Lunch Hour

I woke up this morning before 3 am with my heart pounding. Took a few minutes to calm it down. Managed to sleep again before waking up at 5 to watch footie.

Only to find that the Everton-Arsenal match was not shown live. For some strange reason, the Man Shitty-Newcastle match was shown instead.

But I suppose it was a good thing too as I read that Arsenal played badly. We were perhaps 30 seconds from defeat before Robin saved Arsenal’s bacon again. We sure couldn’t afford a draw but I’ll take that any day to a defeat.

And the development on Shava’s transfer saga is anyone’s guess now. I’m beginning to wonder if it will ever materialise or if it’s just a smokescreen employed by Wenger, supposedly pursuing one player only to be signing someone else like he did with Silvestre earlier. Shava wants to leave Zenit but Zenit is not making things easy for the young Russian.


Whatever it is, it’s only three days left to February. I can understand that deals can take time to fall through but something had better happen pronto.

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This year’s Petronas CNY ad is another tear-jerker. Consider the ad monologue: ‘If I had one more day with my father, I’d pay more attention to the little things. The way his glasses would steam up from the rice. The way he would squint his eyes in the sun. I would stop when he stops. I would sing when he sings. Answer everytime he calls. I would be more patient with him. I would remind myself, everyday, that soon there would be no more days with him. But I still have you Mah. Would you consider moving in with us?’

Thank you reminding me that I should not take my parents for granted.

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Ever since ‘Gossip Girl’ joined blogistan, a few bloggers whose blog I read occasionally have privatised their blogs. Which is a shame really because add those now-privatised blogs to some blogs which I have stopped reading altogether and some blogs which have stopped being updated altogether and I now have very few blogs left for my reading pleasure (if those blogs are updated at all).

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More economic doom and gloom seem to be waiting for us in 2009. Asia tourism is expected to be badly hit where it is most needed. Famous UK brand names were already put under administration in end-2008 – Whittard, MFI, Wedgwood, Woolworths (which had since closed its doors to the public), Adams – and there’s no reason not to believe that more will follow suit. It’s only a matter of time.

Solo Weekend

... which was hardly a solo one. I had initially planned to go to Solo and Yogyakarta (Jogja) way back in August 2008 with Delia, then decided to bring along my nephew (el niño). When my niece (la niña) heard about it, she wanted to come along too. So I bought tickets for them both. But Delilah somehow contracted chicken pox on Sunday a week before our flight so that left me all alone to handle the kids. A daunting prospect indeed. My apprenticeship for motherhood and a taster of single parenting. Me!

I could tell that neither my parents nor Akak were confident I could handle them. They kept on giving me advices, bla bla bla. To be honest, I was apprehensive too. But I was determined to prove myself.

Saturday, 24 January 2009

We woke up early today – well, I slept poorly the night before (I overnighted at Akak’s) so I was awake much earlier. We left for the airport at 0505. It was chaotic at the terminal but we managed to check in pretty quickly before making our way in. We only had enough time to visit the bathroom after morning prayers before they called for us to board the plane. We joined the very end of the queue and as most people preferred to sit on their own (selfish buggers), we had to sit separately – me across the aisle from them. As expected, el niño and la niña started their bickering in no time and taking turns crying. Oh dear God.

We landed at Solo Adisumarmo International Airport at 0820 after 2.5 hours (Java is an hour behind). Though we landed 5 minutes earlier, there were only two immigration counters (one each for the locals and foreigners) so it made no difference at all. Our bags were already waiting for us by the time we cleared immigration.

Our pre-arranged driver who introduced himself as Supri was already waiting for us (ironic considering a corruption of his name, supir, means driver in Indo lingo). I asked him to take us to a restaurant for breakfast first (he took us to Restoran Bengawan Solo for chicken rice soto) and then to a supermarket to buy some drinks.

We then went to Puro Mangkunegara, a palace built for Prince Mangkunegara (he’s not a king but a prince). In its heyday, the palace oversaw about 1500 km square of area territory but following Indonesia’s independence in 1949, the palace grounds had been drastically reduced to only ten square hectares. The prince is still around but is now a businessman.

There are three main buildings to the palace: the audience hall (pendopo agong*) to receive the audience of ordinary people; the paringitan* to receive official guests and to watch wayang kulit performances; and dalam agong* where official ceremonies are still held. We then walked to bale warni* (princess’ residence) and the building where the royal carriages were housed. There were also birds in cages hung around parts of the palace complex as the Javanese believe there are five things that make one’s life complete: house (for dwelling); horse (for transportation); wife (to ensure lineage); bird (for entertainment); and keris (for status).

* Apologies if I got the name/spelling wrong.
After that, we went to the antique market where antique and some new things were sold. We then went to see the Bengawan River (of the Bengawan Solo song fame), the longest river in Java, and while it was difficult for me to imagine anything from the muddy river, it was at its valleys where the first early human fossils outside Europe (Java man) were found. The driver also received a traffic summon for making a turn – where there wasn’t any sign prohibiting it. We had to wait at least 20 minutes for him to settle it with the police.

We then drove on to Yogyakarta (hereafter referred to as Jogja) passing small towns and paddy fields. As it is now the rainy season (it always rains in Java during Chinese New Year or Imlek), we could see young paddy being planted in the fields along the way. There was no highway between Solo and Jogja and we had to stop at a traffic light every km or so. The driver who drove ever so slowly and courteously in Solo suddenly turned maniacal behind the wheel and he weaved us around the traffic from one lane into the other and back again.

We reached Jogja after 2 pm and went to Ansor’s Silver in Kota Gede. Kota Gede is about 5 km north-west of the city and there are dozens of silver stores and silversmith in this area. We were given a brief guide on how silver is turned to silverware and jewelleries before browsing the showroom. Hunger took over soon and we left empty-handed (besides the silver products didn’t come cheap!) and proceeded to the adjacent posh restaurant for our late lunch. I wasn’t impressed with the food though and when enquired by the staff, gave a frank answer as to what I thought of the food. I don’t mind paying for good food but I do feel cheated if I don’t get my money’s worth and there’s misrepresentation between what’s printed in the menu and what is eventually served.

It had started to drizzle by the time we left the resto and as it was too late to go to a batik centre and showroom, we decided to head straight for our hotel. Our hotel was located in an alley where several other budget hostels and guest houses were (and even the Caucasian tourists stayed in that area as I pointed out to the kids).

Our room was pretty big (I booked two rooms but later emailed the hotel to request only one room but with an extra bed). However, the hotel only replied my email on Friday, a day before our arrival as to what room I’d be getting and it was a vague reply too. But the front desk gave us one room anyway with an extra bed (or rather, an extra mattress). It was OK overall but the bathroom stank a bit and there was no hot water too.

We went out after evening prayers to the well-known shopping promenade of Jogja, Jalan Malioboro, which was less than 30 metres away from the hotel (it was still raining. Good thing I packed my brolly). You can find hundreds of shops and street stalls which offer various kinds of souvenir including batik clothes, t-shirts and batik products. The road is two km in length but of course we didn’t walk the whole nine yards but if you wish to, you can do so or hire an andong (traditional horse-pulled cart) which are aplenty in the city. In fact I wish we had time to ride one too. Dinner was had at the Food Point of the Malioboro Mall.

I survived the first day!

Sunday, 25 January 2009

Breakfast was had at the second floor of the hotel (third floor to the Indonesians) where we had a view over the neighbourhood. The driver only came at 0845 as he was stuck in machet (traffic jam) and off we went to Borobudur. There were literally thousands of people thronging Borobudur today, it being a Sunday and Chinese New Year Eve. My brolly offered us what little protection from the fierce sun.

We spent close to two hours here going around the temple complex and listening to our guide. Oh, and like almost everything else in Indonesia, we had to pay for the guide. We also had to pay for parking at everywhere we stopped/parked at, even if it was a simple resto by the road (so bring extra loose change when you’re there).

Anyway, back to Borobudur. Borobudur is a glorious complex of Buddhist temple. It’s located some 40 km to the north of Jogja. It was built by the rulers of Sailendra Dynasty sometime in the 8th and 9th century. The function of Borobudur is yet unknown: was it used for worship, or as a burial site, or a monument to Buddha perhaps? What we know is that the dynasty must have employed a massive workforce to transport and carve thousands of cubic metres of stone. The name Borobudur is possibly derived from the Sanskrit words ‘Biara Buddha Uhr’ which means the Buddhist monastery on the hill. It is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

According to our guide, Mount Merapi’s eruption in 1006 led to the massive migration of people away from Borobudur and Jogja area for 700 years hence why Borobudur was only discovered when Raffles (he of the Singaporean fame) governed Java. The Dutch began to seriously tackle the restoration of the complex only in the early 20th century (1907-1911). Elements of nature necessitated another restoration project which lasted for 10 years (1973-1983).

Of the 504 Buddha statues, 432 are contained in open niches on the four galleries leading up to the circular terraces. 72 more sit partly visible in latticed stupas in the top three terraces. About half of all the Buddha lost their heads or arms to the earthquake. The kids had a good laugh at the sight of the headless and armless Buddhas.

At the base of the monument are a series of reliefs depicting a world influenced by passion and desire where the good are rewarded by reincarnation and the evil are punished by a lower reincarnation. There is also a story of Siddartha Buddha’s birth – how his parents were married for 20 years without a child before his mother dreamt of an elephant standing on lotus leaf. She told her husband of the dream and the husband consulted a wise man who told the couple that she would be pregnant soon. True enough, she was with child soon and during her pregnancy, she was miraculously able to heal sick people just by touching them. She was on her way to her parents to give birth but the baby arrived before she reached her parents’. She died a week after giving birth and Siddartha was then raised by his aunt.

The stupas on the centre and middle terraces (32 and 24 stupas respectively) had diamond-shaped holes representing unstability while the 16 stupas on the inner terrace had square holes representing stability. The huge stupa in the middle has no hole as it represents perfection. So the order is unstability moving to stability and ending in perfection.

As I mentioned earlier, it was a hot scorching day at Borobudur and the car air-cond was a welcome relief from the heat.

We then drove on to Ketep Pass driving along winding country road and green carpets of paddy fields. Ketep Pass is where you go for a view of the majestic Mounts Merapi and Merbabu. The former is still an active volcano but the latter is already dormant. We spent some time here looking over the lush valley around us and the mountains in the distance nibbling on our grilled corn and inhaling in fresh mountain air.

We stopped on the way back to Jogja for a simple but tasty soto lunch. It started to rain very heavily while we were finishing lunch. Good thing the resto provides some brollies that we could borrow to get to our vehicle.

Our next stop was at a batik workshop and showroom where we viewed the processes of making batik. The products were priced expensively though. The driver then took us to another batik shop where the clothes were priced more reasonably. We bought some batik products before returning to the hotel.

It rained again after dusk but we went out again to Jalan Malioboro for some shopping and for dinner.

I made it through day two!

Monday, 26 January 2009

We checked put after breakfast today and went to Kraton Yogyakarta (Yogyakarta/Sultan Palace). The palace was built in 1756 by Sultan Hamengku Buwono I. The palace is still used as residence by the current Sultan and as a Javanese art and cultural centre. Besides being a Sultan, he is also a Governor and director of Universitas Mataram (if I’m not mistaken). There is also a shop in the palace grounds owned by one of the Sultan’s daughters (he has five of them but no son. His throne will be inherited by his younger brother and son when he dies) that sells souvenirs at very reasonable prices. The goods must be priced reasonably or the common people will revolt against the Sultan.

Next, we drove to the campus of the famous Gadjah Mada University. It’s pretty huge, well, it does have the largest university student population in the whole of Indonesia. There are also Malaysian students here studying mainly medicine.

After that, we left the city of Jogja and headed for we went to Prambanan, about 20 km east of Jogja and 40 km west of Solo. We arrived at Prambanan at around noon (at the height of yet another scorching day). Fortunately, there were nowhere as many people at Prambanan as there were at Borobudur.

Prambanan is also a UNESCO World Heritage Site. It is the largest Hindu complex in Java and was built in 856 AD, i.e. some 50 years after Borobudur. It was in ruins for years and reconstruction was only attempted in 1937. 244 temples at the outer compound lay in ruins while eight minor and eight major temples stand in the highest central courtyard and while most have been restored, they were not spared the earthquake that rocked Jogja area in 2006. According to the guide, no two temples are similar (he also talked of ‘male’ and ‘female’ stones. Each temple was built with a combination of interlocking male and female stones).

There are a trinity of three main temples (built for Shiva the destroyer, Brahma the creator and Vishnu the protector). The temple dedicated to Shiva is the largest of all temples and also the artistically and architecturally the most perfect. The main spire reaches 47 m high and the temple is lavishly carved. Apart from this and two or three other temples, the other area was cordoned off to the public.

If you ask me, I much prefer Borobudur to Prambanan (hence the shorter write-up on the latter here).

We left the complex and drove on to Solo stopping at the outskirts of the city for a late soto lunch (not that superb). We reached Hotel Sadinah after 2 pm and checked in after paying Bapak Sapri for the car rental. Our room was much bigger than the one in Jogja (and I thought that was big enough) with one queen bed and one mattress (as extra bed) and some elaborate furniture. It rained a few times in the afternoon.

We went out for dinner. The hotel was at the outskirts of the city, about 6-7 km from the centre (but near to the airport, hence why I chose it. We had an early flight out the next day). We were driven to Solo Grand Mall but requested the driver to turn back and take us to Solo Square Mall instead. We only had time to have dinner; most stores were closing by the time we finished dinner.

I made it through day three!

Tuesday, 27 January 2009

We woke up early today and left after a light breakfast (the taxi was supposed to come at 0730 but he came at 0720). We reached the airport at 0735 and checked in. I was surprised to discover that the international departure tax for the tiny airport was Rp100,000! (as expensive as Jakarta). The kids wanted to board the plane early and had started queueing so we took turns standing in line.

The flight was barely full anyway (although we were not allowed to sit at rows 3-10 for God knows what reason). We landed at LCC Terminal after only two hours (the flight was supposed to take 2.5 hours). We managed to catch the 1245 bus to KL Sentral and I took them for their first LRT ride to Ampang Park - Abah was coming to pick them up and bring them back. I then returned back to KL Sentral for my bus back to micasa. (By the way, my can of drink which I packed inside my suitcase burst somewhere along the journey and spilled over my clothing and I had to hand-wash all my clothes and toiletry cases. Grrr...).

I made it! I survived! I survived their tantrums and behaviours (OK, I lost my temper a few times too and gave some lecturing) but I survived. And they survived too! I didn’t starve some kids in the end.

But I sure now have a whole new heightened admiration for single mothers. Single mothers of the world, I salute all of you!

Always On My Mind

I think of death occasionally. It’s always there at the back of my mind. The thought of dying scares me, heck, the thought of lying in a hospital bed scares me. The thought of being alone in my permanent home in the ground terrifies me. Sometimes I think of death at the strangest time, like when I’m shopping (or rather window shopping aka mall-walking). Sometimes I have this debate with myself: should I get something or not (say bags) because what’d happen if I die. Who’ll inherit all these? (And I think of my FB account and my blog too – oh how attached I’m becoming to them – what’ll happen to them?). And I’d feel no desire to shop. I walk on and start debating again, but what’s the point of slogging when someone else will bloody enjoy my hard-earned money when I die anyway? And then I’d feel like really spending. I’d debate silently further before reasoning we should try to make the best of it and live while we can in the present. I don’t want to be like one of those who just stop living. That’s an even scarier thought.

Another thing at the back of my mind is drawing up a will. Not because I have a lot of things to distribute but as Muslims, we must manage the possession/wealth which is entrusted to us by God responsibly. I also sometimes think about being an organ donor but the only time when I broached the topic with Mummy, she didn’t seem too keen or receptive of the idea.

Am I strange for having all these thoughts? My friend says I think too much. I prefer to think I’m stimulating my brain cells, not just there. Besides, it helps me reason and be a bit more rationale about spending.

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I do think constantly of God, my parents and, err, football (and by extension Cesc). When I walk around the mall, I’d talk to God. I’d pray to Him for my parents’ health and wellbeing, I’d beseech Him for Arsenal to win the next match, I’d plead with Him for Cesc’s speedy recovery.

Because these are among what’s important to me and hence Always On My Mind.

And Captain Cesc has also said that there are two things on his mind: football and the fans (so I’m not alone in this thinking, yes!).




By the way, UEFA has announced the Team of the Year 2008. Captain fantastic Fabulous is among those listed in the dream team (as he was two years ago). He also comes in at number 8 of Goal.com’s countdown of the top 50 footballers of 2008!

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Both Adek and Cesc wish everyone Gong Xi Fa Cai. May we all survive the massive exodus out of the city.

Because red is an auspicious colour

And because it’s another new year, I’m sharing another calendar picture with you.

Hello, Goodbye

Today we say hello to the first mixed American to lead the US, Obama, and say goodbye (and good riddance) to his predecessor, that scum Bush. I hope this changing of guards will bring more than just a change of President, personnel, political party and beliefs, but also changes in key policies and how the US improve on its political relationship with the rest of the world. Obama shares his wish for his daughters and all children in America here.

Goodbye Bush and I hope that will be the last of you that I see. But I owe him thanks too. Because of Bush, I started my own boycott of American goods and products. I haven’t yet boycotted all American brands; I am starting small and taking tiny steps.

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Kaká has officially said goodbye to Man Shitty’s offer to bring him to the Eastlands. So yes, Kaká belongs to Milan too. Read all about it here, here and here. I wonder if the following words by Gaston of Beauty and the Beast ran thorough Sparky’s mind: ‘Dismissed. Rejected. Publicly humiliated. Why, it’s more than I can bear.’

Happy Feat

I went CNY shopping on Friday and Saturday and am happy to report that I managed to buy some clothes (which I didn’t manage to do at all during the Malaysia Savings Sale). Am chuffed and pleased with the bargains I managed to obtain and the clothes I managed to find – and in my size too. Ahhh, if only we enjoy encouragement to shop as the Taiwanese do!

I also placed an order for monthly disposable (non-colour) contact lens on Saturday evening at Better Vision at Ampang Point and arranged to collect them at the branch at Lot 10. I had tried disposable contact lens before when I first started wearing contact lens and wasn’t too comfortable wearing them then but decided to give them another try. Long hours at the office and eyes that become increasingly dry (air-conditioned office, hot weather, prolonged use of contact lens etc) mean long hours of contact lens wear and the ones I have currently are not appropriate for extended wear. After this, I want to avail of the offer at Isetan’s Kimpo-do and get new lens for my glasses. Yes, I still wear glasses - at home. What can I say, I’m too vain and want to wear contact lens outdoors so I must be prepared to pay for both glasses and contact lens.

Yes, my wallet must suffer for my vanity.

I didn’t watch the Hull-Arsenal match as it was at 1730 GMT but for the poor sleep I had, I might as well have watched it instead. The morning papers that Abah bought didn’t carry the result of that match and I waited impatiently for Football Extra at 11 (I didn’t want to watch Final Score reasoning I could watch more action on hour-long Football Extra. Plus Shebby really annoys me at times). And what do you know, Football Extra would have to show the Hull-Arsenal match last of all. I was already trembling with anxiety with all that waiting and suspense.

Adebayor scored first at the 30th minute before Cousin equalised for the home-side. The Gunners kept attacking and finally Samir Nasri slotted a second goal in the 82nd minute before Bendtner scored his birthday goal four minutes later. Thank you God!

I miss my Captain Fantastic Cesc fabulous Fàbregas though.

Get well soon my magnificent maestro midfielder munchkin.

Back to happy thoughts and happy feat: I’m happy, pleased and chuffed and on cloud nine because of something that happened on Thursday and something that followed during the weekend. I told SK about it and told her that what I’m feeling is not unlike how I felt when I was doing A-Level and fancied one bloke. Whenever I saw him, I’d smile like a rotten cockle and my friend would ask how I felt and I’d reply, ‘I feel like meowing,’ (like a cat!). And that’s what I’m feeling now: I feel like purring and meowing.

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Milan fans had begged Kaká not to move to Man Shitty. The thing is, Kaká has apparently asserted that he preferred a move either to ManUre or Arsenal if he moved at all. My Captain, meanwhile (despite saying he would not be thinking of football for a while) has said that money and/or Kaká would not guarantee Man Shitty success.

Tips for a Better Life

Oh wow, it’s already mid-January (where did the time go?) but still not too late to share the following with you (received via my e-group):

1. Take a 10-30 minute walk every day. And while you walk, smile. It is the ultimate anti-depressant.
2. Sit in silence for at least 10 minutes each day.
3. Buy a DVR and tape your late night shows and get more sleep.
4. When you wake up in the morning complete the following statement, ‘My purpose is to __________ today.’
5. Live with the 3 Es -- Energy, Enthusiasm, and Empathy.
6. Play more games and read more books than you did in 2008.
7. Make time to practise meditation, and prayer. They provide us with daily fuel for our busy lives.
8. Spend time with people over the age of 70 and under the age of 6.
9. Dream more while you are awake.
10. Eat more food that grows on trees and plants and eat less food that is manufactured in plants.
11. Drink green tea and plenty of water. Eat blueberries, wild Alaskan salmon, broccoli, almonds & walnuts.
12. Try to make at least three people smile each day.
13. Clear clutter from your house, your car, your desk and let new and flowing energy into your life.
14. Don’t waste your precious energy on gossip, OR issues of the past, negative thoughts or things you cannot control. Instead invest your energy in the positive present moment.
15. Realise that life is a school and you are here to learn. Problems are simply part of the curriculum that appear and fade away like algebra class but the lessons you learn will last a lifetime.
16. Eat breakfast like a king, lunch like a prince and dinner like a college kid with a maxed out charge card.
17. Smile and laugh more. It will keep the NEGATIVE BLUES away.
18. Life isn’t fair, but it’s still good.
19. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.
20. Don’t take yourself so seriously. No one else does.
21. You don’t have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.
22. Make peace with your past so it won’t spoil the present.
23. Don’t compare your life to others’. You have no idea what their journey is all about.
24. No one is in charge of your happiness except you.
25. Frame every so-called disaster with these words: ‘In five years, will this matter?’
26. Forgive everyone for everything.
27. What other people think of you is none of your business.
28. REMEMBER, GOD heals everything.
29. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.
30. Your job won’t take care of you when you are sick. Your friends will. Stay in touch.
31. Get rid of anything that isn’t useful, beautiful or joyful.
32. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.
33. The best is yet to come.
34. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.
35. Do the right thing!
36. Call your family often. (Or email them to death!!!)
37. Each night before you go to bed complete the following statements: I am thankful for __________. Today, I accomplished _________.
38. Remember that you are too blessed to be stressed.
39. Enjoy the ride. Remember this is not Disney World and you certainly don’t want a fast pass. You only have one ride through life so make the most of it and enjoy the ride.
40. Forward this to everyone you care about.

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A bit on footie (a bit difficult for me not to think about footie, Cesc!): Kaká, please don’t move to Man Shitty. It’s suicidal for your career; Cesc thought so too a mere few months ago.

And I reckon it’s never too late to share this calendar picture of Cesc.

Monday, Monday

Enough already with all the violence in Gaza I say (and so does almost everyone except for the instigating country). I feel almost helpless at times and wish I can do something. The last time I felt this way was before the US declared war on Iraq and then I felt like signing up on a relief mission or even fighting – never mind I never have any military training, abhor violence and am simply afraid of pain.

Here are five top lies about Israel’s assault on Gaza.

What can we do besides donating money, offering prayers and demonstrating ourselves? Well, as well-informed consumers with conscience, we can all do our part by boycotting those companies which support Israel policies. Muslim scholars have issued fatwas on boycotting of brands associated with Israel. C’mon people, I’m sure you can all survive without the unhealthy processed meat of Prosperity Burgers, carbonated and heavily sugared Coke, and premium Star*ucks coffee?

Let’s do our share and play our part so that on the Day of Judgement we could all go before Allah with a clear conscience, because on the Day of Judgement, God would ask us what we did when our fellow brethrens are killed and butchered senselessly and brutally, and we would want to be able to answer that we have done everything we can within our ability.

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In addition to the violence in Gaza, there are also other large-scale deaths around the world, namely the capsized ferry in Indonesia, the Peru bus crash and the Costa Rica quake. Are these all just coincidences, I wonder?

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For every Gunner who worked hard and tirelessly on Saturday, unfortunately there was also a Gunner who didn’t work or try as hard. Nasri, van Persie, Clichy, Sagna and Toure worked hard and relentlessly on Saturday but Adebayor acted like a tourist in London and Eboue back to his old self of running around like a headless chicken prone to falls.

Both the Gunners and Gooners had to wait 84 minutes before a goal was converted by Bendtner (himself a subject of much criticism of late), thanks to a pass from van Persie who received the kick from Clichy and Nasri before that. I shot off the couch and shouted, ‘Yes!’ a few seconds later – just to be sure the ball was in the net and not hit the side. And yes, one-nil to the Arsenal again but it guaranteed three points and I won’t complain. Better that than a frosty frustration. And everyone let out a colective sigh of relief. Phew...




It had been freezing cold in the UK the past few days; in fact two matches were postponed due to frost. Thankfully there is undersoil heating at the Emirates but I can just imagine how cold it was for the fans in attendance. Brrr...!

Bloody Villa are now at fourth, three points ahead of us while ManUre buried visiting Chelshit, no doubt stoked after that humbling defeat to Derby in mid-week. In other off-field developments, Rafa Benitez simply could not stop talking about Froggie and shortly after his side’s match against Chelshit, old Froggie hit back. No surprises there. What was somewhat surprising was Wenger’s ‘support’ of Froggie of match fixtures earlier in the week.

Jermain Defoe is back at the Spuds. So much for loyalty in football eh.

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On Saturday night, I dreamt I was in the Big Apple, specifically shopping at Woodbury Common. I was in Tod’s (how much more specific and vivid could a dream get? Tod’s store at Woodbury Common only sells shoes though). I remember waking up thinking that while it would be nice to visit New York again, I don’t see that happening anytime soon even though I may not have to worry about accommodation if my good mate is posted there. Plus I can’t stand the ensuing jetlag.

Anyway, I have managed to ask a mate currently in the UK to help me buy some merchandise online. I also browsed Harrods (boring!) and NEXT sale catalogues online. I must say I was very surprised to find that a lot of the NEXT apparels on sale online are maternity wear and commented to my friend that either there are many pregnant ladies in the UK right now (hence the wide range to cater to them) or not enough of them (hence the many things left yet unsold).

Where Is The Love?

What’s wrong with the world mama?
People living like ain’t got no mamas
I think the whole worlds addicted to the drama
Only attracted to the things that bring you trauma

...

People killing people dying
Children hurting, you hear them crying
Can you practise what you preach
Would you turn the other cheek?

...

It just ain’t the same all ways have changed
New days are strange is the world the insane?
If love and peace so strong
Why are there pieces of love that don’t belong
Nations dropping bombs
Chemical gases filling lungs of little ones
With ongoing suffering
As the youth die young
So ask yourself is the loving really strong?
So I can ask myself really what is going wrong
With this world that we living in
People keep on giving in
Making wrong decisions
Only visions of them living and
Not respecting each other
Deny thy brother
The wars going on but the reasons undercover
The truth is kept secret
Swept under the rug
If you never know truth
Then you never know love
Where’s the love y’all? (I don’t know)
Where’s the truth y’all? (I don’t know)
Where’s the love y’all?

Since Israel has refuse journalists and reporters entry into Gaza, these are the stories and pictures from inside Gaza itself.

The following is a piece that my mate wrote (not sure if it’ll be published) – am reproducing it here with her permission. I hope you’ll take the time to read it.

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FACTS AND A GOOD STORY
Ida Bakar

It must be heartening for the letter writer ‘Hamas to blame for Israeli raids’ that his thoughts are echoed by none other than President Bush himself. Such is the insight on the affair that I am compelled to let the facts get in the way of a good ‘Israeli defence’ story.

This war did not start on the 27th December 2008.

Despite the unilateral Israeli ‘disengagement’ from Gaza in September 2005, according to an Israeli Human Rights group B’Tselem, Israel continued to control the air and sea space, movement between the Gaza Strip and the West Bank (also via neighbouring countries), the population registry, family unification, and the crossing of goods to and from Gaza. On 28 June, Israel bombed the electric-power station. Since then, residents of the Gaza Strip have relied completely on Israel for their electricity.

In addition to direct killing of civilians since the disengagement, IDF soldiers taking pot-shots at unarmed Gazans, children included, the population is further traumatised by sonic booms from low flying military planes; so much so Physicians for Human Rights Israel has petitioned against this extreme violation of human rights.

Following a free and fair election in which Hamas was elected to power, the people of Gaza were collectively punished by Israeli siege which, in the last 18 months have starved the population of food and denied access to medical care.

The Israeli military occupation denies the Palestinians the very basic of human dignity as reported by the International Committee of the Red Cross way back in 2007. Israel blockade of Gaza has resulted in malnutrition amongst the 1.5 million population of the occupied land.

The Israeli army has continued to deny ICRC emergency medical team into Gaza despite the dire humanitarian situation.

So, for the letter writer to compare the Gaza-Israeli situation with relationship between Malaysia and Thailand or Singapore is missing the point all together. Malaysia’s army is not occupying those countries.

The letter writer stated that Hamas has refused to sign cease-fire agreement. This, again, is a fib as Hamas and Israel signed up to an Egyptian-brokered ceasefire on 19th June 2008.

Unfortunately, while the world was in euphoria after Obama’s election to the American presidency, on the 5th November 2008 Israel launched an incursion into Gaza killing seven Palestinians. This effectively ended the ceasefire and Hamas rockets flew in retaliation.

The letter also called for Hamas to stop attacking Israel. What about the Israeli stranglehold on Gaza? When the rockets stop and Gaza infrastructure further destroyed, not to mention the five thousand already dead (as opposed to four Israeli civilians), will Israel allow some dignity for the Palestinians? Will Israeli talk with Hamas? Efraim Halevy, former Mossad chief certainly thinks so.

After all, Hamas was elected into office by the Palestinians of Gaza. Gaza and the West Bank are under illegal Israeli military occupation. These Palestinians are denied their basic human rights to dignified lives.

History has shown time and again that occupation and oppression will be resisted. Think of the wars of independence from colonial rule. Think of East Timor and Tibet. As Malaysians we fought the Japanese occupation, we aimed to be free of British colonial rule however benign and benevolent it was.

The Palestinians of Gaza do not have sophisticated weaponry to fight the Israeli military might. The Israelis do not want a viable Palestinian state and continues to trample on their dignity. Read the testimonies from Gaza via B’Tselem here.

Gaza is akin to a prison camp, what choice these Palestinians have?

The 500 or so who protested at the US embassy recently are joined by hundreds of thousands more in the capitals around the world, European capitals included.

I humbly urged the letter writer to read beyond the up-the-minute news bulletin. All the links above are from Israeli and Western organisations websites. I have chosen them so as not be accused of being a one-sided affair to discredit anything related to the US and Israel as stated in the letter.

List of on-line references
B’Tselem Israeli Information Centre for Human Rights in Occupied Territories
http://www.btselem.org/english/About_BTselem/Index.asp
http://www.btselem.org/english/Gaza_Strip/Index.asp
http://www.btselem.org/english/Testimonies/index.asp?TF=30&image.x=11&image.y=11

Physician for Human Right Israel
http://www.phr.org.il/phr/article.asp?articleid=270&catid=55&pcat=-1&lang=ENG

International Committee of the Red Cross
http://www.icrc.org/web/eng/siteeng0.nsf/html/palestine-report-131207
http://www.icrc.org/web/eng/siteeng0.nsf/html/palestine-update-030109?opendocument

BBC news
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/middle_east/7809289.stm

CBS news
http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2008/06/19/world/main4193410.shtml

Wall Street Journal
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB118593144036684212.html?mod=googlenews_wsj

The Independent Newspaper
http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/middle-east/chronic-malnutrition-in-gaza-blamed-on-israel-1019521.html
http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/middle-east/massive-rocket-attack-launched-on-israel-992978.html

Ida Bakar

The Beginning And The End

New year, new start, new resolutions (for those who have them). But it’s the same old office, same old world, and same old never-ending violence. Same old drawing up the key performance indicators for the year, same planning for projects, same old same old.

*Sigh*

But I shall try to be optimistic (it is after all only a few days into the New Year) and continue to strive to achieve what I have set out to do:

- Be a better Muslim and a better daughter, sister and aunt
- Work on my interpersonal skills and tell the people that matter that I love them before it’s too late
- Continue travelling. The world is out there waiting for us to explore
- Stay healthy and try to keep fit
- Read more. I managed to finish 25 novels in 2008 and started two in the last week of December (still reading them)

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I watched Mamma Mia! on Saturday. It was pouring cats and dogs the whole morning and the rain delayed my arrival at KLCC. And when I was there, I got distracted by the sales and delights on offer – hey, it was the second last day of sale anyway. I was about to perform prayers when my friend sent me a text saying she was leaving house and I began to panic. I was still at KLCC at a quarter to 3; bumped into an old classmate and she told me that latecomers would not be allowed to enter until after intermission. I walked quickly outside and was looking for a cab when I saw a bus with an electronic sign that said it would go to Istana Budaya and I practically ran into the bus.

I asked the driver to drop me across the street from Istana Budaya (turned out there was a bus stop and an overhead bridge). The traffic was moving slowly but at least it was moving. And I practically ran out of the bus and up the overhead bridge, across the bridge and down.

I met my friend and we quickly walked up the stairs to the grand circle on the second floor. As luck turned out, there were some VVIPs in attendance – in the form of the PM (and wife), the YDP of Malacca, the Chief Minister of Malacca and the former Minister of Domestic Trade and Consumer Affairs - and they were right behind us. Phew! The show couldn’t start before the PM and his entourage were seated of course and that meant they couldn’t close the door on us. Similarly, the show couldn’t resume after intermission until after the VVIPs were back in the hall.

The show? It was simply fantastic but of course seeing it was direct from London’s West End, and I was singing and humming and tapping my feet! And I also sat next to some super duper seniors (who turned out to be my friend’s batch mates) too!

To the cast, Thank You For The Music and the magnificent show!

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I only realised it was the FA Cup third round weekend later that Saturday evening. Thankfully Arsenal gunned down Plymouth with stand-in skipper that rare bird Robin scoring a brace. From BBC website: ‘For those of you tipping Plymouth for a Cupset against Arsenal, hear this: the Gunners have never been knocked out of the FA Cup by lower-league opposition with Arsene Wenger at the helm, while the Pilgrims have not beaten a top-flight side in the FA Cup since 1984.’

Cesc attended the match to lend support to his team, crutches and all.

Get well soon my magnificent maestro matador munchkin.

Lost in Laos (Not!)

Thursday, 25 December 2008/Christmas Day

No Country For Old People

An early start to today. Abah came to send me to KL Sentral. Arrived at LCCT at 0630 and immediately checked in. Lots of travellers today. Sat next to a female Caucasian sitting alone and we were joined by another Asian girl travelling alone too. Tried to sleep but not too successful.

The Asian girl and I started chatting to each other just before we landed at Wattay International Airport, Vientiane. She introduced herself as Andrea and she was from Manila.

The immigration procedure took some time but at least as Asians, we did not have to get visa on arrival – and parted with money ranging from USD30-42 depending on nationality for visa fee, an additional USD1 for photo and a long wait for the visa before joining the queue to clear immigration. Still, welcome to Lao P.D.R. (People’s Democratic Country or Please Don’t Rush). Laos is an hour behind us.

The contact I’d been in touch with for months now couldn’t bring us around as her husband had an appointment at 11 so Andrea and I shared a cab to the city, well, to Nazim Restaurant specifically (as suggested by the husband of my contact). It seemed that all cabbies know where Nazim Restaurant is. Nazim is a halal Indian eatery and Halim who came to greet us (and whose name was recommended to us) very kindly agreed to let us store our bags behind the counter for no charge at all. How’s that for trust and kindness? We decided to have a light meal before setting off to explore the city. It was then when Andrea asked if I was Chinese (she is a Filipino Chinese and a Buddhist despite being baptised at birth). I replied I didn’t know as the people who knew it are all long gone. We continued eating before she asked again, ‘Why are your eyes of different colour?’ I burst out laughing and told her I was wondering when anyone would ask me that before explaining why.

We then walked to the Lao National Museum opposite the street from the majestic Lao National Culture Hall but unfortunately it was closed for lunch (lunchtime is early there!) so we continued our way to Patuxay or Victory Gate passing the That Dam (Black Stupa) along the way. According to the legend, the Black Stupa was guarded by a seven-headed dragon which would protect the city from any Siamese invasion – which it obviously failed to do, hence why it is little worshipped and explains its decaying surface. Patuxay is a local rendition of the Arc de Triomphe. One can climb up to the seventh floor for a view of downtown Vientiane.

We spent some time here before continuing on. It was a very bright and hot noon and we sought refuge from the sun at Talat Sao (morning market, which despite its name, remains open until 4 pm) before walking on. Before we knew it, we had reached Wat Sisaket (now signposted as Sisaket Museum). Wat Sisaket is the oldest standing temple in Vientiane (it is the only temple to survive Siamese invasions).

Wat Ho Phra Keo is just diagonally across the street from Wat Sisaket but we only took pictures from afar as there was an entrance charge. It’s a beautiful temple and looked newly restored.

The Presidential Palace is just next door to Wat Ho Phra Keo.

We headed back to the National Museum and spent some time there (entrance fee: 10,000 Kip). The ground floor tells of the history of Lao – including prehistoric dinosaur bones found in Laos and one of the original jars from the Plain of Jars. The first floor tells of the different ethnics of Laos and the history of the country from the first European visits (by the Dutch) to the invasion by the French and then the Americans much later, and the heroic struggles of the Laotians for independence.

We then returned back to Nazim for a late lunch before parting ways. Andrea was staying in Vientiane for two nights while I was flying out to Luang Prabang that very evening. We promised to meet up again in Luang Prabang.

My originally scheduled 1700 flight to Luang Prabang was delayed to 1830 (which I only discovered when I reached the airport at 1600. Duh!). It was already dark by the time took off (sunset was at 1740) and we landed 35 minutes later. As we were descending, I saw the ‘glowing green’ light emanating from That Phousi mountain and I thought, ‘I must climb it one day!’.

I endured another 25 minutes of waiting for the miserable tuk tuk driver who was supposed to meet me and when he finally appeared, he led me to a van driver. There was some confusion between the two before I figured that I would be taking the van but that I needed to buy ticket for it first at the taxi counter. Ahh, I could have done that myself 25 minutes earlier instead of pacing up and down looking for the oaf and waiting for someone who was supposed to wait for me! It just didn’t make sense. I was getting knackered (it had indeed been a long day) and I was starting to seethe at being made to wait that I replied curtly to the van driver’s questions and declined his offer to bring me around.

I reached my guesthouse at almost 8 pm. There was a resident snoopy doggy dog unfortunately much to my unease. I was chatting with Vieng, the guesthouse owner, asking if it would rain the next day (as BBC predicted it would). She frowned and said it was cloudy that morning but the day cleared. And she saw no reason why it would rain, as it was the dry season and it hadn’t rained for a while. I was asking her about some tours around the city when I sensed something on my left and –

- yelped out aloud in surprise, scaring the poor dog out of its wits (which was a good thing for he avoided me after that). My room was charming and I didn’t even need to turn on the air-conditioning unit as it was c-c-cold.

Friday, 26 December 2008: Boxing Day

Rain/Country Road

Besides the resident snoopy, there was also a neighbourhood rooster which I discovered starts its daily crow from as early as 3 am or so every morning without fail (and keeps crowing until after 6). Oh, I so felt like slaughtering it.

After breakfast and getting a map of the city, I walked to the city centre, stopping at Dala Market and passing Moung Market. I walked on along the main thoroughfare of Luang Prabang, the Sisavangvong Road, all the way up to Thongnathao Road at which Sisavangvong Road ends and Sakkarine Road begins. I passed some shops, a bank, the Luang Prabang Museum (previously the palace of the Kings of Luang Prabang) and some vat on one side of the road while on the other side is the hill and steps leading up to That Phousi. As I walked on, I came upon more restaurants, cafes, travel agents, banks and exchange offices and guesthouses, all very charming indeed. Little wonder why the former royal capital of Laos and seat of government of the Kingdom of Laos until the Communist takeover in 1975 is a UNESCO World Heritage city. (Those outdoor enthusiasts and adventurers would love Luang Prabang as it offers opportunities for trekking, kayaking and other outdoor activities. Those more adventurous can sign up for cooking classes – Lao food is unique because there are not many Laotians who travel abroad to spread their cooking experience and being landlocked, they previously couldn’t spread this influence either. They use a lot of herbs, mint leaves and lemongrass. Err, I’m not that adventurous.)

I turned right at the intersection and went down Thongnathao Road to Nam Khan River. I could see a bamboo bridge down below spanning the river and on the other side of the river were agricultural farms on the slope of the riverbank. In the distance were cloud-capped mountains still embraced by the lingering morning mist. I went down to the bridge to take some pictures and discovered that one would have to pay a toll for crossing.

I walked on along the river and around the bends of the river until I came upon another bamboo bridge. Just around the bend is where the Nam Khan River meets the mighty Mekong River. I continued on, this time along the Mekong, passing Vat Xieng Thong (supposedly the most famous temple in the city and the whole of Laos but not that much to look at) and marvelling at the charming guesthouses, which while seem to be sprouting everywhere were not intrusive in their presence. Oh and no buildings in the city are more than two-storey high.

I returned to Sisavangvong Road (hereafter to be referred to as the main street) and hurried back to the guesthouse as I was joining an 1130 tour to Kuangsi Waterfall Park.

The van arrived 20 minutes late. I was the last passenger and soon we were off. Kuangsi Waterfall Park is only 30 km away but the journey was on winding Country Road, past small villages and paddy fields and we only arrived at the park at 1230. The entrance fee was 20,000 Kip.

The falls were a series of waterfalls and pools and more falls and pools further down. There are some areas where one can swim should one want to but it was a cold day. It had begun to drizzle somewhat steadily now from the intermittent drizzle earlier. Fortunately I managed to seek refuge beneath the tree shelters. There was also a bear rescue centre (Tat Kuang Si Bear Rescue Centre) in the area where some bears were rescued from hunters, kept and nursed back to health. I bought a long-sleeved t-shirt at the centre. Hey, Be A Gooner, Be A Giver.

We left at 1400 and it was raining more heavily then. I was about to doze off when the van stopped. The driver announced ‘Tribe Village’ and clearly expected us to go out so we did just that. But seriously, no one was in the mood to walk around or shop as it was raining and we were getting wet. We left after 20 minutes or so.

I rested and went out after dark to the main street to search for Andrea’s guesthouse, find dinner and book a trip to the Pak Ou Caves (Buddha Caves). I managed to borrow a brolly from Vieng but if anything, the rain was falling even more heavily than ever. I was actually singing in the rain, OK humming, ‘Why Does It Always Rain On Me’ on my way to and fro. The rain also dampened my mood to shop at the night market (not many stalls were operating anyway). Dinner was held at Nazim Restaurant, a branch of the one in Vientiane. It was very packed and I had to wait 20 hungry minutes for my order. Nothing fancy, just plain old fried chicken rice but it tasted different from the one I had for lunch just a day earlier in Vientiane (the rice seemed stickier). As I struggled to finish my dinner, I thought to myself, ‘If I have to eat this again tomorrow night, I will cry.’ Not for me are briyani or naan or roti.

Saturday, 27 December 2008

Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head/Patience Of Angels/Beautiful Day

I woke up to the sound of rain - golly it must have rained All Night Long! After an early breakfast, I brisk-walked to the main street to meet up my tour group to the Buddha Caves. We were told to be there before eight but we only walked to the river at 0810 and only boarded the slow boat at 0900. Yes, this is Lao P.D.R. Please Don’t Rush and you need the Patience Of Angels to be here. The ‘ticket office’ would write down everyone’s name down (regardless of which tour group you joined) laboriously - and that took a long time of course. Feel free to browse the shops while you wait and wait and wait.

There were only six passengers in addition to the ‘driver’ allowed on any one small boat (there were some big ones that could carry dozens but these were few and far between). After 75 minutes of travelling upstream against the currents of the mighty Mekong and a fuel/engine check stop, we stopped at Bang Xang Hai village (a village specialising in producing whisky products besides silk textiles) for 20 minutes before continuing on for a further 15 minutes to the caves. It was still a cloudy morning and on both sides of the river, we could see small farms alternating with forests. Mountains rose in the distance accompanied by the mist. Strangely enough though was the absence of birds. I didn’t see even a single bird (except for the few captured small birds at the caves that some boy wanted to sell for USD1 each) flying in the forest, perching on the tree branches or on rock islands of the river or flying low over the water to make a kill. Not a single bird. Very, very strange indeed.

We finally reached the caves and after paying the entrance fee (surprise, surprise) of LAK20,000, we were free to explore the lower (Tham Ting) and upper (Tham Theung) caves. These two caves housed hundreds of Buddha statues of varying size, shape and form. The Upper Cave was a strenuous hike up the stupid steps so much so I was thinking, ‘This is like going up the Great Wall of China!’ The caves were nowhere as gorgeous as Thiên Cung and Dao Go caves of Halong but, hey, they housed Buddha statues. We spent 50 minutes before getting back on the boat and heading back to Luang Prabang.

I had lunch at Tamarind Restaurant which serves Lao cuisine (wanted to have dinner there the next before but it was packed) as recommended by Wikitravel and joined a Lao-born girl who was raised in the States and now works in Hong Kong. She was in the city to visit her grandparents who live in a village across Nam Khan River. We walked out together and to my surprise, she pointed out her guesthouse. I asked if her grandparents minded this arrangement and she said no, adding that there was no flushing bathroom at her grandparents’, she would have to sleep on the floor... bla bla bla. I looked at her and thought, ‘You don’t know how lucky you are to still have a village/kampong you can go back to and to still have grandparents.’ I don’t even have a kampong and never even met my grandparents.

The sun finally broke through the clouds and I walked along Nam Khan River going the opposite direction to the route I took a day earlier in search of Andrea’s guesthouse. I didn’t find it and only managed to find the exact location (it sure was little known!) when I asked at Rama Hotel.

I went back for prayers and was out again 20 minutes later. Walked to Xayana Guesthouse and was told that Andrea had checked in and left her room. Walked along the main street hoping to bump into her all the way to the end of Sakkarine Road before retracing my steps. It was almost 5 pm and I thought I might as well climb That Phousi. It was a 328-step climb to the top (and yes there was an entrance fee of LAK20,000 but of course) and having huffed and puffed all the way up, I thought I might as well stay for the sunset. So I went around Vat Chamsi Stupa, enjoying a bird’s eye-view of the city. I was snapping a photo when I heard my name being called and felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Andrea! So we were reunited there.

We stayed until sunset before making our way down (I didn’t see any lights marking the way so I hoped no one fell to their death on their way down). We checked out the night market and tested our bargaining skills.

We had street food for dinner – there was this stall selling vegetarian dishes and all the food you can fill in the plate cost only LAK5,000. You pick your food and hand it to a woman who would fry the food (and hence get rid of the bacteria if any). There were some benches and tables at a side street where you can then have your dinner and this street (and the stall) is at the left street off the main road after the bank. The seller is there every night (I saw him and his customers the night before in the rain but didn’t stop to check out what he was selling). Good food at very reasonable price! I was satisfied.

Feeling energised, we continued window shopping before buying some souvenirs. We returned to our respective guesthouses at 2030 after having agreed to meet the following morning to watch the monk procession.

Sunday, 28 December 2008: Eve of New Hijrah Year

The Terminal/Sunday Bloody Sunday/No Country For Impatient Girl

I left the guesthouse after morning prayers and met up Andrea near her guesthouse. We walked up the main street unsure of where the monk procession would take place. The monks were late in appearing, we only sighted them after 0630 (and to think we were advised to go as early as 6 am!). The monks appeared in batches at various spots but the groups of alms-givers and monks were the largest at the Sisavangvong/Sakkarine/Thongnathao intersection. The monks were all bare-footed when collecting alms and each had a sling basket to store the food they received (sticky rice, fruits, etc). There were some young boys who stood back with their pails and plastic bags to collect the excess food (monks whose baskets were almost full would give the excess food to the boys). At first I thought they were novice monks or apprentices minus their robes then I gathered that they were poor kids who profited from the excess food received by the monks.

We walked along the road after the procession was over and I showed Andrea the bamboo bridges. We parted ways at a quarter to eight. I returned to my guesthouse to pack and have breakfast.

After breakfast, I went to the National Museum. As in most other establishments in Luang Prabang (except for restaurants), we have to take off our shoes and walk barefooted in the museum. The museum showcased the royal possessions, the furniture and wardrobe used, and the diplomatic gifts received in its various rooms. There was also a garage housing the royal vehicles outside the building towards the rear of the museum grounds.

I had some vegetarian street noodle before returning to the guesthouse.

The tuk tuk I requested came ten minutes late and I was surprised to see a woman, a girl and a boy in the tuk tuk. They refused to budge or move despite the urgings of the driver and I had to struggle to get in, with my luggage and all. After a while, after having observed them and heard their conversation, I turned and asked, ‘Korea?’ The woman gave a small nod without deigning a smile or a nod. I said ‘Ahn nyoung haseyo’ (spelling?) but was ignored and I said loudly, ‘Wow, not very friendly, are you.’ Most people would be civilised enough to take that as a hint to start a conversation or even if they don’t want to, would still say hello back with a tone that suggest that conversation will not continue.

The driver drove on and I was preparing myself for the artic chill emanating from my snotty snobbish hoity-toity fellow passengers when the tuk tuk stopped. The driver got down and asked the three to board another tuk tuk across the street. Ahh, I figured then that they simply hailed my tuk tuk earlier and insisted on riding it. Whatever. This time, it was me who had the smug satisfaction of seeing them vacate the seats they so refused to budge from only minutes earlier. I even called out to them, ‘Oww, too bad ain’t it!,’ not without some glee. Yes, I can be so evil.

Unfortunately for me, I couldn’t board the 1310 flight and all because I didn’t confirm my ticket. What? I didn’t know people still do that. I can’t even remember the last time I had to confirm my ticket and the last time I did that, I was told there was no longer any need to do so. The chap behind the counter said I must do so for Lao Airlines. I was made to wait before he arranged for me to take the next flight out at 1600. Boy, a long wait indeed but at least I had my novel with me.

The view from the airplane was fantastic. Rugged mountains formed the view for the most part of the journey before plains appeared with their rivers, agricultural fields and towns. I also saw Nam Ngum Lakes from afar.

No one at the domestic taxi counter knew where Champa Guesthouse was (arranged by an acquaintance of my contact who was supposed to arrange for my lodging in Laos) despite calling it reluctantly at my request (they must have dialled a wrong digit). I was beginning to get impatient and marched on to the international terminal and guess what? There was no one manning the taxi counter. I waited and waited and finally lost my patience. I marched out and made my way to the main road, pulling my trolley bag behind me. A cab driver asked me if I needed taxi and I snapped back, ‘How can I take a taxi out of the airport when there was no one at the counter?’ and walked on. Another driver called out, ‘Miss, where are you going?’ to which I snapped, ‘I’m going to Champa Guesthouse, if you know where that is!’ and stormed off.

Sorry guys, you were just at the wrong place at the wrong time. But seriously, I was starting to swear at the way things are done in Laos, at how slow everyone moves, at how little they value time – if at all. No, I didn’t get lost in Laos but I did lose my temper. Oh dearie me.

I saw a tuk tuk at the main road. He quoted a very reasonable LAK20,000 and I told him to take me to the only place I knew which could help me out: Nazim Restaurant.

The guy at Nazim very kindly called up the stupid guesthouse and obtained the directions for me. I thanked him profusely and left. It was at a remote area near the stadium and when I arrived, I was quoted a figure higher than what I expected to pay. I could feel my anger returning. She quickly said it would be USD18 for a single room and I said, ‘Yes, I’m alone’ and looked around wondering if she could see someone else beside me. Like duh!

I viewed the room; it was alright but the guesthouse was a bit off the main area and I told the girl that if I didn’t return in two hours, she was free to let it out to someone else. And so I started my search for a new place. It was almost dusk then and there I was, wandering around looking for a place to spend the night. It was then I realised that guesthouses in Vientiane are a far cry from the ones in Luang Prabang. No character, most are seedy and sleazy. I shuddered at the sight of some of them. I finally found one (Phornthip Guesthouse, near Vat Inpeng) but later that night thought, heck, my room looked seedy too. Still, there was a fridge and a TV (which I didn’t enjoy in Luang Prabang).

I walked to the Mekong promenade to find dinner. There were dozens of stalls operating, offering all kinds of food: grilled fish and seafood (squids, prawns), grilled chicken and other meat and something that looked like some animal organ. I stopped at one stall and peered at its containers of food. There was one that caught my attention and I stared and stared wondering what it was before comprehension dawned and I went ‘Arrrkkk! Those are frogs! Euwww!’ and quickly walked off.

I finally had dinner at Fathima, another halal Indian eatery.

Monday, 29 December 2008: Islamic New Year
Feels Like Summer

I couldn’t sleep much the night before. I kept hearing someone stir-frying something and people talking. I could even smell the dish at times too. And after hearing Andrea’s story of having potential bed bugs as sleeping partner, I was afraid to lie down in my bed too. So I thought maybe I should find another place for tonight.

After breakfast, I wandered to find the Vientiane Jamia Masjid. It’s located near Nampu (fountain square). Then I wandered around the area and found a guesthouse which looked so much better. Back to Phornthip and told the lady with the perpetual frown (she also looked like she was going to burst into tears any minute) that I wanted to check out.

I checked into Phonepaseuth Guesthouse before 11 am. Went to a bank to change money and then walked to Talat Kua Din (a small market selling mostly fruits and vegetables) before going to Talat Sao Mall (the food court was a joke) and the adjoining Talat Sao (Morning Market). Some of the souvenirs sold were quite different from those sold at the Luang Prabang Night Market. I spent some time but was generally disappointed.

I re-emerged into the hot afternoon and went to a vegetarian restaurant next to the Lao Cultural Hall Centre. Its name? Hallelujah Vegetarian Restaurant, I kid you not. There was a daily lunch buffet Unfortunately, most dishes were finished but I enjoyed my lunch all the same.

I hurried back to the guesthouse to rest. Ventured out after evening prayers and went for a two-hour massage (half an hour foot massage, one hour traditional Lao massage – not unlike a Thai massage - and half an hour of herbal massage) and it cost less than USD14 (and less than RM48!)! Dinner was again had at Fathima Restaurant and I discovered a fourth halal Indian resto.

Tuesday, 30 December 2008

Coming Home
Another early start to the day. Had breakfast at 0745 and checked out by 0830. Went in search of a tuk tuk and finally managed to strike a bargain with a driver to take me to the airport for LAK20,000 which was what I paid two days ago anyway. The flight was supposed to take off at 1005 but only took off way after 1030 as a result of which we landed late. It was a long walk to the terminal from the plane and I was surprised to see the new wing of the terminal. There are now six conveyor belts as opposed to only two previously. Sadly, this didn’t speed things up: I managed to visit the bathroom, went to 7-11, bought a cup of instant noodles, prepared it and ate it slowly (I don’t like eating hot food) and still our bags hadn’t appeared. I could only take the 1515 bus back to KL (more than an hour since we landed I’m sure).

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My heartfelt appreciation and gratitude to dear SK who took the trouble to text me Arsenal match results. Muchos gracias amigo!