There are some things that I’d never do in life, and probably never will if I didn’t travel.

Here are a list of things that I picked up while travelling. Most of these experiences are pretty harmless; some are things that I’ll never do again, while some are things that I’d do occasionally, when necessity requires:

1) Drinking
Never drank a single drop of alcohol till I travelled and volunteered in Myanmar last year. Not even those 4 years of my life, spent in Australia. I still don’t make it a habit to drink whenever I’m home however, can’t say the same while being on the road. It’s easier to bond with travellers over a beer or two. However, I’ve never drank past my limit and never went beyond tipsy. I’m the best person to take out to parties because I’d probably remain sober the entire time. Shame I don’t drive though.

2) Happy herb
I had my first taste of marijuana when I was in Sihanoukville. Since I don’t smoke, I usually decline the joints that were passed around. However, at one time, Mr. Faccenda made a pizza stuffed with pot and I thought why not give it a try. Besides, I’d only be eating it, not smoking it. Mr. Faccenda and Mr. Stienstra sat me down to tell me the effects of joint and how it’d effect a first timer, and then extended the plate of pizza to me. I took a piece and tasted the pizza as indulgently as possible. However, they both forgot that I should have a smaller piece as I’m barely 5ft tall. Needless to say, the experience hit me hard in the stomach. I spaced out, I cried and I slept. It was so awful (even though I knew what to expect) that I’d never try it again-whether eating it or smoking it.

3) Cursing
I’m a little foul mouthed lately. I don’t swear like a sailor but occasionally you’d hear me using the word ‘fuck’ to punctuate some sentences for emphasis. It’s good for story-telling, I reckon. Also, it’s especially not difficult to swear when you get rejected at the airport by some stupid authorities or thought your laptop broke. Sometimes, travelling puts you in situations where no amount of crying, pleading and fighting against authorities or circumstances will help; all there’s to do is to swear and sometimes, surprisingly, it does make you feel a little better.

4) Talking to strangers
Ah, most of my friends don’t agree with me at this point because back home, I do speak to strangers as well, but not as frequent. While travelling, it’s easy to talk to strangers; to go out for coffee and perhaps never see them again. However, having said that, I’ve met several like-minded souls that, what was initially a chat over coffee stretched into either a bowling session, breakfast-lunch-dinner, or long periods of travelling together. So essentially, the stranger turns into a friend after that. Do note that if you intend to employ this habit or hobby while travelling, you have to have certain instincts. You have to be able to sense the vibes the person exude ; you have to be a good judge of character. Try to avoid chatting up with paedophiles, serial killers or junkies.

5) Wearing a piece of clothing for at least 2-3 days.

When you’re on the road, you can’t expect every place that you’re at to be like Khao San Rd, where laundromats are aplenty. So when you get to a place the next laundromat is at least 3 km away, and it costs at least 2-3 USD for a kilogram of dirty underwear, shorts and shirts, I’d usually wear the same shirt and shorts for the next few days. When I get desperate, sometimes even my underwear for a few days. However, when some parts of the body start to itch, I’d know that it’s time to do that long walk or buy some washing detergent and use the Oral B floss as clothes line.

Current thoughts: Random strangers from all around the world, random good times, random names, random places, random connections; they all make up the intricate web of life.

After a number of pending applications and lack of follow up, what was before a good total of potential TESL (Teaching English as a Second Language) jobs dwindled into almost nothing. I’m still not very sure whether I’m as focussed as getting into China as before, because Ed just found a job in Hanoi, Vietnam. He told me that it’s not very difficult to do so if I put my heart into finding it. Using Squidman’s contacts and the adverts posted on The New Hanoian, I sent my resumes to each and every school, tenaciously. Each time I do that, I’d cross my fingers and pray for the best. If there are some schools in China and Japan (no follow ups after that though…:( ) who are willing to consider me as an ESL teacher, despite having no TEFL qualifications, then maybe it’d be the same in Hanoi too.

However today, I received a response from Equest, Hanoi, stating that they’d be more than happy to consider my application but only I speak American. Furthermore, the email instructed me to record my voice in an audio file so that they could process the application. I laughed and laughed at that. I’ve never came across such weird requests before. Some has asked me for a scanned copy of my degree, my passport, my awards, my picture, but never an audio file.

Oh well, I don’t think I’d make a very good impression through the mic. I reckon I should just knock on their door next week, when I arrive in Hanoi.

Do wish me luck about the job. My bank account really needs padding now.

Current plans:

Very soon I’ll be on a second-class train to Nong Khai. I’d be staying with a couchsurfer in Bueng Kan, a remote village 3 hours away from the sleepy and dusty town of Nong Khai. On Saturday, I’d cross in Vientianne, Laos. There, I’ll be reunited with Vilayvanh (more affectionately known as Micky), an ex-university mate in Australia. Curtin has been good to us; I can’t wait to see her again!

The stop at Perhentian Islands was an interesting one. Mr.Coca, a couchsurfer from Kansas, who was travelling around the world then, agreed to be my partner-in-crime. While I may be known to travel with random strangers; no, Mr. Coca, at that time was no longer a stranger. I’ve known him for a while; Ed hosted both Mr.Stienstra (from Holland) and Mr.Coca at the same time. Before that, our first travelling stint was in Pangkor Islands with Stienstra, and it was great fun!

Another couchsurfer from San Diego but who’s currently a student exchange in Japan, emailed me that he’ll be arriving on the day we depart. Prior to that, we had exchanged friendly emails and msn chats. Mr. Perez requested whether he could be part of the backpacking crew and it took me a quite a while before I finally agreed. Coca said yes as well. I have always been wary of travelling with people. As elaborated in the other entries, I take great care in choosing my travel partners because it can be quite a pain in the ass when you’re with someone who’s not quite right. Sometimes, even best friends and couples fall out simply because they cannot travel together. Anyway, I thought I’d meet Mr. Perez up for a cuppa before agreeing to anything.

When I picked him up from Central Market, he turned out to be a really nice, young guy. Very intuitive, intelligent, sensitive and fun-loving. He got along well with Coca as well. Having bonded over a few glasses of teh ais, we took him in and made him partner-in-crime #3.

Below is something brief about the trip.

Highlights for Long Beach, Perhentian Kecil:

1) Dancing on the jagged edge of the rocks while listening to Perez’s ipod. It was amazing how two people who just met can connect that instantly! We shared so much that, we still keep in touch till today! I’d really love to see that guy again, somewhere, someday!
2) Meeting Mr.Bristow, a hard-to-please Englishman, who’s an incredible ESL teacher who has taught around the globe. He provided me with a wealth of insights about teaching ESL in Italy, Crotia, Lithuania, China and Thailand. Squidman introduced us virtually and Bristow agreed to meet me in Perhentians as he was already in Thailand when that introduction took place. He emailed in reply, saying that any friend of Squidman’s a friend of his. I guess I owe that to Squidman. Bristow has high standards about everything in life and while he can be pretty harsh on certain things, I’m surprised he warmed up to my company. I didn’t think that a naive 24 year old could contribute anything intelligent , especially when the 37 year old is a widely-travelled and intelligent man.
3)Meeting Mr.Stienstra and Ms. Vanduffel(from Belgium) again. Stienstra gave me a very warm welcome when he saw me on the beach.
4)Philosophical discussions on the balcony of our little hut. I share that hut with Coca and Perez.
5) Brushing my teeth under the stars.
6) Exploring Perhentian Kecil with Stienstra and Bristow. With only flip flops, we trekked along the shoreline, from the forest into the rocks and then on the sand, and back to the forest. We covered at least 30 km or more, and that took us half a day. We found abandoned guesthouses, gigantic spiders, a naked Frenchman, some secluded beachspots and interesting flora and fauna. I felt like I was a character out of Famous Five, sniffing out mysteries and trying to solve them. The only problem is, the mysteries were only imaginary, but the picturesque backdrop was very, very real.
7) Over-the-top Snicker shakes that were enjoyed during our card-playing sessions.
8)A day snorkelling with Bristow. It cost us RM50 but it was worth every cent. Being a relatively amateur snorkeller, I was dazzled by the treasures hidden in the azure depths. Also, we saw sharks, turtles, a dizzying variety of fish and coral beds-as promised.
9)The friendship formed amongst: Bristow, Stienstra,Vanduffel, Perez, Coca and myself. First it was 2, and then it was 6. In this case, the more the merrier!

Thoughts:
1) The backpackers on Perhentian Kecil was a little more aloof than those on Pangkor Islands. It was so much easier to meet people and make friends in the guesthouse in Pangkor, compared to Perhentian Kecil. Everyone seem to be have a default scowl on their face, and even when you greet them, they’d reluctantly push some face muscles up to alleviate their lips, in to what they’d resemble a smile.

2) Why were there so many abandoned guesthouses They all looked hauntingly eerie; silent and steady, looking out into the sea. We found books, clothes, keys and broken furniture all over. Why did the owners leave the guesthouses in such a way? Were they in a hurry and why? We talked to some locals about the Mira and Dilangsir cliff huts and they said they were haunted. Oh well.

Perez and myself at a travel agency in Kuala Besut, at 5.30am

Perez and me, indulging in our Snicker Shakes

Perez, Coca and myself, posing at the balcony, the one where we’d hold discussions at

Stienstra explores the abadoned guesthouse while Bristow looks on

The mad trio explores the other side of Perhentian Kecil

Dusk settles gently at Coral Bay

Romantic Beach at Perhentian Besar

The gang

Music, a close friend and the sea-what more can you ask for?

Freedom dancing

One who wanders but does not write, or one that writes but does not wander is easy; but being an aspiring wander writer is not. Why a wander writer, you may ask. An unusual label for one to call oneself, you think. I don’t exactly travel, you see. I don’t have the quintessential gears of a traveller and most of my adventures consist of habitual wandering and an occasional stumbling.

Anyway, two months have flown by yet my pathetic blog bears no new entries that detail the itinerary of my travels. It stands as lonesome as before, without an author nurturing it after it’s birth ; not even a clever quote or an insightful anecdote. Many friends and random strangers have stumbled upon my website and then send me emails of complaint, lamenting my lack of presence in the blog sphere. In response, I’d usually remedy the situation with excuses like I don’t have a laptop; internet cafes are difficult to find; I don’t have 24 hr access to ADSL and the list stretches long and vast like a Christmas list. But who I am really kidding? Mr. Bonsey, a brilliant wordsmith, once told me that, a writer can only call themselves one when they have finished writing a book.

“A book ? ” I gulped.

* * *

My head usually hangs low in shame whenever someone asks me what I do for a living, and I reluctantly admit that I’m a writer. While my confession of my profession would usually evoke a response of awe and wonder from the person who asked, and I usually cringe in response, embarrassed, thinking silently how I’d call myself a writer when I could hardly update something as simple as my personal blog. If my personal blog is in a perpetual hiatus, what does it say about me as a writer? If I can’t even compose a weekly or a fortnightly entry, what makes me think that I eventually write for Conde Nest Traveler, Travel + Leisure or even the local travel periodicals? What gives me the right to give myself the title of a writer when I don’t even write? Every night, I’d dream of Pico Iyer, Rolf Potts, Tony & Maureen Wheeler, Gregory Robert Jones, Paul Theroux and Tim Cahill marching me to the lightless dungeons after finding out that I’m a fraud. However, it isn’t just the nightmares. A friend of mine, a professional photojournalist whose articles have been published in one or two local lifestyle magazines, once reprimanded me for being lazy, inconsistent and lack of focus. Mr. J scolded me that I should discipline myself and put myself in the habit of writing. Find a story that I’m passionate about and write about it. I can’t just sit on my big fat ass and use the word ‘writer’ as a noun when I don’t even use it as a verb. I have to actively find story angles and communicate it to the world. It’s not enough, just getting writing assignments from my editor and then going out to do it. Depending on the credibility and the creativity of the publication staff, if I don’t work an extra mile and add a dash of initiative in writing my own stories, I’d never be able to make a breakthrough in my writing career. A spot in Time, National Geographic or a book that I author will not automatically land on my lap if I don’t sweat blood and tears for it. Mr. J further added that if I ever list him as one of my referees in my CV, what exactly can he tell my potential employers? Yes, I can say that you have the talent, the creativity and the wit that you can put to good use in your writing career, but have you got the passion, the vision and a responsible character to match? Can I say that you have the initiative and the focus if you’re so easily distracted? It was one of the harshest advice that I’ve ever received over the MSN, but it was not said without concern. The very first time I saw you write, I could tell that you have the stuff to go far, but what’s the point if you don’t use it? Write with passion and focus, Ying…just like the first few letters you wrote to me.

* * *

My acquaintance with Mr. Bonsey then proved to not only to be pleasurable but also inspiring. He was only 30 years old when I met him, and already, he can speak 4 languages fluently: English, Spanish, Japanese, Thai and has a number of professional experiences tucked under his belt. He was a broadcast sports journalist, a professional Jap/Eng translator and an avant-garde writer. I also suspect that he modelled on casual basis because he bears an uncanny resemblance to Justin Timberlake. He modestly described himself as an aspiring artist even though he had several short stories published in some online journals that only those in the exclusive American literary circles would know. At that time of our acquaintance, he was also in the midst of writing a descriptive novel, based on Thailand. I met Mr. Bonsey in Chiang Mai, where he offered me his small, black leather couch to be my temporary home for a couple of days. We also rented a car together for a road trip Mae Sot and Mae Sariang. Thailand. Together, we explored the cultural and political dichotomy in Mae Sot. Anyway, when I was around, Mr. Bonsey was at his busiest. Nonetheless, he would wake up early every morning to add at least 1000 words to the story that he’s working on. Everywhere we go, he’d constantly take down notes of the scene around him. Those random descriptions will eventually land on the pages of his book. Inspired, I thought I’d try. In the beginning of my journey, I’ve purchased a green leather-bound journal. Every page is crisp and fresh, inviting the ink of my pen to dance on it. However, not being used to pen and paper after long periods of using the keyboard, I gave up after a while. Every time when I find myself writing awkwardly, with dangling modifiers and grammatical no-no’s, I’d put stash away my journal and hope that I could find a computer where I can upload my thoughts. However, by the time I could find one, my ideas will evaporate. Nothing could bring them back again and I’d hit a wall, again.

My host Justin-we were on our way to Mae Sot (border between Thailand and Myanmar)

Justin’s pad and couch

However, not too long after that, I also purchased Shantaram- a novel based on true experiences of an Australian ex-convict who escaped the torture of prisons and ended up in Bombay while on his way to Germany. It’s a 900 pages worth of Bollywood drama, written by Gregory James Roberts, who was a writer before he became one of Australia’s most wanted man. The book made me yearn to immortalise my travel adventures into words. His poetic capability to put words into a rhythmic prose invoked a flood of admiration in me. Also, I found I could relate to the experiences that he’d write about.

“Every day, when you’re on the run, is the whole of your lie. Every free minute is a short story with a happy ending.”

The prose left a huge impact on me. Even though I’m not on the run, I feel like I’m living on borrowed cash. I don’t have a job hence no secure income, I wander from destination to destination hence without a home and if I don’t find something to sustain my travels soon, I’d be forced to turn back and return to square one.

And then it struck me that, if Mr. Jones could write about his larger than life adventures, perhaps I should attempt one as well. I realised that I do have the juice and gossip for a book’s content, if only I’d take some time to write.

However, Mr. Wang, one of the more interesting colleagues that I had, told me that instead of taking that big leap, why not keep a blog? “Ying, you’re the only one who’s on constant motion. I bet you have tonnes of gossip to share! A book? That’s ancient methodology, girl. If you want to be heard, get it out online. I’m surprised you’ve yet to take advantage of the wonders of technology. And these days, people make money from it. Come on, heave your ass and work on it!”

After much rumination, I decided to go back to Kuala Lumpur for a while so that I could get my brother’s old laptop. It’s a chunky machine that runs on a Pentium 3 and has less than 20G of hard disk space but nonetheless functions as it should. I wrap the laptop with my multipurpose sarong, and put a soft case over it before packing it into my daypack. Surprisingly, it doesn’t weigh as heavy as I’d imagine.

Thus with the aid of a laptop, my blog is reborn again.

* * *

Much has happened over the past few months. Last November, I was officially off my company’s payroll. With a light heart, I declared myself a free person. Squidman called me The Departed. Very apt, I suppose.

From Nov to Feb, I was backpacking around Malaysia, sometimes with friends who I met over www.couchsurfing.com and sometimes without. My travels took me to various places including Pangkor Islands, Malacca, Kota Bahru, Penang, Cameron Highlands, Taiping, Ipoh, Segamat, Cherating, Benta, Fraser’s Hill, Perhentian Islands and some other obscure Southern towns with names that I fail to recall. There was even a time where I did a two-day stint to Ranong, a small NorthWest town of Thailand to see a friend. That didn’t turn out too well though. Thankfully, Squidman was there as my partner-in-crime and together, we survived the piss-drunk-driver-and-stranded-in-the-middle-of-nowhere ordeal.

Songkran in Bangkok

The worst 24-hr train ride from Butterworth to Bangkok

Ko Chang bungalows

Train ride from Bangkok to Aranyapathet (Thailand/Cambodia border)

Into the Wild (Mafia’s den in Poipet)

I didn’t have a lot of money, only a mere RM2000++. Occasionally, an article or two, or a freelance copywriting assignment will rein in some cash but my account doesn’t go more than RM3500. Before my journey I also invested in a:

1) 45 + 10 litre Venture Deuter Backpack

2) Flights into the foreign by Pico Iyer, AA Gill is Away by AA Gill and Woe is I English Grammar (Along the way, I also accumulated more books and sold some)

3) Full toiletry set, floss, tiger balm and insect repellent

4) Cheap flip flops (the second time when I returned home, I took along my Nike trainers and a simple pair of heels)

5) A nifty black daypack with tonnes of pockets

6) A new passport

7) More undergarments

After the short stint around Malaysia, I travelled into Thailand (for numerous times) and then Cambodia and then back to Thailand. I’ll eventually head to Laos and Vietnam and probably China. However, I may still consider going into Europe. I’ve still got a one-way ticket to Amsterdam that I cannot use, unless I purchase the return as well.

The trip so far:

THAILAND: Mae Sot, Mae Sariang, Chiang Mai, Bangkok, Kanchanaburi, Ko Pha Ngan, Ranong, Ko Chang, Had Yai, Songkhla, Surat thani

CAMBODIA: Poipet, Siam Reap, Phnom Penh, Sihanoukville

In my next few posts, I’d provide highlights of some of the places that I’ve visited. There’s much to update but I’ll try my best to pick the juiciest tales and write about them while I’d let the rest lie.