reis

(Venezia, Italy, 2011)

In a random conversation about phones becoming extinct soon as people communicate with new technology such as whatsapp and zoom instead, it suddenly dwelled upon me, that once upon a time, I did not have a phone. 

A month-long solo trip around Western Europe without a phone, at the age of 22, was possible. Those were times when phones weren't so ‘smart’ and wifi weren’t everywhere. Those were times when phone cards are horribly expensive (especially in Europe), not accessible (only available at proper telcom shops) and just not worth the money and trouble for the limited call/text credits you get.  

When you get lost, there is no magic blue dot (aka GPS) that auto-detects your location. Instead, you have to unfold and open your huge city map, turn it round and round, squint your eyes as though you are playing “Find Wally”, or have a passerby to engage in the same process and then circling out your location on the map. More often than not, the piece of map quickly becomes wet or torn, or both, from all the wear-and-tear. 

When you meet a stranger on the streets, or a new friend at the hostel, there is no adding of each other on Facebook or exchanging of Instagram handles. Instead, you just hang out knowing that you probably won’t see each other again. In the rare cases when you formed a deeper than usual connection and really want to keep in touch, you scribble down a note with your email address, hoping that the other person would email you after you are both back to your home countries. One of the most bittersweet feelings ever is waking up to such a note beside your pillow, realising that your new friend has left but still care about you. 

Those were the times when you carry around a heavy guidebook (loaned from the library as you were too broke to own them) that you depend upon to visit sites of interest and recommended food places. Of course 90% of the time you didn't actually manage to find those places and just ended up exploring the city your own way. You learn to trust yourself: 

1. Food places filled with tourists are likely not authentic and bound to be overpriced. 

2. Hole-in-the-wall type of eateries with no signboards are the best. 

3. Point to what others are having when you can’t read the menu (usually only in  the local language).

4. When in doubt, grab a passer-by and ask NOT what do they recommend, but where do they usually have lunch at?    

Without a phone, you don’t start your day with lying in bed planning and searching for places to go. You don't obsess about uploading the best photo to garner the most “likes” for virtual self-gratification throughout the day. You don’t habitually scroll through your messages and social media to find out what everyone else is doing in their mundane daily lives. Instead, you breath and live in the new environment that you are lucky enough to be in. You remember and appreciate all the moments, the experiences, the stories.   

It has been less than 10 years since then but technology has completely changed the way people travel. Now with COVID-19 in Year 2020, the entire travel landscape will greatly change once again. 

I received this from a friend last night; she had found this photo randomly. I knew right away, that this is the log house we stayed at in the woods of Furano in Japan.

It sounds cool to say that I spent a few nights in the woods, or in a secret forest, or that the cabin was built by the owner, an old grandpa himself, or that I met local hikers who have the friendliness of well, hikers, or that I experienced the heart-warming hospitality of the owner and his wife who spoke no words of English.

But these can't be fully lived through words; there are so much more nuances of feelings in those moments that lived tucked away somewhere.

On the other hand, in the grand scale of things, it was merely sleeping in a dormitory because accommodation was too expensive in Hokkaido. It was meeting interesting people, but that was to be expected since I'm 'travelling' and staying in a 'hostel'. It was memorable enough for me to blog about it --> here, but that was because I was (still am?) a writer.

How did experiences as such come so easily once upon a time, even on a daily basis that you took for granted and accepted as a lifestyle or life?

//Ah Ma feeding sheep at Cing Jing farm in Taiwan, May 2014

When I took this photo of you three years ago, I didn’t know that whenever I see it now, it would open up a flood of emotions and memories of the trip. 

When I chose this photo to be blown up and laminated as a present to you, I didn’t know that you would display it proudly on the ledge of your bed. 

I mostly certainly didn’t know that three years later, I would see a scene of family members mourning your lifeless body on an empty bed, with just a box of tissue, a tied up plastic bag filled with I-don’t-know-what, and this photo.

But I am grateful. I am eternally grateful that the trip happened. Thankful to my aunt who initiated and planned the trip. Thankful to Ah Ma who told my mum that she will only go if my mum joined in. Thankful for the chance to spend time with Ah Ma and the family. 

We went to many places in that 6 days– Miaoli, Jiji, Checheng, Sun Moon Lake, Puli, Lushan, Cingjing farm, Taichung, Taipei but the highlight of the trip was clearly the five of us. Your second, forth and smallest daughter, your granddaughter, and the brightest star – you.

I remember you enjoyed staying in the Miao Li bed-and-breakfast the most. You enjoyed living in a big house, you enjoyed the huge spread at breakfast and you enjoyed chatting to the owners about their lives, about how they make their own plum vinegar etc. Perhaps it reminded you of the past when you stayed in a Kampong.

I remember you were excited when you see an old-fashioned stone grinder by the river. You said that was how people wash clothes in the past. I remember buying a pack of grub to feed the sheep and offered you some. I intended to share, but you took the whole pack. I became your personal photographer instead as you happily fed the sheep. You were so happy.

I remember my regret that day when I made a fuss over dining choices, and as a result you felt like you were a burden. I will always remember how terrible I felt when you said sorry. It was only after you passed on that I told you to forgive my temper.

I remember it kept raining and raining throughout the trip. It rained so bad that I could hardly keep my eyes opened. I remember one night you were sick, you were cold and shivering on the hotel bed and everybody was so worried. I remember beside the car being the main form of transport, you took a train ride, and a ship ride too. 

I remember how real the family bond is. 

I remember how happy everyone was. 

In the past few years, i went on countless trips. But this is the one trip, that never fails to tug on my heartstrings, even more so now that you left. 

Goodbye 2016. 

This #2016bestnine app did a pretty good job at making a photo collage from IG ;)

1. (Japan) Overnight train ride from Takamatsu to Tokyo. 

2. (Australia) Dirty Eggs and Dirty Mary - possibly the best brunch dish in Melbourne. 

3. (Malaysia) Infinity pool at KSL, Johor. 

4. (Singapore) Salted egg crossant at a Marcomm team lunch. 

5. (Singapore) Pikachu appearing at the SEA Aquarium. 

6. (Australia) Another too-pretty-to-eat brunch dish in Melbourne.

7. (Taiwan) At a recommended cafe in Taichung on a solo trip.

8. (China) Sunrise as the plane makes its way to Guangzhou. 

9. (Australia) Pink, or polluted beaches that made me confused in Melbourne. 

While on the topic of travel reflections, 2016 has been a rather special year. 

12 trips. 3 solo trips.   17 cities. 6 new cities. 

Nothing can beats traveling full time two years ago, but I am extremely thankful to still be able to travel so much now, with the commitment of a full-time job and a boyfriend. 

There were times when I travelled unwillingly, times when I was bored and disappointed, and times when I travelled for strange reasons that were not exactly right. But what was important was the times when traveling made me feel alive again, times when I felt loved and touched, and times when when people out there inspires me. 

I proved that I am still able to be myself when I travel with bosses and colleagues to Bangkok, and with the boyfriend’s family to Kukup.

I realised that I am getting old. Activities (that I still enjoy) such as drinking or exploring the streets at night have been replaced with ‘Falling asleep in 5 minutes’. I would still choose a characteristic hostel over a characteristic hotel; but now I might prefer a characteristic hotel over a non-characteristic hostel. 

I learned how places could hold such powerful memories - good enough to give you bountiful hope, and bad enough to break your heart over and over again.

I caught up with old friends; I met new friends and I wish to visit everyone again. I felt the supernatural twice. I stayed in a beach side villa twice.

I learned that after so many years of traveling, Taiwan has always been, and will always be, my second home - the place I can always trust to bring me unconditional and unexplainable happiness.

I also found a new love, in the sleepy art island of Naoshima. It is too costly and inaccessible (5 transfers in 14 hours from Singapore) to visit often, but its memories will always stay with me.

Ode to Enoden江ノ電

The following conversations we had with friendly Japanese summed up the Kamakura leg of my Japan trip:

“What do you like about Kamakura?”

“Enoden!”

“Why do you come to Kamakura?”

“Endoden!”

“Kamakura has beautiful beaches, big Buddha…<insert list of attractions>.”

“and Enoden!”

Enoden is an electric train that runs on a 10km-long private railway in Japan, going through popular destinations like the town center of Kamakura – a coastal town about an hour south of Tokyo, and Enoshima – a tourist island filled with attractions. 

A classic example of ‘It is not the destination but the journey that matters”; it is not about the many tourist attractions easily accessible from the train stations, it is about Enoden.

The honk. The dusty shade of green. The cheap thrill of getting first row seats that gives you views of the sea, the city, or the station master, depending on your luck. The train that makes every landscape that it enters look pretty. The train that you worship almost like an adorable cult. 

Sunrise Seto - The Japanese overnight train experience

Two years on, I finally got to check ‘Taking an overnight sleeper train’ in Japan off the travel bucket list, after my first failed attempt in 2014. 

Like all things in Japan, it does not come cheap. Normally, a ride would cost around S$185 for the Nobi-nobi seats, and S$272 - S$364 for the private compartments. Overnight buses and domestic flights make much more sense. Unless like me, you are a foreigner and possess a JR pass which allows you to ride on Nobi-nobi seats for free. 

Thus over the years, these sleeper trains gradually ceased operation and by Spring 2016, the Sunrise Seto/Izumo was the only sleeper train remaining. 

9.20pm. 

As I got on the train at Takamatsu’s terminal, there was hardly anyone on board with me. I quickly found my appointed ‘seat’ in an empty carriage - It was essentially a rectangular piece of carpeted floor that you could lie down on, with a tiny partition in between you and your neighbors’ heads. A neatly-folded piece of cloth was also given,  making one wonder if that was meant to be a blanket, a pillow, or ‘bedsheets’. Placing my backpack down, I set off to explore the rest of the eight-carriage train. 

There was a surge of excitement and tinge of guiltiness as I entered the carriages holding private compartments. There were walls, and an option to lock the door if you desire, but essentially it felt like what I imagine flying first-class on a plane would be like. The space was tiny - the ‘room’ could barely fit a bed. Some of the more expensive, and slightly bigger rooms have extra amenities, like a pillow, slippers, pajamas and hanger.

One of the highlights in that 9 hours journey is taking a shower on board a moving train. Like all things Japanese - you buy everything from a vending machine, including hot water. 320 yen gets you 6 minutes of hot water, with a start and stop button so that the time is not wasted when you soap yourself. A buzzer will ring at the “1 minute remaining” mark as a reminder and after you are done, the shower room auto-cleans and drys itself for the next user. It made me wonder what happens to those people who lacks common sense and are unable to wash off the soap in time.

After an hour or two of being settled down in my space, I observe more and more people coming on board. On my right side was a middle-age Japanese woman who lied down and stayed perfectly still, minding her own business (or sleeping?) throughout. On my left side was a group of boys with strong Cantonese accents, who took turns to shower, chatted for a while, placed and removed their backpacks from underneath their heads, wiggled and flipped around a few times, before eventually fell asleep. Over at the mini lounge area in between carriages, some men in suits had with them thin files and notebooks as though preparing for a meeting, while others were on their phones. 

7.08am. 

Time past too fast and before I knew it, It was time to say hello to Tokyo and the next adventure! 

Abandoned hospitals. Cemeteries. These are places that you know about, and expect to feel a sense of eeriness there. But what about those places that you don’t know much of, yet you are suddenly engulfed by an inevitable and unexplanable feeling that you are not alone, and not in the good way.

That was what happened to me in Takamatsu, Japan. It was merely a transit place, a place I would stop over and loiter for half a day before catching the overnight sleeper train to Tokyo.

I remember alighting from the ship that brought passengers and vehicles to Takamatsu from Naoshima. I followed the crowd walking quickly to the main train station, where I deposited my backpack into an overpriced locker and asked for a city map.

The only item on my mental checklist, was to have Sanuki udon for an early dinner. Known to be the most famous type of udon in Japan, Sanuki udon originated from Takamatsu. However this bowl of firm, chewy noodles tastes rather ordinary to me, just like any other udon.

It was supposed to be a short, aimless wander around the city to visit the ‘attractions’ surrounding the train station. According to street signs, there were castle ruins, a castle park and shopping arcades. 

The castle was closed and it started to rain. All I had with me was the city map (which quickly turned soggy) to cover my head, but I did not want to turn back. The sky turned dark, and I pride myself on ‘moody’ shots. 

The looming atmosphere started when I got to the end of the row of reformed warehouses, and turned a sharp corner. It is a fairly empty main road, with only a few cars going past throughout that 30 minutes walk. On one side of the road, there’s unknown buildings. On the other side, there’s the sea and port, and trees lining the road. 

I took a photo of the row of trees, hesitated, deleted it, and walked as quickly as I could back to the train station. 

Open Sky is an experiential art by James Turrell, housed at the courtyard of the Chichu Art Museum in Naoshima. It is open during the museum’s regular opening hours, but a special night viewing is also available on Fridays and Saturdays, with extra charge and upon reservation.

A piece of soft blanket was handed to each of the participants as we entered the square courtyard at dusk, and I observed as some smuggled comfortably into it, while others rolled it up, place it against the tall cool walls using it as a pillow or a backrest. The locals sat in a proper manner you would expect from Japanese – with palms on their thighs, while foreigners comfortably crossed their legs, raised their legs up, or even laid down.

It didn't matter, this is not a traditional Japanese art, or ‘high art’. It is an universal journey of discovery that people from all over the world came to experience for themselves.

The silence of anticipation was punctured by the calls of crickets, with the occasional bird or bug flying past.

And for almost an hour, participants are to stretch their necks and look up to see the sky framed as a piece of art – this meditative act would surely bring about reflection upon life and evoke some sort of epiphany?

With subtle light projection, the sky turned green, then purple, then pink, then blue, then grey. It was a fascinating light show as movement and sound intensified and our perception of the space changed.

An hour later, the sky has darkened and the air filled with chatters as the group walked towards the carpark for the shuttle bus which would bring them to the Bennese Hotel, or for those that could not afford the $600/night stay, back to their cars and bicycles.

I left the pack and headed down alone the 2km mountain route, back down to the port where my hostel was located. It was pitch dark, and more tranquil and surreal than the Turrell experience I just had.

+++++

I later read this from an interview the artist gave on his Skyspace series:

“This is a gentle reminder that because we give the sky its color and can then change the color of the sky, we create the reality in which we live. The light that we make is something that changes the reality of how we perceive the sky. We do create the world in which we live to a much larger extent than we are willing to take responsibility for.” – James Turrell

So desu ne!

Marco. An extremely attentive service staff that I later found out was a Mexican chef, on a one-month work exchange, to help with cooking and gardening and everything else in the house.

Amy. Born in Shanghai and grew up in Texas. A sunshine girl whom I was mistaken for, as I arrived at her expected arrival time with a ‘Am I in the right place I don’t know where and why am I here but I just stepped in so Hi?’ look.

Iwao Yokoyama. 75 years old. Diagnosed with cancer three years ago. He came from the neighboring island of Shodoshima and speaks excellent English. The star of this story and the highlight of my trip.

The story started from lunch.

A travel pamphlet on dining options in Naoshima led me to step into an empty Café Seven Islands where I decided to have the tea porridge set for lunch.

If there’s one food that I consider homely (mum’s cooking not included), this is it. It might look ordinary, but its ability to evoke heartfelt warmth is extraordinary.

The taste intrigued me so much that I had to find out more. I learned that the porridge is cooked with Hojicha tealeaves, and that the ingredients for the side dishes are homegrown from the café’s garden. I learned the art of eating Himono (dried fish) – to break the head and peel off the bones in one go.  

And if the meal wasn’t ‘down-to-earth’ enough, it was in the company of a stray cat who sat and looked on for a while, before pouncing onto the table in a bid to snatch the fish.

One of the best parts of travelling alone is the ability to linger. Linger even though you have finished your food. Linger even though you are just sitting there alone. Linger even though your time is limited and there are more things to check off your mental ‘to-do’ list.  Linger for a little longer, and a little longer again.

Sometimes it might feel like you are being shameless, but I prefer to call it ‘feeling right at home’. I watched as Marco gathered ingredients, Mr Yokoyama cooked, and Amy served the food. I wondered about the rows of Japanese masks, Kimonos, plates and random knick-knacks displayed at various nooks of the café.

Mr Yokoyama offered to show me around the garden. He pointed out the various herbs he grew – there’s rosemary, olive, and sisho, for making sisho juice. We walked past some antiques placed on a table in the garden and he suddenly stopped and pointed to a sculpture of a horse.

“This is my mother.”

I wasn't quite sure if I heard him correctly.

“My mother is born in the year of the horse. But its neck is broken when I moved it here from my hometown,” he explained.

Then he brought me over to another corner of the garden and showed his treasured collection of Igezara, loosely translated as ‘thorn plates’ due to their smoothed down thorn-like rim. He explained the history of Igezara (these plates are from the 19th century!), as well as the significance of the patterns, such as of the crane, and of the bamboo. Later, he handed me an encyclopedia of Igezara back in the café, and served a complimentary glass of Shiso Juice as I poured over this newfound art form.

It was with much reluctance when I eventually left the café a few hours later.

‘I am happy to find this place,’ I said and he smiled.

It has got to be fate to be randomly walking along the streets of Naoshima and having Mr Yokoyama drove past on his truck the very next day.

“It’s you again! What are you doing here?” 

“Ah…I’m just wandering around…”

“I am on the way to my new house. I could take you there if you would like to take a look?”

My face immediately lit up at the thought of spending more time with this fascinating old man, and going to an authentic local home.

“Well come on!”

It was a short 10 minutes ride past fields and farms that he owns, and we arrived to find Amy and Marco donned in thick work gloves and hard at work. They were tasked to sweep the dusty floor, measure the wooden planks, and to replace them with new ones as some were infested with termites causing them to rot.

The place was meant to be a resting house for future volunteers, with a kitchen and bedrooms consisting of proper beds.  

“Are houses in Naoshima cheap?”  

“Yes. I bought this for 1 million yen.”

That’s about S$13,000. I could afford a house in Japan! Well, a termite-infested house, but still, a house!

On the way back, he told me stories – Mr Yokoyama visited Singapore in 1965 as one of the 13 (or 30) youth leaders selected in the country to be sponsored by the Japanese government to visit many interesting places in the world, like India and Ahfagistan.

But his fluent English was also because he has relatives in America, and he used to host cultural exchanges and even ran a children’s theatre troupe! This guy, is simply amazing, to be able to accomplish so much and inspire so many people from all around the world.

He dropped me near the Post office and went off. I walked back to the Tourist Information Centre a stone throw away, and realised that my phone is missing! 

I figured that it dropped in the lorry, and I ran back to the Post office hoping to find Mr Yokoyama. Arrived just in time to see him driving away. I waved frantically for him to stop, and he noticed, waved back cheerfully, and drove off.

I ran after the truck, but lost sight of it shortly. I reached a crossroad but had no clue which way it was back to the house. 

The realization that I might lose all the photos in my phone suddenly hit me and I walked back to the Tourist Information Center, hoping to use the computer there to search for his contact number somewhere on the Internet. Before that, I threw my bag on a chair, and emptied it out.

A counter staff suddenly approached me.

‘Are you Su?’

It turned out that Mr Yokoyama figured that I would eventually come here, came by to tell the staff to look out for me and to call him when I have arrived. Half an hour later, he drove back for the third time that day to return my phone. I felt so apologetic to trouble him once again; while all he was concerned about was that I didn't try to find him at the new house. Islanders on Naoshima are really nice!

At the end of the day, I really want to say ‘I will be back to visit you Mr Yokoyama! And thank you for your kindness!’

The Art of Body

The first time I went to a public bath was during my first trip to Korea. Twin was game enough for this ‘exciting’ plan, and if not for her, I would probably have chickened out. It being an overnight experience, the ample time spent inside allowed the awkwardness to slowly dissipate and you could read my blog post on it --> here. 

The second time, was two years later at Spaland in Busan. It felt more like a luxury hotel, or those upscale KTV lounges in China, but with many different themed pools and steam rooms. 

And more recently, there was I♥湯 (I Love Yu - Yu meaning ‘bath’ in Japanese), a quirky piece of art by Shinro Ohtake that doubled up as a sento (traditional Japanese public bath) and communal gathering point for both locals and visitors to the sleepy island of Naoshima.

Like many things in Japan, the bath tickets, towels, soap etc are all sold via a vending machine. Once you bought your ticket, you are led into a tiny changing area, with wooden lockers, a single toilet, and a bench – installed with a video of a naked woman swimming in the ocean – to sit on.

And that is just a teaser as to what awaits in the main bath area.

Erotic prints in the water. Exotic plants in the green house. A life size elephant named Sadako perched on top of a partition wall - keeping a watchful eye on both men and women. Tiles with random kranji characters such as ‘唇’,‘野蠻人’and‘肉体’placed around the shower area that lined both sides of the bath. Broad strokes of bright red, blue, green and yellow splashed across the tall ceiling.

It is a mixture of pop art, traditional art, cultural art, textural art and environmental art. It is eccentric.    

One of the many perks I enjoyed for staying at Naoshima for six days is that I got to visit I Love Yu three times, at different times of the day. And each experience is different.

Sometimes it is dark and sometimes you can hear the raindrops. It creates an intimate environment that encourages reflection, or even meditation. Sometimes the sun shines through the ceiling and it feels like there are two worlds. You are underwater, and the sun is above.

Sometimes there are more lone locals quietly soaking in the water as part of their lifestyle. Sometimes tourists come in a small group, chatting and laughing away – usually at night. As quoted from their official poster, people come to engage in ‘Hadaka no Sukiai’, which means ‘Naked Communication’. 

Naoshima is renowned for its museums (Chichu Art Museum!) , architecture (Ando Tado!) and sculptures (Yellow Pumpkin!) but this, I Love Yu, is my personal favourite.

Quiet love. 

I knew that all the effort (7 hours with 4 transfers) to visit Naoshima is worth it the instant I saw this romantic sight on board the ferry - a middle aged Japanese couple quietly enjoying the breeze and a golden sunset together.  

Photos speak louder than words and they made me wonder, who are these people? How long have they been in love? What is their story?    

Those were the days when I could take a 2.5 hours each way train ride just for a day-trip, a day-trip to taste a dish that I randomly saw online and thought is interesting. Those were the days when I could stay alone at the restaurant for hours, just penning down my thoughts - on observations, on reflections, or in this case, switching on the food journo mode.

Spending more time on transport than in the city itself was okay. Spending more time sitting down having a solo meal than getting up to explore a new place was okay. Time was abundance and life was on a whim.

想去哪裡就去哪裡，想做什麼就做什麼，真好。  

I wrote this in 12 August 2014: 

<Watermelon noodle soup>

I admit that the reason behind travelling for 140 minutes north from Tokyo to Morioka for a day trip is this bowl of art.

Morioka Reimen consists of chewy noodles made from potato flour, crunchy cabbage, radish, cucumber, half a boiled egg, sliced meat and a slice of watermelon—in spicy broth.

Usually found in grilled meat restaurants, this dish is said to originate from Korea and later adapted to suit local palates. There are 7 levels of slickness to choose from for the booth. Personally I feel that the second most spicy level is not spicy at all. But well, perhaps that is why the complexity and fragrance of the broth is not masked by spice.

Overall this is a refreshing dish that is filling and recommended for adventurous foodies, especially in summer!

「西瓜麵湯」

盛岡冷麵所選用的是偏硬但仍有彈性的薯粉麵，配上泡菜、小黃瓜、蛋、醃牛肉、以及非常引人矚目的一片西瓜！浸在湯裡的西瓜是咸的，剛咬下去會覺得味道很新奇。但若撇開它是西瓜，會發現這片三角形為整道菜增添了清新感。

據說盛岡冷麵起源於韓國；當年想念家鄉的韓國人把它帶入盛岡，把口味稍微改良，讓當地人更能接受。的確，湯頭有7種辣度可選；特辣、辛辣、中辣、小辣、普通辣、一點點辣、不辣。我選擇了辛辣，若以韓國的標準來衡量的話，它處於一點點辣和不辣之間...但也許這樣，才沒掩蓋湯頭的芝麻香。

總的來說，清涼易飽，值得一試！

1000¥ @盛樓閣，盛岡火車站對面（opposite Morioka train station)

Life often throws you surprises, and this is especially true when traveling.

It took me three days of waiting and a six-hour-long train journey to get from Sapporo to Wakkanai. There were only two trains running each day and these trains were cancelled at the last minute due to bad weather up north.

This is why I travel without plans and I don't book my accommodation beforehand.

This is why Wakkanai is worth it:

Rishiri-Rebun-Sarobetsu National Park

This is what most people who travels to Wakkanai comes for. Just a ferry ride away from Wakkanai, the national park consists of two islands, each featuring beautiful hiking trails with native flowers along the way. Let photos do the talking, enough said.

‘Attractions’ in the town of Wakkanai itself are not must-gos, but if you have a day or two to spare, these are the nuances of what contributed to the unexpected, historical and fairly-weird charm of Wakkanai.  

1. Cape Soya

Communist-looking monuments are scattered around; each with a signboard with explanations written in Japanese, English and Russian.

These monuments were built in memory of the people lost during the war such as the nine maiden telephone operators who perished in the line of duty when Soviet armed forces suddenly attacked the border of Sakhalin, as well as two sledge dogs abandoned in Antarctica for a year yet they survived.

My favourite monument (as above) consists of a 8-metre gate, a black marble pedestal, and a female statue showing her palms while looking to the heavens in grief. This represents a prayer to heavens, an appeal for mercy and a pledge to rebuild Karafuto, which is now known as Sakhalin island.

And on a clear day, the faint shoreline of Russia can be seen from beyond the Soya Strait across the ocean.  

2. Breakwater Dome

As part of the ‘Sakhalin route’ connecting Wakkanai to Sakhalin by sea, the breakwater dome was built to protect the town and people passing through from harsh winds and high waves.

80 years later today, this historic monument still stands strong and it remains extremely photogenic!

3. Cold Water Aquarium

The main attractions are the seals and penguins housed at the outdoor area. Feed the seals by throwing fishes in, but beware of the splashes as the water stinks!

4. Science Center

I thought of Singapore’s Science Center as being fondly nostalgic, as the exhibits are more or less the same now as compared to when I visited as a kid 20 years ago. However, Wakkanai’s Science Center brings ‘retro’ to a whole new level. It has exhibits teaching children about the ‘latest’ progress in Science, as well as a more relevant section about the Japanese’s exploration of the Arctic and Sakhalin regions.  

and last but not least, the FOOD

When you can’t escape from the strong scent of sea salt in the air, you know that the seafood will be fresh.

Never have I thought that my first time watching the Chingay parade would be from a float, two meters off the ground. 

Held annually since 1973 as part of the Chinese New Year celebrations, Chingay is the largest street extravaganza in Singapore. 

And this year, Chingay was greeted by a heavy downpour. 

Would it be dangerous to switch on the lights on the costumes? Would the performers slip and fall? Would people fall sick? Would the audience leave? Would equipments spoil?  

But for all the months of hard work, everybody knows that the show have to and will go on. 

Voyage SG100, the performance that anchored the opening act, symbolises youths sailing towards a brighter future in the next 50 years.  

The all-too-familiar music started to play; the float entered the parade and it literally felt like being on board a boat on rocky seas. Performers on the ground came running in with an extra burst of energy. The show went on and the atmosphere was fantastic. 

But what people don’t usually see, are the behind-the-scenes.

What you don't see, are performers overcoming their fears. Climbing up and down the float either via stepladders or fork lifts is a terrifying experience for those afraid of heights.

What you don’t see, are people trying to rescue the partially-flooded float before the performance started by manually scooping out water with the only thing available- the plastic wrapper of an used raincoat.

What you don't see, is the frenzy of co-ordinating costumes and make-up for 8000 people before the show. 

Like a factory line, make-up students took charge of different areas such as silver glitter, blue cheek lines, silver eyeshadow, blue lips, silver hair spray and the final test whereby you get ushered back for additional touch-up if your made-up face is deemed unsatisfactory. 

At another corner, a few elderly technicians sat with their tools, intently working on malfunctioned mini light bulbs that lined the costumes. Seeing this made me wonder, are their eyesights that good and why are they doing this? 

What people also usually don't see are the long hours and hard work, the passion and determination, the encouragements and teamwork, the friendship and memories.  

I joined Chingay as a last-minute performer but what I’ve seen in that two weeks are enough to make me say:  

「滿洲一間店」是一間很親切，很有故事的店，

好想回去坐坐，喝茶、聊一整天。

Built and ran by an old couple, who are both artists, this quaint little shop is a hidden gem full of stories waiting to be discovered.

 ／His story.

 Mr Wang spent 15 hours a day working on the house; he designed, cleaned, built a roof and created many beautiful furniture over the period of 4 to 5 months. But this is nothing compared to the house he built in Dulan, he said.

He and his wife have retired in Dulan for its beautiful scenery but unfortunately it has become increasingly touristy over the years. After a few years, they decided to move and start a new life here instead as his wife has always been fond of Manzhou.

And he told us, the story of the wire:

Once upon a time, he was walking along the street and saw a long black piece of wire lying on the ground. It should not be there; it did not belong there, he thought. Wires, like humans and plants and all items, have feelings and should be respected too. Hence he picked it up and brought it home. Now the wire is properly framed on the wall, like a piece of beloved art that only people who have heard this story can appreciate.  

／她的故事。 

63歲的張大姐，看起來頂多40出頭。

而她保持年輕的祕訣，就是快樂。

“這裡可以分享快樂，進來的人都很快樂。

看到美麗的東西就會很快樂。”

她邀請我們參觀房子，耐心講解牆上的繪畫，原來都是她引以為傲的作品。

也介紹了門旁挂著的一幅臺語詩，念出來整個感覺很舒服…好喜歡！

That emergency couch-surfing experience

While ‘planning’ for the super budget TGTP (the great travel plan) trip, I sent a couch request almost three months in advance to Aidan, a guy from Libya who was living and studying for his medicine PHD in Sapporo then. He replied saying it is too early to know his schedule, and to contact him nearer to the date. And that was that; for the next two months or so as I had the time of my life in Taiwan and Japan, I forgot about it.   

I spent the bulk of my two weeks in Hokkaido with Cheryl; we spent our nights in hostels, hotel and an awesome log house in the woods. She caught a plane to Tokyo while I spontaneously decided to visit Wakkanai- the northern most part of both Hokkaido and Japan. To cut the long story short, the trains to Wakkanai ceased operation and I was stuck in Sapporo for two more nights.

I contacted Aidan again, and he kindly agreed to let me crash on his couch. 

He picked me up at the train station and introduced me to his very good friend, a Malay woman who was also a graduate student. Aidan drove us to a very local sportswear departmental store where his friend shopped and we patiently waited. Dinner was next and we went to a popular sushi restaurant they raved about- the kind with sushi on coloured plates on conveyor belts. The food was good but the company was better.

His home is amazing, so amazing that I felt torn as to take a photo or not; to remember how exactly it looked like or to respect his privacy. I resisted and now all I can remember is this: The living room (where my sofa-bed is placed) is small and cozy and full of character. There were cute little decoration from all over the world- both souvenirs he bought while travelling, and little gifts his couchsurfers left behind. There was a tank with colourful fishes in one corner and some sorts of masks in another. The room basically looked like a random collection of curious knick-knacks but in reality, every single item has a story and is carefully placed. #inspirationforfuturehostel 

I contributed a DIY Sarubobo doll I made in Hida Folk Village in Takayama. It was special; not just because it is a Japanese amulet, but mainly because it was the only souvenir I have gotten for myself in Japan. Aidan was genuinely touched and pleased with it while I was glad that Sarubobo found a better home, as compared to being squashed in my bursting backpack. 

I wonder how is Sarubobo doing now? 

The time we spent together was short as he had to work in the day. I couldn’t remember much but I definitely enjoyed the conversations we had- about our travelling experience, our home countries and our perceptions of Japan. It was really interesting hearing his point of view as a Westerner living in the extreme East.

Fruity memories

A couple of days back, D brought back a bag of fruits from his Guangzhou trip and I took a persimmon. 

I dug my nails into it, pulling the fruit apart rather unglam-ly and took a bite. 

It was juicy and sweet, just like the persimmon I had one year ago. (November is persimmon season!)  

The Persimmon will always remind me of Carpe Diem hostel in Jeonju, Korea. Just because owner Ashley randomly took out some (planted and given by her neighbor) after dinner and urged us to try it. We crowded around, dug in with spoons and they were so good, so sweet, unlike the usual persimmon I had in Singapore. But what really matters was the company there; Ashley, Beom, Jojo and so many awesome guests. #theperfecthostel 

Food has the power to bring back emotional memories.

Just like how peaches will always remind me of CXY- her love for peach tea and the plump peaches that only cost a dollar each on 西街 in Beijing. #thedaysonexchange

Just like how durians will always remind me of Z- how he brought me to eat damn good durians by the roadside despite the fact that he can’t eat them himself. #thelove