SUMMERITIS

We've come down with a case of 'summeritis' where all we want to do is stay in our hotel room, blast the AC, and watch American films on television. Our criteria when searching for accommodation more recently include cable access, an amenity we hadn't cared for much up until these last couple of days. Apparently, vegging out is necessary no matter where in the world. 

Somewhere between Philadelphia and Hollow Man, we managed to force ourselves outside for a few hours while the sun was still up over colonial Georgetown, our first stop in the melting pot of SE Asia where so many flavors converge, namely Indian, Chinese, and Malay. It was just enough time to check out the street food scene and the street art scene. Of the former, we couldn't decipher what the fuss is all about. There's so much amazing food throughout SE Asia, in my opinion, the flavors do not culminate on this island. On the other hand, despite our couch potato tendencies, we took the town by foot and found ourselves charmed by the patina of the shophouses and the paintings of children sprinkled throughout. We couldn't help but engage ourselves in the 3D aspect of the art before returning to our temporary abode to catch the end of Rain Man.

Side note: We tasted a nice variety of dishes - hainan chicken with different staples (steamed rice, dry noodle, szechuan spice ramen noodle soup), spicy prawn mee, asam laksa, dim sum (har gao, siew mai, char siu bao, jian diu, har cheong fun), BBQ pork and wonton egg noodle soup, cendol & red bean and grass jelly with soy milk, 3-layer milk tea. All good, but not best.   

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AN OCEAN OF VIOLETS IN BLOOM

My first open water diving experience was tainted by cold weather, choppy water, and poor visibility. The only thing violet about that ocean was my lips. Suffice it to say, my mermaid days were cut short after that. I retired the fins, booties, mask, and snorkel I'd invested a small fortune into just for the training, occasionally taking them out for some silly swimming sessions in the pool. 

Fast forward 11 years and I'm in Koh Tao, the diving center of the world. The ocean is clear and warm, the vibe is super chill and relaxed, everybody is there to get a taste of life underwater and at an affordable rate, no less. I decide it's time to dust off my scuba skills and get back in, BCD, cylinder, and all. Quickly, I realize what I hadn't missed about it - the weight of all the equipment, the vulnerability of having to rely on an apparatus to breathe, and let's not forget the sea sickness. It's quite miserable reviewing all the steps required just to get in the water and then all the steps to safely stay in and get out as well. Inflate, deflate. SPG, BCD. Nitrogen narcosis. Over-expanded lungs.  

Not an ocean person by nature, it took a lot of self-convincing and determination to pursue the advanced certification course. Through it, I found that it is actually quite enjoyable if I remember to stop and view the aquatic life and how amazing it really is to be able to breathe underwater. Dare I envision a diving holiday in Borneo or Bali next?

Outside of doing un-humanly activities, I did a lot of lazing around, developing a deeper appreciation for island life - waking up late, walking aimlessly around town, catching iridescent sunsets, and, of course, crushing on fire ravers.

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TEMPLE TEMPEST

We did a quick visit through Cambodia, stopping only in Siem Reap to see the formidable ancient temples of Angkor. Some prefer to take their time and visit over the course of a few days, but we decided to hustle in and out. Like many ruins, the sheer size of these complexes alone is enough to overwhelm, but consider the details and the history behind them and it becomes quite a humbling experience. 

We made the effort to wake up before dawn to catch the sun awakening over the majestic sites, but, alas, the clouds cast a thick shroud of gloom over the skies and thwarted our endeavors. Exploring the grounds was like losing oneself in a labyrinth of deities and mythological beings congregated for the spiritual festival of the century. At Angkor Thom, the only thing breaking them up was overgrown trees whose exposed roots encrusted themselves over, under, and around the intricately carved, laid, and aged sandstone, nature's clever way of erasing history. 

The day before, we made our way to Kulen Mountain. I had had this vision of motorbiking through villages across colorful dirt paths, leaving dust in our wake, a throwback to an afternoon shared with dad several years ago. Instead, we were whisked away by a van running at breakneck speed on long stretches of bumpy, muddy, winding roads - something about having to make it past a section that would be closed for oncoming traffic. Once there, a familiar sight was unveiled: a massive, gilded reclining Buddha, fresh lotus flowers accompanied by the unmistakable scent of burning incense, monks clad in bright orange robes, and a grand waterfall, much grander than I remembered.

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