Top 10 signs of impending holidayness

10. A new camera has arrived in the house (SLR!! eee!)
9. A notebook is busting full of errands and to-dos
8. The winter gear is seeing the light of day
7. A new International Hostels card has arrived too
6. Work is going bananas
5. Distinct rising level of panic at all the beds not booked and the tickets not bought
4. Distinct rising level of panic about how the hell I fancied myself a backpacker
3. Sudden franticness about organising stuff for after I get back (in a month!)
2. Gut-wrenching twistingness about the ever-expanding cost
and...
1. it's T minus 6 til take off!!

Sounds like Kampung Spirit

So last week we headed north to my mum's hometown.

It was for what I call the zhongzi festival, but what Wikipedia calls Duanwu Festival. It's a day commemorating a poet's suicide with wrapped dumplings.

Never say us Chinese don't know how to cut loose. In yo face, Easter!

Then the other reason (I don't cross state lines for less than two) was a cousin's wedding. Actually that in itself is not so unusual. Given my mum has seven siblings, I'm surprised if a weekend goes past that someone in the family isn't married/born/graduated/coming back/leaving/abducted by aliens. However, I was a little anxious as I haven't been back for nearly a decade.

Pour quoi? you ask. Because you're French like that. Well, mon ami, it's an out in the sticks kampung. That's why! Since I had a choice about it, I've consciously avoided the mechanics shophouse on Jalan Besar (Main St for my 5's of international readers).

It's the business that my grandfather started, that kept the family going through the war and the Japanese, where my mum grew up and where my 80+ y.o. grandma still reigns supreme; insisting on climbing the steep-as-hell stairs every day. To look down on it, I know, pretty much makes me an up-herself Westernised snot.

Yet looking at the five-foot way littered with greasy spare parts, and the buckets of used oil out the back, I remembered why as a kid I always dreaded coming here. I also don't speak Cantonese, so that left me quite the dumb-mute in a house full of screeching, bellowing feistiness–the Cantonese are nothing if not the feistiest feists that ever feisted.

I realised I was like a bad foreign student in my grandma's house; dismissive of the strange workings of a different way of life and watching the clock until I could get back home. So this time I tried not to expect to feel comfortable, just to give people the same room as I do when I'm travelling.

Most travelers would die to be taken into a traditional home and partake in the preparations for a festival, right? So in that perspective, I was quite happy to wrap some zhongzi.

My mum got to show off her skillz, and I got to practise my rusty ones. Sat on a tiny stool in my grandma's rustic kitchen, surrounded by all the ingredients at our feet, the woodfire stove going and sunlight streaming in through the one skylight, I guess I got to make a little peace with the mechanics on Jalan Besar.

Less peaceful and mostly just ear-curdlingly terrifying was the wedding we attended that evening. First off, it was in Taipeng, the nearest major town. When Taipeng is "the big smoke" the hairs on my neck already prickle. Watch out: Racism and middle-class snobbery up ahead!

When we got there, the restaurant was packed to the rafters with shouting, pushing, gobbling Chinese people and about a billion little kids (Memo to small towns: Need more entertainment options).


Then we found our table, to my dismay, was right up the front–next to a gigantic speaker. Worse, the evening's 'host' sporting an interesting haircut and electric blue sneakers, was on stage and fancied himself auditioning for Malaysian Idol.

He chose a Mandarin ballad, and after some banter, proceeded to serve it up to the chewing masses with an extra helping of D-I-V-A. He'd clearly been practising the singing AND the exaggerated hand gestures AND the dramatic facial expressions.

He was singing of love lost, but my appetite went pretty quickly too. For after him came the happy coupleS. Yep, that's a multiple. The restaurant was hosting TWO weddings at the same time–beat that for efficiency, Singapore! After Mr Mariah was done, he then invited the first couple to pop champagne, pour it onto the pyramid of glasses, and do yum seng. Then I guess the glasses were rinsed, and my cousin repeated.

So far so bearable. That is, until the first groom strutted and styled his way through a power ballad and then his wife joined him for a duet, complete with a big finish. If I hadn't already considered sticking myself in the eye with a chopstick to dull the pain, then I was seriously contemplating it now. They too had practised, though not as much as Mr Mariah.

To my dismay, my cousin and his wife followed suit after them. Then again, it's their big day. So I guess they're entitled to do whatever the hell they feel like.

Less entitled, but no less enthusiastic, were the string of uncles and aunties that followed up with ear-drum-bursting renditions of their favourite Cantonese/English/Hokkien numbers. Of course someone HAD to do "My Way". Frank might have had too few regrets to mention, but I bloody well did!

Mercifully, the dessert was declared not up to snuff, so we proceeded to disembark from the dinner. Sonically beaten to a pulp, I headed out to the carpark with the continued warbling ringing in my ears.

PS: Pix of froofy blue bridal gown which we really really wanted to put in, not included to protect us from familial retribution at some later date. Thank you.

ONCE: Falling Slowly

This movie is crap to look at but hauntingly, divinely, unsettlingly beautiful to listen to. Lyrics that tear at your heart and melodies from angels. I wanted to hug strangers after it.

Sabah Trip Part Dua (2) : Sandakan

A friend of the family's in KK had sms'd that "KK is not that special.. but Sandakan is great!"

That's all we needed to add it to the itinerary. The Lonely Planet was strangely quiet about it, but I thought "Woo! Finally we'll be seeing something of real Malaysia, not on the tourist route. SWEEET!" And then proceeded to feel very smug about myself.

The big draw for Sandakan is that there's an orang utan sanctuary about 45min drive away in the jungle. Most tour groups just fly their people in at 8am (it's a 30min flight), do the 10am feeding, have lunch, then return to KK. The other big attraction they have is the islands (kind of) nearby which harbour nesting turtles and very much more awesome diving than KK.

Between those two and the superior seafood, I thought we were set to enjoy an undiscovered Malaysian gem of a seaside town.

Turns out I was mostly kinda.. *sigh* well if you must.. WRONG.

Let it be noted what I had read was accurate–the seafood was GREAT. So fresh and really very reasonable.

Also the Orang Utan sanctuary at Sepilok doesn't disappoint. It's well managed and who can get enough of orang utans? Especially the babies!

The thing is, attending a feeding and a seafood lunch takes about.. half a day? Then you're left to contemplate what else there is to do, and you realise FAAARK! You've booked 4 days in a 1-horse town. Which, come to think of it, reminds you of Ipoh 20 years ago, just with more utes. And now that you mention it, many of the buildings look exactly like a building looks when you do nothing to it for more than 2 decades.

Thankfully one thing I didn't cock up was the hotel. Having made a last minute booking, we asked the taxi driver to stop in at various other hotels in town, just to see if we should change. Turns out NAK hotel, one of the first 'proper' hotels in Sandakan, and having gone through a recent renovation, is the only place in town that looks like they actually hired an interior decorator. The hotel's facilities are simple, but the whole thing's been decked out in a nouveau-chinois kind of style, which cheered me no end. And a suite was RM106! That was cheer-inducing as well.

The wonderful Linn at the hotel also hooked us up with a day trip to the Turtle Island of Selingan. It's one of the 3 islands nearby where mama turtles come to lay their eggs. We'd spoken with a few travel agents who said it couldn't be done; it takes an hour and a half to get there, you have to stay overnight etc. I think this is because the island is run by one operator and they only need enough people to fill their chalets. More than that they're not really interested in.

But, we managed to wrangle it, and were happy to see the island, if not the turtles. Turns out though, that we got real lucky! When we noticed a baby come out of the sand in the hatchery, we asked the ranger to help us take a picture (they're kept under watch because eggs left on the beach get stolen and sold by guys holding carrier bags in the street outside Sandakan market). Instead of doing so, he reached in to grab it and asked us to follow. We proceeded over to the beach and let it go! Like some kind of baby turtle freedom fighter. OK so am not up for any awards from Greenpeace yet, but it was such a special experience. I said a prayer for the little guy as he turned into a speck in the blue.

I figure he needs all the help he can get.

New suggested tourism tagline: Sandakan, Not As Bad As You Think. Catchy, huh?

Sabah Trip Part Satu (1) : KK Diving

Yen came back from SF for Dad's 60th, so we thought we'd go somewhere for a family holiday. Having (sort of) successfully convinced my dad the diving trip I had planned in Sabah was for his birthday, we hurriedly packed after the cake was cleared away and headed off the next day for Kota Kinabalu. Or KK for the Malay-challenged.

KK is in West Malaysia, in Sabah state, which is the top right part of Borneo (how much do I rock at geography!). Now, most people go to KK for Mt Kinabalu, the river safaris, the exotic jungle wildlife and such. Me, I give you two words: cheap diving.

Whilst Sipadan off the west coast of Sabah is a magnet for divers (and sometimes terrorists..), you'll also end up paying resort prices to learn in the shallows, and there's sweet FA for non-divers, so I went with KK where there's a plethora of choice. Also a refreshing lack of 2000m drops!

I had enough trouble getting to this point (the trip initially was for China, don't ask), so I only booked hotels, no activities. Luckily KK is fantastic for the last-minute and unprepared traveller, like moi. They have this lovely place called Wisma Sabah in the little downtown. It's a building housing only travel-related companies. Dive tours, Air Asia, hotel bookings, jungle safaris... whatever you want to do you can ask for details, compare prices, and book in the same floor. How cool is that!

Jennifer at Scuba Paradise was very helpful and we were able to book some Mt Kinabalu/river safari things for mum and dad as well as Open Water PADI diving course for Yen and I. Rm 840 for 3 days instruction from personal dive master, equipment rental, lunch, hotel pickup and certification. W00t!

The first day of training was loooong. The PADI DVD is immensely cheesy and there's 5 modules to go through before a final "exam". It's pretty much high school physics (buoyancy, gases, light, refraction..), safety stuff and using a table to figure out how much nitrogen is in your system. It's brain hurtin stuff though, for a holiday. So, we were really glad to escape at the end and quickly sniffed out the waterfront mamak stalls covering the essential food groups: anything fried, desserts with condensed milk, chicken wings and MSG.

Next morning we took off from the jetty at Sutera Resort, the fancy new one in town. It's just chockers with Korean ladies off on a boat ride to the islands with their matchingly dressed and coiffed man and stilettoes.

I curse my slowness in taking pictures! They were truly breathtaking.

If I were learning in Australia, I'd have studied by myself and spent this part in a pool. Instead, our first stop was the shallows at Sapi Island, ten minutes away. It's much more convenient to go to the island than to find a swimming pool actually!

Pulau Sapi is one of the five islands in the TAR marine park off KK. The snorkelling and diving here isn't going to compare to Sipadan. As we were to see for ourselves, most of the coral has been dynamited, leaving only a few patches here and there of natural coral reef. Still, the water is clear, warm and thick with all kinds of fish, so it's very good for beginners.

At the beginning, as with most things, it's all weird and uncomfortable. The equipment is just a tangled mess of hoses and valves with some really indecipherable gauges thrown in. Then there's the actual diving...

I don't have pix of the dives unfortunately–need a whole underwater setup for that. Besides, I was initially, ..what's the right word.. freaking-the-hell-out. It felt so unsafe to willingly 'drown' and then keep heading down, even when you can't see the bottom. My mental dialogue: "faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrk!!!!"

Mental hysterics over, I realised I'm not going to last long if I keep this up, so I turned it into underwater meditation class: Breathe iiiiin, breathe ooooout. Don't think of anything else.

It's quite good training, cause screwing up the calm breathing=drowning. So on pain of death, you must keep calm.

With each dive and learning exercise, we got more comfortable. I went from holding the instructor's arm in a death grip to being able to navigate away and come back (it did take 2 goes, but no one's perfect!).

On the second day, after a swim test, we were finally certified!

I must say initially, I was hoping for a different instructor. Perhaps tall, tanned and French..dark hair...deep soulful gaze.. just a suggestion! But we got safety-minded, old-hand Jeffrey instead. Which turns out was exactly the person I wanted to be in sight as I was freaking out in the murky depths.

It turns out dive instructors, like winners of the World Cup, can't be picked on their good looks alone. Who knew!

This was even more apparent as we got off the boat triumphantly at the end of the 2nd diving day. Another boat had come racing in behind us and there was a lot of kerfuffle as a British girl was taken off on a stretcher in agonies. She'd managed to step on a stingray...ON THE BEACH! We hadn't even seen any in the water!

As her quite hot tour guide was frantically shouting into his phone in the parking lot, it was a timely reminder that a whole bunch of unexpected stuff can happen at sea, and safety, whilst boring and not as good looking is paramount :p

For more Sabah pix and rapier-like wit click here.

Next: Sabah Trip Part Dua (2) : Sandakan

Burma Emergency

Just got back from Sabah on Friday. I saw the headlines about the cyclone in Burma in my hotel newspaper, but being in holiday mode, I was in my own dreamland of diving and beaches.

Which makes me feel a right twat now that I really realise that it's really real.

The numbers for deaths in Burma are on their way to making the tsunami seem like a cakewalk. And the options for survivors are to stay and starve or flee to a refugee camp in India, China or Thailand.

I only know that because a friend's aunty is one of those survivors.

Given the global shortage of food, especially rice, I don't know what kind of reception they'll get.

I'm not going to go into the whole situation with the generals, because I'll likely have an aneurism from how fucked it all is. Anyway in times like these, better to have a lot of action rather than a lot of talk.

PLEASE DONATE TO THE RED CROSS. Whilst I read reports of the UN having their cargo interfered with, the Red Crescent (Red Cross's sister society) at least have already got supplies coming in and people on the ground.

Where Our Treasures Lie

"It is as if we have been forced to go on a long journey in search of what we've no interest in. The road back will be painful. We won't feel like we fit in and our friends need time to return home as well. But that time will happen. And we will come to see where our treasures lie"

The Witch of Portobello, PAULO COELHO

When I left Perth for Singapore 7 years ago, I packed my 2 suitcases and a sense of self-satisfaction that I was going toward exciting things. Perth is many things, but ever-evolving and fast-paced it is not.

With each successive trip back over the years, I managed to conclude that I made the right choice. That having swapped the quiet life for long hours at work, big projects, big shopping, a cleaning lady, and monthly pedicures...was the right thing thing to do.

Whenever taxi uncles found out where I was from, they always used to explain "Har? What you doing here?" It only took me another 6 years to ask myself the same question!

But of course this time back was different. I've completely switched over to freelance and get by on so much less. My credit card is dusty from under-use and I just cut my own nails like a pleb :p

And whilst I'm a fair way from packing my bags (for Perth anyway), its blue skies and fluffy white clouds, its courteous drivers and verdant wildlife, don't seem like the marks of a suburban backwater anymore, but something of how life should really be.