in my mind.

The other would have to be the monkeys on Monkey Island! Yes, there I go with my monkey fetish again. While I suspect that they are selfish, greedy, and in fact, evil, I couldn't help but feel delighted when I got close to them, and when one turned to look at me, then looked at another monkey as if to say something to it, and have both proceed to charge at me. I should have brought bananas. B-A-N-A-N-A-S!

We were pretty beat by the time we got back and dinner was at an Italian restaurant where we had mediocre pizza and the most delicious coconuts I have ever encountered in my 21 years.

Another defining moment was the white-water rafting expedition we took on our third day. After what seemed like an eternity (and after witnessing some sort of cultural parade), we arrived at the starting point. Meng and I seemed to be the only boys in swimming trunks and the girls say - and I do remember hearing this - that someone exclaimed when he saw me. I don't know if this was in admiration or in disgust, but you can't say that we didn't make some sort of an impression. The actual rafting was immensely enjoyable, although it really didn't require much effort and certainly wasn't a courageous, atypical feat when you consider that there were professionals at the front and the back who did most of the work - steering. We just paddled on cue, and at times didn't paddle at all. Nevertheless, it was certainly worth the price and the long journey, and we amused ourselves (and must have annoyed the driver and guide somewhat) with incessant singing on the return journey.

After a short rest, we headed out to Ao Nang beach for conventional R&R. Lying on beach towels under the sun, coconut in hand, watching the waves lap in...it was basically the beach holiday stripped down to its essence, although Ao Nang beach itself was really run-of-the-mill.

The girls were approached by this massage lady desperate to have us patronise her establishment, to the point where she was handing out free pineapples and insisted on herding us from where we were down the stretch of Ao Nang, refusing to let us leave the beach in order to dispose of the coconut husks. Rachel was worried that they would harvest our organs, which I found to be a strangely amusing thought.

The Thai massage was alright. Unremarkable, and I was worried that he would crack my fingers. But we left with organs intact.

We ditched the plan to go to Krabi town and settled on a nearby restaurant, Tanta's, where Rachel and Jerrine swear they had the best prawns ever. We wanted to find a place for drinks and walked to the other end of Ao Nang, but were driven back to the main strip after we chanced upon a seedy side-road with menacing-looking transvestites. Had ice-cream with apple tart at Dolce Vita which was DIVINE. So divine that just before we left the next day, I had to drop by for a second go.

Speaking of food, we had plenty of the traditional Krabi pancakes, of the sort Lena had been raving about before we left. We patronised the two stalls so many times the vendors would smile every time we walked past.

So it was the last night and it was decided that we would buy cheap alcohol from 7-11 and go back to the hotel room (you can get a Barcadi breezer for 55 baht, which works out to under $3). We had done so the previous night and the girls decided to have 2 bottles instead of 1. I - perhaps wisely - opted to have only one bottle of some white wine-sparkling mineral water concoction. Having returned from our room with my phone - which I felt had a wider variety of party music than Meng's, although it wasn't long before we were repeating songs - I was shocked to find Victoria Beckham at the door, decked out in sunglasses, a scarf, and carrying a small purse. This repertoire of accessories later expanded to include, in no particular order, a sun hat, a black handbag, and a pair of red sandals. What started out as a night of laughter and benign debauchery ended up resembling a club by the middle of the night, when girls who had too much to drink started to pass out/vomit.

Which is why I was glad to be absolutely sober, and have Jerrine to be relatively sober as she had to take care of the other two. Victoria seemed to be in a world of her own. I do hope to see her again in the near future.

And that was it, our last night in Krabi, but the holiday wasn't quite over yet. It ain't over, as Christine says, till the plane lands in Singapore and you have to walk through what resembles the cinema exit of a heartland mall - complete with lack of air-conditioning - to immigration and baggage claim.

Ao Nang failed to satisfy our appetite for a gorgeous beach and so we headed on a long-tail boat to Ao Phra Nang, which is set between towering cliffs and has a karst formation sitting a distance from the coastline for good measure. It was like being in a postcard! The water was pristine, you could see the sand patterns on the seabed, the sand was soft and powdery. After a day under the sun, we were roasted to crispy perfection, although I suspect I shall be paying the price for being lazy and not applying sunblock. We lay around in the sand/water for most of the day, and the girls gave Meng big boobs that apparently were attracting stares from everyone else on the beach. Check out facebook for the pictures.

And that's about it really. We were talking almost non-stop on the short ride home and I am glad to have had this opportunity to get to know everyone better. We may never ever travel in this exact combination again (although I think it was a great group, but with everyone headed to different places and different paths in life, who knows?), but we shared a moment - however fleeting - together that we can all collectively look back on for the rest of our lives, perhaps worth a mention in any future biographies.

I've traveled with friends to KL, Hong Kong, and on a cruise before, and I can safely say this experience has been well worth the money and time, although part of me wishes the circumstances were different.

Oh Me Oh My

One of my favourite blogs has been restricted to "invited readers" only! No more updates on new bags, new boyfriends, new cars, and all the other ridiculous accessories available to one with a seemingly inexhaustible bank account. I'm going to need a moment to mourn over this loss...ok!

Speaking of blogs, I dreamt that I met and spoke with another person whose blog I read who has no idea of my existence. Isn't that weird? Apart from Lena, she's the only other girl whose blog I read on a regular basis, although nowadays I usually skim through quickly. She's a friend of a friend, but I don't know her personally. Indeed I don't think I've ever seen her in real life. Now ain't that funny.

Asian Boys Asian Boys. Alfian's final gay play. It was thought-provoking, although not exactly the "happy ending" I was expecting. It played (pardon the pun) on one of my greatest fears - what happens to us when we grow old? Do we become the pathetic old man who lies that his partner of 39 years has passed away when in actual fact said partner has left us for someone younger and more virile, frequenting saunas - as the bottom feeders, no less - in the hopes of temporarily satisfying the insatiable? It's a lonely, depressing existence.

On a happier note, I loved the Wilson Phillips reference (in fact I shall proceed to downlo...I mean, PURCHASE, Hold On now) and the hilarious drag on boat caption. So very witty. Although I remain CONVINCED (and I think Meng is really going to slap me if I persist with this theory but I remain undeterred) that the repeated use of E M Forster and Maurice was not entirely original.

Haha.

Anwyays, I'm off to hopefully enjoy what looks set to be a quiet, lazy Sunday.

FUCK ME!

And so it begins. The QUEEN is back, shown here on the set of the video for "Get Back", the first single off her long-awaited 5th studio album, her first since 2003's pop classic, the Grammy-winning In The Zone.

I haven't been this excited in a while. BRITNEY FUCKING SPEARS IS BACK! Against all odds, back to stake her claim as the most successful and iconic female singer of the new millennium! I may now be a regular worshiper at the temple of Avril, I may be rocking to Good Girl Gone Bad, I may be eagerly anticipating the eminent return of the Spice Girls and Jennifer Lopez to the English music scene (LOOK OUT FOR HER HAWT NEW TRACK "HOLD IT, DON'T DROP IT), I may gush effusively about Pink, I may go "to the left" with Bee, BUT NO ONE, NO ONE, HAS OR CAN EVER TAKE THE PLACE OF BRITNEY, AND I CAN'T WAIT TO HEAR HER NEW MUSIC AND WATCH THE VIDEOS!
ARE YOU READY MOTHERFUCKERS??

I Read, Therefore I Am

Browsing the national library never fails to pique my interest, even today when I was feeling the effects of lack of sleep followed by a discouraging driving lesson. There are too many books I want to read, and it seems like a shame to only borrow one, although I know that's about all I can manage at one go. I'm not the kind of person who can juggle multiple books concurrently. Two is about enough, and I'd much rather focus my attention on a single one.

Anyway, the one book I did borrow is reputedly one of the greatest autobiographies of the last decade, Katharine Graham's Pulitzer Prize-winning Personal History. Thus far, it hasn't disappointed. Her candor is most admirable, especially with regard to Mother and her lifelong "self-absorption".

Biographies are probably one of my favourite genres of books, partly because I'm nosy and partly because I seek to draw inspiration and motivation from the people who have seemingly lived interesting and fulfilling lives - enough to write a book about themselves. Not everyone can make that claim.

I want to be able to write a book about myself when I'm old. Not that I would actually write it, but rather I want a life that is worthy of being recorded for posterity. Haha I already have the ego. Now I need to attain the goods to back it up.

Good Game To Me

What can I say. A picture speaks a thousand words.

I Wanna Getaway

After numerous false starts, the wheels have been set in motion and if everything goes to plan, I will be here in three weeks. Before you say anything, yes I know that's a picture and it's highly unlikely I'll come across anything as pristine as that. It is, however, a much needed break from work (goodbye and good riddance to the boffin), a much needed R&R before I enter the pressure cooker that is law school, a chance to know my future schoolmates (mate actually) better, and of course to chill with Meng before he goes overseas for his studies. Krabi '07 encapsulates so much really, and I hope we have a smashing time. Not literally of course.

Looking to the future, I can't help but wonder (you're never satisfied are you Simon?) where else there is to just get away from the insanity of city life - be it in Singapore, Hong Kong, Tokyo, New York or San Francisco - and to simply laze around under an unrelenting sun, hurtling closer and closer to skin cancer.
Behold, the post-Krabi beach holiday, the Maldives! Better go soon before it's washed away by a tsunami.

After that, how about a soujorn to the azure waters of Sardinia?

And maybe Aruba after that?

Delusions delusions. Yet what are we without them?

Anyway, my term at Tranny is winding down, but there are still 3 more days to pull through, and so I have to bid adieu and prepare for work.