Tanjong Pinang is just a short ferry ride away from home. Located on the Bintan island, there are ferry and speedboat connections to Batam, Singapore and Johor Bahru. I’ve been there twice, years back with my relatives and the second time, with my usual travelmates.

This time, I decided to venture to the little Indonesian village once again with a completely new set of travel mates, Gavin and his three Dunman classmates, to visit the little nostalgic town once again. The capital and largest town of the Indonesian province of Riau Islands, this little city of 150,000 residents is a trading post between islands in the Riau Archipelago. It’s a nice getaway from the bustling crowds in the shopping district in Orchard, the mega-shopping malls to explore and see the little backlanes and alleyways, the houses on stilts and how others lead their everyday lives.
I’m a good decade older than my new travelmates but when it comes to travelling and new adventures, age didn’t seem to matter. Yanbing’s hospitable grandparents in Tanjung Pinang became the jovial hosts of our trip and brought us around the little fishing village.

Her feisty grandma may be in her 70s but moves swiftly like a cannonball, ever so cheery and chatty. Grandma would make an ideal politician, we joked. Everyone we met along our way seemed to be her friend, from the boatman, the guard at the temple, to the Malay hawker at the mosque. She flitted around like a happy social butterfly and freely chatted and joked with her friends and neighbours. Jokingly, I told Grandma that she seemed to know everyone and anyone. She said, “Of course, this used to be my village. I know everyone along this street and the other two streets. But beyond this area, I don’t know the people.”

Along the way, Grandma shared her romantic story of how she met grandpa and married him when she was in her teens, how she had her nine children before “closing shop” at thirty-eight years old. Grandpa and grandma have been married for more than 53 years old and the mutual love was obvious. Grandpa would patiently await by her side, for the grandma’s stories and conversations to ease. No complaints nor frowns. Grandpa sports a nicely-gelled hairstyle, and for a man nearly eighty, his hair was amazingly jet-black. A man of few words, his actions spoke louder. Often, he would placed his caring hand on his grand-daughter’s shoulder, look bemused as his boisterous wife went on about the old days and constantly piled his grandchild’s plate with heaps of food during mealtimes. Despite his age, he would always be the one to “anchor” the boat to ensure the safety of all of us.

During the short weekend, we zipped around Tanjong Pinang, in and out of the hotel coach, thanks to Yanbin’s auntie who owns a hotel there, to see some sights and Grandma’s proud string of descendants ,a daughter who owns a hotel in town and another daughter who runs her own business as a wholesaler of snacks and groceries. We went temple-hopping and the gals tried their hands to have their fortune told in the temple while I entertained myself capturing shots of the Monkey God and his entourage of the Journey to the West and the multi-handed deity just outside the temple.

We also zipped in and out of boats, to visit some temples in Tanjung Pinang and the famous Penyengat Island. Our heavyweights Singaporean travelmates almost caused a turbulence in the seas while getting ourselves settled on the sampan boat The waters may be still but the boat became very rocky when we descended upon them.Screams and giggles followed as we tried to find our balance and kept the boat stable. It was a hilarious sight and Yanbin’s grandparents were obviously entertained by the commotion we created on every boat trip.

Penyengat Island is the home for the old rulers’ palace and royal tombs, amongst them the grave of the respected Raja Ali Haji, the creator and author of the first Malay Language grammar book and other leaders of the Riau Sultanate. The motorised rickshaw rides around the island costs a mere $5 Singapore dollars per person. Gavin became the privileged one with one rickshaw to himself. The tombs were covered with royal yellow sash, a nice contrast from the dull greyish tombstones. We toyed with our camera gadgets and captured some interesting shots. We also popped our heads in to the old vice-royal mosque, the Mesjid Raya, literally, which is currently being considered to be placed on the World Heritage List of sites and stopped by the quiet beach for some bottled tehbotol and ice chendol.

The dinner was a sumptuous spread at the open air eatery place, little makeshift stalls and aroma of all kinds of local delicacies. Like hungry vultures, we went in different directions to order dishes and congregated at the table. I came back with a plate of nasi lemak, carrot cake, Gavin with wu xiang (fried fritters). The table was fast running out of space with the other dishes coming at a furious speed, 10 satay sticks, 10 otahs, two plates of gung-gung shellfish, two plates of fried oysters, one plate of baby squids and two barbequed fish and drinks. Grandpa was contented with his ba kut teh soup and rice and Grandma with her noodles. The table overflowed with plates enough to feed a huge family. I had my doubts about whenever we would be able to “conquer” the mountain of food but my doubts were proven to be unfounded. The dishes were wiped out quite soon after.

After dinner, we took a slow stroll around the town. The durian stall by the roadside was too tempting to be missed. We bought six durians and enjoyed a mini durian feast back in the comforts of their home, a big house tucked away in a quiet corner away from town. All of us were tucked into a big room on the ground floor, complete with mattresses and pillows. That night, mosquito-zapping using the battery-operated bat became our call of duty. The thrill of the mosquitoes successfully zapped was immense. We took turns to wave the bat in search of our next “victim”, often with success and reminisce about the interesting and somewhat unusual “educators” that crossed our paths and left an impression, be it good or bad.

The next morning, we had our bat kut teh breakfast in a small coffeeshop. For about S$5, our bat kut teh came complete with innards, fried fritters and rice. We roamed the marketplace and bought keropok and fried fritters to bring home. Yanbin’s friendly auntie prepared homemade fruit rojak for us back in their house and we ate to our hearts’ content, a nice ending to our trip before Gavin and I headed to the ferry terminal.

For me, this Tanjung Pinang trip was a good get-away from home, it was nice to befriend Yanbin’s extended family, speaking teochew to her grandparents and knowing my new travel mates on a personal level. Yanbin’s grandparents’ hospitality have given Tanjung Pinang an added sense of warmth and homeliness. Some left indelible impressions behind, Gavin left his “watermark imprint” on the green mattress and Allysa brought home numerous little “lovebites”, thanks to the mysterious mites from dunno-where.

Thanks folks for inviting me to tag along this trip and for redefining fun in Tanjong Pinang.

Why do people say, “I don’t speak Greek” when they don’t understand something. That’s something to ponder over.

We first arrived at the airport at 7.35am in the morning, a long flight from Singapore. The taxi ride from the airport to our hotel took about 35 to 40 minutes and cost 35 Euros, expensive for the Singapore standard, but way cheaper compared to Norway.

At first glance, Greece didn’t turned out as pretty as I imaged it to be, at least not the route that the Greek taxi-driver had taken from the airport to our hotel, Best Western Fenix Hotel, a kilometre from the Posidonia show, the mega maritime show in the world. Along the way, sights of graffitti on buildings, abandoned buildings and grey-dusty walkways lined the streets.

The hotel room was cozy and nice,with a bathtub and a big flat-screen tv and a bar-fridge that is so nicely tucked away in a side cabinet under the TV rack that I only discovered after two days. Strangely, the bathtube didn’t come with the stopper, maybe the absence serves as a deterrent for others to use the bathtube. Two single-bed merged into one and the room could easily accomondate two persons. That’s the Hotel Fenix, strategically located within walking distance from the Hellonikon hall where the Posidonia show is staged.

We waited, and waited and waited for our Singapore Tiger beer to arrive, as promised, between 9 to 10am, but still nowhere in sight. We finally received our long-awaited made-in-Singapore beer by 12.30pm and headed to the exhibition hall with part of it.

The Posidonia show is the world’s mega-maritime show held every two years. Hordes of maritime professionals would flock to the Greece to participate in this event. Every in a country faced with bankrupty, we didn’t really feel the impact as a fleeting visitor of the country.

My first day in Greece was quite eventful. I decided to make my way to the Plaka, the city centre equivalent to Orchard Road in Singapore to meet my friend, Ina, a forty-three-year-old Greek lady. Though it was our first time meeting each other, we were not foreign at all. I’ve in a way, “known” Ina online and has been corresponding with her via emails.

We strolled along and chatted and finally settled in a pretty and cozy restaurant, acclaimed as the most traditional Greek restaurant. I had my first taste of ouzo, an anise-flavored aperitif that is widely consumed in Greece. The traditional alcoholic drink distilled throughout, and during the time of, the Byzantine Empire and continued throughout Ottoman times. Served in a short glass, Ina advised that I should add ice-cubes and water as the drink could be rather strong for some.

The restaurant oozed Greek culture, from inside and out. As we walked along, the pretty red and pink flower pots in the front facade of the restaurant came our eyes. The roof was covered with lush green grape vines and little grapes. The two-storeyed building has a nice attic too. We finally settled into one of the comfy seats facing the cobble-stoned walkway and the lovely flowers.

The traditional Greek meal was a sumptous spread of dishes. The waiter came to us with a big tray filled with small plates of meat dishes, salads, and other condiments. For 28 Euros, we could choose five of our personal favourites from the tray, including vine leaves with rice, a Greek salad, fried calamari, chicken with rose wine, bread, white wines and a big bottle of mineral water.

A dinner date in a nice cozy restaurant with a nice new friend was certainly a great way to spend my first night in Greece. Just as we were enjoying our dinner, a car siren went off. I turned and peered and noticed a person looking somewhat suspicious, standing and peering into a stationery vehicle. The next thing we realised, he tried to pry through the window, causing the siren to go off again. I alerted Ina as the scene looked almost like a theft. And Ina agreed that the act looked somewhat dubious. I suggested that she alerted the waiter. Interestingly, the first thing that the waiter said in Greek was, “I don’t think so. Do you think our country has reached such a state? To have a person doing such an act in the open?” Ina said, “I don’t know.” It turned out that the suspicious guy was likely the owner of the car who most likely have accidentally locked himself out of his car and was trying ways and means to unlock the vehicle. Another gal came along,i think it was his girlfriend, and they pried again. And the siren went off, again.

Thankfully it was a false alarm. We enjoyed the rest of the evening in peace and chatted the night through.

I’ve long heard about the legendary Fraser Hill, JT sang endless praises about the great scenery and waking up to the chirping sounds of the birds in the morning, EL’s eyes sparked a instant twinkle whenever she talked about the super-delicious scones and strawberry jam at the atmospheric Smokehouse in the cool weathered Fraser Hill.

The road up to the Pine Resorts was winding, winding, winding and winding throughout. Thanks to our energizer-bunny skilful driver, J, our youngest motion-sickness prone M and J managed to stay alright and did not do a “Merlion” on us. For some of us, it was our first trip to the cool weathered Frasier Hill, for EL and June, it was their second time back to Fraser Hill. As we drove higher, the cool breeze welcomed us, a refreshing change from the hot and humid Singapore just a few hours’ away.

We checked into our little humble home for the weekend, a chalet with three bedrooms. We were ready to chill and enjoy our holiday but the higher beings up there had a bigger plan for us - survival camp in the “air-con” land - no water.

According to the locals, the water pipe had burst and there was no water and the supply may come back in a few hours’ time. We were not prepared for this, but thankfully, the ultra-efficient organiser, JT had the foresight to purchase four 5.5 litres water before we reached the resort. They faced a similar situation last year during their first trip to Fraser Hill.

Dinner was a home-cooked steamboat, without the actual steamboat. The rice cooker was modifed as our steamboat. With our spread of vegetables, assortment of mushrooms, sausages, fishballs, beehoon and yee-mee, we happily chomped on our food, with the constant nagging thought that water would come unto us as soon as possible.

After the dinner, our wish was still not granted - still no water. JT, J, YL and Dot decided to distract ourselves and drive around the town for a night tour and popped by the Smokehouse to make reservations for our dinner the next day.

The flashy red lamborghini and ferrari parked outside the Smokehouse proved more of an appeal to some of the gals than the Smokehouse itself. J was the first to pose her mega-watt smile with the posh vehicles and even made friends with Lambor Wong and got him to switch on the roaring engine.

By the time we came back to our humble home, EL was exhausted from the hours from driving and fell into deep sleep soon we left, while our CFO was still faithfully sitting in the living room, calling upon all the karmic forces to bring the water back -to no avail. She had an “unsolicited companion”, a pretty little moth-like bug near the glass door in the living room. The harmless little insect just rested there stationery,but the sight was haunting to her. When we entered the house, all we could see was CFO sitting in the living room, a standalone torch with its ray of light on the carpetted floor in the direction of the little insect - M’s unorthodox attempt to scare or distract the bug away. None of us could comprehend the logic behind the torch and its effects on the bug. But the bug couldn’t care less and remained glued there throughout the night, long enough for JT to sweat her way to set up her ultra-complex camera gadgets, flashes and tripod to give the little unknown bug its moment of stardom.

YL was the first to give up and went to bed. By 11.50pm, JT, J, M and Dot were still watching TV and waiting for the return of our water. Our CFO completely crumbled and her energy level plunged to the rockbottom. She could not wash dishes nor work her magic on the day’s expenditures. She was in existence but not functional.

Thankfully, our prayers were heard and the water came back. The elated M and J were the first to rush into the washroom to take their long over-due showers. I was the third. Just as I completed washing my hair, the showerhead turned dry. Our karmic forces only lasted for a fleeting 20-30 minutes. Just as I finished washing my hair, the shower head turned dry. Poor JT had to skip her shower for the night after the long wait.

Catching the sunrise was our next mission. Only three early birds rose to the challenge, Dot, YL and JT. The rest of the lazybones did not even attempt. It was a non-option to them. We strolled around and took some shots. June finally had to succumb to a cold shower. Despite the not-so-glam conditions of a toilet-turned-shower room, exclamations of “Wah”, “Shiok”, “Very Shiok” echoed the toilet before she finally emerged from the toilet, with a contented grin which stretched from cheek to cheek. Life is good, afterall.

After the breakfast at the clubhouse, we decided to trek the Rompin Trail while June armed herself with her sci-fi looking camera gadgets in search of interesting flora and fauna. The Rompin Trail turned out to be super short and we completed it within 10 minutes. We decided to walk to the nearby waterfalls which was 4km away.

Along the way to the waterfall, our CFO turned into a juke-box, though a vintage one that seemed stuck in twilight zone, blaring songs of yesteryears, way before we were born. From outdated Mandarin songs to National Day songs, we sang along, and thankfully managed to upgrade the era to the 1990s by the end of the trek.

The waterfalls were a popular haunt for the locals but the sight and the waterfalls were nothing to rave about. The construction works nearby had caused the water to turned murky and the water seemed somewhat suspicious. All we did was sat under the bridge near the waterfall to soak our tired feet in the cool water and people-watch. By then, we were all craving for some lunch and all EL could see were the twisty packs and ways of getting them into her hands from the little children.

An elderly couple in their 70s sought our help to push their car down the slope to help start their engine. It was nerve-wreaking trying to push-start the car and watching it sway to the side of the clift instead of the main route. Thankfully,they finally decided to stop the car and wait for their rescue team. We sprayed some mosquito repellent on their hands and legs and bade farewell.

The Smokehouse is probably the prettiest house with its quaint old English countryside charms and the vintage colonial furniture. Over warm scones, tea and freshly made strawberry jam, we fantacised about our new homes in truly Asia, Malaysia, hear EL’s confession of her endless passions, relished in “taitaidom” in the tranquil English countryside setting.

Dinner at the Smokehouse was nice with the romantic candlelights in a vintage setting.The restaurant would make a nice rendezvous date for a dating couple but for a gang of six women, we decided that it would make a great place for our future AGM.

The food was nothing to rave about, the condiments seemed to taste better than the mains somehow. EL and JT were especially disappointed with the missing cranberry jam in their main dishes. After rounds of deliberation with the waiters, the manager finally appeared and tried to do service recovery for the wrong information given by his inexperienced staff. He finally agreed to compensate with crème bulee for the two jam-deprived gals. Minutes later, he returned with one miserable crème bulee instead. By then, the gals were too lazy to battle on and decided to leave it as that. Beyond that, the Smokehouse would still be worth a visit when one visits Fraser Hill.

On our last night at Fraser Hill, some uninvited guests decided to pay a surprise visit at our chalet. First, a mega-big lizard was spotted plastered on the wall above the curtains. Our brave CFO tried to draw the glass door to give way to our new big fat friend, to discover yet another two more at the other end of the wall. Three’s a crowd and it was a disturbing sight. Despite that, we managed to play a few rounds of mini-mahjong before we hit our pillows. The sudden appearance of a flying insect set our CFO clacking like a headless chicken and it was a hilarous sight. In the middle of the night, JT caught sight of mr mini froggie in the living room in the wee hours of the morning but was too lazy to revive the Prince Charming in the little froggie.

Our last meal was our Korean instant noodles cooked using the rice cooker and greenbean soup, thanks to super chef, YL before we evacuated the chalet by 10am to make our way home. This is probably one of the rare trips where we did not over-purchase or overeat. Aside from the left-over noodles, all that was left was a big watermelon, which became the default present for June, some juices and chocolates.

The weekend get-away to Fraser Hill was a relaxing escapade full of laughter as usual. We made some discoveries amongst us.

JT does not like beans or any bean-related produce, thanks to her 10-year-old friend, YL and has the stamina to drive on and on like an energizer-bunny. She would rather drive 200 km in peace than have a trio of cackling voices spewing latest gossips in the Hong Kong and Taiwan entertainment scene.

YL turns out to be a wine connosieur, a DJ wannabe and a super chef who can whip up yummy lamb dishes during Christmas. The habit of reading newspapers daily has equipped her with an encyclopedic knowledge of the Hong Kong and the Taiwan entertainment scene, better than Apple Daily. YL has found a new confidante in EL, both reputedly infamous for being late and lovers of the “cranberry in its liquid form” and shares EL’s disdain for high-school play in a corporate world.

M has proven herself yet again as an excellent CFO who derives a perverse sense of balancing her sums. However, she completely malfunctions when she is deprived of a shower and freaks out at the sight of flying insects. Judging for her latest expendition report, there is an obvious disturbing trend, that our youngest in the pack IS really getting obssessed with her irreplaceable role as the CFO.

Report shall be embedded here in my blog as proof of her growing obsession.
here comes the damage. we each spent S$100 + RM309.25, 50% to transport, 29% on F&B & 21% on accommodation.
Analysis:
according to the past few trips like bali, malacca, JB, the pattern we see here is that a bigger percentage spent on transport instead of the usual F&B. this will lead us to infer that either the spenders are not eating as much….or spenders r taking the comfort choice of customised transport vs the usual bus/train kind of public transport. we can also conclude that the spenders are aging & have choosen comfort over rough it out & having a smaller appetite due to not exercising as much

EL has big, big dreams of retirement which pops up in her mind every other second and is a woman of many, many passions, from strawberry-laded scones, wines to Chinese antiquities and property-viewing. We would need to put her to another test to regain our trust in her to wake up in the morning. Eli is a true blue mossie-terminator who will not resist to crush a mosquito even if it is lying on the hand of a newly acquainted 70-year-old uncle. That speaks for her firm determination to exterminate all mossies.

J is a weak damsel in distress and is slowly but surely building up her “ling-dai-yu” reputation for falling sick after a trip. The most fragile of the gang for this trip, she is fastest when it comes to showers but transforms into a slow loris when it comes to washing the dishes or plucking the vegetables. These are deemed as menial tasks unfit for her royalty self, or what EL calls the “guifu”. For the next trip, maybe it’s time to hone J’s household chores’ skills to perfection or at least start the engine going.

Thanks gals for the great companion. I’m glad I chose buddies over new travels.

I chose buddies over new travels.

On Thursday, 27 April 2010, I didn’t go to the airport for my trip to Jogjarkarta since it’s a solo trip. I couldn’t resist to the tempting offer by J - to go for a six-gal escapade to the cooling Fraser Hill where you wake up to a wonderful mountainscape and the cheery chirps of the little birdies. Fun company, meticulous planning by our expert organiser, J and nice cool weather amidst the greenery and mountains. I deliberated hard and decided after a week, that Jogjarkarta can wait. The Borobodur is not going to run away or disappear overnight.

So off we went, to the Fraser Hill. Almost on Friday morning. 6.15am - the timing set by our EL, who has an infamous reputation for not waking up early and being late. We had our doubts but decided to trust the notorious gal for once. Her neighbour, YL, was almost equally notorious, having made headlines in the newspapers recently as the last person to go to the state funeral of Dr Goh Keng Swee to pay her final respect.

J kindly offered refuge in her room for the Serangoon gal, me. Two sleepyheads are better than one, we reckoned. At about 5.35am, we got out of bed, sleepy but awake enough to give morning calls to the rest of the gals. The responsible J quickly tried to wake the infamous sleepyhead, EL, who had a ultra-important mission as the driver of the day. The phone rang but no-one picked up the call. The persistent J and Dot combined forces to bombard EL’s phone. By 6.30am, still no reply from the notorious. Maybe her phone was on silent mode, maybe she cannot wake up at all. We harressed her good friend, Jess to get EL’s home number or unit no but to no avail. Friends these days only have mobilephone contacts.

Suddenly, we heard a voice. It was EL. It was only for a split second, but the line got cut off. All we heard was she was on her way to YL’s place. The voice was calm and collected. When we tried to call her again, there was no response once more. J and Dot looked at each other, “Are we dreaming?” We began to question if we heard EL’s voice or was it hallucination on our end.

While waiting for the notorious, we talked incessantly about our early deal - the latecommer will have to buy breakfast and lunch. And for causing J’s blood pressure to go skyhigh in the wee hours of the morning.

Though the notorious did not honour the deal about the latecommer treat and managed to talk her way out with her sob story of sleeping at 3.30am and losing money in stocks, the little hiccup did not dampen the adventure spirit. They finally reach sk pick up point @ abt 705am.

All was forgiven and we headed to the customs,inching nearer to our friendly neighbour state, happily looking forward to the cool air at Fraser Hill.

I don’t even remember when my first visit to Pulau Ubin was and when I started having a special affinity for this little island.

Maybe it was the zinc-roofed houses and the generous greenery there, the mango trees, rambutan trees,guava trees, durian trees. Maybe it was the friendly uncle who generously loaned me a bicycle to cycle round the basketball court when I went there during my uni days to do an interview. Or maybe it is the drinks stall auntie and her mom whom we befriended during a cycling trip and opened the doors of their home when we went to camp overnight there. The rustic charms in Pulau Ubin reminds me of the most memorable years of my life, my childhood years in Lorong Lew Lian.

I have been to Ubin umpteen times, but it has been a long while since I last visited my favourite island. In 2008, The Company made our first overnight camping trip to Ubin and it was great fun with many new experiences, getting stuck in the rain and J’s “ghostly” encounter with the resident “casper” on the island. Last year, we decided to “upgrade” and moved to the pondok near the jetty. The overnight stay was fun, we cycled,roamed a little and had a bbq session.

Thanks to XF, the organiser, we set out on 8th May, Satuday afternoon for our annual pilgrimage to Pulau Ubin. The scorching sun brought out the lazy selves in us. We postponed the meeting time from 2pm to 4pm and decided to have a bbq session over cycling in the blazing sun.

At 3pm, when half the force was at Toa Payoh,ready to equip ourselves with the bbq materials, Jessica’s message, “It’s raining cats and dogs” ceased CS and my feeble attempt to fill our trolley. We placed the items back and waited for the two fashionably late ladies, XF and J. By 3.45pm, it was still pouring after we had our desserts. We decided that rain in Singapore would not persist the entire night and chose to believe in the power of our positive thinking, that it will stop the rain and our much-awaited BBQ session will come true.

We loaded our “ammunition” into the car, while XF chanted her guilt for letting our two other companions, Wso and M wait so endlessly for us at Changi. I was one of the guilty culprit too, didn’t realise that it would take so long. The rain continued to pour, and pour, and pour. At Changi hawker centre, M decided to line her stomach with the charsiew rice in the meantime.

Thankfully,despite the uncertain weather conditions, the Ubin boat uncle assured that the ferry service would continue. By the time we board the ferry, the skies had cleared and the rain brought a nice cool feel to the pent-up warm weather in Singapore. Our positive thinking worked,or at least we thought. Whatever caused the rain to stop, we were grateful.

The familar pondok was half-wet but still in “sleepable” condition. Of all the things that we bought, we missed out the most important thing,the wire mesh for the bbq. Thankfully, the auntie at the chalet kindly provided us with one. The Company went auto-pilot and everyone made themselves useful. WS lined the rusty metal grills with the aluminium foil as Jessica stringently dispense the foil, strip by strip and broke the bones for the chicken wings. XF and I took charge of the corns, potatos and sweet potatoes and began our slicing and wrapping. M thawed the chicken wings with her water-filled plastic-bag and CS because the default charcoal man.

For the first part of the BBQ session, Wso became the sausage man, carefully coating the sausages with butter and turning them to make sure they are nicely charred. Despite his complaints of my aluminium “beings” getting in the way of his nice burning charcoal, he did a fine job with the sausages.The teriyaki sauce turned out pretty decent on the chicken wings, of course, not as yummy as the ones that J prepares, but definitely cooked and good for consumption. In the midst of the bbq session, a surprise visitor popped by with her entire troop of friends, J and her entire gang of friends and their children who were on the island for dinner.

And they were not our only guests. Four dogs on the island awaited patiently at the door of our pondok for us,looking at us with their doleful eyes, asking us to give them a treat but we refrained from doing so for fear that they would come scavaging later in the night.

While the folks were busy at the barbeque pit, our two ladies, J and M double-up as our “watchdogs”, faithfully waiting for the food to be served to them. M and I strolled to the ministore to get a few cans of coke to satisfy my sudden craving for an icy cold cola drink.Thankfully, we didnt over-order and we managed to find most of the food we bought.

The shower facilities may be simple but XF and J glowed and were grinning from cheek to cheek when they returned from their showers, as if they had just returned from a superb UNESCO waterfall, echoing praises of the “shiok”, “very shiok”, about the strong water pressure and the nice showers they just had.

The thereapeutic and soothing sounds of nature, the lapping waves right next to the pondok gives the pontok a calm and relaxing feel. The youngest of our gang, M fell into deep sleep soon, followed by J who busied herself with her mosquito coils formation around her four corners. Wso, XF, CS and I started our mahjong game in the middle of the pondok.

Strange things do happen at night, but unfortunately, only to me. This time, these bizarre encounters are not acts of god or the ubin ‘casper’ at work. Halfway through the mahjong session, as I came out of the toilet from my pee-break, I saw a completely naked glow-in-the-dark butt cheeks under the moonlight at the chalet, that of a over-forty uncle. I took a glance and walked back to our pondok, but could only be thankfully that the uncle who had decided to go skinny-dipping did not flaunt his assets in my direction. Despite the “traumatic” experience, we continued our mahjong game. Moments later, I felt a sudden impact on the top of my head, and thought that a bug has flown onto my head. I was squirmish and thankfully, and XF panicked for a while. Within seconds, the frenzy was over.

According to eye witnesses, XF and Wso, it was a big grey lizard. Darn, the damn reptile had to lose its footing and fall right on top of my head. Wso said that it was on my bum for a while but guess no-one dared to do anything to it until it scooted on its own. My two greatest fears, cats and lizards. Thankfully, I was wearing long pants and didn’t manage to see the “free-fall” friend in full sight.

Though we were no experts at mahjong, it was fun fiddling with the mini tiles, thanks to our sleepy beauty, M who brought it along. By 2.30am,we decided to call it a night to wake up for the sunrise. Though there was no branded mattress, we were all tucked in our own sleeping gears, M, Wso and me in our sleeping bags, J in her checked picnic mat, CS in his plastic sheet. XF is the most ultimate, in her sub-zero branded made-in-america, US$50 sleeping bag.

All was well till my beauty sleep was awakened by not the call of nature nor the lapping waves but the surround-sound systems within the pondok. The sounds of the lapping waves were completely drowned by our two super-dupey stereosystems, courtesy of Wso and CS.

Though we took no pictures, overslept and missed the sunrise, but it was still a fun get-away from the city-life back home. After our ramen breakfast and the mini watermelon, we headed back to reality.

To XF,thanks for taking the lead to organise the annual pilgrimage to Ubin.
Special thanks to our super efficent CFO for doing the maths, scrubbing the meshtins and washing the oily tongs.
To CS, thanks for ferrying us home after the overnight trip.

And to Wso, have a wonderful one-year adventure ahead, wherever you may roam!

Together with the usual suspects, Eli, Jess, June, Lynn, Mae, we decided to drive up to our neighbouring land, JB in search of Lynn’s 10-year condo unit. Lynn warnings of “nothing in the ouse” were helpless as we excited packed our own sleepy bags, blankets, yoga mats, ready to launch a survival-camp style overnight stay in her house of “nothingness”.

Our gentle property owner lost her bearings and couldn’t figure her way back home. She had to seek help from her friendly neighbour who gave us some defined clues, “Shell station, Turn Left, see Indian washermen then turned in. We spinned around the neighbourhood and made several u-turns before we finally found the way home.

10 years ago, the condo would have been a beauty. But years later, the developers did nothing to the exterior and “flaking” walls and it looked somewhat haggard. The lift looked somewhat suspicious. “These could be the lifts that have been recycled from Singapore,”E-li warned. And the house is truly a house of “nothingness:” The previous tenant only left behind a table, a dodgy-looking bed and a weary cupboard. To stay there, we would have to clean the house as maids were not available at the last-minute.

The Company decided that we shall laze around and stay in the Leisure Farm Resort instead. A quick phone enquiry sealed the deal, we got ourselves a 3 bedroom apartment in the resort. When the gals of this “pseudo-adventure-club” congregate for short trips, eating and grocery-shopping are almost like two key rituals.

Lunch was a big meal at a Chinese restaurant. On the first day, we went property-viewing at Setia developer. For someone who have not been to a property-viewing event, the detailed explanation by the marketing chap was an interesting educational tour. A Lego-Land and Hello-Kitty Land will soon mushroom in JB, together with the new spiffy terraced houses, condos, shophouses. Raffles Education will have their super-big campus there too and even Newcastle University willl be having their campus in JB.

Eli has always been the one who has a keen interest in property. Our CFO, Mae turned out to be also a highly likely owner of a condo there where she can house the lovenest with her “kuta-boy. Malaysia has the luxury of land. For Singaporeans who are living in pigeon-holes, the models of the new condos and bungalows were tempting offers.

Durian-lover Eli and gang went in pursuit of the legendary “mao-sua-ong” durians at a roadside stall. Unfortunately, the “mao-sua-ong” turned out to be a far cry from the authentic ones, leaving the durian-addicts very dissatisfied. Poor durian-fearing Mae offered sweets to the gals before they permeate the air in the air with their durian breaths.

Even in a land of nothingness, the “adventure-club” will find ways to entertain ourselves. We decided to go for massages. Jess and I opted for body massage at about S$25, whereas the rest of the folks pampered their toes with foot reflex. Dinner was at a stretch of roadside stalls where we saw many locals. Just go where the locals go, that’s what we usually do and so we did. No posh settings, just wooden taps and plastic chairs along the road, but the food turned out to be finger-licking good. The sambal stingray was huge and very succulent, everyone agreed that it was very yummy. Barbequed chicken-wings, satay and stir-fried sotong, we whipped them out though our stomachs were still trying to work hard to digest our late lunch meal. The CD seller was blasting Chinese songs of the 80s and 90s in the background,. We enjoyed the music and sang along occasionally, sometimes in unison, contented with the good meal we just had.

The next day, June and I woke up earlier than the rest of the gang. We explored the neighbourhood a little and drove out to buy breakfast for the “sleepy beauties” - 4 packs of nasi lemak and 4 packs of teh terik and 4 roti-canais.

We continued our property-viewing at 10.30am this time at the Leisure Farm and visited the nicely decorated showroom. At the instant, I wished that money would grow on trees and that we had heaps and heaps of money to buy the connecting apartments. Maybe it’s time we pooled our funds togethe for our next upcoming to-to draw. We wowed like mountain tortoisesm at the sight of the magnificient house of the Lion-air boss and his ultra-big swimming pool which spans the length of his entire bungalow. Mae made a feeble attempt to get her face captured in the CCTV for the Lion-air King to catch a fleeting glimpse of her.

Before we made our way back home, we had lunch at another local restaurant and the meal turned out to be pretty good, with the black pepper crab, toufu and herbal chicken. Soon, the orders of 6 herbal chickens and 1 pack of black-pepper crabs were made. With all these items, nicely tucked in the boot, we made our way to wash June’s car before heading home.

This weekend was a rather unusual and eventful weekend. Our stomachs were obviously overworked, but the companionship and tour made it all worthwhile. Thanks folks for the great company. Sorry, no ultimatum was given by Lynn to “zip” online, I have “zipped” the contents but freedom of speech on cyberspace prevails

Batu Pahat rings no bell to me, except the Batu Pahat bat caves which I vaguely remembered from some random conversations many years back. For this trip, all I know was that Eli has been a frequent visitor to this part of Malaysia and was planning to go again and June asked me if I was interested to tag along to join them for the 4-wheel drive to Batu Pahat. June was as clueless as me as to what the little town has to offer. But for a travel bug like me, anywhere out of Singapore sounded like a game-plan and off we went on Saturday.

23rd January, Saturday - A daytrip to Batu Pahat

The travel mates for the Batu Pahat trip is a little different from the usual suspects, this time the five musketeers are:- June, Jess, Eli, Eli’s friend, Nancy and myself. Nancy grew up in Batu Bahat and has been working in Singapore for years. Eli, is the ever-enthusiastic commentator who constantly raved about Batu Pahat as one of the very nice parts of the world with great food, a little rustic town that makes a perfect place for city dwellers like us.

Fast facts about Batu Pahat

Batu Pahat, according to the good old Wikipedia, is a district in the state of Johor, Malaysia. It lies south-east of Muar, south-west of Kluang, north-west of Pontian, and south of Segamat and the new Ledang district. The name Batu Pahat means ‘chiseled rock’ in Malay and the origins can be traced back to a legend in the 15th century. Today, Batu Pahat has Johor’s second largest manufacturing industry, encompassing textiles, electronics, food-processing, timber, porcelain and plastic industry. Interestingly, it produces 50% of the textile exported from Malaysia and there are about 300 garment and textile factories.

The drive from Singapore to Batu Pahat was a mere 2 1/2 hours journey. Our meeting time: 8 am at Jess’s block. The faithful trio, June, Jess and me were on time but our organiser was nowhere in sight by 8.20am. We diverted to Jalan Kayu for coffee and started our journey from Jalan Kayu at about 9am. A lesson learnt - around 8am as indicated by our organiser literally means, “I will surely be late. Plus minus half an hour or more.” That we learnt from this trip, but all’s forgiven with the teh terik and coffee she bought.

Thanks to Eli and Nancy who knew the way to Batu Pahat, June managed to cruise her car to the little town easily. Along the way, we yakked non-stop, about everything, from Obama’s administration, finance, stocks and investments to other trivials in life. Eli gave us her philosophical take about the powers of the “huat kuay” as the alternative birthday cake that would ensure a “huatful” year ahead.

A Fated Encounter with the Beh Teh Soh Auntie

Eli and Nancy reminisced about the freshly baked “beh teh sohs” sold by an auntie they chanced upon during their last trip. The next thing we knew, the moment we stopped our car at the famous “pao” coffee-stop, June was waylaid by a roadside peddler, the very same auntie we just chatted about seconds ago. We became her ready customers and purchased numerous packs at 2.30 ringgits per pack, no sales pitch or selling “koyok” required.

Our first stop was highly recommended by Nancy, the traditional coffeeshop which has been selling their authentic pao for years. The paos were nice and Eli’s wanton noodles were also equally yummy. There, we discovered Eli’s unusual egg-phobia. It seemed like I’m not alone with my cat-phobia. Throughout the short breakfast break, there were also distractions by aunties selling vegetables. Eli did succumb to the irresistible offer of three packs of vegetables (ladies fingers, long beans and tapioca leaves) for a mere 5 ringgits. and they become instant decorations for June’s car in the backseat.

A fish-touching experience

Next stop, a first-time fish-touching experience at the Hai Long Wang Temple at Jalan Shahbandah. Interestingly, this temple is dedicated to the deity of the seas, the Dragon King. Besides the life-size Dragon King, the prawn general which stood by the Dragon King’s side, decked in the general’s outfit and the other “clam” general were also visually interesting. We headed to our first fish-touching experience with what Eli called the “big fish”.

Accordingly to her, one will blessed with good luck if one can successfully touch the huge fish. I’ve tried fish therapy but have never “stalked” a fish this manner. These huge fishes circled intheir pond and were easily over a metre long in length. Our patience paid off and we managed to feel the smooth texture of the fish. Strangely, the silky texture is somewhat similar to that of an eel. We had wanted to “molest” it further but a big splash and commotion amongst the fishes freaked us out a little and we decided to try our hands at the even bigger fishes in the cave-like enclosures where the Jin Shi Jiao (Reflections Bridge) was. I caught a glimpse of the mega fishes, and decided that I did not have the guts to try and touch it for fear that it would bite. Nancy and Eli failed in their attempts to “molest” the fish despite sticking their heads into the cave enclosures and kneeling to get a better view, Lucky Jess was the onlu one who managed to get up close and personal with the megafish.

A Satisfying Lunch at Seaview Restaurant

Lunch was at the Seaview Restaurant, the most famous and popular restaurant in town which Eli swore by. The Four Heavenly Kings dish turned out to be an assortment of mixed vegetables with sambal chilli and proved to be as delicious as the celebrity eye-candies. We took our own sweet time to savour the claypot brinjal, steamed codfish and drumlets with guinness stout while enjoying the cool air-conditioning at the restaurant. The restaurant was a spot to hide from the sweltering mid-day sun. The food was good and got our thumbs-up for the reasonable pricing and taste though we were certain that that the restaurant owner must have confused himself with the guinness stout and prawn paste for the drumlet dish, the black sauce was definitely prawn paste and was poles apart from the alchoholic guinness stout.

Meet-the-Medium Session

Following the lunch, we headed to the famous temple highly recommended by Eli. At the temple, the medium offers “consultancy sessions” and a peek into your life for a token red packet.

Out of curiousity, I joined the girls for my first medium experience, all except June who is more an advocator of “I am what I dream.” Nancy was the first to go for the meet-the-medium session, followed by Eli, who came back looking enlightened and “glowing”, more than what SKII can do in a day. Her favourite medium did help shed some light for her new year ahead.

The medium is a man in his early forties and seemed to be in a semi-trance state throughout the meet-the-medium session. I’ve tried several times to look at him and his eyes, but he had never once opened his eyes. When it was my turn, he flipped a stack of cards and asked me to choose one. Then came his questions about whether I have any health problems and cautioned that I should take care of my liver and digestion system and to refrain from staying up late at night. He added that I should take some supplements or cod liver oil. He also gave some “pointers” into other aspects of life. And his last parting words, to try some 4Ds or totos. Overall, it was quite a refreshing and interesting experience.

After the consultative “session” with the higher being, we headed to the chendol place, Nancy’s favourite dessert haunt back in her hometown. Each bowl of chendol costs 1 ringgit and the little shop was run by two Indians. Though we still preferred the chendol in Malacca, the little bowl of chendol was a good flush for our throats. We also popped into the traditional medicine hall where Nancy became the express courier and packed several packs of herbs and ginseng roots for her friend.

Shopaholic Singaporeans

A trip is never complete without some shopping. We explored the pasar malam and only has time for one shopping mall, the last to-do-list before dinner. From cuttlefish, canned food, instant noodles, love-letters, coffee powder, to soap powder and new year decorations, we rampaged the groceries section in the basement and brought home these essentials at prices that were definitely cheaper. I even managed to sneak upstairs to buy new shirt for my dad. We turned into “penny-pinching aunties” at the supermarket, gleeful over the petty gains.

With all our hands full, we happily packed our “victorious claims” into June’s car and headed to the intended dinner place for the authentic black chicken soup. Somehow, the locals seemed to have dinner really early. The soup was sold out and we went gallivanting in search of another dinner place. Dinner menu was changed to assam fish, stir-fried tapioca leaves with sambal chilli and fried calamari for a mere 51 ringgits at a nearby coffeeshop. That was definitely a steal for us.

A Sweet, Fruity Ending

The fruit stall was our final pit-stop before we headed the way home. Shopaholics as we were, we pushed the car to its limit with yet another loadful of jambus, a watermelon, 2 dragonfruits, nian gao and pessimons. With the car boot oozing with our shopping merchandise, three bags of dangling vegetables in the backseat and pockets of empty spaces stuffed with mini-fa-gaos, and our stomachs filled, we finally ended our day trip to Batu Pahat, contented.

Internal Rivalry

On the way home, my harmless comment about pumping good petrol to June’s soon-to-scrapped carbefore it takes its final breath, “give it a good last breath, pump shell lah” almost caused an internal riot in the car, with the sudden outburst from Jess who misunderstood innocent Eli as the person who made that comment. For the logical Jess, cheap petrol should be pumped since the car would be scrapped anyway. But for me, since the car has served June well for 6 long years, it deserves a decent meal before its final days. And poor Eli was embroiled in a verbal attack by Jessica, thankfully all was resolved when Jess realised that she had heard the wrong “voice”.

The trip was certainly an eventful and fun Saturday weekend getaway. The toil charges, petrol fees, meals averaged to only 38 ringgits per person, less than the price of a coach ticket to Malaysia.

Special Thanks

Special thanks to Eli for initiating this Batu Pahat trip and the constant dramatic jokes and sound effects, Jess for successfully coercing Eli to buy the morning drinks, June for getting me to come along this trip and being the reliable land captain of the day and Nancy for sharing us the hometown with us. Thanks folks for the great companion.

Cheers to 2010, may there be less microscopic organisms in our lives, heaps of “huatderful” experiences, “golden turtle” luck and most importantly, to great health and more happy travels!

I can’t understand where people would say no to massages - at least I wouldn’t. I can’t recall when it was the first time I had my first massage but it must have been many years back and I love pampering myself with massages, be it body massage, deep tissue massage, foot reflexology, Thai massage or any kinds of massage.

I can’t recall how many umpteen times I’ve gone for massages during my trips to foreign lands but I would never get sick and tired of it. In this recent 3-weeks trip in Indonesia, I’ve gone for about six massages and would be going for yet another one today.

Chean and meenah are still fast asleep and I decided to dedicate a blog entry just on the past interesting massages during my travels.

Touched by A Boy -Laos
Once in Laos, Meenah and I decided to go to the Red Cross for massage. We were directed to different rooms and parted ways. The room was a small and dingy one and the mattress on the floor was as thin as a thin-crust pizza and not exactly very clean. I laid down on my back and to awaited in anticipation for my masseur.

In came a young Laotian boy who looked like he was about 18 or 19. Being a conservative Chinese, I felt like chickening out. I had not expected a boy but was worried that if I had requested to change a masseur, he may miss his turn to earn his keeps. To heck with it, I thought, anyway I was not going to see him ever again. But it was the first time that I had a male masseur and I was rather uncomfortable. As he worked the oil on my back, the young lad kept talking to me, “Hello, Ms. Where you from?”. And I cringed and replied, “Singapore.” He added, “Oh”. In his limited vocabulary of English, he tried to converse and I was shouting internally,”Please lah. Don’t ask anymore.” Though he was strong and the massage was professionally executed, I still felt embarressed. I was twenty-five then.

When he finally completed the massage, he said, “Ok Miss. Finish.” I turned my head slightly and muttered, “Ok, thank you”.And tried to hook my bra strap while lying flat on my stomach. It proved to be a near-impossible task. The boy kindly came over and helped with the hook. I was completely embarrassed by then.

I went out to meet meenah to realise that unlike me, meenah had a lady masseur instead. And that was one of my most memorable massage experiences, er, somewhat awkard massage experience.

The Powerful Ibu Sae, Indonesia
In October 2009, meenah helped to make a appointment for a 2-hour massage by her regular masseur, Ibu Sae. “She is very strong one,” she said. Both of us like strong massages and would often be grumbling about lousy massages sometimes if we encountered those that merely tickle the surface of our toes and skin.

And true to the Meenah’s words, Ibu Sae was strong. In fact, she was like an ultra-woman who was on duracell. She was very, very strong. I knew it the moment she started with the soles of my feet - the pressure was strong. Throughout the 2 hours, she worked really hard, easing out every tired muscle that I had and did not slacken at all. “This is not Indonesian massage lah, I thought to myself, this is deep-tissue massage, and super deep.” And at some points, where she used her magical iron-cast fingers on the side of my hips and my shoulders, I cringed and endured the pain. Though painful, her strokes were long and accurate.

She knew accurately which pressure points to launch her “attacks”. By the end of the 2-hour session, all my muscles were relaxed, but my breath a little short, from the constant short breaths I had to take. Maybe I am mascochistic but I did enjoy the pain. The massage session cost 100,000 rupiahs and for her hard work and consistency, I tipped her another 30,000. Ibu Sae lives up to meenah’s praises indeed - I now declare her Ibu Wonderwoman Sae. Meenah asked me how it felt, whether Ibu Sae was strong enough for my liking and I said, Ibu Sae was very, very strong. So strong that it felt, for lack of a more apt descriptio, foot reflexiology on the entire body. Throughout the two hours, she worked hard on my every muscle and vein and there was not event a hint of fatigue or ”lazing” on her part.

The three-piece mixed medium artpiece for meenah has been completed, finally, after three intensive days of hard work in her cozy Jakarta home. Three square frames, 30cm by 30 cm, each with a distinct primary colour,green, yellow and blue.

I’ve tried using textured sand and recycled materials such as onion gauze, fruit styrofoam wrap and my left over gauze for my bruised kneecaps. Using a combination of mixed medium and recycled materials in the art pieces is loads of fun. And there is never an end to the “completion” of the art pieces, and there are always places to touch up and modify whenever you look at the art pieces. The nice part about using acrylic is that the paints dry quickly and you can always “undo” the earlier paint strokes by adding more colours and the layering them onto the previous coat of colours to your liking.

Til now, I have created a total of six art pieces, of which two were done during the lessons at Mr Karja’s home in Bali when I attended his abstract art lessons. Three newer additions were created in Jakarta in meenah’s house while she was at work. Three would be staying in Jakarta as the birthday present to meenah and I have three more canvas left. It would be just nice to last me till Friday, when Weichean comes from Singapore and we can hang out to “play”.

Painting is a therepeutic process and I’m enjoying the process quite a bit. Those canvas and paints that I have, back in Singapore, has been lying around for so long and I’ve always kept the intention to paint at the back of my head but often found excuses to laze around rather than paint during weekends.

Besides painting, I’ve been watching tons of VCDs from the Japanese acclaimed film, Departures, The Boy with the Striped Pyjamas, to brainless romantic flicks such as Sex and the City, 13 going on 30 and many others. All thanks to meenah who has a huge stash of VCDs at home.

My bruised kneecaps are drying up but they are itching like hell. I’m trying my best to resist scratching or peeling the scabs out. But I must admit that it’s super tempting. I hope that they would heal soon and I reckon I would have to find enough long pants to wear for the next few weeks at work as most of my dresses and skirts are all rather short and above knees. Meenah says it’s god’s will to get me to “cover-up”. And I guess I would have to, till the wounds are fully recovered.

I shall start on a new abstract artpiece for myself today. As for the title of the artwork, I shall name it and see how it goes upon completion.

I enjoy travelling and the wanderlust in me has kept me roaming in foreign lands for many years. Someone once asked me, “What is it about travelling that you enjoy most? And I replied,”the personal interaction with the locals.” I like meeting local people and chatting with them, getting to know about their beliefs and their everyday life.

And of course, nature - I love being in the embrace of nature, standing in front of a million-year-old glazier in Norway kept be in complete awe of Mother Nature, and the trekking in Nepal though tiring was breathtaking and a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

I’ve learnt and done something new during this Indonesia trip - to slow down and watch life go by and spend time with myself. Sometimes it’s not about clocking the number of countries in the passport but to just chill and enjoy the country and see how others lead their lives.

In the 10 days in Bali, I witnessed a great cremation ceremony, celebrated the Galungan and Kuningan New Year with the home that I stayed with, experienced my first couch-surfing experience, had my first taste of deep-fried eel and had my first accident in a foreign land.

Now, in the second leg of the holiday, I’m nicely nestled in meenah’s house, spent loads of time chit-chatting about our previous travels, our jobs and updating one another about our lives.

Though I have aborted my original plans to see and do things in other parts of Jakarta, this second part of the holiday turned out to be very therepeutic and relaxing.

In the last few days in Meenah’s house, we met Amy who is in town for chilli-crab dinner on Sunday. Thankfully, most part of the scab on my lips has fallen off so it did not hinder the eating. During the last two days, I spent the days like a “pseudo-taitai”,indulging in the colours of the palate and canvas while watching many VCDs at the same time. We went for a 11/5 hour massage which costs a mere S$15.

For last night’s dinner, I prepared pasta and meenah brought home some Indonesian satay. We both woke up early this morning about 7.30 am. By 8am, meenah managed to create her “meenah chef” dish with the leftover macaroni from yestereday’s dinner, and re-whipped it into another dish, sambal macaroni for breakfast with her deep-fried chicken.

After washing the dishes, I tugged myself into bed again to read the Three Cups of Tea.. By noon, I woke up and is now updating this blog entry.

The artwork for meenah is 70 percent completed and the final piece should be completed by today. This shall be my birthday present to my good old friend, more than 3 days of hard work and my fast-vanishing youth to decorate her cozy home with.