Ten Years of Wandering

 

Ten years of wandering

Down winding roads, and cobbled streets

A little less familiar, a tad too strange

Had me scanning, searching, looking out,

For a touch not cold, a friendly face

In this crowded room, this loneliest place.

I smiled back not with these soulless eyes

But with a mechanical mouth that moved

On auto pilot, like a well-oiled machine

Generating upturned corners, thus synchronized

That I passed for the real thing –

There was no bigger fool than me.

Places and people merged into

A collective memory of blurry days

Spent in waste, of smoky nights of haste

Of laughters as hollow as a heart

That could no longer care less

That it was smeared with dried blood.

In distant shore, lands far away

Moving in and out of mindless chatterings

Of endless laughters that didn’t ring true

I slowly turned around, as sure as the sun

Will rise at the break of day –

I walked straight back to the start

And ended these ten years of wandering.

(Buffet) Breakfast at Tiffany's

I have been staying in hotels for most parts of this year, and have been fortunate enough to have the opportunity to do a lot of people-watching. It is indeed amazing that some people think it is OK to 'misbehave' because they are at the hotel, on holiday, or have paid for the room that sometimes common courtesy as well as common sense are checked out at the door the minute they check in at the hotel. There are too many trangressions to discusss, but for this piece, I have collected enough material to talk about...buffet breakfasts - or rather, what I have seen around buffet breakfasts.

 

I have indeed seen enough that I feel it necessary to make some ground rules for turning up at the breakfast restaurant for your sunny-side up:

 

1) Pajamas are for sleeping in

Believe it or not, what you wear to buffet breakfast matters! In a span of 6 months of my staying in various hotels, while the guests are different, the dressing is uncannily the same that sometimes I think that perhaps I am the misguided one because I must have missed the hotel handbook on what to wear to the breakfast buffet. I have seen too many pajamas in various states of 'rumpleness' worn at breakfast. I know some people in the fashion industry may have had a momentary loss of creativity that they are trying to sell the idea that hey, you know what? You can wear pajamas at any times and not only when you are going to bed - but I doubt by that they meant old, wrinkled pajamas with twinkle little stars motif on them and with a couple of holes in them to boot, and worse still, if you were at breakfast looking like you came straight out of bed, and that means dishevelled hair, unkempt, and  looking a right fright. Hardly the best way to start your day or other people's day! I am surprised I have not seen anybody with those flimsy paper-thin room slippers to breakfast. Oh wait. I HAVE!! And what is even scarier is the fact that so far these transgressors have been (gasps!!) women!! I mean, come on!

 

As my current abode is a resort hotel, the weekends are always the easiest time to spot these trangresssors.I have seen many men who have sauntered into the breakfast restaurant with nothing but a pool towel wrapped around their lower body. I would give you credit for your confidence and laissez-faire attitude about your shirtless torso.. but OK, if you looked like a Calvin Klein underwear model, I might not protest so much. Same goes with women who wear their swimsuit to breakfast, especially the ones with a skimpy tutu-like skirt that covers nothing, thank you very much. What are your motives, exactly? No, we don't look at you because we admire your derriere. We look at you and we quickly look away again because we are thinking What were YOU thinking? How could your parents let you go out looking like that...but sadly we realize that you are the parent. If you simply must wear your swim gear, at least have the decency to put on a pair of shorts or a nice sarong AND a top over it. And don't even think about coming in with your fins and snorkle masks either, unless you're planning on snorkelling in the fruit bowl cos I have news for you - Nemo has been found, and he is alive and well somewhere beyond the sea.

 

2) The hotel buffet will NOT run out of food

I am a big food lover. My family will tell you, my friends will tell you, and I don't deny it, so I am amazed to find that there are some people who are bigger food lovers than me. So much so that at breakfast buffets, they do all they can to get at the food. I have been shoved, I have had people cutting the queue, and I'm not talking about one rogue food lover but the whole clan ganged up on me, and some have even gone as far as claiming the two slices of bread that you have put into the toaster are in fact theirs. And then there is the issue of how much is too much? Some people have plates with mountainous amount of food piled up on them - eggs on chicken on sausages on stewed beef on veggie on rice on noodles; salad and salad and more salad,  muffins on cakes on danish pastries on donuts; watermelon on melon on rock melon - you get the idea. And some people even go back for more when they have not even finished what's on their plate, or plates, as the case may be. People, calm down. If there is no more food, the hotel kitchen will cook some more. It is such an obscene sight to behold, and more than anything, it is sad that some people justify having paid for the buffet, it gives them a divine right to become gluttons.

 

3) There are other breakfasters in here...

The breakfast restaurant is a public place, and like you, we have also paid for the service. Be considerate of other people, and respect each other's space. One morning while I was having breakfast in a nice restaurant, I suddenly noticed that the relaxing soft, background music had changed to a loud children's theme song of Old MacDonald had a farm...E,I,E,I,O!! And in his farm he had some chicks...E,I,E,I,O! You get the drift. I thought it was a strange choice of music, until I realized that it came from a neighbouring table at which sat a woman with her toddler. The woman was texting on the phone, and was happy to leave the child with her baby computer with songs and games, and was not thinking that perhaps other people would like to start their day with a bit of peace  and quiet, and not be bombarded first thing in the morning with loud kiddies songs just so her child would not disturb her while she chat with her friend on the phone. On many occasions, I have had the misfortune of being seated next to people who think it is OK to talk at the top of their voices that the whole restaurant could hear every minute detail about her last holiday, shopping spree, last night's conquests, big contracts they have won, _______, yes, fill in the blank.  Do respect other people's right to be there, and speak quietly to your breakfast companions, and by for god's sake, put the phone down and do not let the computer babysit your child.

 

So these are a few ground rules at the breakfast table. Now, can I have my fried eggs over easy, please?

November Rain and Something Good

And by the way...it is now the second week of November 2012. NOVEMBER! How did that happen? Did I go to sleep one night in May and woke up almost six months later? The last time I checked, my name was not Rip Van Winkle. So how, what, where...when??

OK, let's see what has happened since my last post.

From June 2012 onwards, I started travelling back and forth between Malaysia, Singapore and Indonesia. I had spent most of my time travelling that I have barely settled in in my new apartment in Kuala Lumpur. Some of my worldly possessions are still in boxes, and god forbid I have to travel to some cold country this winter cos I have no idea where my winter stuff is. My life is spent staying in one hotel after another...and the grievances of a hotel dweller are as per my rants in my last post. Food? Good! But after a week, the buffet spread which was scrumptious just 3 days ago has now lost its appeal - it's become a grandiose novelty that makes you long for mom's cooking, and you don't exactly love your mom for her cooking skills. But beggars can't be choosers, and so I have trained my palate to contend with bad, unfamiliar food and look forward to the time when I am back home where good food is in abundance. Is it so bad that I am talking about food? But that is what I always miss the most. Even when I was in Europe, I would crave for spicy curry after about 3 days of travelling. Haven't we all stuffed our luggage full of comfort foods like Maggi instant noodles, or packets of chilli sauce, or is that just me? Anyway, I've digressed. I have now found myself lodged in a hotel for a very long stay...and this is what I call 'home-away-from-home' for a while. I am counting my blessings everyday cos I could be in a much worse situation, so alhamdulillah.

What else have happened since?

Oh yes - my biggest accomplishment this year is finally completing my thesis in August. It was a labour of love and a lot of hate - the tears, sweat and blood thing? All true! But I now have a Master's Degree in English as a Second Language, and though I was offered to pursue my Ph.D by my university, I decided to not take them up on the offer. Though I'd never say never, I feel like at this point, that chapter of my life is over, and I am ready to embark on another chapter - one which would accord me the liberty to read fiction and poetry whenever I feel like it with no sense of guilt because I have now completed my MA. The graduation was set for October 2012. Unfortunately...it coincided with James Morrison's concert in Singapore. So... I was in a little dilemma then...Convo?? or Concert? Convo? or Concert. Bit of a no brainer there...so sorry convo! I'd rather celebrate my accomplishments my way. And yes, I had a blast at the concert. Come again soon, James!

And so, it is now November. If there's one thing I have learned so far is that one needs to have a positive outlook and attitude towards life. Yes, I have had many dark days, but I have survived them thus far on positive attitude and the sheer power of faith that there's a power much bigger than me is looking after me.

The rainy season has started in these parts of the world, but I have been very lucky that I also have many sunny days here. It is November, after all, and before we know it, it would be the New Year's eve, time to sing the auld lang syne.  But before this year is up, let's make a promise to ourselves...one that we will tell noone, but one that we will strive to fulfill every day from today. Are you ready?

Home Sweet Home

For years now I have discovered one thing about myself - I am a creature of comforts who is a tad OCD.

Does my confession sound tacky to you? But that’s the truth. The ugly truth.

While I love travelling, and I love staying in hotels, I have also made another discovery about myself – I absolutely hate long hotel stays, even in nicely-appointed rooms in grand hotels. I hate ‘living out of the suitcase’, a phrase that denotes the sad state of my homelessness, the impermanence of the current living arrangements. Where am I? Am I here, or am I there? Oh, I am definitely there – wherever there may be.

You might then question my earlier statement that I am a ‘creature of comforts’. You see, the definition is slightly confusing for my reality. What I meant by that is contradictory between my love for staying in hotels, and my need to be at home – tidy or otherwise.

In hotels, my things are mostly scattered around the room. My cosmetics mostly occupy the writing desk, because I don’t like to put my powders and lipsticks in the same room where I…ehem…shower and brush my teeth. To bring some order into the madness, my lip liners, eye liners, gloss tubes of various colours, mascara wands and brushes will be placed in the hotel glass tumblers - all holding court on the writing desk for easy access. That means, I can never use that writing desk to work at. So, where do I put my laptop? Or books? The laptop will end up on the sofa (so I can’t sit on the sofa anymore), and the books will end up on the bedside table, perching precariously among the hotel phone, the master console for the electrical gadgets in the room, the room service menu, and the writing pad and the pen. Very cluttered indeed!

Then, there is the question of the clothes. The closet space in hotel rooms is mostly miniscule – your clothes will have to fight for breathing room with the hotel safe, the ironing board and the iron – all of which are also crammed in the ‘closet’. My delicates will have to remain in the suitcase which I can lock when I leave the room because I don’t want to leave them lying around where the hotel staff could have a look when they come in to clean the room. The thought of strangers going through my smalls is downright unthinkable.  If I’m travelling alone, closet space is not a big problem. But if I’m travelling with other people, then it is a BIG problem. I normally just relent and give up the closet to the other person, and so my clothes remain in my suitcase for days on end. And then the phrase ‘living out of a suitcase’ is true, and very much compounds the cluttered state of both my physical condition and my mind. There is also the problem of where to put your dirty laundry – no pun intended. I normally just shove them into a laundry bag. But what if I want to wear my jeans again? I can tell you that those will be hanging at the back of the chair for a few days too, compounding the messiness of the room that I have checked into.

My shoes. OK, you got me! Yes, I do bring with me many pairs of shoes when I travel – well, one has to be prepared for eventualities, hasn’t one? Minimum two pairs of sexy sandals – one in a neutral colour like black, one in a fun colour for casual. A pair of sneakers, because I might just feel like going to the gym during my stay. A pair of pool sandals, because I might just feel like chilling by the pool (and ogle hunks). One pair of walking sandals for walking around town. So, that’s 5 pairs, at the very least. By the time I check into the nice and tidy hotel room that will be my ‘home’, I will have lined my shoes against the wall…and already the room looks cluttered. The only consolation is that my shoes, they are pretty shoes. Hahaha

Then, the food. Hotel food is fine – for all of two days. Then, the breakfast spread looks the same (they ARE the same!), and then I’d be longing to eat my own home-cooked meals – either burnt, or lacking a certain je ne sais quoi, I don’t care – as long as they are food which I have cooked myself.

The point is…I love being in my own space, surrounded by familiar things. I love that my earrings that I took off one evening last week are still there on the coffee table - gathering dust, no doubt - but they are there, all the same, until I put them away. I love that I make my own bed. My bed-making method might not be hotel-perfect, but I love doing it. I love that my dirty clothes are in the laundry basket, ready to be laundered only when it is spilling over. I love that my laptop is on my study table in the study, my books piled up on the book shelves, and my cosmetics are on my dresser, where every single lipstick and gloss should be.

I am always happy to leave the hotel and go home - to return to both the homely tidiness and messiness that are me. Until such times when I’ve had enough of home, and need to get away from everything and anything familiar. Then I’d pack my bag for another hotel stay. Oooooh how exciting! And yes, it will be exciting for all of two days, max.

Just a small nugget

Hello all,

It has been a while since I posted anything. You know what it's like - life has a way of getting in the way of good intentions. 

It is now the second week of May, and by the end of June, half of 2012 is over. How has it been? Have we found love? Are we still in love? Have we fallen out of love? Have we got that job? Are we still in that loathsome job? Have we got that promotion that we've been working like dogs for? Have we found happiness, or are we still pretty much in the pursuit of happyness? Have we become better people, or are we still no better than we were yesterday? Have we learned anything from everything, or are we still in the dark about everything? Have we got what we have been waiting for, or are we still waiting and waiting? Are we still keeping our new year resolutions, every single one of them? Or have we fallen by the wayside so many times? Well, the truth is...I have fallen by the wayside, again and again, and always brushing myself up, and starting over every time. The intentions to keep them are still there. The spirit is willing, the mind and the body are not. It is so cliche, I know, but it it the truth.

The same thing with keeping this blog going.  I have promised myself that I will update it every week, but I have found that it is not always easy. Sometimes I have what they call a 'writer's block'. Hahahaha That is so funny on so many levels.

My life is a huge roller-coaster right now, and maybe keeping this blog is what will keep me sane in the next few months, so I will do my best to update every week, insyaallah. 

Till then, have a great day, you...yes, YOU, who are reading this right this very second. 

Love to all.

Starting Over

 

I have forgotten

How to weave emotions

Into words

Forming stories

So fantastic

That words fail me.

Son, I'm Sorry

 

Son, I’m sorry

We put you out on the streets

With a dirty bowl, and flies in your hair

To beg for the kindness of strangers

(Your father’s not much use, on his unsteady feet)

Just so tonight we could have a piece of roti

Digesting our love as we sleep.

Son, I’m sorry

You don’t know the ABCs

Or the complexity of one two three

As you look in on your should-be friends

Writing away on papers so crisp, and blue-lined

In their white shirts starched to perfection

And at their feet, steaming tiffins are waiting.

Son, I’m sorry

Your future friend is killed today

(They say it was a martyr as young as you!)

In a busy street where fathers drink coffees

And sisters giggle and brothers laugh and smile

And now mothers wail and tear at their hair, crying

Over blood on curbstones, and limbs torn into frays.

Son, I’m sorry

The trees are gone, and all the birds you once spied

Have flown further away than southerly south

In their places, a marvel of architecture sprouted

As tall as the mountains we mowed down

To keep the gadgets running in our expensive pads

Turn up the air-con, will ya?

It’s so damn hot in here.

Son, I’m sorry

You have to see that on TV

It’s Ok, you say, I see this everyday

People killing each other, people dying on the streets

Women and children, and the innocents shot at and bleed

You pick up the remote and surf the channels

And drool like a fool, as Paris Hilton frolics by the sea.

Son, I’m sorry

We give you guns to fight wars not your own

As you lurk behind smoking SUVs

We pray that your sophisticated night-vision goggles

And expensive bullet-proof vests live up to specifications

Just so you won’t return home

Draped in stripes in simple oak boxes.

Son, I’m sorry

We throw wastes in the seas and put holes in the skies

We have been ignorant

Surviving to feed our many obsessions

For scraps of paper that we invent

And prostrate and idolize much more than

The creator of these treasures - treasures we destroyed shamelessly

It’s only just now that our heads emerge out of the sand

Slowly, slowly.

Son, I’m so sorry

We’ve failed you

In so many ways.