Let it rip!

Posted By: Kimberly

Ok, here it is, where the splashes of zsup can reign supreme! Where we can demonstrate the true zsuppiness at the centres of our souls... Hoho.

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Of transportation Woes

Posted By: Kimberly

I’ve complained about the local transportation sytem often enough. The buses are too slow, they come not at all, or all at once. The taxis, either hiding in some obscure place by 11.30, or flashing their on-call sign because they want to choose their customers. The MRT, often crowded but possibly the best of the lot.

But after my most recent trip up to visit the northern neighbours, I find myself feeling grateful that our transport problems are so… insignificant. I can flag down any cab without having to scrutinise their logos carefully, I can hop in and let the cabbie know where I want to go without checking the decimal points on his meter or steeling myself to rip my change from his unwilling hands at the end. I can even fall asleep on ANY public transport, knowing I will get to my destination paying the right price and safe and sound. We are lucky here.

The sight of many waiting vehicles and nary a human queue is a welcome one in Singapore, where things are often the reverse. Or, if you do see such a sight, you can rest assured that the (official) surcharge at that point must be hellacious, thus motivating people to jam the stands outside of the peak hour timings. In KL, this was common. We attributed it mostly to cars being cheaper there, but the sight nonetheless filled us not with pleasure, but dread. I am a pampered child of a country that takes it for granted that fighting for the right to an honest meter in the cab is alien and unexpected [and in these parts, sufficient grounds to call the police, taxi company and call nigh-holy levels of retribution upon the offending party]. We are blessed here, but perhaps crippled elsewhere.

It is unpleasant, to come out of a fantastic shopping experience with great service standards, and know that your road home is going to be tougher than the rest of the day combined. It is upsetting, that after a day of smiles and laughter, I must try to put up a front of unforgiving toughness to deal with the loutish touts, and perhaps inadvertently hurt the feelings of an honest worker. Someone told me, “Grow up, the world is like that.” Deep inside, I just think, I don’t want to contribute it to becoming more that way. If growing up means I have to be like that, maybe I don’t want to. Juvenile, perhaps. Idealistic, totally. Unreal, probably. But that is not who I want to be, nonetheless.

We got away, that time, by getting the help of a security guard who negotiated an honest driver for us. Such help will not always be around. If I am to grow as a traveller, then I must learn to keep a big stick in my back pocket, for the chicks that will try to walk my path with me. Even if they’re pretending to be all grown up, back up never hurts, eh?

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Travel Nights

Posted By: Kimberly

I often say my favourite time of day is the night. When it's mostly quieter, the lighting usually less harsh (save for the random careless flash of torchlight), and most of the creepy crawlies are scurrying or flittering around in near-invisibility. Hey, what you can't see won't hurt as much, right?

This is the time when I settle down for that last dash along a bustling market street, after-dinner drinks or disco, if I'm somewhere urban... or toss the dishes aside in a plastic bag, stomp on the dying coals and start peering for starlight, if I'm not.

Among my most memorable nights overseas, right up there at the top of the list, is a night I spent at Noordin Beach. On that little island just north of the Singapore mainland, P. Ubin. (Take ferry = over sea already ok?)

As my party set up shop for the night, eyeing the tangle of lightsticks set up by an over enthu fishing party just a few feet away, I had no idea the disco-type lighting was the least of my ambience-disrupting worries. At least that lot was decent enough to keep their satay fanning and rokmuzik to themselves. So my party did our thing, they did theirs, we all bunged along and rolled up for the night in relative harmony.

And then it came. *thumpthumpthumpthumpthump* My sleeping skills are renowned for lasting through earthquakes and thunderstorms, mind you. But this overseas party was totally on another scale. It wasn't even taking place in the country I was in! Some amazing Malaysian nightspot was whanging along suddenly at the ungodly hours (seriously. all the way to almost dawn i swear) and the waves and wind of the Straits were more than happy to channel it all our way. I would *hate* to be in the nightspot. Especially when I can feel the vibe literally kilometers away. Yeeesh.

Yup. Memorable night top spot. Not a romantic encounter, or weird hoodoo, nuh uh.

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Once In A Lifetime

Posted By: Kimberly

So I got to thinking randomly about the plans, and I don't know if it's going to be just Japan now with air ticket prices swirling downwards. I mean, it'd save us more, in a way, but I'd still want to visit Taiwan some day. And go back to Hong Kong, or drop by Shenzhen. Even in the region there's no shortage of places to be visiting :)

There was a time I thought I would plan all my trips so that I could cover everything about the country that I wanted, so I wouldn't have a reason to go back and could keep my feet moving onwards into new territory. And then there was that trip to NZ. We did everything we wanted to and more. Discovered the Real Reason for the sneaky little charity-purposed candy dispensers in every single town and village we visited (seriously, they were EVERYWHERE), stared down vacant-eyed seals and whooped our way northwards with ease, hating Wellington along the way. That's when I found that I wanted to go back. Though I won't, without a good reason. I'll not find the same kind of fun and laughter I had, not with a different group, at a different time, in places that seem the same but can't be.

To me, the sharing is as much of the journey as the little process that I go through inside of myself. I couldn't generate enough lame jokes or spastic commentary for me. It's like trying to tickle yourself. It's just as important, who you go with, as where you go, perhaps even more so. I recall the tale of a young lady I met at Selingan, who recounted how her trip of a lifetime nearly turned into a nightmare, with her ex-best-friend (whom she'd known all her life) gradually transformed into an abusive prat as the trip wore on, to the point where the lady despaired and decided to split from the planned itinerary to get away from that freakish beast she once called friend.

I hope I never have to do that, nor any of the people who've ever travelled with me ;)

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