Tourist at home: part 1
Perpetual routine can actually be quite stressful on the mind. I have been needing this break for a while, and this weekend I finally decided to get it.
It's interesting how a shift in perspective and looking out intentionally for things you don't normally see can move you dramatically away from the routine drone of life. With my bags packed with a day of clothing, a book, a notebook and my lappie, I set off for my staycation.
The first thing I noticed was how things kind of felt different as I was making my way to Excelsior-Peninsula hotel on my own. The purposeful silence was in fact, quite comfortable. My first mini-adventure (known as MA from this point onwards) was to eat something for lunch that I wouldn't normally eat. Knowing that Peninsula Plaza is a place where many Burmese gather, I was nevertheless surprised to find that the food court below consisted of about 70% stalls selling Burmese food by Burmese people. I had Mohinga noodles and some 'crispy fritters' (which was really just onions fried in batter) for lunch, and there were so many Burmese around me that for a while, I even felt like I was in another country, although not necessarily Myanmar. It felt.. like I was really a tourist.
The Mohinga noodles were basically thin noodles in a fish broth with crispy bits of fried catfish in them. Maybe the American guy who tried to swim across Aung San Suu Kyi's lake in Yangon was trying to catch some of these catfish, but if he was I don't know why he bothered to go through all that fuss. The noodles, while presenting an interesting texture contrast between the crisp and the soupy, were nothing to shout about. But the texture contrast did remind me of the contrast of where I was: paying $4 for a bowl of noodles that would probably cost $0.05 back at where the dish originated and surrounded by people who were also paying $4 for the same thing that they probably grew up paying $0.05 for. The price to pay for a chance to feel like you're home, perhaps? Oh what we would pay, for a chance to be connected to that which we are fully comfortable with.
I checked into the hotel, got the keys to my room, and threw my things around. I went to check out the swimming pool, but it was way too hot for a swim. I would've gotten sunburnt. But then, who needs a swimming pool when I can soak myself in a bathtub of warm, chlorine-free water? Which was what I proceeded to do.
Well, I must say that really, this is an age of open-ness. Literally. Check out the bathroom man!
The bathroom can be seen through a glass window from the sleeping area in the hotel room. Wooo. Talk about transparency.
And so, with some soaking in the tub, some gymming, some swimming and some lying on the bed, the alone-time was wonderful.
Not much of a view, but I liked the sunlight coming in through the windows and lighting the room naturally.
The peace of silence and the suspension of judgment. There was a strange peace inside of me as I went about all this without need to utter a single word. Peace that came, somehow, because for once there was no need to speak of myself. No need to describe, define, explain, elaborate, rephrase anything. I was just, me. There was no need for me to think about what the other person was thinking about what I was presenting about myself. In that silence, the judgment of others on me, was for that few hours, suspended. And in the suspension of judgment I found rest.
It was almost time to meet Ed. I got showered, dressed and headed out. It felt very strange to have that just-showered feeling and when you step downstairs, it's actually City Hall. The point of reference for your life matters. Where you are coming from can totally alter the direction and feel of your life, whether it is a physical location or a mental one. Whereas in today's world, we are filled with people who tell us that the only thing that matters is where we are heading and whether we get there, I beg to differ. I believe where you head towards cannot be fully dichotomised from where you come from, because the very desire to head somewhere is shaped by where you are from. Just like how it feels refreshing to be freshly showered and sauntering around City Hall in my slippers n jeans. It felt.. like I was really a tourist.
Window-shopped around Orchard, met up with Ed for dinner at MOS Burger. Checked out some shirts at Springfield, and he eventually bought one. Should I get the one I tried on too? Why is there such a strong need for me to buy something only after a few times looking at it? Is it because I feel more secure making that decision?
The band at Indochine was great as usual. The insane guitar riffs, the echoes from the mic, the rhythmic bass-lines. No Kilkenny, but a mojito instead. Mini-adventures, remember? To try things from a different perspective. The good conversations. And chicken strips this time instead of the chicken wings I usually get.
New perspectives, purposefully. More to come later.
It's interesting how a shift in perspective and looking out intentionally for things you don't normally see can move you dramatically away from the routine drone of life. With my bags packed with a day of clothing, a book, a notebook and my lappie, I set off for my staycation.
The first thing I noticed was how things kind of felt different as I was making my way to Excelsior-Peninsula hotel on my own. The purposeful silence was in fact, quite comfortable. My first mini-adventure (known as MA from this point onwards) was to eat something for lunch that I wouldn't normally eat. Knowing that Peninsula Plaza is a place where many Burmese gather, I was nevertheless surprised to find that the food court below consisted of about 70% stalls selling Burmese food by Burmese people. I had Mohinga noodles and some 'crispy fritters' (which was really just onions fried in batter) for lunch, and there were so many Burmese around me that for a while, I even felt like I was in another country, although not necessarily Myanmar. It felt.. like I was really a tourist.
The Mohinga noodles were basically thin noodles in a fish broth with crispy bits of fried catfish in them. Maybe the American guy who tried to swim across Aung San Suu Kyi's lake in Yangon was trying to catch some of these catfish, but if he was I don't know why he bothered to go through all that fuss. The noodles, while presenting an interesting texture contrast between the crisp and the soupy, were nothing to shout about. But the texture contrast did remind me of the contrast of where I was: paying $4 for a bowl of noodles that would probably cost $0.05 back at where the dish originated and surrounded by people who were also paying $4 for the same thing that they probably grew up paying $0.05 for. The price to pay for a chance to feel like you're home, perhaps? Oh what we would pay, for a chance to be connected to that which we are fully comfortable with.I checked into the hotel, got the keys to my room, and threw my things around. I went to check out the swimming pool, but it was way too hot for a swim. I would've gotten sunburnt. But then, who needs a swimming pool when I can soak myself in a bathtub of warm, chlorine-free water? Which was what I proceeded to do.
Well, I must say that really, this is an age of open-ness. Literally. Check out the bathroom man!
The bathroom can be seen through a glass window from the sleeping area in the hotel room. Wooo. Talk about transparency.And so, with some soaking in the tub, some gymming, some swimming and some lying on the bed, the alone-time was wonderful.
Not much of a view, but I liked the sunlight coming in through the windows and lighting the room naturally.The peace of silence and the suspension of judgment. There was a strange peace inside of me as I went about all this without need to utter a single word. Peace that came, somehow, because for once there was no need to speak of myself. No need to describe, define, explain, elaborate, rephrase anything. I was just, me. There was no need for me to think about what the other person was thinking about what I was presenting about myself. In that silence, the judgment of others on me, was for that few hours, suspended. And in the suspension of judgment I found rest.
It was almost time to meet Ed. I got showered, dressed and headed out. It felt very strange to have that just-showered feeling and when you step downstairs, it's actually City Hall. The point of reference for your life matters. Where you are coming from can totally alter the direction and feel of your life, whether it is a physical location or a mental one. Whereas in today's world, we are filled with people who tell us that the only thing that matters is where we are heading and whether we get there, I beg to differ. I believe where you head towards cannot be fully dichotomised from where you come from, because the very desire to head somewhere is shaped by where you are from. Just like how it feels refreshing to be freshly showered and sauntering around City Hall in my slippers n jeans. It felt.. like I was really a tourist.
Window-shopped around Orchard, met up with Ed for dinner at MOS Burger. Checked out some shirts at Springfield, and he eventually bought one. Should I get the one I tried on too? Why is there such a strong need for me to buy something only after a few times looking at it? Is it because I feel more secure making that decision?
The band at Indochine was great as usual. The insane guitar riffs, the echoes from the mic, the rhythmic bass-lines. No Kilkenny, but a mojito instead. Mini-adventures, remember? To try things from a different perspective. The good conversations. And chicken strips this time instead of the chicken wings I usually get.
New perspectives, purposefully. More to come later.
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