Travel Bug

Have found myself day dreaming about my time in Singapore the last few days. Well, that and actually dreaming about it. The last few nights have been filled with dreams of booking flights and faraway countries, like Egypt and Japan. They're very detailed; in some I'm even clearing traveller's cheques and paying for taxis. It's clear to me now that traveling really is a huge passion for me.

If I try to pinpoint why, it comes back to that whole idea of just being somewhere completely different. Of that strange mix of fear and excitement and enjoyment. The more I think about it, my last day in Singapore was probably one of my favourites. I had nothing planned, and was merely killing time until my flight in the evening. Walking down the streets, I had no idea what I was going to find. And then suddenly, I was in this massive mall, where people frequented and lived their lives. Something I would've passed by otherwise. It really felt like a dream, where the world just keeps expanding in front of you, and you drift through, not quite sure how you got to the place where you are, but seem to both know, and not know, your surroundings.

The last few weeks have been really good for thinking about where I'm headed now. I'm nearly 23. Just thinking about the fact it'll be 2014 soon boggles me. I've recently started my own business. I'm thinking of moving out. Girls are now on my radar. I'm seriously thinking it's time to fly the nest and beginning more of these adventures, which are now occupying more of my headspace than a simple, fleeting pleasure would.

It's daunting of course. I wouldn't just be leaving my comforts behind, but also my best friends. My family. But it's got to happen sometime though.

Things I Learnt in Singapore:

So, thought I'd throw in a second installment of dissection of my Singapore trip, this time with a bit of humour, and (gasp!), imagery thrown in. Who knows, I might do a Peter Jackson, and draw it out for a trilogy with a behind the scenes DVD special.

Last post we discussed how traveling can change your perspective on yourself, your life and what matters to you. This post I'll ask, what did I actually learn from my time in Singapore? Well for starters, I can tell you that poorly-hydrated, fairly pale, New Zealand guys, don't really mix with the Singaporean heat, as made evident by my early exit from the first day of the frisbee tournament with severe heat stroke. Lesson learnt. Sun hot. Bald heat need big cold. With that kicking us off, let's journey forth into a wonderous place, where I share what I learned in my travels... *Cue reverberating harp echo*

1. Malls. Singaporeans really like malls. No, like REALLY like malls.

Coming from my town, where there are only two malls, both with a single foodcourt and the old, familiar shops, and both far out in the outer suburbs, nothing could really prepare me for what appeared to be utter insanity in Singapore. The first time I got lost (I can assure you, it was only the first time of many) was actually in a mall. Well, you could say it was several malls. I walked for hours, all without seeing sunlight, all inside a series of malls. There were big malls, small malls, there were malls that linked the bigger malls together. There were even trains to more malls. I managed to find my way out, after 2 long hours of struggling to escape my mall-ish hell. What should await me when I emerged into the humid heat of the Singaporian street above (which, I might add, was several kilometres from my starting point!)? Why, the entrance to another mall of course!

Now, it's not a bad thing. I'm all for malls. Especially in the heat of Singapore. But when your malls begin to have little malls inside them to merge larger ones together, and when you can walk for hours without seeing any natural light, well, I think you may have a tiny mall problem. It doesn't just stop there either! I went to the hospital alongside a team mate who had dislocated his shoulder. While waiting for him to wake up from whatever procedure they'd conducted, I went in search of food. "Cafe on Floor 3!" I was told. Making my way up the stairs, what did I find. There was a mall inside the hospital. Shops, foodcourt, a fountain of some sort. I swear I'm going to wake up some night in the near future, with a cold sweat, a nightmare of getting lost in endless malls fresh in my mind.

2. If you're a taxi driver, road rules are optional.

It wasn't until I was being driven, a few ticks over the speed limit, down the middle of two lanes, with the driver beeping another driver off, while he was drinking his water bottle and using his iPad to tell his taxi friends where he was going so they could meet for coffee, that I began to understand that taxi drivers in Singapore are slightly different to those in New Zealand. Red lights were ignored. Tires were shredded. I'm sure there was some nitros involved in there somewhere. Having many of the main streets barricaded off for the coming Formula 1 probably didn't help.

After a while you get used to it, and even more than a bit involved, often getting disappointed when drivers didn't squeeze through red lights when there's a gap in the traffic, or when they don't turn the corner like a rally car. It's probably not that bad, and more likely a result of them trying to speedily get me to my destination so the unending rambling of how many times I've gotten lost can finally end. Plus the fact my accent kept messing with their heads. Every time I'd say "How's your day been?" they'd reply with "Why are you asking about my driving? I'm driving you to where you need to go!" and then look at me strangely.

3. If it hasn't rained already in the morning, you should be worried.

Singapore had the heaviest rain I've ever experienced. On day three of the tournament, we were playing up to our ankles in thick mud, often with a few inches of water on top of that. Each step was a struggle. My shoes are more or less ruined. They stunk so bad, I had to declare them to customs, and just to get them in my suitcase without fouling the rest of my clothes, I had to triple bag them and seal every inch with tape. I imagined that when the custom's officer opened them back in New Zealand, it'd be akin to that scene in Indian Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark, where the Nazi's open the Ark of the Covenant and their faces melt off. They were that bad. Not to mention they gave me a rash, well rather, the mud.

Although locals said it was unusual, it seemed to rain heavily overnight or in the morning, before turning into a cracking day. Those days where it didn't, you'd better have a raincoat for the afternoon. At least umbrellas are useful in Singapore, for both rain, sun and pulling yourself out of mud! Scarier still were the aforementioned taxi rides. Imagine those drivers, but this time in torrential rain, and in each instance, their wipers seemed to be going just that bit too slow to wipe the waterfall of rain from the windscreen, making for an... exciting ride.

4. Everyone speaks English. Until you need directions.

I love Singapore. I love the people of Singapore. But seriously, they are really bad at giving directions. "Just cross over" means something along the lines of needing to take a 30 minute walk, probably across a canal somewhere. "This train goes to X" usually means, "This train doesn't go to X". Sometimes you have to laugh and go with the detours, even if they take upwards of a few hours. Everyone tries to be helpful; it's clear they have no idea where you're asking to go, but still want to point you in a direction anyway. It's hard to get angry at that.

In fact, the only time I got angry during my adventure, was right after I dropped my team mate at the hospital. I was in my studs, I was tired, sore and dirty. After waiting in line for a taxi, I told him where I needed to go. Unlike New Zealand taxis, taxis in Singapore don't have GPS. At least not in any of the cars I rode in. You're relying completely on the knowledge of the driver. Had I known that, I wouldn't have left my cellphone, map and good humour back at my room. After circling around for what seemed like a lot of money, the driver pulled up to an apartment block. I was told this was my destination. Glancing up, it certainly did look the part. Same height, even had a playground in the middle! The colour was a tad off, but hey, I'm colour blind, so what authority am I?

Yeah, you guessed it. It wasn't the right place. Was barely the right suburb. The apartments just happened to have the same design. After realising I was truly lost without any way out, I tried to make my way around the block. Surely the driver dropped me somewhere in the vicinity of the place, right? I walked and walked (which took forever on account of my grass shoes), and after much effort trying to flag down a taxi to lodge a complaint (which was in turn met with angry beeps and swerves), I lost my cool. Okay, I full on had a tantrum on the sidewalk. I needed to use the bathroom, and no one would let me use their toilet without buying stuff. No one had a map or knew where I was. After a hard stomp in what I thought was the right direction, an old lady finally told me I was about 20 minutes from where I needed to go. Dejected, I finally found a police station, which pointed me in the direction of the MRT. I finally get to the station, and a train is about to leave. I see a guy at the door. "Hey! Does this train go to Queenstown?" The guy looked at me in the eye and said "Yes." I jump on the train. The door slam shut behind me. "Oh wait, no! This train doesn't go to Queenstown." He turns to me and shrugs. I get taken 10 minutes down the track. Resisting the urge to slap someone with my umbrella, I finally, somehow, make my way back to my room and let out a gutteral howl of despair. The worst thing was that I'd tried to do something nice by seeing my friend to the hospital, and in turn, I'd been stranded in the middle of no where for hours. Which leads me to the 5th thing I've learnt in Singapore...

5. If you think you know where you're going, you really don't.

I ran out of money fairly quickly in Singapore. Not from shopping. Not from food. But from transport. I could take the MRT into the city, but then I could never find my way back to it. By the end of my trip, I was an expert taxi flagger. As I've mentioned in my previous post, taxi fares are actually fairly cheap over there, so it just goes to show how many times I was flagging a cab down. For me, an extra $5-8 was well worth not getting lost for another few hours.

There were a few times I decided that I was confident enough to forego a cab, and make my way back to the MRT like a big boy traveller! Yeaaaah, no. One time, I literally went around in a huge, hour-long circle, which encompassed overpasses, underpasses, malls (of course) and several parks. And that was several days into my trip!

When I first got led to the MRT subway by my team mates, given a transport pass and told "Best o' luck!", I really did feel like that dog above. Yeah! Let's go to City Hall! I don't know why, I don't know where it is, and I don't know how long it'll take, but that's where I've been told to go! Yeah! By the end of my trip, I had getting less lost down to an artform. If I just stuck to the area I'd been to a dozen or so times of course. Because each time I ventured out of that area, and thought "Hmm, that looks like a familar entrance to a familiar mall, and possibly the MRT", well it turns out I was wrong.

6. I would probably get obese and broke (perhaps in that order) if I lived in Singapore.

Traveling budget aside, my gosh, the food in Singapore is amazing. Foodcourts with local cuisine (think in some cases, anything from noodles, to frog porridge) are good and cheap, but not really my thing. Mall foodcourts and restaurant clusters however, are. They have chilli cheese popcorn. Chilli. Cheese. Pop. Corn. I was walking around the mall, my hand and mouth covered in yellow cheese dust, and I'd only just begun my culinary expedition! Sushi, Indian, Thai, Steak, Seafood, Western, Eastern, Southern, Northern! So many choices. In a way I'm glad I left when I did. With the tournament over, it was only a matter of time before the nights of deep fried ice-cream, deli sausages and mixed grills caught up to me.

So I'll leave my experiences there for now. I've learnt a lot during my time in Singapore. Mostly about how much I love the place, and most definitely more than I've remembered to write here. I hope this little insight into my time away has amused you, and maybe even inspired you. If this is my last post on traveling, I'll let you with this: do it! Traveling is such an amazing experience. You meet crazy characters, experience wonderful things, challenge yourself and your perceptions, and you learn a whole lot. Even though I'm almost certainly a travel-newb, even in Singapore, I feel I've grown so much. It seems crazy that one can mature from simply being in a different place, a different time and different culture, but it's true, and for that, I urge anyone who wants to feel that rush of experience to go out and enjoy it for themselves!

Wanderin' Perspective: A Singapore Trip

My parents think I'm mad, maybe a little strange sometimes; I'll be on the living room couch after a long day, (usually in a dishevelled state from a hard game of frisbee) in that peculiar state where you're tired enough to fall asleep where you sit, but also so tired that your legs are too lazy to carry you upstairs to your comfortable bed. Instead, they vehemently persuade you that the couch, perhaps a foot too small, and a bung spring less comfortable, is a far better place to crash for the night. The television is blaring, but the power remote is oh so far away... I'll just close my... eyes...

And yet, through your drooping eyelids, you can still see the flashing antics of E! News or reruns of Friends. Argh! If only there was a place I could get some peace and darkness! Committed to making my night's sleep as unaccommodating as possible, I push through the discomfort and try to sleep in the last place I probably should be sleeping, on account of the numerous times I've awoken from that couch with a sore neck or bruised back. The last obstacle in the way is that darn tv! Parents are asleep. Getting up to fetch the remote would surely result in my cognitive arousal. Fumbling in the darkness under the accursed couch, I find something - the Sky remote!

Now I could switch it off. Mute it. For some reason, I never do any of those things. If I had any sense, I'd have just walked 30 seconds up the stairs to bed in the first place. No. I always find myself turning to one channel. Real Good Life TV. Up in the stratosphere on Sky channels, I'm sure no one watches it. You see, it's a radio station. Just a black screen and voices coming out. However, it's a Chinese radio station. I don't understand a lick of what they're saying, and I'm not sure if I want to. There's just something easing about listening to some far away place, some distant culture. Something different. They have their own thoughts, their own dreams and problems. Your mind tries to fill them in. An effective wall of pleasant white noise.

So my parents will often walk in on me at 5am, 6am, sometimes if I get that pesky middle spring to rest juust right, maybe even 7am, with the television blaring Cantonese radio, me fast asleep.


That's how I felt walking around Singapore the first night of my stay there. It was as if I was alseep and awake, all at the same time. I felt like I was just a mere visitor, a spectre, walking amongst the people there, observing and invisible. Back home, I understand what's going on. I'm the centre of the universe. Nothing is foreign. But here, stepping out into the dimly-lit streets and smelling the burnt offerings for the Day of the Dead, it was exactly as if I was back on that couch.

I stayed in Singapore for ten days. Without question, Singapore is a strange place. Everything is warped there, most certainly, units of scale. A "long way" was a 10 minute walk in one direction. An expensive taxi fare was anything over $10. In New Zealand, you're lucky if you can go around the block on that, let alone a half-city crawl as it was in Singapore. And yet a cheaper abode in Singapore would be in the $400-500K range.

In that sense, and many others, traveling does give you a rare perspective into not only the lives of others', but also your own. Foremost in my mind, was how grateful I was for everything back home. When taking a wrong turn can lead you to getting lost for more than a few hours, you learn to appreciate the staleness that you thought your life back home had become. The excitement and the full-nature of traveling is amazing, and something everyone ought to do at least many times in their life, but it must be said that simply coming home and finding your room, still as ever, with its familiar smells, feeling and sights, is something very satisfying, and those who have traveled will understand. It's not that you're overwhelmed by your experience, or that you disliked the impact of your wanderings, it's just something unwritten that fills you with peace, and you learn to appreciate that simply because something is not exciting, does not mean that it is any less "good" or "bad" than something that is.

I know I sound very philosophical, but you can't help be changed by such an adventure away. As with all experiences, even if they're meant just as fun, enjoyable encounters, they do have an impact on you. You brush by them, and they brush by you. Especially when you've traveled as little as I, you do come back with a new perspective on things and see the world around you in a new way. In that sense, your adventure has not ceased, but really, continued.

On the flight back, I got very misty-eyed over seeing my home's lights peaking through the clouds below. It's where everyone I've ever loved was met. It's where almost all of my best memories have been. And even though the ground shakes, the wind blows and bus drivers are grumpy, it's my own home. My trip to Singapore was the longest I've been away from my family, indeed, it's the first time I've even been out of the country on my own, so I'm not ashamed to say I missed them a lot. Sometimes it does take a while away from what's closest to you, to truly recognise just what they mean to you. And that's really what traveling does: it gives you an amazing perspective on what life is, abroad and at home. Sometimes it does take going halfway across the planet just to realize what you feel in your own heart.

Your Best Friend

As I sat here, bleary-eyed at 2am from a full day of cricket, frisbee and adventure, I was pleasantly surprised to see that a new Blog Roll topic had been posted - A letter to yourself 10 years ago or 10 years in the future. It's been a long time, no write, so despite the late hour, and my body's inside voice whispering "Sleep! Sleep time!", I think there isn't any time better than the present to get stuck in to it.

However, it's probably not advisable. 10 years ago... phew, that would make me nearly 12. There's a lot of dark memories and emotions that lurk back there. Most have been captured and placed carefully in a chest, buried somewhere deep in the sandpit of my mind, nary to be looked at except for the odd peek or prod over the years. A couple of you may know the reasons, most probably won't, but my early teen years weren't the happiest nor the fondest to look back on.

To be honest, I kinda feel sorry for that kid back then. I think instinctively we all feel sorry for our younger selves. They represent an innocent place. A sweet, pure place before we all grow, lose that magic fervour for life and get corrupted and abused by the world. The innocence and blissful ignorance seems so pitiful, but at the same time wondrously special and unique. It only happens once in your life. Once you are aware of the world, you can never go back. Your younger self is the embodiment of the passage of time and the gift of knowledge, which cuts both ways in giving enlightenment, but also stealing your childhood away. Your younger self is what you've lost.

I feel especially sad for my younger me, because I know what the next few years have in store. And not just that, but because even if I could, I probably wouldn't change the course of the coming years. They hurt. They ushered in the end of my childhood. But they made me who I am today. Looking back writing this, it almost feels like I'm offering him up as a sacrifice while I stand idly by. It's hard, but I know in the end, it all comes right. We can't stay innocent forever, and upsetting as it is, we all must lose our purity in a sense.

I was bullied from a young age. I'd probably even go so far as to say I've been bullied by various people from various vocations to this very present day. It never stops hurting. As a grown man, all my competitive instincts are telling me to write down that it doesn't, but the truth is, it never stops hurting. I've learnt to cope, ignore and grow a thick skin, but it affects you. Maybe you don't get sad or angry any longer, and maybe you even begin to realize that it's not your problem, but the bully's (I indeed spent a good portion of those 10 years blaming myself for the bullying), but it still affects you. I'd say being bullied is like being attacked by shovels. Saying it, it's actually kind of funny, but probably accurate. The shovels dig little holes inside you, taking bits of you out that were good, and replacing them with hurt. Over time, the holes get bigger and bigger until they make a great, deep hole. After that, if you make it that far, the shovels go in but they don't have as much of an effect. But they're still there. They never leave. They're always with you, somehow, some way, even if it's only in how they've altered your life, a sick reminder of how lost little boys and girls can forever brand you with their mark.

For me, being bullied left me with a profound sense of being entirely alone. Even to this very day, I feel that sting often. I remember one instance very clearly. I was sitting at assembly on one of the seats at the back. One of the kids kept looking back and laughing to his friends. He finally turned to me and said I was a loner. Looking back now I almost laugh at how silly it all was, and it's painfully clear why the boy felt the need to degrade others to feel superior - I play in the same cricket league as him now and he barely reaches my armpit. I feel sorry for him just as much as I feel sorry for 12 year old me back then. But the shovel still went in and with it comes a ripple effect. And with a ripple effect comes habits and experiences and deep-rooted emotions that even my now mature and rational brain struggles to root out and placate.

Bullying wasn't the sole part of my struggles as an early teenager, but it was a large part, and not having friends and the feeling of being isolated made the other strifes harder to cope with. So if I were to say anything to an 11 year old me, it wouldn't be long, and it wouldn't ruin all the hurt and joy and adventures and sorrows of the coming years. It would say only one thing: You are not alone.

I had a best friend when I was small, but unfortunately moved away from him, so for the most part, my childhood was friend-less and with none occupying that title of "Best Friend". I still try to this very day to make that connection with someone, perhaps as a way of fulfilling that little boy's dream and showing him he is loveable and worthy, despite the jeers and the bullies. Sometimes when I'm close, the little kid inside stand up and goes "That's not right! You're a loner! You don't have any friends!" and no matter what my rational brain tries to argue, I tend to push more friends away than I'd care. So maybe me in ten years needs to send present me a letter too, because I'd tell that little kid he does have a best friend. One that he'll never lose. One that will never call him a loser or put him down. The one friend who will never abandon him and who will always understand him...

His best friend is himself.

So don't think you're alone. You've had me there the entire time and no matter what, you're gonna turn out great and despite the hate you've shown me over the years, it's not your fault and I still love you. Oh, and you're going to go a family friend's party when you're older. A girl is going to be hitting you; it means she likes you. Then she's going to take you behind the shed and attempt to kiss you. Do NOT run away this time! Geesh...

And that'd be all I'd write. Maybe I'd listen to me. Maybe I'd think I was just B.S.'ing. But at least on those days where it was nearly all too much, maybe I'd know in the back of my head that I had a best friend who was there for me. And maybe it'd make those days just a little bit more bearable.


Phew! That was hard. With that, I think I'll stop prodding the thing in the chest, load the sand back on top of it and leave it until next time.

Misery Loves Misery

Dwayne: I wish I could just sleep until I was eighteen and skip all this crap. High school and everything. Just skip it. 
Frank: Do you know who Marcel Proust is? 
Dwayne: He's the guy you teach.
Frank: Yeah. French writer. Total loser. Never had a real job. Unrequited love affairs. Gay. Spent 20 years writing a book almost no one reads. But he's also probably the greatest writer since Shakespeare. Anyway, he gets down to the end of his life, and he looks back and decides that all those years he suffered, those were the best years of his life, 'cause they made him who he was. All those years he was happy? Total waste. Didn't learn a thing. So, if you sleep until you're 18, think of the suffering you're gonna miss. I mean high school? Those are your prime suffering years. You don't get better suffering than that...

The above quote is from the movie 'Little Miss Sunshine'. If anyone has watched the film, and you really should, you'll probably remember Steve Carrell imparting this wisdom to his nephew. Despite being entirely funny, it is also very true, and probably one of my favourite movie quotes of all time.

The topic is contentment. Happiness in your current state of being. I read the word and imagine someone sitting in a warm, comfy armchair with a blanket, some snacks, watching tv or reading a newspaper. Maybe there's a cat purring away on their lap. It's all very nice. Pleasant. You're happy and don't really care what happens outside or if this moment ever ends.

It is also completely useless.

Contentment is the opposite of living. If you are content, you are more or less metaphorically dead. My philosophy has, and always will be, that experience is life. When you are content, you are experiencing nothing new. You are living in a stale, albeit comfortable, state where there is nothing left to strive for. So by that rationale, pain and suffering is life, as those are the only real times you experience anything meaningful at all. The times you are happy, content, comfortable, you are not learning anything. It's the years of hardship and pain that define us. What do winning sports teams learn? And what about a team that has lost? At the top, the only ways are stagnation or decline and the old saying, learn from your mistakes rings ever true.

People frustrate the heck out of me when they do not want to venture out of their comfort zone. They never want to feel discomfort. They're so zealous to actively avoid displeasure and pain that it rules their entire life. And when suffering comes, and it does, it hits them hard and they scarcely cope. But they learn. What were they learning by avoiding risk and by avoiding pain? They learnt only how to avoid living.

It may sound a bit like I'm stuck in Clive Barker's 'Hellraiser' novel, but I really do believe everything I've written above is true. I don't live for status or fame or wealth. I live for experience, because that is my version of success. The days I'm most miserable are the days where I do nothing. I don't experience anything. The days where I'm at home, stagnating; content and comfortable, but completely miserable at the fact. And from the misery, I learn. Mostly not to sit around being miserable haha...

So every day I strive to add a new experience to my life. At the end, I want to be able to look back with many stories to tell and say "I have no regrets". I may have experienced a lot of suffering, and I really have already in my short life, but to tell the truth, I kinda enjoy the pain. I look back on tough times in my life and think "I made it! I'm here!" There will undoubtedly be times I enjoy an experience, and other times I do not enjoy an experience, but the key thing is to accept every experience, appreciate what it can teach you and don't see failure, discomfort and pain as a bad thing, but as a chance to learn and live. Through being unhappy it comes around and in turn, makes me happy.

This feeds pretty well into a mind-blowing radio show I listened to late one night a few months ago. I kidnapped my family's head-set radio and flicked through the channels. I came to one, the last FM frequency, the local suburb's station, probably with an audience you could count on a single hand. And yet it was one of the most profound shows I've ever listened to, on Buddhism and suffering. If I look through the notes I took down, I'll find the name of the speaker and give it to you sometime.

The speaker talked a lot about suffering and pain. The true way to life is to take the 'middle path', experiencing the high and lows of the life around you. The joy and the suffering. The monks he talked of saw these experiences as positive experiences and that this middle path is the road to liberation. Buddha says himself, "Life is dukkha". No, it's not slang, it means suffering. Life is suffering. For Buddhists, the view of suffering is so vastly different from the association we make with the term in Western culture: unpleasantness, to be avoided, bad. But whether we notice it or not, from the moment we are born, to the moment we die, we are suffering. There is no avoiding it. Whether you learn from it is another thing entirely.

Although it's always nice to be comfortable and content, I think I'd much rather prefer to suffer and be happy in that suffering for the rest of my days. Always happy, but never content. I don't want to know that day I stand there thinking I've got nothing more to achieve, nothing more to learn, nothing more to gain and experience. The day we stop striving, suffering and seeking new experience is the day we are dead.