I went on a reconnaissance trip to Mt. Ophir with five other people, including my younger brother, last week. The plan was to check out the place to see if it is suitable for a trip during the upcoming September holidays involving maximum of 20 youths plus volunteers and social workers. I came back with a sprained ankle, and a body aching all over.

Nonetheless, I did enjoy the trip - it marks the first time I had actually climbed a mountain (Bt. Timah doesn't count) and while guys who had served NS might groan about the next remark, I do really find it a novel experience to have to cook, drink, wash in the river by our campsite, to have to cook using mess tins over a bunsen burner, to carry everything you need on your backpack etc etc. My brother found the trip boring because, he "is still too close to NS to see this in a fun light". I have some sympathy, after all I suppose that he could have spent his last day as a NSman in a far better way than trekking in the rain-forest (he officially ORD last Friday).

Things I hate about the trip - I hate the after-rain trekking because the ground is wet and muddy. It was also far more difficult since the soil has been washed away and we end up stepping through tree roots. Previously, the soil was held in place by the roots such that "steps" were formed and we could walk on the steps. I hate the fact that people throw unfinished food into the river - there was rice, noodles etc at the bottom of the river near the campsite.

The other stuff are more "girly" - I hate not being able to take a proper bath or shower for two days, or use a proper toilet. I hate the idea of getting all covered with mud and grime because I keep slipping and falling. I hate the fact that my legs are now purplish in colour due to all the bruises I got from multiple slips and falls and that I am now hobbling around because I sprained my ankle on the descent.

So much for the things I hate, now for things I like about the trip - I like the physical exertion, even though I should really have prepared myself better physically. It was sheer will-power that drove me on towards the last leg of each trek every evening - the first evening when we were trying to get to Checkpoint Four where we set up our camp, and the second evening when we were trying to get back to Checkpoint Four before it gets dark. The exercise is very cleansing - words are inadequate, or I lack the vocabulary to describe the feeling - even though I was dead beat by the time I returned to Singapore and had to spend the whole of Sunday sleeping, I was very relaxed. I did not even feel the usual dread that steals over me on Sunday evenings as I prepare myself for another grueling week ahead.

I enjoyed trekking along to the melody of the bubbling stream and the feeling of calm and serenity that cloaks the forest as the sun began to set, even as we start to panic slightly when as the day wanes and we discovered we have only two torches among us. I enjoyed using ropes to climb up the various cliffs and hills - even though I slipped and fell the first time and was absolutely petrified when I had to descend again using the same ropes. I loved the view before me when I stood mid-way up the cliff and turned to look at the view behind me. 

I loved the location of my camp. We set up camp at an outcrop that overlooks the river - the river meanders in from the far side and into a rather deep pool that has fishes swimming in them - it then flows down a mini waterfall, into yet another shallow pool, finally, it flows down to a third pool before gushing down on its merry way down the mountain. The sound of the flowing water provides a relaxing backdrop as we go about cooking dinner, playing cards and drifting off to sleep every night. In the morning, the view is further enhanced by the rays of sunlight coming through the canopy and reflecting off the river. At night, I love to lay on my back and look up to see the moon and the many many sparkling stars and steadily shining planets, all partially obscured by the trees.

I loved sleeping in the tent at night - it is dark and cozy, and at that altitude, it is cold. It rained the second night, and the tent began to leak. I managed to hunt out the waterproof ground sheets and wrapped myself in one so that I can continue to sleep even though the water was dripping from the ceiling of the tent. Luckily the tent was built on uneven ground, I woke up the next morning to find one end of the tent flooded.

That is all for now. I'll revise this when I have more time...

I was in Bangkok last week on a holiday. I had a good time walking down the streets, exploring the many temples (known as "wats" in Thailand) and of course, shopping. The amazing thing about Bangkok is that for all its crowds and dust and noise, there are so many pockets of calm and serenity, where you can leave all that noise behind.

One thing I like about traveling alone is that I seem to get to meet many interesting people that way. I was attending the guided tour at the National Museum in Bangkok, and one of the other participants was actually a professor of engineering at the Institute of Technology at Madras in India. He turned out to have in-depth knowledge of Hinduism and contributed greatly to the tour as he gave insights on Hindu mythology and history. This is particularly insightful since Buddhism and Hinduism have many elements in common, and Thai Buddhism, in particular, has a lot of Hindu elements. After the tour, we had a discussion over cold drinks on the history of Hinduism, religion in general, how religion develops over time, the relationship between science and the supernatural etc etc. All in all a very interesting encounter and one which I do not think I will have if I have a companion with me at that time.

I also an encounter with a nun at Wat Rakang which left me rather bemused. Wat Rakang is not, to my knowledge, a tourist attraction. However, I decided to visit it because I heard that it is a centre of religious learning. At the entrance to the wat was a white-robed nun, who was selling fish food and bread. She speaks no English, and I speak no Thai, and it seems to be impossible for us to communicate. Suddenly, she started speaking in Teochew, which I have a passing knowledge of, though I am sorely out of practice since it is a language I have hardly used since the death of my grandparents. However, it worked, and we managed to understand each other - who ever thought that Teochew will become a language of communication for me and a Thai? And what on earth possessed her to have the insight to speak to me in Teochew?

My favourite wat, though, must be Wat Pho, which has many hidden nooks and crannies waiting to be explored. I sat on a bench watching some of the boys at the temple school playing football, clambered up the stairway of a chedi (dedicated to King Mongkut) and sat on there for an hour or so, observing the monks and the occasional tourist passing by below me, while soaking in the atmosphere and organizing my thoughts. Wat Rakang, where the music of the wind chimes fill the air, soothing and calming one's frayed nerves, is another favourite. Wat Arun, covered with Chinese porcelain, has its own unique beauty, especially when bathed in the light of the setting sun.

There are other interesting encounters too, such as the Thai hawker who, thinking I am a Thai, started speaking in rapid Thai to me when I tried to purchase a bottle of fresh orange juice from her, and the family relaxing at Chatuchak Park, who kindly offered me a mat to sit on when I decided to rest under a nearby tree and whose young son cautiously approached me, only to run away to hide behind a tree when I smiled at him. And there was this group of boys, who seeing a lost tourist with a map, approached me on their own initiative and provided me with directions to the Golden Mount and who were shocked when they realised I intended to walk there. And how can I forget the embarrassed grin that a tourist (French I think) flashed when I burst out giggling - we were in the National Museum shop, and I had just made a purchase - The Origin of Thai Art (interesting book by the way) - and he approached the counter with a cheery "Hi!" - the three counter girls, acting as one, chorused back, using exactly the same tone - "Hi!". The effect was so comical!

All in all, a really fun trip! I'll put the photos up when I get around to developing the film!

I had my first gallery presentation last Saturday. It was a requirements of the ACM volunteers training course that I complete three gallery presentations and one tour paper (hey, do I need to a tour presentation?). It was a fun exercise - each of the seventy-odd trainees are assigned different artifacts to do research on. We are each supposed to do a five minute presentation, and a three page gallery paper on the artifacts. My artifacts were a Dayak Carved Skull and a Dayak Shield, and I was told specifically to discuss the head-hunting culture of the Dayaks. Cool huh?

I spent a Saturday at the NUS library doing research and my bed-time reading for the week leading up to the presentation was concentrated on the Dayaks and their culture. What I find more illuminating is not the Dayak culture, but the approach taken by the commentators through time. It is particularly evident in the case of the earlier Western commentators - they reacted with horror at the practice and accused the Dayaks of being blood-thirsty cowardly savages who sneaked up on their victims, who are mainly the elderly, the women and the children. They also wrote of how it was the women who egged their men on, since they refused to marry any man who had not taken at least one head, and how they danced around the longhouse clutching the bloodied head, consumed with blood-lust once a head is obtained and brought back by the men. Commentators after the colonial period are more PC and detached - they view the headhunting practice as a religious practice, since the belief is that the soul resides in the head of a person and to take the head is to add to the "pool" of souls of a longhouse. The blood-thirsty women became "priestesses" and emotive words such as "blood-thirst", "blood-lust", "savage" etc disappeared from the commentary.

I couldn't find anything regarding the practice of carving designs into the skulls though - I told another trainee that I think the whole carved skull business is a hoax, but then again, I have no evidence on that either. Sigh ...

Another fellow team-member was assigned the topic of the Vietnamese water puppets, which I found very interesting as well. Apparently, the "stage" for the performance of water puppets is the flooded padi fields, with the puppeteers standing in the chest-high water. Unfortunately, the gallery was being used for a gamelan rehearsal and my friend had to improvise on the staircase landing - it was too crowded and too noisy to do the presentation at the exhibit itself. Yours truly and another team-mate had hold up theA-Z Guidebook (our textbook, sortof) and pretended to be the exhibit . A few visitors were giving us quizzical look throughout the presentation - quite funny actually!

Other team-mates did presentations on the Dong-Sun Drum, Vietnamese block prints, jewellery etc etc. Overall, a very interesting day!