And so another summer has almost come to an end, and with it, I give you the obligatory photo essay. This is a shoddy recap (so shoddy it probably does not deserve an entry of its own, but alas, quality control is not my forte) of some of the shenanigans that have kept me busy over the past three months. Naturally it was impossible for me to chronicle everything that happened—whether it be concerts, escaping the sweaty grip of lecherous boys on the dance floor, or regurgitating continental breakfast on a moving train—but I try.
Ah, Singapore. The group of kids I went to high school with share the same love-hate relationship that I have with this island. On a strictly superficial level, we are happy that tipping at restaurants is not mandatory, that haunts for good food and drinks are aplenty, and that we can humor ourselves for twenty-four hours on the cheap. The ‘hate’ part of it involves things that would affect us only if we choose to live here permanently, such as CPF deductibility and the rising cost of living. Other than that, this country’s iconic aunties and hawker centres will be a welcome, and perhaps unwitting, shrapnel of memory that makes up the sum total of our experience here.
Everybody loves Bali, but I’ve never understood why. People use words like paradise and magical to describe this island, and they always do so with a dreamy, faraway look in their eyes. I’ve been to Bali several times and always thought it expensive and overrated, and that there are other wonderful places in Indonesia fit for hardcore culture vultures to visit for much, much less.
You can picture my cynicism when we first touched down on the island, but all feelings of indignation slowly dissipated with every dish and traditional dance we ran into. By the time my day for parasailing came around, I was sold into the classic sun, sea, and sand state of mind. Bali will always be an unabashedly touristy destination, but you can still fake the rugged backpacker look by leaving the fanny pack at home.
A big part of this summer holiday involved journeying across the island of Java by land; one transport method used was taking a train which took us from Surabaya (east Java) to Bandung (west Java) in twelve hours. Now, Indonesia has recently taken a beating when its national air carrier was lambasted by the European Commission for having a poor safety record, and the same should probably be done to its trains. Railways in Indonesia make me nervous because they pass through very crowded squatter/housing areas, and everything about the train, from its rusty tracks to its freezing carriages, looked awfully sketchy. Thankfully, I was too busy focusing on keeping food contained within my GI tract to worry about the train falling into a gorge and having my life end in a violent fiery death among mangled steel and the stench of burning petrol.
And then there was Kuala Lumpur: good grief, there is an alarming number of very beautiful people in the Malaysian capital. I don’t know what kind of magic visage-enhancing crack the authorities are diluting in the water lines, but Jakarta could very much use some of it. What Jakarta lacks in charm and eye-candy, Kuala Lumpur seemingly delivers in double portions (Am I shunning my capital city, in the wake of dampened and disillusioned post-independence day truths? Not after reading this.). On a somewhat related note, I do not really recommend going 160 km/h in a torrential tropic downpour.
The final third of the summer was meaningfully squandered on good people from my middle and high school years. This business of ‘growing up’ oftentimes includes growing apart (an unfortunate handicap that comes with the international school alumni territory), but decades of un-contact—and the resulting moments of awkward silence at lunch meet-ups—are substituted with raucous laughter following sentences beginning with “Do you remember that time when…”. As an added bonus to the wonderful folks I’ve reunited over coffee and photo booths with, Facebook has allowed me to reunite with people I have not spoken to since I was busy memorizing Spice Girls dance routines. These online reunions have been refreshing and, at times, humiliating.
(Legitimate rest has been evasive lately, but I hope to have plenty of it on the flight this Friday. I have packed three books, a deck of Star Wars cards, and a Rubik’s cube in case it continues to shy away from me, or in case I require a conversation starter. Is this adequate? )
Posted on August 28th, 2007 by Antiguit
