The Art Of Doing Nothing

I’ve never been particularly good at doing nothing. I get nervous, antsy and above all, guilty. But last weekend, I did nothing. Three blissful days of absolutely nothing. And I didn’t feel nervous or antsy or guilty one bit …

… and how could you possibly blame me? Just look at this place.

There’s no room for anxiety in a place like this.

There’s only room for hanging out at your private villa …

… taking a dip in your personal plunge pool, immersing yourself in your own hotsprings jacuzzi, lazing around on your king-sized bed, taking an outdoor shower, being pampered from head to toe at the spa … I could seriously get used to this.

Thankfully, I didn’t though. Because I had to pack up and go home. And of course, once I returned to the city, the nice feelings vanished and the guilt of doing “nothing” for three days hit me like a ton of bricks. Needless to say, I have yet to master the art of doing nothing. However, I have decided that it’s a skill worth developing. It won’t be easy but with lots of practice and many (many, many) days of being massaged into oblivion at a wellness spa retreat, god willing, I will succeed.

Man, I need another holiday.

I Did The KL Towerthon In 38 Minutes

I received a certificate of achievement in the mail today. It congratulated me for completing the KL Towerthon last month. Apparently, I ranked 1,371 (maybe there were 1,372 runners) and sprinted up 2,000+ steps in 38 minutes 19 seconds.

Sounds fab, except that I didn’t turn up for the Towerthon. I registered though, and spent the entire time between registration and collection of race pack wondering what possessed me to sign up – one of those Iosodunnowai moments. I viewed pictures and read some personal accounts of past races, both of which made me even more reluctant to go through with the race. The pics showed people running up a dingy, cramped stairwell while the accounts relayed gory tales of people throwing up mid-way …

… didn’t exactly rock my boat. Which was why I signed up and then, proceeded to not show up for the race.

And now, I have a certificate of achievement for doing something I obviously did not do. Not unlike the KL Marathon where you don’t actually have to run or finish anything to get the medal; all you really need is enough elbow strength to shove your way to the counter and grab a medal from the frazzled attendants.

So, just like all my other posts, the moral of the story is: there is no moral of the story. I’m just waiting to see what will be in the mail tomorrow. Maybe it’ll be a certificate for completing a 42K. Now that, I won’t mind terribly.

Save Your Lousy Marriage: Go Holiday!

Apparently, “all Malaysians” in crappy marriages can now sign up for a second honeymoon at Pulau Perhentian to rekindle the flames, or at least diminish the urge to pummel each other with shovels. And it’s all sponsored by the government at RM1,500 per warring couple.

This Second Honeymoon comes with a programme for you and your husband. There are long, romantic walks along the beach; building sand castles together (WTF); marriage counseling; and simply being left alone, I presume so they can hopefully, bonk each other’s brains out.

According to committee chairman Ashaari Idris, “We have the right accommodation to help couples become intimate again.” I wonder what that means – probably that you’ll get to stay in a room with a bed as opposed to say, under a coconut tree, which might make it somewhat difficult to engage in ‘intimate’ activities.

So far, four couples who were on the brink of divorce have experienced this Second Honeymoon and are now as happy as a bunch of clams. Their marriages have been saved. They love each other again. They want to make more babies. They want to … sign up for another package. Right. So, there’s a Third Honeymoon package right? And a Fourth Honeymoon package and a Fifth and a Sixth … because we all know marriage requires hard work. And now that the government has taken upon itself to rescue all these silly couples who probably shouldn’t have been allowed to live past puberty, let alone get married, the onus is on the government to keep these couples’ love jugs jiggling. After all, what kind of success story can our dear leaders have if the couples follow up their free honeymoon several years later with a divorce?

This might come as a surprise to some of you but I am a tax payer. Yes, I have a job (lord have mercy). So, forgive me if I’m less than thrilled at the prospect of paying for a bunch of people to go on some free honeymoon to build sand castles and have sex. Honey, if you and your spouse need a honeymoon handout from the Malaysian government, you’ve got bigger problems than your rocky marital union. My advice? Get a job and pay for your own honeymoon. And if you can’t afford to do so, I strongly recommend divorce.

Paint Me A Pretty Butterfly

I did the unthinkable when I was in Penang last month: I went to the Butterfly Farm. I know, what the %@#$!@, right? I’m not the sort who visits places like this, especially not smack in the middle of the afternoon. The CNY sun is notoriously merciless and will roast you to a crisp. But something possessed me to visit it anyway.

Although I had my doubts at first – I mean, it was the BUTTERFLY FARM, for god’s sake – we wound up having a pretty decent time.

Sure, it was unbearably hot, but after catching sight of the first butterflies at the entrance, something took over me and I transmogrified into something of a novice nature photographer, finger poised on the shoot button of my trusty digital camera, all bug-eyed, waiting for my next butterfly shot. These are some I managed to get …

… and some funny signages on how not to behave here lest we upset the butterflies.

For instance, don’t torment the butterflies by stealing their lunch!

Oh yeah, I also made a little friend along the way.

Hard Rock Hotel, Penang

I’m no Led Zeppelin groupie but I’ve always loved Hard Rock Café. Love the food; love the vibe; love the music. So naturally, when we headed over to Penang last month, I wanted to stay at the Hard Rock Hotel. The hotel with a difference. Not just another typical cookie-cutter hotel with prosaic elevator music and beige drapes, no sireee. Nope. This is a hotel for ROCKERS! Which of course, is something I’m not, but the tagline does say: Love All, Serve All.

By ‘All’, I don’t take it to include … kids. But there are lots of them. And quite a hearty number of them accompanied by grandmothers. Not Tina Turner-type grandmothers. Just plain regular ones.

Thankfully, I am distracted by the nice airy lobby, flooded in sunlight. Straight ahead, the lobby opens out to the pool area. Bright blue skies, purple beach towels, towering palm trees, an ultra-colourful water slide, the air filled with a happy chorus of shrieking and squealing.

Such a family-friendly place. I have nothing against families. I think families are like, nice and necessary (for society) and all that, but where’s the Rocker Vibe? Hmm, maybe it’ll hit us once we get to our room.

Because apart from the Beatles busts at the entrance …

… the rock star concert memorabilia lining the walls …

… and the statue of the King of Pop himself in the parking lot, there isn’t any other ‘rocker’ element. At least not as much as I’d expected.

We get the key to our room and hop into the elevator, which ironically, is deathly silent (and air-cond-less too, I might add).

We get to our room and I am … disappointed. Don’t get me wrong; it’s a perfectly decent room but it’s the kind of room I’d expect in a … Regular Hotel. It’s – of all the safest colours – white and beige. Sure there are the occasional punches of red but it’s hardly what I call wild. The room is small too. Where are all the rock stars? Where is Freddie Mercury? Guns N’ Roses? Bon Jovi? I finally find a painting of Elvis Presley above the sink. Hmm. I am not overtaken by an urge to wear leather pants and line my inner rims with kohl, I’ll tell you that much.

It isn’t all bad though – the view is great and the bed, sublime.

The next morning, we get up and head down for breakfast. We get to the restaurant and whoa, it’s like stepping into a Chinese restaurant. It is so noisy – a mass of hungry, wild-eyed holiday-makers filling up their plates furiously, cutleries clanking, grandmothers jabbering, kids whining – and everywhere you turn, people are rushing in every direction.

There’s even a tray of dirty dishes piling up by the door.

Despite breakfasting in this gourmet war zone, I have to say, it’s a great spread. The food rocks. Every guest is extremely well fed.

Speaking of food, later that day, I have a burger at the Café and it is deeee-lish. I slurp it all up.  *smacks lips*

After a couple of days, I begin to make peace with the fact that, while Hard Rock Hotel isn’t as rocking as I’d hoped, it’s still a pretty neat place to stay. I’m no rebel rocker anyway so I stop griping. (I listen to Lenka, for god’s sake.) Once I get over that, the hotel kinda grows on me.

One of the things I wind up enjoying most about the hotel is the hustle and bustle. There’s a sense of openness … hominess … it’s unpretentious … and unapologetically family-friendly. I feel at home there in a way I never did in any other hotel. I’m giddy with the feeling that here, I can probably get away with anything, you know, like shuffling down to the lobby in my bathrobe.

I also like that there’s always something going on and always something to do: live bands perform every night …

… there are shows by the pool …

… you can ride horses on the beach, go parasailing, and of course, do the banana boat ride. I hear that there are also classes held throughout the day – aerobics and that sort of thing. That’s great. If only somebody had told me about them. I find out only upon checking out, so I guess guest communication can do with a little improvement.

While there were some teething problems and they do have a way to go before they can claim to offer ‘Extreme Rock Star Service’, I did enjoy my stay there. So, while my time at Hard Rock Hotel wasn’t exactly what I’d expected, I can tell you one thing: it sure beats staying at the Holiday Inn.

Candle Light Is Evil And Will Lead To Sex In Budget Hotels

“We will also check restaurants that offer candle-light dinners, as these often lead to possible sexual activities in budget hotels,” says JAIS director Datuk Mohamed Khusrin Munawi, who states that Valentine’s Day isn’t for Muslims.

Bwahahaha!!! Is it just me or is that the funniest thing you ever heard? Oh god. I have tears in my eyes. But that aside, I must confess I agree wholeheartedly with the good Datuk. Those damn candles are unwanted pregnancies / pre-marital sex / extra-marital affairs just waiting to happen.

You know what the solution to this is? White fluorescent lights. In fact, you know what the solution to all that’s wrong with this country is?

WHITE FLUORESCENT LIGHTS.

50 Things That Make Me Go “Eeeww”

1. Guys with long pinky fingernails.
2. Guys who perm their hair. I don’t get it.
3. Cars that honk when you don’t move the nano-second the light turns red.
4. People who spit in public.
5. People who mispronounce ‘development’ or ‘three’, use ‘double-confirm’ or say ‘actually’ at the beginning of every sentence.
6. People who cross the road like their grandfather owned it.
7. Cars that go faster at crossings even when there are pedestrians (pedestrians meaning me).
8. When you’re pissed and somebody says, “Chill dude chill.”
9. Limp handshakes.
10. Sweaty, clammy handshakes.
11. People who think Paula Abdul deserved to be on Idol.
12. People who don’t like Simon Cowell cos he’s a “meanie”.
13. Anyone who thinks Adam Sandler is funny.
14. People who step on the toilet bowl to pee (what the hell’s up with that??).
15. People who leave the toilet stall all wet after use.
16. Manoeuvre – it’s the one word I can never remember how to spell.
17. Korean actors with permed bouffants and creepy, effeminate lips.
18. People who speak really bad English but with a British accent.
19. Bats – they look like the spawns of Satan.
20. Stupid things politicians say in the paper to dodge our questions.
21. Men with hair pieces cello-taped to their heads – come on guys, who do you think you’re kidding?
22. Men with comb-overs. Sure, drag the twelve greasy strands the opposite direction and we’ll be none the wiser.
23. Unibrows – unless you’re channeling the spirit of Frida Kahlo, just pluck the damn hairs.
24. Bushy, unshaped eyebrows. Last I checked, tweezers aren’t all that expensive.
25. Moles with hair growing out of them.
26. Ears with hair growing out of them.
27. People who wear super-short shorts to go running, displaying their wobbly cellulite and jumbo thighs for the world to see.
28. Sun sleeves. Worse – patterned sun sleeves.
29. When you’re eating out with ten people and you’re the slowest eater and everyone gets their food but you and when your dish does arrive, it’s not what you ordered.
30. Restaurants that don’t provide complimentary glasses of water (and make you pay RM5 for a bottle of mineral water instead).
31. When waiters take your order and you can tell from their blank faces that they have no idea what the heck they’re doing.
32. When all the parking metres near your car are spoilt and you need to walk really far.
33. People who move their heads too much when they talk.
34. People who physically stand in an empty parking space to ‘reserve’ it for their friend who’s driving around the lot in search of a spot wa-a-a-ay on the other side.
35. People who don’t signal and turn, or signal but don’t turn or turn the opposite direction.
36. People who drive with their hazard lights on.
37. People who drive too slow.
38. People who drive like they have a woman in labour in the backseat. Usually, they don’t.
39. Idiot lorry drivers who tail you and flash you from behind.
40. There’s a traffic jam FOR NO REASON.
41. Traffic police on the shoulder lane on the Federal Highway waving at you to go straight. Hello, there’s no other way to go la. Did you think, without these buggers, we’d all stupidly turn right and crash into the divider?
42. People who slow down to gawk at accidents.
43. You finally find the perfect pair of shoes and they don’t have it in your size.
44. You buy something only to have it go on sale 70% two weeks later.
45. People who go into the dressing room and stay in there while their girlfriends run around the boutique pulling additional stuff off the racks for them to try on.
46. Paying forty bucks for a book only to find it super-boring.
47. Visible panty lines.
48. Cracked heels with dirt lodged in them.
49. Carrot-cut jeans. Every pair should be burned as a warning to other defiant manufacturers of carrot-cut jeans.
50. Shapeless, baggy garments that do nothing for your figure.
51. Reaching 50 and realising I can still go on!!

Burn, Baby, Burn!

I used to read the local papers diligently. Every single day, in fact. So every morning, over a cup of coffee, I keep up with all the happenings in our country:

somebody robs and maims somebody …

some driver falls asleep at the wheel, crashes the bus and kills everyone in it …

somebody slaughters somebody else for cutting him in traffic …

somebody blows up a fancy hotel, a plane, a train, a really really tall building, another person …

somebody warns us not to “sensationalise” racial issues …

somebody spews some more vacuous rhetoric on the wondrous transformative powers of 1Malaysia …

somebody builds a really really big house with funds that seem to have popped out of nowhere …

somebody hacks off the head of a sacred bovine creature and runs around town with it in a most defiant manner …

somebody gets thrown in the slammer for simply doing their job …

somebody gets shoved off a really really tall building …

somebody is accused of corruption while another, who is as corrupt as the big nose on his face, walks away free as a bird …

somebody wants to ban lipstick, high heels, concerts, performances, oxygen, butterflies, whatever …

somebody burns a church …

and another …

and another …

I’m calling it a day and tossing the papers in the bin. I don’t want to read them anymore. I’d rather read this.

2 Nights In Old Penang Guesthouse

I’ve stayed in plenty of hotels but this is the first time I’m staying in a restored pre-war shophouse turned guesthouse. I admit that I had my misgivings the first time my friend mentioned that she’d booked us into the Old Penang Guesthouse at RM25 per pax per night. I mean, at that price, let’s face it: it’s certainly no 5-star hotel. Oh yes, we’d also have to share the common bath and toilet. What? No en suite?? I brace myself – this is gonna be one rocky ride.

Pic by Susan Ng

We arrive at Old Penang Guesthouse on Love Lane on Saturday afternoon. I instantly like what I see. I can’t help it.

Pic by Susan Ng

I’m a sucker for those antique wooden shutters, grilled windows and accordion-style folding gates.

Pic by Susan Ng

Once inside, I fall in love with the mosaic-tiled flooring that’s apparently over 100 years old. Swoon.

Pic by Susan Ng

There’s an open-air central courtyard, with sunlight streaming in – perfect for your morning cup of steaming kopi-o and a slice of kaya toast.

We troop upstairs to our rooms. Mine is room number … 4. As you can probably tell, there aren’t that many rooms. The place is pretty small so that homey vibe is well and alive here, which is nice. With one wall painted a nice bright turquoise, the room is air-conditioned and is extremely clean (something I’m very grateful for). News for couch potatoes: there’s no TV in the room. TV-watching is all done downstairs.

We check out the bathroom area. There are two sinks, two bathrooms with heaters and one toilet. Everybody does their stuff here, so be prepared: you might just find yourself brushing your teeth in the morning next to some half-naked angmoh guy. The upside is, like the rooms, the bathrooms and toilet are very clean. The downside is … um, there’s only one toilet. You do the math.

Speaking of downsides, it’s impossible to sleep here. When my friend told me to bring earplugs, I thought she was kidding. She wasn’t. My first night (ie. pre-marathon night) is pure agony. I can hear every single footstep, every single wail from the TV downstairs, every single conversation, every single whiny kid, every single freaking thing. Obviously, this is no place for your honeymoon.

We spend two nights here before leaving home for KL. It’s a little easier to sleep that second night – maybe I’d just gotten used to the noise. Who knows.

Before we leave however, we find some time to take some customary dorky shots outside the guesthouse. The dorky shots turn out pretty great actually, which is why I’m posting one of them here. Isn’t it gorgeous? Like traveling back in time.

Pic by Susan Ng

Penang Food In Pictures

Since I’m on the subject of Penang, I figured I’d share some food pics I took last weekend – partly cos the food did taste really good but mostly cos my pics didn’t turn out too shabby! I’m no professional but for an amateur pointer-and-shooter, I must say these aren’t half bad.

Char Koay Teow with the plumpest prawns you’ve ever seen (unfortunately, not a single one is in my shot). I don’t eat much char kway teow when I’m back in KL but in Penang, it’s a gastronomical crime if you don’t.

Yam cake and rice dumplings topped with dried shrimps, chopped scallions, fried shallot crisps and drizzled with sweet sauce … such a lovely gooey mess.

Hot and sour Tom Yam Mee – there’s nothing like a nice hot steaming bowl on a rainy day … which was exactly what we did.

Nasi Kandar – steaming white rice topped with curry and an assortment of dishes: there’s curry chicken, curry fish, curry beef, curry anything you can think of, boiled egg, curry okra, curry eggplant, etc

Roti canai - one of my favourite rotis. I wasn’t entirely thrilled when it came to me in shreds though, like it had been in a gang fight. And had lost. Badly.

Nobody can resist a good bowl of cendol. I love this one for its simplicity: just shaved ice, palm sugar, gooey green noodles and fat red beans. Those that come with jellies and corn and other weird bits are just overdone.

Ais Kacang – looks heavenly, doesn’t it?  Shaved ice with banana, papaya, palm fruit, corn, red bean …