Recollections from a crazy journey

*This entry would have met a silent end had I chosen to delete my draft folder in its entirety. It eventually survived, just because I felt it's necessary to remind me of the journey I never thought was possible.

 

“You must be crazy!”

Those four words was the automatic reaction from family members and close friends. Nothing else was said but judging by their horrified expressions, the apocalypse could very well be knocking on our doors. It was either that or I was doomed to meet a tragic end in a Hitchcock thriller. And all I did was to announce my month-long solo backpacking trip across the United Kingdom and Europe!

To them, I was probably a marble short for wanting to travel alone. Well, I may be petite but my marbles are definitely intact. So much so that when an uncle remarked that I was still too young and I will be bored out of my wits for not having a travel companion, I offered my thoughts. At 29 years of age (this is not an attempt to hide my current age. I know I've turned 30 since then), my peers are already having school-going kids. If they’re old enough to have children, surely I’m old enough to choose my flight of freedom. As for travel companions, there are those whose existence is no better than an overweight baggage that comes with high tax and serves absolutely no purpose. I’d rather take my chances in striking up conversations with the locals, even if I’ve to resort to violent hand gestures and comic facial expressions.

When 28 March 2013 came, I was one of the many passengers waiting to board Malaysia Airlines flight MH 004 bound for London Heathrow. With a backpack half my size as hand-carry, I was extremely grateful that my economy-class seat was on the A380’s Upper Deck. Having seen the long queue of fellow economy class passengers on the Lower Deck, I imagined myself as somewhat a celebrity (although what I wore could hardly be described as ‘airport fashion’) leisurely sauntering to my seat. Well, that daydream quickly vanished when I saw what it meant to be in the A380’s First and Business Classes. If I thought my seat’s legroom was enviable, it was incomparable to what the privileged few will enjoy as they dine using fine china in ample comfort, thousands of feet above sea level. In the meantime, I should just feel thankful that the seat next to mine was empty (for the time being, at least!).

The neighbour did turn up and just as I silently hoped he was a dashing young man, traces of greying hair along a receding hairline silently removed my hope. While not a smile or “hello!” was exchanged, our hands did find themselves briefly clasped together when the plane was rocked by air turbulence. That moment of solidarity was quickly replaced by the occasional battle of wills over the center armrest! A Hollywood flight romance was clearly not on the cards.

My adventure started the moment I landed in London Heathrow. The initial euphoria of being back in London was dampened when I realized that I had placed my return flight ticket in my checked-in luggage! Seeing that many fellow passengers were holding their passports and unused flight tickets in their hands, stories of strict British immigration officers deporting suspicious travellers came to mind! As I inched my way closer to the immigration counter, sweat began trickling down my spine (it could be my nervousness. It could also be that wearing a winter jacket in a heated area was not such a good idea). While the British officer was scrutinizing my passport, I began to mentally recite a list of reasons as to why I should not board the next plane back to Kuala Lumpur. If necessary, I was also prepared to squeeze those tears out (no handy feat, considering I had no onions with me!). For all the mental exhaustion I was subjected to, it came as a surprise when the British officer merely looked at me and asked, “Girl, are you travelling alone in the United Kingdom?”. My ‘yes’ seemed to have left him very amused that no mention was made about when I will return to Malaysia. I guessed he has not seen enough pint-sized Asian female travellers with courage (or craziness, depending on one’s point of view) to actually travel alone.

I was not only travelling alone, I was a traveller on an extremely tight budget and schedule. Having wrangled invitations to spend my nights abroad with kind friends, a major bulk of my fund was already spent on securing cheap train and domestic flight tickets for advance travels in United Kingdom and Europe. Left with little spending money and even lesser contingency fund (I brought those plastic cards along but will try to resist them, as long as possible), I’ve to be wise in choosing my battles. With a Nottingham-bound train to catch the next morning from Paddington, I chose to spend my first London night in Heathrow Airport itself! I saved a couple of British pounds and became what Tom Hanks was in ‘The Terminal’. Indeed, that night taught me a few lessons. First, the airport is not a hotel. The metal seats are no replacement for our comfortable beds (some were desperate, they slept on the floors). Second, when I actually managed to secure a padded bench next to the Belgium Airline check-in counter, there will always be someone else who wants it too. I had to leave my warm refuge (together with my luggage in tow) to answer nature’s call at midnight (and everybody knows, the cold weather only helps to increase the urge to pee!). I was gone only for a matter of seconds and a man was now sleeping comfortably in my place. Not to be defeated in this game, I steeled my bottoms on the metal seats across his bench and waited. After what seemed to be an eternity (it was one hour, but hey, try braving the winter chills yourself and see whether you can keep track of time!), he finally got up and left. I did a happy jig and rushed to reclaim my throne. Was blessed with a couple of sleeping hours before Heathrow came alive with cleaning machines zooming past and I woke up to see a steady stream of Belgium Airlines’ passengers queuing.       

The drawn itinerary was packed, featuring cities like Nottingham, Edinburgh, Glasgow and Durham for my first week. The next stop was Cambridge for some scholar-ish escapade. Although I could never rely on my intelligence to be a Cambridge student, having a friend who actually studies there was a plus point. Even when the colleges were closed for mid-term examinations, I was allowed to walk on the hallowed grounds of King’s, Trinity and St. John’s. Despite being awestruck by the colleges’ scholastic history, the sight of their many signboards demanding visitors to ‘Keep Off the Grass!’ only gave me the perpetual itch to run on their precious green grass! Needless to say, I did not attempt such risky action out of respect to my friend (and fear of the military-styled porters). Realising my super huge sacrifice, my friend took me out for a morning of punting. As the guide regaled us with facts and myths of the famed university, I spotted many others who came, saw the dastardly signboards and unlike me, chose to conquer the grass by running all over it! At that moment, I could only sigh and lamented “If only I did it…”.

I then moved on to Cardiff and was the happiest when my train finally arrived at Cardiff’s Central Station.  It was a homecoming to visit familiar places and old family friends. I came thinking I would immediately recognize the city I last visited 15 years ago. What I didn’t expect was how much Cardiff had developed beyond the train station’s compound. Some of the old landmarks had been replaced by modern shopping outlets and roads which used to have heavy vehicle presence are now pedestrian-access only. Just as I was feeling overwhelmed, that was when I saw the quaint ‘Hayes Snack Island’ tuck shop in front of St. David’s Hall. It was where my family and I used to have our morning breakfast and tea in the late 90’s. Undoubtedly, the old faces that manned the counter would have been long gone but luckily, their sandwiches and yes, the occasional whiff from the nearby underground restroom remained true as I remembered them! Even the walk to my friend’s house on Redmond Road was nostalgic as it was just a street away from where my family used to live. As I pulled my trusty luggage along the cobbled pathway, I passed the much-loved Queen Street and pretended that my family was waiting for my return to Bedford Street. By now, I think I must sound crazy but I guess it can’t be helped.

Not all was gloom and doom though. I met up with Dad’s old family friends and had a nice day out with them at the famed ‘Big Pit’ in Blanaevon. For a day, I was a Welsh coal miner, complete with the head protector and the weighty oxygen tank. From going down to the underground shaft to walking along long winding tunnels (at times, in pitch darkness), the experience left me humbled at the difficulty these men had to undergo for a living. We ended our lovely meeting with a nice dinner at a gorgeous family run tavern somewhere in the Vale of Glamorgan. The next day, I went to explore Cardiff Bay and again, I was so taken aback by the development that had taken place. While I visited the Welsh Parliament (known as the Senedd), I was asked by the Welsh guide as to why someone from Malaysia would go all the way to visit Cardiff (he must have assumed that it was my first trip to Wales). I honestly answered that “when I came here years ago, it was an instant first love for a smitten teenager. But now that I’ve returned as an adult, I felt sad that so many changes had taken place until I’m no longer linked to the past”. 

With these mixed emotions, I left for London for a four night stay. There was nothing extraordinary to tell about my days in London, except that it coincided with Baroness Thatcher’s funeral. Even then, I chose to avoid central London on the funeral day and opted for a day at Windsor Castle and Eton College. My nights were all at Shaftesbury Avenue where I found myself in different theatres each night for different West End performances. To tell more about London would just be to repeat paragraphs out of a well sought tourist guide book.

But I’ve to share my adventure upon leaving London’s St. Pancras International on the Brussels-bound Eurostar. Having known that I will reach Brussels’ train station at 10 p.m. and catching the ICE train for Berlin at 6.30 a.m. the next day, I planned to repeat the Heathrow episode i.e. spend the night at the train station in order to save a couple of Euros. What I didn’t expect (and may this be a lesson for any of you who are planning to do the same!) was that Heathrow is nowhere near to what Brussels had to offer. By comparison, Heathrow is a five-star hotel whereas Brussels is, well, a refugee centre after a great war (purely based on my imagination. Not that I’ve experienced or observed the effects of refugees escaping a great war). The minute I alighted from the Eurostar, I was slapped by the extremely chilly winds. I walked around the station, hoping to find a spot that was spared from the dreadful wind. There was none, save for dark corners which I was not brave enough to explore. As I mulled over my (lack of) options in the station’s main hall, a lady came to sit nearby. Judging that she could be spoken to, I smiled and cautiously asked “Mademoiselle, parlez vous Anglais?” (Madame, can you speak English?). Luckily, she said yes and I asked whether there was any waiting area in the station for travellers to spend the night. She shook her head. When I told her that I’ve to stay at the station for the night, she exclaimed “Goodness, you can’t do that! The station is not safe for tourists.”. She left soon after and I moved to another part of the station. For the next 8 hours, I came to realize what she meant. Chilly wintery nights in Brussels meant that the station is a heaven for local drunkards and homeless people. There were of course, other fatigued travellers who were just wearied of me as I was of them. A station guard came with his huge Alsatian and started to chase off the drunkards and homeless people as the station is closed from 12 a.m. onwards (the stubborn men would return each time, if only to catch minutes of sleep). I was spared only because I showed him my Berlin-bound train ticket and said I have nowhere else to go.  He was very kind, advising me to take care of my belongings and be very careful after the station reopens at 4 a.m. Perhaps he felt sorry for me as he would continuously make his rounds around my seating area. Even with the security guard, I couldn’t afford to sleep or even go to the toilet. Once I’ve strapped my luggage to the metal seats, I began writing in my journal for time to pass. When I got bored, I did what I think scared the drunkards and homeless men around me. I practiced my dance steps, oblivious to eyes that peeked from slumber and saw a crazy Asian girl dancing cha-cha-cha alone in the open! I survived the night and was only thankful when my train to Berlin finally made its arrival. 

Berlin offered me other forms of adventure. I climbed up Berlin’s Victory Column in Tiergarten, all 285 steps, when I was so sure that I could drop dead with every step I take. Needless to say, the feeling when I completed the climb was one of exhilaration! The view of Berlin was well-worth every creak of my lower limbs. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said about my kind host. He climbed with me until the top, not saying a word about his fear of heights until I asked him to go nearer to the railings for a photo! He looked as if he could pass out there and then. My only regret was not taking a shot of him at that moment. It would have been a good snapshot for collection. Thanks to his recommendation, I even took a guided bike tour of Berlin and in those 4 tiring hours, I saw more than remnants of the Berlin Wall as a tourist would usually do.  I actually felt like one of the Berliners zooming in and out of the streets, passing and stopping in front of tourist haunts (Bradenburger Tor, Holocaust Memorial and Topography of Terror remain as favourites), honking our way to warn unsuspecting pedestrians and catching our breath by their famous Reichstag. My stay in Berlin was made complete when I purchased my own original (kid size!) German football jersey. I didn’t have time to get the name ‘Klose’ sewn at the back but who am I to complain?  

My last stop was Paris. And just as the words of ABBA’s ‘Our Last Summer’, I spent my time walking along the River Seine with few glances at the majestic Tour de Eiffel and munching croissants that only the French can make. By this time, I was sad that my trip was coming to an end. Obviously there are always lists of things to do, places to visit, people to meet before hitting the bucket and still, I never thought the things I did or experienced during my travels were even possible in my lifetime. In this memorable journey of my youth, I travelled between 6 countries, moved from one place to another using trains, buses and flights that departed on time like a fine tuned clock (at times, leaving me flustered as I had to navigate flights of stairs with my monster of a luggage), mustered enough courage to converse with the locals in deeply accented English, Welsh, German and French and as you’ve read earlier, received many wonderful memories in return.

I bid adieu to this brief respite from life as I caught the Rossy bus to Charles de Gaulle Airport on 26 April 2013. And with even better seats onboard Malaysia Airlines flight MH 021, I was heading home with one realization. I may have had a crazy journey but this travel had enriched me in so many ways. And if I may add to Lao Tzu’s wisdom that the journey of a lifetime begins with a single step, I don’t mind repeating that step, again and again.

*I've been warned that a travelogue is incomplete without photos. Am still trying to find courage to sift through the photos fit for public consumption without perpetually going 'OMG. What was I thinking?!*

Singapore Stopover (1-3 July 2011)

It was what I would call as a planned impromptu trip. Am really sure it doesn’t make sense (oxymoron comes to mind) but if the current ruling government can ban yellow as a colour, I think anything is possible.

Along with my friends, we had planned for a retail therapy trip down south. The Great Singapore Sale was just the right reason for us to go crazy in Singapore malls (either by the sheer shopping experience or the mind-boggling currency conversions). Then, there was also the newly opened Universal Studios Singapore. Having been to the Japanese theme park, I was understandably curious to see what our richer neighbour has to offer. And that was how USS formed the bulk of our weekend Singapore itinerary. What else could we ask for? Fun in USS and shopping during THE sale.

But the trip almost never happened. A few events that had taken place could be seen as writings on the wall. Sya had an unscheduled course right smack in the weekend. Thankfully, it was taken off just as sudden as it was fixed in the first place. Akmar had started work in a new legal firm and she was supposed to work over the weekend. That too was gratefully postponed to another weekend. As for me, I had suffered from a nasty bout of flu days before the trip so naturally, Mom and Dad were far than keen for me to join.

Well, the travel bug in me was far more powerful than the flu.

We started the long journey at 9 p.m. on Friday night - four girls and a trustworthy car. Initial plan was to stop at Sungai Besi’s toll station for their fiery Ayam Penyet for dinner. Somehow, the shop was closed and having continued our journey, the search for dinner became supper. We had no choice but to dig in KFC along the way. Sya took over the wheels and before we knew it (or at least, myself for having slept most of the way), we reached JB close to 2 a.m. The plan was to spend the night (or what was left of it) at Sya’s aunty’s place in Nusa Damai. Now, a night roadtrip inevitably means passengers falling asleep at one point or another, a privilege which the driver should not even consider. However, we were all wide awake when Sya drove past a long lonely stretch of road and passed a signboard which reads ‘Kong Kong’. With such a funny name and us still fresh from our Hong Kong trip, the name really gave us one hearty laugh. At that time, I had thought that if I’m to write about the trip (which surprisingly, I am doing it right now), the title would be ‘From Hong Kong to Kong Kong’. The former is in SAR China and the latter, a small unheard place somewhere in Johore!

The next morning was rather chaotic. We didn’t have enough sleep, 2.5 hours max and despite waking up early, there was just not enough time for us to reach our travel bus. To make it worse, we had to go to Tune Hotel where the bus was waiting. And neither of us knew where Tune Hotel was. The wristwatch showed 5 minutes to 7.30 as we frantically tried to find our way to the Hotel and the bus which, we have been warned, would leave at 7.30 a.m. Perhaps the travel staff realized we were going to be late so they called Sya’s handphone. Rehan picked it up and when asked where were we, she innocently replied ‘Kat Johor’. Haha. Imagine if she replied Malacca. The caller would probably have fainted on the spot. By the time we reached the bus, it was already 7.45 and I could not help but notice the irate glances thrown our way. We were after all, the superstars who arrived late.

It was 10 a.m. when our bus finally sighted the Universal Studios signboard. Yeay! For me, it felt like returning to a familiar place. For my friends, I hoped it would be akin to entering a studio of possibilities and one place where both young and old (not necessarily in that order) could enjoy. But before we could start with anything, we had to store our luggages. And that was solved by renting a large locker for one full day at a cost of 20 Sg dollars. By sheer ingenuity or probably more of the ‘eeep! Bloody expensive!’ thought running in our heads, we crammed 2 trolley bags and 2 haversacks into the locker.

With our luggages tucked away safely, the weekend has just begun and with it, our journey into the fantasy world of Universal Studios!

Madagascar. Boogieing with the penguins and King Julien.

Far, far away. Watched the Donkey Show and the superb Shrek 4D Adventure.

Lunch at Goldilocks Café. No bears running around but the food was not that great. The only consolation was the Ben&Jerry’s icrecream which Sya and I bought.

Lost World of Jurassic. We spent close to 2 hours queueing for the ‘Rapid Adventure’. It was just a ride in a circular boat which took not more than 7 minutes. The end part did give us a heart attack (minor one) and Sya got drenched. Luckily, the rest of us escaped from the unexpected soaking.

Then we decided to ride the ‘Canopy Flyer’. The ride was merely described as having a panoramic view of the Jurassic World. What they forgot to mention was the fact that it was actually a mini roller coaster. I didn’t have time to take out my camera to take shots as I was busy hanging for dear life.

Off to Waterworld performance at 4.30 p.m.

Ancient Egypt. We’ve been told to ride ‘Revenge of the Mummy’ but even from the outside, the ride looked pretty daunting. Perhaps it was the statues that adorned the entrance. In the end, the ride was simply not an option.

SciFi World. Now, this world is one world I would forgo without regret. The extreme roller-coasters, aptly named Battlestar Galactica Cylon and Human were definitely beyond human capability. With its interwoven red and blue tracks that go as high as 14 storeys and make its way into the underground at an extremely fast pace, even looking at it is not for the fainthearted.

New York. If you’re in New York, do what the New Yorkers do. Catch that ubiquitous yellow cab which we did minus the actual driver! Then, it was off to ‘Lights, Camera, Action!’ which is a short special effects presentation with Steven Spielberg. Unfortunately, it was here that we realized Sya had dropped her sunglasses. Sya and I scrambled back to the streets of New York but our search was a failure. Obviously, people would not return an Armani sunglass lying on the street.

Hollywood. Nothing much here except for rows and rows of Oscar statuettes. We hit the Celebrity Café & Bakery for our evening tea.

Back to Madagascar. Rode the ‘A Crate Adventure’. There was no queue, thank God.

I am lying if I said we didn’t do any shopping in USS. Well, a souvenir here and there doesn't hurt.

After the closing fireworks at 9 p.m., we took the Sentosa Express to Vivo City. It was here that I met my friend, Brian who had kindly offered to bring us around. The first order was for halal food but considering it was almost closing time, I settled for bread from Bread Talk.

We then made our way to Chinatown as the girls wanted to do some souvenir shopping. And shopped they did. With that, we took the cab to Sya’s uncle’s place in Ang Mo Kio and called it a day.

The Next Day


Our plans (or dreams) to wake up early was beaten by Saturday's exhaustion. What was supposed to be a wake-up time at 7.30 a.m. became 9.30 a.m. There goes two extra hours. The itinerary was simple. Go to Merlion Park, snap pictures, eat lunch at Arab Street and shop at Orchard Road.

Anyway, we had a hard time flagging a cab. While we know how to catch a cab in Malaysia (stand anywhere and wave your arms towards the oncoming cab), we thought we would do the right thing in Singapore. With that mindset, we walked to the nearest bus stop and waited. The wait was long, extremely long. And yet, not one cab came to our rescue. After almost sweating for 1 hour under the hot sun, we finally learned that in Singapore, cabs don't pick up passengers at the bus stops. Sheesh. So the Singaporeans are the same as Malaysians in one aspect.

Waiting for a cab in vain and under the hot sun.

Merlion Park. To my surprise, this was the original statue. I had thought the only one was in Sentosa Island.

A short add-on to the itinerary - Singapore River Cruise to Clarke Quay. A 15 minutes ride which served as an impressive refresher course into Singapore's colourful history. It does make me wonder why Malaysia can't do the same thing. I mean, we do have rivers (Klang River and floating garbages came to mind) but it's not utilised to attract tourists. And it is sad that we don't preserve heritage buildings like the Singaporeans.

From Clarke Quay, we made our way to Bugis MRT Station. Met Brian here and he brought us to our lunch venue on Arab Street. We ate at a restaurant known as Singapore Zam Zam. Lunch, if it can be described in three words was, a sinful affair. The food we ordered was as if Armageddon was coming that evening itself. Either that or we were all planning to be on Asia's 'The Biggest Loser' reality show! 3 mutton briyanis, 1 chicken briyani, mutton murtabak, chicken murtabak and prawn masala spoke for themselves (and the reason behind our expanding waistlines).



I had wanted to proceed straight to Orchard Road (no time should be lost when it comes to shopping) but Brian thought we would want to walk around in that area. He was right. Speaking for myself, I was severely and excruciatingly tempted with the fabulous materials on offer. The only problem which arose was when the mind is unable to stop converting the prices into RM. And when the price hits you hard, it's back to the question of whether 'it's worth it?' and 'when exactly can I wear these clothes?'. But the hesitation didn't stop me from thumbing metres of materials. As I walked away empty handed, I left my heart with this gorgeous silver ensemble. My only consolation was that another trip with Mom must be on the cards very, very soon.

We made our way to Orchard Road via MRT. A funny thing happened as we waited to board the train at Bugis Station. By the time we reached the train, it was already there for quite some time and was bursting with people. Yet, Brian insisted on taking the train and jumped in. Right after he entered the train, the doors closed. That left us staring at him as the train left the station. Luckily it was him who got separated from us. If it had been one of my friends, we would be further delayed as we would try to find the missing person! In the end, we met at City Hall Station where we changed from the purple line to the red line bound for Orchard.

Remember me telling you that the Singapore Great Sale is in full swing? Guess what. I dragged my friends to ION Orchard, Takashimaya and yet, I could not find anything to buy! There I was in Singapore during the great sale and I left empty handed. I even tried to look for Mom's baking tools but was left disappointed. Sya made her way to Marks & Spencer by herself and as a result, she got lost while trying to find her way back to ION. In the end, we left Orchard Road around 8 p.m. and boarded the MRT to Yio Chu Kang.

It was time to leave Singapore. We retrieved our bags from Sya's uncle's place and boarded a cab back to Queen Street for the bus bound for JB. Everything was smooth except for the part where we had to get our bags screened by the Malaysian Immigration officers. Of all the times they actually work, it had to be the one where we passed through. After a quick McD dinner at the Larkin Bus Terminal, we took a cab to get us back at Tune Hotel where Sya's car was parked. Luckily Sya is a Johorean and knew the way because as it turned out, the old man who was driving the cab was a newbie! Judging from his dialect, he is a Kelantanese and does not know the roads in JB. However, he was very friendly and he initially thought we were Singaporeans. If we were indeed Singaporeans, I hate to imagine who should be the one giving him directions. That was not all. Just as we were about to reach Tune Hotel, we noticed there was a police roadblock. Sya who was seated in the co-driver seat was reminded by Akmar to put her seatbelt on. It was only then that we noticed something else. The old driver was also not wearing his seatbelt!

We were stunned and yes, horrified. We were also amazed because the old man calmly (and perhaps, innocently) said that he had never worn a seatbelt his entire life. Pushing aside the driver's naivety, we had to do something as we could not afford to have him detained. Thank God the old man listened to our frantic "Pakai, pakcik. Pakai!!!". And like a little kid who got forced into doing something he didn't like, the seatbelt was immediately removed the moment we passed by the policemen!

I finally reached home at 3.15 a.m. on Monday. Within 3 hours, I was supposed to be making my way to Seremban for a court matter. My sleeping hours were severely deprived, to say the very least. If I'm to summarise the whole trip, it was one crazy weekend. But maybe, that's what youth is for. To do crazy things.

p/s: To my youngest sister, I know the entry on Seoul is long overdue. Just to let you know it's still in my head :)

Sojourn in Launceston

August 2010 started off with a bang. Alright, I know it's already September but hey, it's my blog and I decide what I want to write and when. You can choose to skip this, no worries =)

Youngest sister flew back from Korea during the last few days of July and the whole family then flew to Tasmania, Australia to visit my second sister. We were in the Land Down Under for 12 days. I've planned (really!) to post an entry about this family trip weeks ago but since that was evidently unsuccessful, let's just be content with this. Anyway, we took Airasia and reached Melbourne in the early hours of 2nd August. Contrary to frightening stories we heard about Airasia's seats or Melbourne's notoriously strict customs officers, our trip was surprisingly pleasant. It was also during this flight that a Chinese lady who was seated next to me (and who I might say, enjoyed herself a bit too much in laughing at my lack of ability to inflate my neck-pillow) turned out to be my Mom's ex-colleague. As I justified to my sister during the flight, who would have known that my (unintentional) sit-down comedy would be the means that connected my Mom with her long lost friend!

The above is what two bored sisters did while waiting for their flight

The parents. I do not know why Mom's expression was like that. Perhaps she was trying to stop us from taking pictures, haha.

Once we reached Melbourne, we had barely a few hours before catching the Jetstar flight to Launceston. Everything was great (we breezed through customs while others had everything in their luggage scrutinised or in worse cases, seized) until we discovered that Melbourne Airport was experiencing problems with their luggage conveyor belts. This would repeat itself during our Melbourne-LCCT flight home. Seriously, one would expect that an international airport such as Melbourne's would be accustomed to a high number of flights and that they should always have a back-up plan if there's a glitch. People were queueing in loooonnnggg lines and while we had actually reached the front of the line, we were told to leave as our flight was 2 hours away. And when we actually came back within the stipulated time (i.e. 1 hour before our flight), the line was still long. Hence, we had no choice but to apply for special permission to go straight to the counter for bag drop or we risk missing the flight!

Launceston was everything that I remembered it to be. Although a little 'kampung' for most people, my parents and I do find Launceston a similar city to Cardiff Wales. With grid-like shops that close at 5.30 p.m. sharp and a lone cinema which caters to every Lonnie resident, it was a small quaint city. And because we had rented a car for the entire period, Mom and Dad need not take the Metro buses which ply most parts of Lonnie. Now, the car was superb. In fact, our rented car was better than our own cars in Malaysia. It was a shiny grey Ford Falcon with seriously huge boot compartment. I'm not kidding. Initially, we thought the car rental company was just giving us the usual 4-door sedan and because of that, we have to make a few trips to transport our luggages. With Ford Falcon however, one trip was more than enough as we managed to stuff around 100 kgs to be brought to my sister's house!

Our (rented) car before the attack(s) of the Tasmanian birds

My sister's house is a small 2 bedroom place on Windsor Street, a stone's throw away from her campus. Except for the part that the house can get pretty cold during night time, we had nothing to complain about. Oh wait...I forgot the fact that most Tasmanian birds must have slept in front of my sister's house because come every morning, there will be reminders of their visits. I've seen birds' poo in other countries but they cannot challenge the Tasmanian birds in any way. With the Ford Falcon's grey exterior as the background, these birds somehow managed to poo-sue artistic endeavours by leaving their poo splattered all over the car. And we're not talking about miniscule poo. We're talking about big chunks of poo which were hard to remove and in some cases, even provided an insight into what the birds had for lunch!

Truth be told, we did nothing much in Lonnie. Mom and Dad were contented to be driven to the local supermarkets (I can never view Woolworths, Coles and Kmart the same away again.) almost every day. There was always something to be bought for the house or for my sisters. On my part, I learned from my second sister that the fun in getting a good chocolate deal is exhilarating! Their supermarkets would compete in giving chocolate bargains and that would leave me totally crazy! At the end of our stay, I must have purchased more than 20 kg of chocolates.

Mom and Dad waiting while we bought packets of rice with spicy beef curry. Picture was taken during our first day in Lonnie.

And that's the most frequented Brisbane Street where Wendy's on one corner and Myers on the other

Mom and Dad in front of Woolies.

Syazana having her picture in front of Lonnie's sole Korean Church

Waiting for dinner at Morty's Food Hall. This was during the second night in Lonnie.

How's this for pancake? The whip cream and bananas simply left us wanting more

Devonshire pancakes. This was Syazana's and my second trip to Morty's while the parents stayed at home

Syazana trying to show that she can enjoy both for dinner

Us and the Tasmanian version of 'Death by Chocolate'. I must say, their chocolate cake is waaaayyy richer than ours.

We did go to the Cataract Gorge for a ride on the 'Basin Lift' on 5th August 2010 (and since my youngest sister missed the trip, I accompanied her again on 10 August 2010) and some mini trekking in the cold weather before calling it a day. It was especially entertaining to see my parents rode the chairlift. Oh, and while we didn't manage to catch sight of kangaroos, we did see lots of wallabies. Let the pictures describe it better =p

We tried to get the concessions for adults (the chair lift ride) but since no one else was around, the attendant gave us the family package =)

Dad's gleeful expression as they boarded the chair lift

Welcome to Cataract Gorge. I'm a little shy so I hope a side glimpse of myself will do.

Two camera-friendly wallabies going their way to welcome visitors

The parents and the lone wallaby

The walk after the wallabies

Mom about to walk on the Alexandra suspension bridge. If you can see the words, someone had altered it to 'Please do rock the bridge!'

Mom and Dad with what must be the tallest (and most humongous) tree we've ever seen. Now, if only they'll play the music so that my parents can indulge in a Hindi movie scene

Dad: This is what happens when one is married far too long. You just follow your wife!

I know they're my parents (forgive my bias) but isn't this picture just adorable? =p

Us on the Alexandra Bridge

Syazana showing us why three's a crowd

The whole family also embarked on a cross-country trip to Hobart, a 2 hour drive from Lonnie. As usual, I was the appointed driver and while my sisters snoozed the hours away, I had to make do with miles and miles of open land space as well as a high number of sheep and gigantic cows.

What are you looking at?!

Syazana and her many admirers

And all I got were pictures of their behinds!

On our way to Hobart, we stopped at this place called Campbell Town for a short break before reaching the Cadbury Factory.

The first picture taken in Campbell Town. It certainly was not the last for Syazana

Trying to have a conversation in front of a historic log. Well, weirder things have happened elsewhere

Okay, am seriously unsatisfied with this picture. For the record, I just happened to be standing on the lower end of the street. Honest!

It was in Cadbury Factory that I realised I died and went to heaven. There was nothing worth mentioning about the tour because watching a video on how chocolates are made just don't count! But the chocolate shop (which again, added to my collection of chocolates rather extensively) and the super delicious chocolate hot drink really made my day.

I've been to the chocolate lovers' heaven / haven!!!

The Cadbury lady showing us how they would pour the chocolate concoction into those ice-cube plates. Wanted to snap a picture of the replica of the machine but where I was seated was just not good enough

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to my home away from home. The Cadbury Shop :)

Digging out the moolah


It's all mine. MINE :)

I was not satisfied with the bags of chocolates we bought so I decided to take along the life-size cadbury bar with us.

You do know I'm kidding right?

Tired with chocolate shopping (it was an arduous task, mind you), we had to enjoy cups of hot chocolate at the Cadbury Cafe

Three cups of hot chocolate ranging from mildly sweet to the super-duper really fattening drink. Not a good idea if you're watching your weight

The next stop was Mount Wellington which my sister recommended for us to have a full view of Hobart. We drove up the mountain and what started out as rain pellets turned out to be snow!!! It was sheer amazing because no one expected snow at this late stage of winter. The scenes leading up to the peak of Mt. Wellington could have been mistaken as pictures one will usually see in Hallmark's movies or Christmas cards. We did not manage to view Hobart (because the snow was just too heavy) but we did enjoy ourselves frolicking in the snow. Enjoy the pictures below!

Minutes after arriving on Mount Wellington. The car looked clean because Dad had braved the chilly weather and literally 'snow-washed' the car =p

Mom, my youngest sister and myself. There is another picture of my incorrigible sister dropping snow on my head but obviously, I won't put that picture here.

Mom and my second sister.

Syazana just could not resist the 'flying' pose. I can never figure out why.

My two sisters. I used to call them the twin terrors.

In front of what I could only describe as 'lots and lots of snow'.

Our only family picture on Mount Wellington. Took Dad a lot of persuasion to leave the heated comfort of the car.

Just to prove a point that we've reached the 'Pinnacle'.

We made the 'Mayfair Plaza Motel' our home for the next two nights in Hobart. Having stayed there, I would recommend this place to anyone who wants to visit Hobart. It's close to attractions and restaurants are plenty within walking distance. The fact that McDonalds is our next door neighbour really helps too. Coles and Woolies are also nearby should there be a need to stock up on the foodstuff.

As our visit to Hobart coincided with the weekend, we had the opportunity to visit the famed Salamanca Market. Well, I could now understand its famed repute as we could get great bargains and good food for reasonable prices. I do believe our wallets were considerably lighter after visiting the market. We bought quite a variety of things, from sunnies to huskies as well as more clothes and tasmanian leatherwood honey!

Part of the long stretch of stalls that make what Salamanca Market famous. Noticed the mountain? It's Mount Wellington on a clear day.

The photographer, the model (the one with the red beret) and yes, the one who likes to pose in what he calls as the 'korean style'

Mom and me before the shopping onslaught

Syazwina trying to haggle. She ended with Henry the Bear and Syazana later bought Henry II. See below

And here's Henry II!

Henry the Bear with a beary (fairer) cousin as well as Syazana's friend (who is also considered Syazwina's twin)

Me trying to contain my 'glee' before the first bite of ferrero rocher gelato

It was coincidental that Mom was in the shadows and Dad with the 'halo' effect

It was also in Hobart that my sister and I had this pretty funny encounter with two Greek guys (I think they were greek) who ran the 'Mykonos' fish-n-chip takeaway shop. Dad was pretty famished and he told us to get the customary fish and chips sets as well as an extra bag of chips for dinner. When we reached the shop however (which is barely 3 minutes away from the motel), we changed our minds. We settled for one fisherman's basket, one fish and chips and the extra bag of chips as requested by Dad. The Greeks looked at us (two tiny Asian girls who could easily be blown off by the Tasmanian wind) and I guessed they must be perturbed by the amount of food we ordered. In fact, they asked us how many exactly are sharing the meals and even when we said three pax, they repeatedly asked 'More chips?!'. Only after we received the packages do we understand the incessant 'More chips?!' as the portions were nothing less than humongous!

It was decided that on our way back to Lonnie, we would drive to Ben Lomond for a spot of skiing. Yet, we were also pushing our luck by settling for a leisurely ride home, stopping in small villages like Sorrel (where we had our breakfast in Penny's) and Ross (dubbed the cleanest village in Tasmania!). We also opted not to take the highways and instead, opting for the unbeaten track between the Tasman and Midland Highways. It was again miles and miles of land and flocks of sheep providing the visual entertainment. We even drove to parts where we believe the 'Bogans' live and stopping for any reason was out of the question. By the time we drove up Ben Lomond, specifically Jacob's Ladder (which was quite dangerous as it required vehicles to be equipped with snow chains and we had none with us!) it was already dark. With my parents already insisting that we call it a day, we had to drive away, our hopes of skiing remained unfulfilled.

Dad and Syazwina walking on the streets of Ross village. Picture was taken by Syazana from inside our car. I have to ask this - don't you think this picture has that paparazzi-ish feeling?

We did manage to stop in Kings Meadow (another small town), had a customary visit to the local Coles before finally reaching home. Another two days were spent in Lonnie where we (finally) visited Syazwina's faculty and took a few shots around the city.

Our family picture (minus the actual student - Syazwina) in front of the only available university emblem. Kindly excuse my dad's pose, he's just displaying a bit of the matrix cum queer eye for the straight guy persona

We passed Albert Hall countless time every day we were in Lonnie. Dad said we must take pictures in front of the yellow-green building so we did.

Having seen Schonbrunn Palace in Vienna, I kinda like how Lonnie's Albert Hall is very much similar

There was also a funny episode to be recorded. We had already driven ourselves to the Launceston Airport about twenty minutes from my sister's home, hauled out the luggages and was about to return the car when my Mom realised something. In her bid to ensure that nothing of our stuff got left behind, she had unwittingly brought along my second sister's winter jacket. I could understand her position as my sister's jacket is the same colour as mine and Mom must have thought that the extra jacket was mine. In the end, Mom and I had to drive back to the house we thought we had bid farewell to while Dad and my youngest sister wait in the airport.


The flight back to Melbourne was uneventful. As we reached Melbourne around 3 pm on 11 August and our flight to KL was only at 9 am 12 August 2010, Dad suggested that we take the shuttle bus into Melbourne City and see what the city has to offer. On paper, that was a good idea as one would be crazy to wait in the airport for a period of more than 12 hours. However, by the time we reached Melbourne City, it was already close to 5 pm and shops close latest at 6.30. We did however, managed to reach the Southern Cross Bus Terminal, had Subway at Spencer Street Mall, did a spot of shopping and took a 2 hour ride pass on their Metro trams. We returned to the airport close to 10 p.m. before sleeping the night in the airport. Apart from me who experienced sleeping a night in an airport (it was in the Dubai International Airport to catch a flight home to KL from Vienna), this experience was the first for my family members. Seeing that there were suspicious characters loitering around (they did not seem to be travellers waiting for their flights. Instead, they tended to wait by the entrance doors), we took turns to sleep as our hand luggages need to be watched. It was also an experience for my family members to have their 'sahur' with McDonalds as the next day marked the first day of fasting. Needless to say, the flight home was pretty much sleeping the hours away without the usual food.

Dad must be thinking why on earth did he agree to join us for this ride

On the way to Spencer Street Mall

Dad and me in the Melbourne tram. Gosh, that red hat is very striking but I can't resist buying it from Salamanca

Drinking her last bottle of water before imsak (Tullemarine, morning of 12 August 2010)

Fancy a flight to Beijing Sgwtghai? =p

It had been a long time since our last family trip and I definitely hope for another one in the near future. While my second sister is still in Australia, I think it will take little persuasion for my dad (and none at all for my Mom who is an avid traveller) to join us (my youngest sister and myself, both who are ready to drop everything and go) for yet another Lonnie sojourn. Perhaps we could be more ambitious the next time around and hop over to New Zealand for a couple of nights. We'll have to wait and see. In the meantime, I'm keeping my fingers crossed.