Destination unknown

This excerpt is one of those stories created when the title was given to me, instead of me having to create a title for a story that I experienced, which is true for my other blog entries. Like most fictional writing, part of it is true and part of it is what fills the imagination.

This is the city where I grew up and somehow could not recognise. Latitude 3° 14' North; Longitude 101° 68' East. A city filled with my childhood wonder, my teenage rebellion and my adolescent aspirations, also a city that I no longer knew.

It was 26 degrees when I landed, the morning sun was shining sweetly and the air smells like how it does after the rain. People were wearing sandals and t-shirts and droopy skirts. A scene so distant from the place I had travelled from.

I never fail to be taken aback each time I board an aircraft, at the magic of suddenly being in a time and place so dramatically different as the one I had left a few hours before. Watching Earth from the sky was equally mesmerising, as the landscape changes from the manicured British grasslands where even the forests looked as if they sprouted in perfect squares, to the forbidden Thar desert, majestic Hindu Kush, and finally the raw and primitive tropical jungles, lush plantations and deep blue untouched lakes, or who knows if they were in fact abandoned mining pools.


“Can you take me to see the shop houses in the city centre? The ones built since the 18th century; probably you can find a stretch of them near Petaling Street?” I could sense the taxi driver’s muted bemusement. He knows that I am not a stranger to this country, but neither am I a resident.


Those buildings were the first things I wanted to see: the shop houses where people traded goods or services on the ground floor while they slept and ate and lived on the top. The landing in front of these shop houses were called ‘five foot ways’ where children played and women gossiped. If they were coffee shops, these five foot ways would be scattered with tables and chairs for customers to have their meals. This was the part of Kuala Lumpur I yearned for. In the morning, the aroma of local coffee, half boiled eggs and steamed buns wafted together with the smell of newspapers and incense and car exhaust. I use to come to the coffee shops close to midnight with a steaming bowl of rice porridge or some other brothy meal, and enjoy the cooling night air in front of their dilapidating walls. This is a city where you could eat at any time of the day.

As a child who was constantly tugging at my father’s sleeves, I ran up and down these streets, admiring the nougat maker, or the barbequed meat seller or the fruit mongers. There were a few bookshops my dad would take me to, those that had a labyrinth of books, books with old fashioned binding and rice paper thin pages. After the books I would pester him to go to the pet shops that smelt awful but I would be too engaged with the furry minions to care. There was also a cafe somewhere here, where I had my first bottle of alchohol at 14, listening to some unknown music band.

I did not know the exact location of these places and neither did the taxi driver so I asked him to drive on. We passed the Central Market where handmade rattan crafts, wood carvings and canvas paintings were sold. I remembered the place thriving with tourists, now they looked very much unpopular. Nearby was a tuition centre I used to walk to after school hours. In an exam oriented country, centres where students were trained to obtain good grades prospered.

“I heard the Bok House was demolished? Can I see ground zero?” The mansion of an old Chinese entrepreneur had not meant that much to me before when it was still standing, but as it is not there anymore, I thought I should reconstruct its facade in my head. We passed the buzzing Pudu station. It used to be the only station to catch buses in and out of this city and I recalled the various times I stood excitedly amidst the dust and heat whenever I was going on a trip. It was during those times when I particularly loved taking bus rides to nowhere, harbouring a spirit of adventure, I imagined that I could travel the world, by hopping onto the next bus that was heading off.


The twin towers had long been visible, studded against the city skyline and we were now moving closer towards it, towards the more affluent part of KL, the glass and steel part of KL. We see the psychedelic clubs, a Dravidian temple, the glistening shopping malls, a giant mosque, the royal golf club, secondary schools, the Merdeka square, veteran hotels juxtaposed with the stunning new ones.

“Sekarang mana?” Where now? I do not know. I flew 11,000 miles to be home, but I am once again lost.

Pampering yourself silly in Bali

Bali is most certainly a hedonist’s paradise. The island easily has the most number of luxury hotels and spa outlets per square foot in, dare I say, the world.

Not one but two Aman Resorts, Amandari and Amankila, as well as two Four Seasons are rooted in Bali; then there are The Oberoi, The Legian, Westin, Ritz Carlton and Conrad, just to name a few mainstreams.

Alternatively, but no less lavishly, there are plenty of private villas that are well catered for tourists i.e. endowed with the respective butlers, cooks, cleaners and security men.

Over the dizzying array of options, we have chosen to stay at:

1. Ylang Ylang Villa, Saba Bai

Cost: US$ 1,000 per night; sleeps 12 persons

The place greets you with inviting gurgles of flowing water from all directions, the lily ponds, the water spouts, the fountain, the pool, the ocean. We were already drenched in bliss within the first few mintues of setting foot onto its premises. There was soothing music wafting from all directions while hostesses and butlers smiled warmly as they served us cocktails and settled us in.

Its decor is the emblematic stone and wood medley, frangipani decked, Balinese style; where plush curtains dangle from far reaching ceilings and mahogany furniture spelling out r.e.l.a.x - as they are covered with velvety pillows, cushions, drapes, spreads, quilts...

10 minutes later, we were all lounging by the pool or having a dip, being served home made pancakes, plates of snacks, beer and juice. It all felt pretty unbelievable, like some scene out of MTV Cribs, except better!

There was no rush for us to be anywhere or to do anything, we were happy to be in the villa in the middle of nowhere, enjoying the sunset and each other's company. The hours just melted away with laughter and chatter and music.

And then, it was dinner time. Honestly, the best feast I had in Bali was prepared by the chefs at Ylang Ylang. The guide books always point you towards some restaurant at Jimbaran Bay or somewhere characteristic in Ubud. But I reckon that it is at the villa which we had a combination of excellent, earnest, reasonably priced and authentic South East Asian cuisine in a great surrounding.

I still salivate reminiscing about the flavourful Soto Ayam or lips licking good Tom Yam broth, Satay chicken skewers grilled to perfection, smoky barbequed lobsters and creamy laksa to name the very least.

That was not it. The best thing in culinary terms about this place was waking up to platters of fresh fruits every day, and having an endless supply fruit juices whenever you are in need of one.

If we ever felt the need to be productive or entertained, there was the audio visual room with a projector, a corner stacked with books and board games. Otherwise, an in house Balinese massage for USD30 per 90 minute session was also available.

2. Samaya, Seminyak

Cost: US$ 335++ per 2 person villa per night

Nothing is too troublesome and no request is too ridiculous for the people at Samaya.

The 24 villas that made up Samaya each has their own private pool, on top of that, there were 2 public swimming pools by each of the restaurants. Samaya could have competed for the title of "hotel with the biggest pool area per capita" and won hands down.

The room was finished with a modern yet cosy, somewhat Japanese inspired touches. It had a great blend of technology and serenity.

The bonuses that comes with the room were just jaw dropping: there was an iPod Touch attached to a Bose sound system, a jacuzzi tub, 2 flatscreen TVs - one in the bedroom and one by the tub - and, wait for it, a personal Butler who will attend to your every need!

The room is cleaned twice a day, after which they present you with fresh fruits and puddings during tea time; newspapers, a bottle of champagne, free wifi, endless stocks at the mini bar... all that you would want and more.


Food was good in a chic, free range, organic, de-caff sort of way. The service was immaculate and it did make me feel like I was in a place where everyone was happy and nobody could touch me, reminding me of the lyrics "oooh heaven is a place on earth".

The only flaw to such perfection is the price, which one would expect it to be what it is. For more affordable luxury though, see the 3rd choice below:

3. Tegal Sari, Ubud

Costs US$150 per room per night at the Sesapi

I have never stayed anywhere this interesting before. We walked in and the first thing we saw is a grain storage, hoisted by four vertical wooden planks.

Then we tracked further meeting the grounds of paddy fields and a flock of wild ducks.

The trail goes deeper and deeper into nature. Away from the hustle of Ubud, into another bustling realm of croaks, screetches and chirrings. Until we came to Rumah Sesapi.

There are different types of accomodation at Tegal Sari which are all equally intriguing, the Sesapi however is the only one with a private pool.

Everything felt so...au naturale, everything blended in well with the surroundings, it was truly beautiful.

Instead of making us feel like we were being stolen away into some fantasy land, Tegal Sari makes sure that we are living and breathing Bali in a refreshing and special way.

Tegal Sari has a menu of activities that they offer on a daily basis: dances, field trips et cetera. It might seem a little tacky or touristy at first, but in fact is a great way to gain some insight to the Balinese way of life and speak to the locals themselves. I had the feeling that the Balinese are genuinely very willing to share and learn from the people that come to visit their home.

It seems quite unfair, to think of Bali only as a pampering pie in the sky, because it definitely has much more to offer.

In terms of history, (Temple at Tasik Beratap shrouded in mystery)

scenery (Rice fields terraces at Jatiluweh),

festivity (weekly offerings laid out usually at entrances),

colour (sunset view at Jimbaran Bay),

meaning (Man and his basket at rice fields in Ubud)

activity (lady and child working in the rice fields Ubud)

flavour (Mee Bakso, Bebek Bengil and Babi Guling Ibu Oka)

art and design (shops in Ubud town centre)

culture (tall bamboo structures to signify blessing)

and most of all, endless discovery.

The charms of Candi Borobudur

Hundreds of religious constructions, locally called Candi, were built around Java from the 8th century up to the island's Islamic conversion in the 13 hundreds. Today, several of them, with Borobudur being the largest, scattered all over Java, managed to survive time and destruction.

I'm not going to pretend I knew all of that before I arrived, because I had only read about the Borobudur in my Geography and History text books. That was the only monument's name I had to remember when filling in exam questions about the Sailendra dynasty, and thus the only one, regrettably, that I had set out to see.

I was very impressed at how organised and easily accessible the tourist destination is.

First of all, there are at least 4 daily flights offered by 3 different airlines from Bali to Yogyakarta (or Yogya to sound more local) - and plenty more from other major cities. We had no qualms booking the seats the night before as there were lots of availability.

Upon touch down, a security officer comes to check whether we have gotten the right luggage bags with the right luggage tags attached. Excellent. Reduces mistakes, lost luggages and theft.

Right outside the exit, there is a designated queue for authorised taxis towards the temple. The hour's drive NorthWest costs Rp 190,000 (US$ 19). You get a ticket and a man in blue uniform handles your luggages and drives you into the wilderness.

Borobudur is technically situated in the middle of a jungle, so it was quite daunting at first to be driven further and further away from civilisation and the lights of Yogya.

The setting was uncannily familiar though -stretches of foodstalls or warung litter along scantily lit tar roads - very similar to the rural routes of Peninsular Malaysia from one town to another. It went on and on until the lights gave way to the darkness of the forrests and paddy fields that flanked what became now dirt roads.


We chose to stay at the Manohara, the closest accomodation to the site. 10 minutes walk from the inn and you're at the foot of the great shrine.

The place is clean but utterly basic. The rooms are lined in long corridors facing grassy lawns with hanging potted tropical plants all around. It reminded me of a Malaysian public school. Nonetheless, at US$36 per night for two including breakfast and the entry ticket to the temple, it was a deal.

The staff were receptive and pleasant and we even had our welcoming tea and biscuits, so definitely liveable if you lowered your expectations.


Otherwise, for the upper echelons and the honeymooners, there is always the Amanjiwo. A collective of 34 suites, some with their own private pools, is priced at an average of US$900 per room per night. Containing the mystical aura of the surroundings, Aman resorts usually needs no further introduction to its swankiness.

We only managed to dine there.

The Rp 600,000 (US$60) makan malam feast for one was not entirely awe inspiring. The ingrediants were fresh and the spices as zesty as can be, boasting 6 dishes to complement your plate of fragrant rice. But all in all, it was just an overstated nasi campur, or mixed rice, served with nice cutleries.

I was brought up in a place where the most expensive plate of nasi campur would cost US$1, so I ordered something Western instead. The grilled Baramundi. And was happier to pay Rp200,000 (US$20) for a fillet of well seasoned, well cooked fish. Exhorbitant prices nonetheless.



The Borobudur is a great place to experiment the multiple functions of your camera.

Different apetures, colour intensity, light balancing, level of focus et cetera...

...To capture different compositions, moods, angles and interpretations. I love these long corridors etched with stone carvings, where pilgrims would follow along, as they ascend the 7 levels of the monument, whilst contemplating on these reliefs.







It feels as though at every bend there is a surprise waiting for me: a different set of sculptures, a different view, a different form of beauty.

Although the rocks seem similar at first glance they in fact are unique. I encounter a myriad of structures none of which I have come across before. The place is after all a gigantic collection of art.

Today, the Borobudur stands on top of a hill, some say that it was initially built to be in the middle of a lake, which has now dried out, sprouting like a lotus within the water.
With the 72 stupas jutting at its crown like lotus petals.

As I walked up the 7 flights, and descended again, I noticed particularly the scenes of change: The heat, the light, the atmosphere, the people, the sounds, the routes. Whether it was looking out from the Borobudur or it was looking into the details of the structure.




Before I know it, time has passed, the sun has risen from beyond the trees. I have had my share of a new experience and therefore has changed along with the passing of time. I was ready to go, and join another adventure.