The Diamond-Drops Mansion

Mansion to Rise from Ashes?

noreply@blogger.com (Elween Locke) — Thu, 17 Nov 2011 16:06:00 +0000

It has been a long adieu since I last blog.

Blogging is no longer a personal matter. In the past, the subjects I blogged about revolved around family and despicable neighbours.

Now a working adult (ehem…*clearing throat*) and living away from Kluang, I am aware of the responsibility to protect privacy of the new subjects who are inseparable from my personal life – politicians, governmental and non-governmental agencies, and Kampar folks.

As a rookie journalist, I tried to be professional. As much as I want to gossip about certain people, I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to bitch around in my blog.

You might be wondering: Then why can’t you blog something that is more meaningful? Like life as a journalist living in Kampar, etc?

Please, I ain't talk no rainbows and sunshine. I don't talk about me swirling under the rain with an umbrella. If I am to update The Diamond-drops Mansion, I will be brutally honest with who I am. When I die, I don’t want you to remember me as a kind-hearted angel. I want you all to remember what a junk I was, because that is, well, at least 70% who I am.

And this blog is mainly bullshit, just a sweet reminder to new visitors, who might not know how internationally celebrated this aged-old blog was.

I think I should create some special identities to people I want to talk bad about. That should be interesting. Gossip slayers, stay away from this haunted Mansion, will you.

noreply@blogger.com (Elween Locke) — Wed, 07 Sep 2011 08:54:00 +0000

Extensive reporting?

Or just fear of losing out to competitor?

I am reminded once again that the media should practice social responsibility.

Shame on some print media.

The Elweenist Slavery Principles

noreply@blogger.com (Elween Locke) — Tue, 30 Aug 2011 07:27:00 +0000

The emergence Middle class comprising ordinary laymen has overtaken the lower class whereas the criteria to achieve a prestigious upper class elite status could be easily measured through any financial benchmark.

Education opportunity, rising of capitalism and the progress in Science and technologies are breaking down the barrier of the social hierarchy. In a egalitarian system, slavery would not be tolerated.

Knowledge of human rights, fair trials and justice has driven global citizens in pursuing equal treatments. Consequently, such rationality would further encourage them to fight for more to achieve a better living through the three factors above nonetheless creating an imbalance in the social structure.

The pyramid would be unstable without the existence of the lower class. A reduction in blue collar workers would result in a collapse of social and economy systems, especially when every nation strive towards the title of the developed country.

Competition of professional occupations would intensify but manual labour would not be favoured by those that are equipped with education in their respective fields unless a salary reform takes place in any time of this century. But this is unlikely to occur seeing an uneven global development the world is experiencing today.

A redefined slavery system must be adopted to address such imbalance. The Elweenist Slavery Principles in a functional framework in an egalitarian context of the century, where slaves are identified a one-shot purchase commodity by only one owner and must be protected against discrimination and ill-treatments under the human rights constitution.

Slaves are expected to enjoy welfare privileges, particularly health care and education, as any ordinary citizens of a country.

Job specification of different categories of slaves must be assigned with certificate during the purchase.

The agent and the purchaser must go through a series of legal procedure before procurement takes place.

Prices varied according to the physical and mental wellness of the slave but subjected to the fluctuating domestic market.

Note that the Elweenist Slavery Principles tolerates not hereditary slavery. Slaves are given the freedom giving childbirth and need not subjected to proper marriage as long as both parties willing engage in sexual activities.

Slaves are allowed to keep their surnames but the surname of the owner must be added onto their national identity cards. Children of slaves are allowed to keep their surnames. Surname determining is based on consensus of the parents involved.

Owner of the properties must ensure grooming of the slaves children and must release them once they reach the age of 18. The children could choose to stay with the family or to be sold to the family as slave on his or her own will.

The system begins with anyone fall into the categories of: -

(1) Fall into financial bankruptcy or fail in clearing his or debt within a 3-year time frame

(2) Civil servants or politicians found guilty in taking bribes or engaging in corruption more than twice.

(3) Those intended to commit suicide but failed must be sentenced to immediate lifetime slavery with no appeal allowed.

(4) Voluntary, to all who failed to seek basic requirements of survival.

A slave is subjected to the law and order of the country he or she is in but punishment sentenced onto a crime actor should be doubled than that of a free man.

Runaway slaves would be sentenced to death otherwise a report of solid reasons prepared by the agent after his or her capture must be reviewed by the judiciary council of the court of human rights based on the United Nation Declaration of Human Rights.

On the other hand, if the property owners are found guilty of engaging any form of slavery discrimination, be it physical, mental or sexual, they would be sentenced to punishment which its severity is three times higher than that of a free man in addition to freeing the victimised slave with no negotiation attached.

Elweenist Slavery Principles emphasises on the establishment of a class of slaves on par with the middle class in the system social hierarchy.

Applying to today's context, the slavery system is not different from that of construction workers and helpers with the household except the system is not on contract-based but lifetime, unless and until the slave is able to redeem himself according to the price set during the purchase.

The price of self redemption is based on the physical and mental well being of the slave. A slave with a good health proven by an annual health report would need to pay a higher price to redeem himself since he or she is treated with proper meals by the owner whereas weak and sick slave can redeem him or herself with a lower price.

In the pursuit of a capitalised economy in the long run, "corporate slaves" must exist. Corporate slaves, under the ownership of either public or private companies, must at least be given health care benefit as enjoyed by its employees and taken care of. These corporate properties would not be entitled to any form of salary or bonus but compensation are allowed.

This, is a basic draft of the Elweenist Slavery Principles proposed by Elween Loke.

P/S: The Elweenist Slavery Principle is decidedly the best human resources for states pursuing a high-income economy status.

R.I.P. Keda (1988 - 2011)

noreply@blogger.com (Elween Locke) — Tue, 23 Aug 2011 06:45:00 +0000

Dumbstruck by his death.

Just before I receive a message from Kai Xian, I had a look at the Facebook chat. My eyes were immediately drawn to him, I don't know why. I just knew it has been quite sometime I haven't talk to him.

The last chat we had was probably about a month ago. The joy of finding an old friend in facebook is just so amazing and I was thrilled at that time.

He was a childhood friend of mine. We were neighbours, we attended the same kindergarten and took the same bus. I really don't recall our childhood except the picture I took with him during our kindergarten graduation. He was cutely and smartly dressed in a yellow wushu suit while I was dressed in the stupid dark green uniform because I have to represent all the kids to give a speech.

Keda and I even studied in the same primary school. Unfortunately, childhood ego and stupidity separated us from our friendship. First class kids and second class kids in my school were like arch enemies. It was like...a tradition of the school. Not looking down on the second class kids but was more like a intergroup cohesion we have among classmates we hate it when other people trying to intrude us.

So somehow we drifted apart until recently I reconnected with him through Facebook. He was studying in Taiwan. On and off we chat online but it was more like a 'Hi, how have you been' kind of cliche conversation. Well, after being separated for so many years, there must be a gap between the two of us, so I was very careful not crossing the line.

Kai Xian sent me a message telling me he passed away in a car accident. I did not believe because I just him online. The chat button lighted green. It was until I browsed into his profile, I saw many R.I.P messages. I knocked at the chatbox.

It was her mother using his Facebook account to reply friends.

I could feel that she was calm. I know it must be hard and I did not ask for more except offering my condolences to her and her husband, though my fingers were trembling for no reason.

I read about the tragedy news and looking at the picture, I can't help imagine picturing him lying under the white sheet. Gone, was this fine young man who supposedly graduate next year.

Reading messages his friends left for him, I realised he was a beloved friends to so many people. He even made cocktail drinks for his friends.

Wonder if one day I die, what will happen to me, since I am a stone cold monster who could careless about living beings needless say the dead. I do not want my funeral to be packed with double-faced people and telling others how much they loved and missed me when in fact I hardly know them.

But for Keda, I know his death will be celebrated, for what an amazing person he was while he was alive. People praised him from the bottom from their hearts. He shall be remembered. He will be.

Going Home?

noreply@blogger.com (Elween Locke) — Fri, 29 Jul 2011 05:37:00 +0000

I have not been home for two months.

I remember the last time I lied down on my bed in Kluang was in mid-May. Then I flew off to Laos, came back and spent a month to catch up with work. Out of a sudden one month passed by.

One month ago, I struggled to adjust physically and mentally to the new environment, lifestyle and people. I felt as if it happened just yesterday though, how weird.

Jun Ru came back from Bath, England in July. I planned to go back early July but something cropped up, I missed the date.

Then we have Siok Sian coming back from Russia just last week. And Ramadhan is right around the corner.

I kept postponing my plan to go back to Kluang. Again and again. But I am reminded that time and tide wait for no men.

One part of it is I have many things in my head waiting for me to do (convenient excuse, I know). But the bigger part is, I don't want to go back empty-handedly.

I have a bill waiting to be cleared because of the penalty charge for terminating the contract of switching modem to wireless in less than year, which we (ex-housemates) weren't informed of!

For my convocation, my gosh, I have fork out another RM500 to pay for few pieces of paper and one piece of cloth!

I know I have been working in the last two months but with the amount of money I make, I could even hardly pay for this year's insurance. I don't want to return but bringing nothing home for the family.

You know, there's always a scene in those ancient dramas, of which a countryside young man, who decided to try his luck in the city, swear to only return when he becomes successful. I feel I could relate to that.

Before giving me a hug and called me filial son, I am going to stop you right there with my index finger poking at your forehead. Yes, I do want to bring money home for my folks, that's true, but the bigger part of it was actually doing for myself.

I know Aunty Lucy and Uncle Hong wouldn't care so much as long as I go back in one piece (bigger in size now). But I am burdened with the responsibility I took upon my shoulders. Not that I want but because I have to, like a superhero gifted with a special power to save the world though he might not intend to.

Ok maybe I may have exaggerated a little. Whatever. nyeh. ╮(╯_╰)╭

With prayerful heart, I logged into my ebanking account this morning. I was not in a good position to wish for a good number. I just hoped it wasn't another disappointing double-digit-only figure, again.

And there I was, looking at the screen and counting the digits on my fingers while staring blank at the ceiling. I did not remember how I felt the moment I saw them. Probably I was a little numb.

Now, I am here standing proud and tall (imagined elongation), saying this to you - I AM READY TO GO HOME.

I Yelled at a Girl Today

noreply@blogger.com (Elween Locke) — Sun, 24 Jul 2011 14:11:00 +0000

I yelled at a KFC girl today.

See, I was assigned to an event in Tapah, which is about 20km away from Kampar. The weather was so fine and I started my day off positively.

I arrived Tapah 1/2 hour later and went on finding a place called the "Padang Taman Tapah" (which did not exist in Google).

Tapah is a very small town and only has few fields. I spent ten minutes circling the town but did not see any event going on except a soccer match in the field somewhere middle of the town.

I stopped to ask a few locals about the mysterious field. Nobody knew about it. I drove to the other side of the town and called my senior to get the person-in-charge's cell phone number.

And that damn bastard (person-in-charge) did not pick up to phone or return my call (even until now)! I rang like more than 15 times, my ear was about to explode! I drove back to the other side of the town again and spotted a KFC girl cleaning window outside the shop.

I calmed myself down and winded down the window and called her: "Excuse me..."

She turned around, saw me, and turned back to do her business.

I called her again: "Hello, excuse me..."

She continued cleaning the window and pretended did not hear me.

With that kind of attitude, I could no longer hold my anger towards that girl: "Woooi! I am talking to you, You better turn around!"

Never thought I could be so masculine and alpha male.

Few passersby witnessed the commotion but walked passed quickly.

That KFC girl finally turned around, listened to my question and directed me back to the same damn field where the soccer game was on (it was kind for her not pointing to the road to Bidor. If she did I might kill her).

Before my encounter with her, I was only frustrated. I was frustrated with myself for unable to find the place in that small town, frustrated with the person-in-charge who did not bother to answer or reply my calls.

But that girl, seriously, really deserved my screaming. She thought I called her maybe because I was hitting on her? She's wearing a KFC uniform, for peace sake!

At the end, I couldn't find the location. Boss told me there was another event held at the "Padang Awam Tapah". I couldn't find it either.

Where are all these fields? Or is there another place also called Tapah other than the one I know?

The yelling lifted my disappointed spirit a little. I haven't have the chance to throw out whatever that was kept inside me for a long time at someone. You might sympathise with the girl but I say she deserved it.

It might be an unfruitful journey, but definitely not fruitless one.

I drove back to Tesco and bought myself an electric jug. And used up the RM10 coupon.

Dobby and Fast Food

noreply@blogger.com (Elween Locke) — Wed, 20 Jul 2011 09:01:00 +0000

I read back recent stuff I blogged about and I sensed negativity.

Thank goodness I did that otherwise I might have started this post with "I know this is not the finest moment of my life...".

Let us forget about some misunderstanding towards me that might have occurred unintentionally. But boy, that is something I will ever find it hard to get over with.

Anyway, I am so done with taking orders at a restaurant and waiting alone for God-knows torturing hours. So, I turned to fast food.

I am not a fan of burgers, French fries or toxin but the fast food culture is so tempting. It is simple as pointing my index finger to a set meal and said "take away, babey!". Then pay cash and get my ass out of the shop. Bam.

When I want to eat rice, I turned to KFC, while on normal days I take Spicy Chicken McDeluxe - the best remedy to spice up my boring (work-drama-work-work-drama-drama-sleep & 24 Facebook-ing) life.

And what's best is, there's drive-thru in the house of Mista Ronald McDonald (hotness). I don't even need to get my butts off the car and tahdah~ dinner served!

I have one whole stack of McD take-away paper bags in my room. I could actually use them to do groceries on the no-plastic-bag day in Tesco. ^^

On a separate matter, I tried out laundry service for the very first time. If I am not mistaken, I have not washed my bed sheet and pillow case in the three months (yea, save it. Fix your dropped jaw back, whatever). I sent them to the dobby in the morning and were ready to be collected by night.

I paid RM2 to get them cleaned. The smell was heaven. Every time I lie down on my bed, I feel like immersing in a sea of lavender - well, except the smell was a little artificial.

People always say, 'once you are comfortable doing something, you will never stop doing it.' Two days later I sent another bag of laundry to the dobby.

Some were not even THAT dirty. I just like to throw a bag of something on that weighing machine placed in front of the dobby.

Not that I have an interest on the dobby girl who asks me to 'write~ your~ name~' on the receipt with her foxy voice. Or the washing machine, gosh no way! - The vibration I felt from the washing machines does hit some 'high spots' though.

So, there you go. The new lifestyle I adopted - or should I refer them as, the unconventional hobbies~? *wink wink*

P/S: Haven't touch a tinge of alcohol in two months, but why do I always wake up to a feeling as if I had one shot on the day before! Gah!

Traveling Laos in a Sarong and a Checkered Bag - Day 7

noreply@blogger.com (Elween Locke) — Sun, 17 Jul 2011 06:19:00 +0000

(Oh! Let's continue with Day 7 of my travel journal after a long hiatus ^^)

That morning I bought myself a cheese baguette. It was plain and taste lousy.

We had a really nice chat with Sanders and Yvett from the Netherlands (the sweetest people we met in this trip mostly were from the Netherlands!). They just came back from an two-day trip of elephant ride in the jungle.

We were talking about dating culture in the Netherlands.

"We (the Netherlanders) go out for dinner but we split the bill," said Sanders.

What?!

This is like the most ideal country I would want to migrate to. It seems their society is very practical and real. I like that.

Then Yvett sighed: "Sometimes I wish guys in the Netherlands can be more generous," and she stared at Sanders. Sanders just shrugged his shoulders.

It was so hilarious.

Sanders was a master degree student in international relations. So that led us to the discussion on the happenings in European countries.

The girls lost interest. They went to the room to take a shower and pack bags before the check-out. I was so attached to the discussion till I did not watch the time.

The little girl made us checked out right at 12.00pm. I didn't have a chance to bathe!

We bade the couple goodbye and lingered around Luang Prabang. Before leaving the town, we decided to pamper ourselves with a good round of pizza. When we were about to leave for the bus station, we bumped into Jieun again. So that was the final farewell, and it was a sweet goodbye.

Since we reached the station early, we 'inevitably' scouted a handsome man sitting on us....I mean beside us. When this happened, we had to draw out cameras and ehm...shoot him.

The minute he lighted a cigarette and puffed on it, we gave out a high-pitch 'woo!' in our hearts.

Reenacting Amanda Sommers' "Ooo ~ when I die I want to be cremated and sprinkled all over his body (from Ugly Betty)."

But James Dean Junior already had a girlfriend. Asian I think.

The clock hit 6.00pm but we saw no double-decker with the 'Vientiane' signage. I went to the counter and was referred to a local bus.

The local bus was the so-called Bus of Vomit and All that Jazz (read from the Internet). It was crowded and humid -a little sexy though, because gorgeous man was in the bus.

Poor bus technicians did not have seats but only two stools placed on the walkway.

Carmen could not find her ticket but the conductor trusted her as her name was written on the passenger list.

It had been raining on and off the whole day. The countryside, where most of the rural poor live in, was half immersed under gushy and muddy water.

Our Lao friends were very spontaneous people. From far they saw vendors by roadside selling pineapple, they called the driver to stop, and an army of aunties marched down to pick the fruit.

Hooi Hoon and Carmen bought a baguette in Luang Prabang prior to boarding the bus. I was super hungry because I did not manage to buy any munchies. The bus driver did not show the slightest intention to take a break until midnight. He stopped at a restaurant housed in a bungalow in the middle of nowhere.

I ordered a 20, 000 kip fried rice because I needed rice to keep my stomach filled (noodles would not do the trick). But I saw many people ordered rice noodle and they got their food in just a blink of eyes.

I waited for more than five minutes, for goodness sake, just to wait for them to prepare my dinner! One by one got their food and left the restaurant while I was still waiting at the counter like an idiot.

They finally done cooking my fried rice. I quickly rushed to the table and gobbled everything down - but not the plate and utensils (just in case you guys do not understand my dining preference).

I saw worries in the eyes of the girl sitting at the opposite table. She had also just gotten her rice noodle few minutes before me.

"Game on, girl, game on," I challenged her with an eye contact. I guess she took up my challenge and threw me a merciless stare.

I don't have to tell you who was the winner, right.

Dah, of course it was me.

I can't help but walked closer to hear her slurp rice noodle like a defeated mother hen. I smiled (it was a friendly smirk) at her before heading to the bathroom.

Fuh, I was the best.

Political Awareness: Is that Enough?

noreply@blogger.com (Elween Locke) — Sun, 10 Jul 2011 08:57:00 +0000

With the expansive usage of social network, many people said Malaysians' political awareness has increased tremendously.

But is it enough?

Being aware of the political situation in the country is just like knowing your basic ABCs but do not know how to apply it.

Opinion leaders led the so-called followers to criticise the government and smear the image of the political leaders by opening hate pages or forums on website. Passive followers, join in the hoo-ha, for the sake of joining in.

The government of the day needs opposition to keep watch of their action, that's true. When opposition leaders attack the ruling party, you see they employ facts and figures, pointing out the unexplained details presented in the House of Representative.

If you want to anti-government, make sure you have your points, not just simply use remarks like 'it's bad' or 'he sucks'. It shouldn't be the 'oh, I hate him, he has to resign!' kind of mentality.

Do not misuse the denotation of democracy unless and until you know how to exercise your rights to establish an effective and efficient government to rule Malaysia.

What interest group have you joined? What statement have you made to voice up to the government? Or it's just 'to hell with it, they won't listen'?

Think about what you have done before you point fingers at others. You go on a protest, go on a demonstration, but do you know what is the ultimate purpose? Or it's merely join in the parade, the number the bigger the better?

Possessing political awareness is just not enough because these people do not channel what they really want to the government. While manipulators (both sides) are playing puppets to stage a perfect show for the global media, who benefits the most from the chaos?

I personally feel that the opposition is doing a good job in gathering people to demand the government to make changes in its administration. But have they done enough to explain to people why demand this way? I really think they could do better on this.

It's time for us to apply the awareness we have on the political scenario in Malaysia to generate objective analyses and help us see clearly what is wrong with the system without being involved for the time being. Otherwise your are just fighting for whatever-you-are-fighting-for, blindly.

What's with the 'Diva Attitude'!

noreply@blogger.com (Elween Locke) — Thu, 07 Jul 2011 15:06:00 +0000

Few days back I had a chance to return to the campus and had a nice long chat with people who inspired, and still inspire me.

Apart from the serious political issues and on the Bersih 2.0 Rally we discussed, which I will not discuss it here, it struck me when I was made realised that many people adopted the 'diva attitude'.

To be honest, I don't like arrogant people. And I don't think they like me either because I am good at producing an aura of arrogance when confronting these people.

The tendency for a professional in his or her field to act arrogant is high. It might be their ego, or their pride. They do not see things eye-to-eye like commoners do. Hence, they walk in stilts with eyes staring right into the stratosphere.

But they failed to appreciate the very essence of human communication. The simple eye contact with people and a decent smile, no, they do not have such facial muscles. Could save a lot on botox when they aged.

One thing about "diva attitude" is that, it should not be real. You see Beyonce a diva on stage, but once she leaves the stage, she's Beyonce Knowles again. Diva attitude is just a stage presence.

As journalists, it is important for us not to lose the human touch. You might be doing big shot news, you might have an voluminous vocabulary and creative writing skills, but one day, you will still need to realise that you are serving the public, to produce stories about the people and for the people.

I practise 'diva attitude' all the time. But if you know me well, you know it is just me putting up an Oscar-winning act (hey y'all, waiting for your nomination, y'all). Yet, there are people assimilating the act into their lives! This really frustrates me even if it is none of my business. I just wanna slap them in the face but mostly I want to shake'em like a vibrator!

I was advised to try to understand them. Me being able to understand them doesn't change the fact that they are still a bunch of egoistic monkeys happily grabbing one whole bunch of bananas and swinging from one tree to another. As high as a squirrel jumps, one day it will land on ground one day.

If you're confident, then act confident, not arrogant. The impact on people's perceptions on the two different attitudes can be antagonistic, and you know what impressions people would have on you.

Though I might not know these people personally, I have heard some not very nice comments about these people. I don't know how would I react if I were to confront them face to face. When two divas meet, the universe explodes, you see.

I really hope to stay away from these people. Yes, these people are very good at their thing, and one day, their ability might lead them higher in the hierarchy of the position. They might even become my boss one day and throw me sulky faces (that look more like faeces).

But I will never respect people like this. Never.

You are Alone

noreply@blogger.com (Elween Locke) — Tue, 05 Jul 2011 18:32:00 +0000

Hooi Hoon will be coming down to Kampar next month after one month training in Ipoh. Ooi Leng is also waiting for approval from the press to see if they want to hire her to work in Kampar.

Kampar is a small town, each newspaper only allocates one journalist in its office there. The journalist must be 24 hours on standby mode, and has to cover all sorts of news - from general to crime, from community to feature.

You might think that journalist like that will have more freedom because you don't need to face editor. Even if the editor yells at you, it will only be through phone. And you can spend your day drinking coffee and do nothing until something happens.

Life's not that easy to be a correspondent for a place or a region.

WE ARE ALONE.

We have to establish network on our own. Get cell phone numbers, build relationships with politicians, keep ourselves busy running district offices and police station, and travel around to spot interesting human interest or feature stories.

WE ARE BOTH THE WRITER AND THE PHOTOGRAPHER. WE ARE ALONE.

Confused, like a porn star, who does not know he or she is good with pole or on bed.

I have been a lone ranger so far. Well, at least I have a co-worker Adrian who is also working as a stringer for the newspaper. But he's still a student, after all. Studies should always come first.

Sometimes I wish someone is here to guide me (not like grabbing my hands tightly to teach me how to hammer the keyboard).

I know nothing about the industry, I don't know what kind of news they are looking for. Sometimes it is really frustrating because I don't know what they want. I have sent in so many stories but mostly are not used.

People might praise your articles for being comprehensive and elaborative. Yet you find yourself stuck in a situation where you never progress.

I come to realise that it is not because of the fact that you are not guided by a senior. It is because you, in your head, telling you that nobody is there to guide you, that's why you're hindered from moving forward.

Yes, it is THAT particular something that was registered in your head. You long for someone to depend on, to make you feel better and learn that you are not alone.

I have worked hard but not smart. I have to be more sensitive to the type of news the organisation wants instead of doing what I want, for I am not the boss to the newspaper I am working for.

Nobody is there to motivate me, I have to be my own motivator.

I want to read more of my stories in the newspaper. And that's gonna happen (head lifted up and chin held high - just being dramatic)!

Traveling Laos in a Sarong and a Checkered Bag - Day 6

noreply@blogger.com (Elween Locke) — Sun, 03 Jul 2011 02:44:00 +0000

On the next day too, we cycled to the bus station to purchase the bus tickets to Vientiane.

We reached the entrance of the bus station but a man in a booth pulled a string over to stop us from entering. He pointed at a shelter beside, signaling us to park our bikes there.

“It’s not free,” Hooi Hoon suspected, when she saw a signboard with Lao words hanging on the pillar.

So we parked our bike outside. The girls looked after the bike while I went in to buy tickets.

The Luang Prabang Southern Bus Station

The sun was scorching, much worse than yesterday’s weather. I noticed few stalls selling coconuts and suggested we take a break to have a sip of fresh coconut water for 6, 000 kip.

After drinking the water, I wanted to eat the flesh. So I requested the lady to break open the coconut fruit for me. I did not expect the flesh to be so tough so when I scooped the flesh, the metal spoon bent!

“Faster check your notebook, how do I say sorry in Lao?” I urgently asked the girls for help.

Apparently Carmen was just trying to show off her vocabulary in the Japanese and Korean language instead of looking for the proper Lao word.

At the end I just ended up with a simple ‘sorry’ in English. The kind lady dug the flesh for us. We sat there for another few minutes. She even offered iced water to drink.

Carmen was on cloud nine when the auntie selling coconut water thought she was a Japanese

The other day, the girls told me about a temple which has mural painting on its wall. Vat Pahouak (admission FREE) was a deserted temple that has paintings dated back to 1860 A.D. One small portion of the wall has a painting of Chinese influence while the rest were of Laos’ influence.

The girls decided to spend their last evening in Luang Prabang at the Phousi Mount again. They wanted to capture the beautiful sunset and spent time reading on top of the mountain, while I left for Vat Sibounheuang.

It was by mistake that I entered Vat Sibounheuang, as I was looking for an ancient temple named Vat Xieng Thong. I was greeted by a nineteen-year-old novice monk named Singxai who had been practicing Buddhism since he was seven.

“Lao girls married at a very young age,” he told me.

Well, since he initiated a topic like that, I somehow asked an offensive question but which I really want to know.

“So…have you thought of starting a family over the years here?” I was embarrassed, and I hoped that he would not take it into heart.

Singxai just smiled and replied that he liked what his life is now, added that it is alright for them to leave the monastery anytime they want to.

It was quite an expected generic answer but I believe he meant it.

Before leaving Vat Sibounheuang, I saw the China girl whom we met at Jieun’s guesthouse yesterday. I called her The Girl in Straw Hat because her unique style drew my attention when I saw her straw hat.

“Where did you park your bicycle?” I asked.

“I didn’t rent a bicycle,” she replied.

“Why?”

The Girl in Straw Hat sighed and shared with me her terrible experience with the traveling agency which she wanted to rent a bicycle from.

“I gave him a 50, 000 kip note but he did not give me back the changes. I was so pissed off and reasoned it out with him. I was so angry and I shouted at him. And then I left,” she said.

She left without getting her money back. I was like “what ~ (high-pitch)!”

“I think the Cambodians are so much better than people in Laos. I am leaving here tonight,” she said. She left Cambodia for Laos and arrived the day before. She also had problem with the accommodation on the night we met up Saki and Jieun.

I felt sorry for her unhappy experience in Laos. I didn’t think it was a good idea for me to comfort her by saying “I don’t think Laos is that bad, so far I had a wonderful time here!”

She seemed like a cheerful little plump girl so I was not worried about her.

Next, I cycled to the other part of the town to see the communist-era bridge in Luang Prabang. The two-way bridge, for two-wheelers only, connects the main town to some scattered villages across the Nam Khan River.

I braved the height and cycled slowly to feel the moment, imaging Laotian communist militants few decades back guarding at the entrance of both ends. Few seconds later, I heard noises of motorcycle engines from the back.

I had a shock of my life when I saw one whole row of motorcycles and bicycles queuing behind me because I was taking my own sweet time to enjoy the moment!

I was so embarrassed and shouted ‘sorry!’ and escaped to the other part of the town. They were very patient motorcyclists.

In the picture, you can see there are only a few motorbikes. What you didn't know is, there's whole row of motorbikes and bicycles waiting behind me!

Nobody honks or raises their middle finger at me. If I were to do this on the Penang Bridge, two seconds later I might be thrown into the sea by drivers whose car plates begin with P.

I thought it wasn’t a good idea for me to stay there any longer. I felt like the man in the barber shop located at the entrance of the bridge was going to throw a pair of scissors towards me. I escaped back to the town and went back to the Vat Pahouak (the Vat with ancient mural).

I went up the stairs and sat down on a bench beside the Vat. Watching hundreds of tents in the night market and the resplendent reflection of evening sun on a vat painted in gold gave me tint of excitement, I just don’t know why.

I took out my notebook and recorded down in journal about my trip for the day. A Lao man came up to me all of a sudden and stood beside where I was seated and looked at me writing in a book.

“You speak English?” I asked. He just smiled and shook her head. I replied him with a smile at the same time I was a little cautious about the man. He leaned his body so close I had to hug my bag and camera tighter just in case he does something unimaginable (that’s not what I mean).

It was not a very nice of me to move away to another place, but at that time that man really creep me out. I shifted to a new place, took out my sandals. I crossed my hands on my chest and rest my chin on it.

I was feeling a little romantic moment that rarely comes by. No, the universe just didn’t want me to enjoy the moment. An army of red ants (RED ANTS!) crawled up my feet and started biting the hell out of me.

I jumped from the grass and brushed off ants on the walkway. People walking in the night market lifted their heads to see what this crazy fellow was doing (trust me, I had already kept my mouth shut and was being very low profile on that).

CSI Crime scene: An international superstar was attacked by an army of ants at this place in Luang Prabang. P/S: He was barefooted and had jumped around at the foothill of the Phousi Mount

At night, we had dinner with an Indian man living and studying in the USA. He is doing some engineering work while furthering his studies in that field. The interaction during dinner was awkward because we were all too well-mannered (I didn’t get my hands on him).

Along the hawker street, I spotted the Girl in a Straw Hat. I didn’t know her name but I saw four Chinese words printed on her hat.

I shouted: “Yi-Lu-Shun-Feng (which means bon vayage)!”

She didn’t hear me.

Traveling Laos in a Sarong and a Checkered Bag - Day 5

noreply@blogger.com (Elween Locke) — Thu, 30 Jun 2011 05:47:00 +0000

I sent Wang Wei off 6.00am next morning. It was not really a send-off but I just woke up to say goodbye and walked him to the gate of our guesthouse. A bus trip from Luang Prabang to Kunming would take about 24 hours, he said. I would want to try that some day.

The girls and I rented three bicycles altogether for 40, 000 kip from a traveling agency on Sisavangvong Rd. We've decided to cycle to the southern bus station.

It was a mistake we didn’t buy the tickets to Vientiane. We had to come back on the next day.

At noon, we traveled on our own. Finally, the moment to be alone had arrived. It was the time for me to spend with myself.

The girls planned out some places they wanted to visit – the vats, National Museum, Phousi hill and other places in the town. I also planned to visit vats but for the rest, I've decided to stop at whatever place that caught my attention.

I cycled along the Sisavangvong Rd and entered Sakkaline Rd. I stopped by Vat Khili when I saw a signboard written “The Buddhist Archive of Photography” (well, it wasn’t the name that drew my attention but the word FREE). A western couple stopped by the vat as well.

I brought my bicycle into the vat compound, and, like what Carmen said, I ‘forced’ the couple to bring in their bicycles too.

“I think it is fine to bring your bicycles in,” I told them. But they were definitely not intimidated by my force. I think they ignored me straight away.

“Manwhore and bitch,” sorry, it just popped out from my head.

I walked around the small white-washed vat. I saw a stairs and asked a novice monk’s permission to go down and have a look. The stairs apparently led to other guesthouses towards its end, but on its way down, I walked past places where the monks live in.

Then I returned to the mini exhibition hall. I was welcomed by the very adorable and young man called Yaeng. He was in charge of the double-storey exhibition. He said the exhibition, which documented a series of ancient photographs of monastery lifestyle, was sponsored by some international organisations since 2006.

The 23-year-old young man was not a local. When I asked him where he lives now, he said he rented an apartment in town with rental of 300, 000 kip a month. That’s only about RM120 but to him that was already a heavy sum.

The couple (manwhore and bitch) who was also in the exhibition hall overheard our conversation. They learned that I was from Malaysia and immediately came up to me.

“We heard that you are from Malaysia? Do you know where Pulau Perhentian is?” the lady asked.

Seriously, not that I don’t want to help them, I really don’t know about beaches (yea, I think that’s the correct spelling, instead of ‘itc’).

Anyway the conversation started, their attitude changed totally. They were not that bitchy anymore. In fact they were more than friendly. (Maybe they were being cautious over a friendly stranger - maybe because I dressed weird. And fat.)

They were actually a married couple. The man was from the Netherlands while the woman from Belgium (neighbouring country). They met each other during traveling and got married last year. They traveled Myanmar and now in Laos, would be going to Malaysia soon.

The couple, Yaeng, another Lao boy, an uncle from the USA and I gathered around a gazebo-like shelter for a good round of interaction. There was a time when a butterfly landed on Yaeng’s should, the lady wanted to pat it off but Yaeng immediately stopped her from doing so.

Later, I went to the Children Cultural Center, which I really wanted to visit since the day I saw the building. A teacher was conducting a play-and-learn class with the children. Guess what, there was not even one kid make any disturbing noise during lesson.

I am seriously thinking something is wrong with Malaysian kids. Those milk formulas are making our kids overly hyperactive. Look at these obedient Lao kids! I so want to grab 'em home and make 'em mine.

I spoke to the teacher after class. She said the center was sponsored by Japanese organisations. The center provides after-school activities to local children and a place where they can seek shelter instead of roaming around in town.

The kids sang and danced in front of the center. Unfortunately they could not speak English so we only interacted with eye contacts.

I left the center and went on cycling. I stopped by a traveling agency when I saw signboard saying the agency offered Luang Prabang - Bangkok bus service. The man said it would cost 460, 000 kip. That’s really daylight robbery. To return to Bangkok the way we did only cost about 390,000 kip!

A piece of advice to travelers – you don’t have to book your trip with traveling agencies when traveling anywhere in Laos, as long as you know where the bus stations are. Buy ticket directly from the station will help save a lot.

I agreed to meet the girls at 5.00pm for dinner but was lost in the middle of nowhere. Eventually few helpful locals directed me back to the town.

“We met Jieun!” Carmen exclaimed.

Remember, Jieun, the Korean girl who left for Vang Vieng when we got off in Vientiane? She arrived in Luang Prabang too. So we would be going out for dinner with Jieun and some of her friends.

Vitun, a local friend Jieun made, took us to the street hawker to have dinner. We ordered some sort like Malaysian’s economic rice – three dishes for 10, 000 kip.

Hooi Hoon could not stand the herbal-scented vegetable. Being a straight-forward person as she was, Hooi Hoon openly expressed her disgust for the vegetable. The Japanese girl (new friend), Saki also reservedly pouted her lips to show that she too was not a fan of the food.

Jieun demonstrated her Korean-style friendliness by buying and pouring BeerLao for us. Jieun said she was glad to have met us again and we too were happy to be able to see her too.

What puzzling us was, what made Jieun leave Vang Vieng when she said she only stayed one day there.

“I was the only person living in a guesthouse run by an old man, so…” she said.

“And the old man looks like he is going to eat you up?”

And then Carmen and Hooi Hoon turned their eyes on me. I automatically touched an invisible mustache under my nose and giggled like a pervert.

“Ya, something like that…” said Jieun.

Oh well, people don’t call me a ‘crowd pleaser’ for no reason.

We enjoyed the dinner, with the ‘gan bei’ and Japanese-style ‘kan pai’, it was an amazing ‘bottom’s up’ night.

After saying goodbye, the three of us walked around the handicraft market again. Remember the XL-size shirts I bought? It was way too big. It gave me a chance to redeem myself and declare I am only an L.

I went back to the auntie and requested her to change shirts.

“5,000 kip, lucky, lucky,” at first I didn’t understand what she meant. All I saw was her lifting her hands and hit them on the floor.

It took me a while to realise that I should pay her some money to ward off bad luck.

But I was only willing to pay her 2, 000 kip. So she just had to make-do with it.

We met up with Jieun and Saki at their guesthouse (two doors away from ours), and treated them a packet of dried Mekong riverweed. We opened it and each of us tasted a piece.

It tastes so awful! But I convinced everybody that it is a healthy product (learned from a traveling documentary) and we should eat more.

Jieun was not around so we’ve decided to play a trick on her.

“I will get my camera ready, once she put a piece of it into her mouth, I shall snap her awkward look when she taste it,” I said.

But she took it down so calmly. It killed all the fun (=.=).

Later, I spoke to their guesthouse’s receptionist, Khai, and found out that the riverweed was an ingredient Lao people use to make soup or cooked with other materials. It should not be eaten raw (=.=!)

We were so dumbfounded, and gave him the rest of riverweed. We tried to erase this piece memory but now that it is recorded in my blog, our stupidity would last for eternity.

Our Traveling Experience Taught us These

noreply@blogger.com (Elween Locke) — Sun, 26 Jun 2011 07:21:00 +0000

Time-out!

Here's some travel tips we learned along the way.

(1) The currency of Lao kip, as of June 2011, is 2630 kip to RM1. Unless you have a super calculator processing 24/7 in your head, you must bring a calculator.

Another advantage is, you can ask and let Lao people press your calculator to show you the price if they don't understand English. The same applies when you want to bargain, you press on the calculator to show the price you would pay for an item.

I told the girls to bring calculators along but no one seemed to bother. So the one and only calculator I brought was really a saviour.

A calculator comes in handy in countries using big notes like Vietnam and Indonesia too.

(2) Do not get on any tuk-tuks with drivers who displayed cardboard about the fares. It's a scam! These people normally charge double the price that of the local would pay. They are mostly stationed in front of guesthouses along the main roads in the city of Vientiane.

Try walk down further to Talat Sao and halt a tuk tuk there. Remember, bargain till you agree on a price before hitting your butt on the seat.

Unfortunately we fell into the trap and paid 60,000 kip for a tuk-tuk ride to the Vientiane Northern Bus Station! Bus at least we had four persons to split the fare so the cut on the wallet was not so bad (about RM5 each).

(3) Internet services are offered everywhere in the city of Vientiane and some places in Luang Prabang. The service rates in Internet cafes are mostly reasonable, about 1, 000 kip per minute. You can stop surfing anytime you want because the rate is charged by minutes, not hours.

(4) If you want to go to Vang Vieng in a cheaper way, just walk to the Talat Sao station in Viantiane. The fare for local bus would only cost you 35, 000 kip! Traveling agencies charge a lot more for bus services to Vang Vieng.

(5) Free boat rides in the Mekong River in Luang Prabang come with a price. So ask clearly before you go for a cruise (Really, don't waste your money. The ride is just meaningless).

(6) Sorry, but the economic rice (10, 000 kip for three dishes) along the hawker lane in the handicraft market of Luang Prabang is unappetizing.

(7) Most guesthouses in Luang Prabang do not provide breakfast but offer free coffee and boiling water.

If you're a coffee addict like both Hooi Hoon and I, be sure to look out for a guesthouse that provide these services (the cheapest coffee we found also cost 5,000 kip, which is about RM2 just for a small cup!)

This costs 5, 000 kip. And it is nowhere near the standard of our own Kampar coffee!

Free drinking water is also very important. If you are to spend 6, 000 kip on a big bottle of mineral water everyday, accumulatively you might end up paying a large sum on it.

Last but not least, EAT THEIR BANANAS. You will be surprised how delicious their banana taste. But make sure you don't get the wrong bananas (you get what I mean *eye blinked*).

I strongly recommended the Pashoke Guesthouse, which is located behind the post office. You can find the house in front of a narrow lane, where Joma Coffee is situated at. Free coffee. Free boiling and drinking water. And free bananas.

Traveling Laos in a Sarong and a Checkered Bag - Day 4

noreply@blogger.com (Elween Locke) — Thu, 23 Jun 2011 06:58:00 +0000

The morning rain came so sudden when we arrived at the town of Luang Prabang. We left the tourism information center after listed down several cheap guesthouses but found none along the way.

We tried to bargain for a cheaper price in most of the guesthouses but they were very firm on their stand. Actually the accommodation price was not that expensive, but when we heard “30,000 kip” coming out from their mouth, we inevitably gave out “damn you, daylight robber!” look.

But it was only about RM11, really.

Most guesthouses offer double-bed room but there were four of us. We did not want to spend 80,000 kip for a room for two so we decided find a cheaper one further away from the town.

After consulting few other guesthouses, we’ve decided to stay in the Phonetavy guesthouse for two 60, 000 kip double bedroom (30, 000 kip each per night).

The man who came out to receive us was an employee while the boss, who was just lying on the floor on a room where we can see him straight from outside, didn’t give a damn.

Again, Wang Wei needed to get his sleep so we three musketeers scavenged the town for a simple lunch, but landed up spending a rich-men afternoon with a pizza Luang Prabang, fried rice and Laotian coffee at a classic western restaurant.

Later in the afternoon we walked along the Mekong River, which looks different from the lower stream we saw in Vientiane. It is much muddier but close to nature.

In the evening, the four of us celebrated the night at a restaurant that had chili plants (totally fake) displayed on the table. How romantic was that.

Wang Wei gave a history lesson of the Chinese-style cheers (gan bei). According to his explanation, back during the war time, warlords and generals were suspicious of one another. They were afraid that their opponent might have drugged their drink, so they invented a ‘gan bei’ culture.

Before drinking, they would joyously greet each other and knock the side of the cup against another cup to ensure their drink splash into each other’s cup. So if one cup was contaminated, by doing so, the poisonous droplets that fell into the other person’s cup would also drug the entire drink.

Very typical Chinese mindset. And also Singaporean too (kiasi).

We visited the famous handicraft market in the evening. Lots of traditional craftwork such as shoes, blankets, and my favourite – silk scarves were sold. I don’t, neither does Aunty Lucy wear it, but the fine niceties of the weaving and exquisite golden thread really made me go ga-ga for them.

I couldn’t help but to stop by a stall and touched a scarf. Aw, the heavenly touch (yea, I am talking on how smooth my fingers ran on its surface). The minute I asked how much, that’s when I drew trouble to myself.

“60, 000 kip,” said the lady with a gentle smile. I returned her a smile and put back the scarf to where it belonged.

“How much?” she asked me to quote a price. I lifted my right hand, smiled and said: “It’s ok.”

“50, 000 kip?” she wanted to stand up when we were about to leave.

“45, 000kip!” she shouted from behind. She might have swung few daggers at our back, who knows.

I eventually bought two T-shirt from another stall because I realised I forgot to bring extra shirts (T.T). The gang forced me to take XL size. Hrmp!

The tribal’s ancient-looking silverwares were also to my liking.

It was the last night for Wang Wei. He would be leaving us tomorrow early morning to Kunming. He shared with us some serious stories of what happened when he cycled to Llasa, Tibet with his mate. Also, he described to us the scenario of the Sichuan earthquake, as he was working there.

Of course, the whole night was not spared from the “Banana Joke”.

You see, guesthouses in Luang Prabang are very special. If there was a signboard showing the kind of free services offered, there would be a tiny line that stated “free banana”. They really do provide delicious bananas to their guests.

I remember this conversation between Hooi Hoon and Wang Wei.

Hooi Hoon said sentimentally: “Imagine if I were to travel in Laos alone, will I feel bored since I am all by myself in the middle of the night?”

Wang Wei: “Well, that’s why they (guesthouses) provide free bananas.” Wang Wei had forgotten that Hooi Hoon had become a guy the minute she chopped her silky hair off.

LMAO. That was so wrong but so funny at the same time. Because of his frequent use of the word ‘banana’, he was known as the Banana Man among us.

Our last group shot with Wang Wei. And that's Carmen's medication oil.

P/S: The guest house's boss was still lying on the floor watching television programme since afternoon. Useless fellow.

Traveling Laos in a Sarong and a Checkered Bag - Day 3

noreply@blogger.com (Elween Locke) — Sun, 19 Jun 2011 07:32:00 +0000

On the next day, we went downstairs to have coffee at the stall in front of our guesthouse. It was also the first time we ordered a baguette which the country is popular of. Taste great.

“You are always 'forcing' people to talk to you,” Carmen commented. Well, I said that’s how one initiates a conversation.

“And you like to 'force' people to do things your way,” she said, citing the incident on the day before, when I ‘kindly’ advised Jieun to put down her bag on the ground since the bus hadn’t arrived.

“Now, there’s a white man sitting in front of us, go ‘force him talk to you’,” she said.

I ‘hello hello’ed the man twice but he did not respond. Then I just let him off my clutch.

We took a tuk-tuk to the Northern Bus Station for 60, 000 kip after checking out from Sabaidee Guesthouse.

We booked the evening 6.00pm bus (110, 000 kip each) so we could spend a night in the bus. We waited restlessly in the humid station since 1.30pm.

Vientiane's Northern Bus Station

Restlessly, we slept, read books and ate weird looking pastries. Hooi Hoon paid 4000 kip for a visit to the toilet. We rolled on the ground and took pictures.

Weird pastries (5000 kip for each).

We figuratively turned the station upside down. Wang Wei read an e-book on his netbook at the other corner (pretended as if he didn’t know us).

The Northern bus station is quiet and subtle, an absolute difference from our unique ‘JB, JB!’ disturbance. Besides, they have cleaners to sweep the bus platforms from time to time.

I bought a bun from a fine-looking young man for the sake of trying. The bun was a failure. But that didn't ruin his cuteness.

The bus to Luang Prabang finally hit the road after a delay of 30 minutes. It passed many winding and narrow roads. Let me redefine the two adjectives.

‘Winding’ in Laos means almost 90 degree turning while ‘narrow’ is like the bus on one direction will anytime collide with the bus or lorry from the opposite direction.

And our bus is a double-decker. Imagine that.

Two hours later the bus stopped in the middle of a dark jungle. Suddenly passengers got down one by one.

“Communist check-up point? Bus raided?” I thought to myself.

I looked out the window and saw one whole row of men (and also women) peeing into the bushes.

SPECTACULAR scene.

But it was not as amazing when this happened all night long throughout the 14-hour journey. THEY, JUST GOTTA PEE.

Oh by the way, the man sitting behind Hooi Hoon shredded an apple in the middle of the night with a knife.

“He kept lifting his legs up on my chair handle,” said Hooi Hoon. Nice.

At about 4.38am, the bus stopped again. The two bus technicians, who were with us throughout the journey, got down the bus to have a look and returned to the bus after a short while.

This time, the bus reduced the speed (even it had been moving quite moderately before that). In the next few hours, the bus continuously made several stops until the last one, which happened at about 6.00am, marked the final stop when the engine gave out smoke.

Many people got down the bus to see (but mostly to pee). As usual, a row of bladder-full men peeing into the sea of clouds saturated the foothill of majestic mountains. The two technicians did their best to resurrect the poor bus.

A picturesque sunrise. Stunned by the beauty and also people who peed towards it.

What’s comforting was that no passengers (both Lao people and travelers) showed a sign of displease. Neither did they blame the driver nor the technicians for what had happened. When I looked into their eyes...I saw sunshine and hope (just a metaphor).

The bus driver and technicians were exceptionally professional and responsible. They really did their best to ensure damage is reduced to the minimum.

Note: The hotter one is repairing the engine under the bus

After an adventurous night, we finally made it to the town of Luang Prabang.

Traveling Laos in a Sarong and a Checkered Bag - Day 2

noreply@blogger.com (Elween Locke) — Fri, 17 Jun 2011 09:01:00 +0000

Early next morning, we were brought to the border to hand in our traveling documents to the immigration department.

“The officer looked at me and then my photo on the passport. And he laughed,” Carmen was pissed off. She had no right to blame the immigration officer for being honest.

We were each charged 40baht as to paying 'overtime fee' to the Laos immigration department though it was early morning. I didn't see a logic why we should pay 'overtime fee', unless these %^*$*&#$ (means 'bastards') worked night shift.

Raymond, from the Netherlands, came up to us. Being madly in love with the country, he returned to Laos for the thirteenth time. He was settling down in Vientiane by working for an eco-tourism agency.

He compared the situation in Laos to what had happened in the movie Avatar.

“Investors from China come into Laos, throw big money into the country.

"The armies and soldiers were then ordered to clear the land inhabited by the locals for hundreds of years. The people lose everything,” he said.

Raymond later advised us to be cautious when traveling at night.

“You might see young boys carrying guns everywhere,” he warned.

There was no way we could chicken out after hearing that. I would definitely not pay another 40 baht 'overtime fee' to the %^*$*&#$ (refer to the above for the code transcription) just to get back to Thailand, I thought.

We were transferred to a minivan that brought us to the city center of Vientiane. We had to say goodbye to Jieun as she had to go to Vang Vieng. She was so adorable when she did the crying face in the van when we waved her goodbye at the crossroad.

We checked in a guesthouse introduced by Wang Wei, called the Sabaidee Guesthouse. It cost 25,000 kip, or about RM11 each for a night.

It was not the finest guesthouse I have ever stayed but it was the place we met a few interesting people. I will come to that in a short while.

After having our lunch in an Indian restaurant, we immediately went to Talat Sao, the local bus station. Later we found out that all bus services to the Northern region was only offered in another station called the Northern Bus Station.

So, we decided to go to the station directly once we check out from the guest house tomorrow.

On our way back, we visited the Patuxai (Victory monument), known as the Laos’ Arc de Triomphe of Paris. There’s shadow’s of renaissance in the building but the sculptures were all based on characters in folk legends and deities.

On our way back, we made a stop at the tourism information center to find out the bus fare to Luang Prabang (and to steal free maps).

Wang Wei headed back to the guest house for a nap, while the three of us visited an Internet Café to inform our loved ones of our safe journey. Then we spent the whole evening chit-chatting and relaxing in a café next to our guest house.

In the evening, we realised the fluorescent light in our room could not function. The cute young boy (not as in BIG BOY, but really just a small elementary school boy) scratched his head when we reported it to him and he did not know what to do. We requested to be transferred to the dorm. And we moved in to the three-partition dorm downstairs.

We later went to the Mekong River to have a walk. Many people jogged, walked their dogs and cycled near the park beside the river in the evening. We had dinner at a stall by the road after the sun set. We ordered Lao soup and tasted the BeerLao for the very first time.

A big bottle of Beerlao is priced at10, 000 kip (about RM4). It was very cheap.

We returned to the dorm. Wang Wei walked towards the balcony and greeted a friend of his. I was curious so I followed him.

It was another Chinese from Hunnan, whom Wang Wei called “The Chinese Beggar”. In fact he was the one who recommended this cheapest guest house in Vientiane to Wang Wei when they met in Vietnam few weeks ago.

Hu Rui, 28, had also been traveling in the last two months. He returned to Vientiane to apply visa to India, which he planned to stay there for six months if visa granted. But the embassy officers were giving him a hard time, he said.

“The Chinese beggar” was not only a knowledgeable traveler but also a man aware of current issues. I was surprised when he talked about MCA and DAP like a pro (but nowhere near the standard of our very own Tourism Minister).

I doubt Carmen, P/S: A Malaysian, even know what those acronyms stand for.

Not only he talked politics like a pro, he also resembled our dear Nigel (who disappeared from our contacts mysteriously after completed his studies in Kampar). The only difference was that Hu Rui was hotter and more likable (XD).

We also talked to a Japanese for a while. He had lived in South America for a year and continued his journey to Laos.

Unfortunately, I had to slip away from the conversation to my bed for my eyes commanded to me to raise white flag.

We all had a good night sleep, except Carmen who battled with mosquitoes all night long.

Traveling Laos in a Sarong and a Checkered Bag - Day 1

noreply@blogger.com (Elween Locke) — Thu, 16 Jun 2011 07:00:00 +0000

“I want to go Laos.”

Never really thought it could come true.

Laos, the less glamorous Indo-China country when compared to traveling hot spots like Thailand and Cambodia, was my chosen destination for this trip.

I called it an experimental journey as we have decided to travel by land starting from Bangkok instead of flying to Laos. And we only bought one-way ticket to Bangkok, and surrendered the rest to fate.

I always wanted to travel knowing absolutely nothing about the country that I was about to step onto (On the ‘let it be’ principle). But Hooi Hoon and Carmen were anxious. They did many researches (on the ‘just in case’ principle), which did come in handy at times.

Hooi Hoon and I took a train down to Kuala Lumpur, accompanied by Woon Shang who was at that time in Kampar. We stayed a night at Princess Carmen’s Pink Castle.

Early next morning, Carmen’s father sent us to KL Sentral. We bade Woon Shang goodbye and boarded the bus to LCCT.

After about a two-hour flight, we reached Bangkok’s Suvarnabhumi airport, and were told that the bus service from airport to Khao San Rd (the haven for backpackers) was no longer available. We were told to take the City Link Railway.

Paid 45 baht and was given a ‘ticket’ (in chip-form) each, we stopped at the Phaya Thai Station (last station of the line).

The information counter at the station told us there was no bus to Khao San Rd.

It was a big surprise to us that the locals do not know where Khao San Rd is. We were very fortunate to have bumped into Yelly. She, too, was not sure what bus to take but helped us ask around. A Thai speaking granny gave very detailed instruction to her and she translated it into English for us.

We boarded Bus no. 63 and got down with her right opposite the Grand Diamond Plaza.

Thai election was around the corner. We saw posters and banners hung everywhere.

We even saw a parade across the street. I guess it will be a close fight between Abhisit and Thaksin’s sister.

Yelly, who was a Chinese but do not know how to speak the language, said: “Take bus no. 2 or no. 511 to Khao San Rd.”

She wrote a sentence in Thai on a piece of paper and asked us to show it to the conductor so that he/ she could inform us once arrived.

We missed bus no. 2 because at that time we were taking a picture with her and her brother. Few minutes later, bus no. 511 arrived.

We double-confirmed with few passengers and were relieved to hear that the bus does stop near Khao San Rd.

The bus was very crowded. We did not know how much the bus fare was. The conductor just grabbed a few Thai notes from Carmen’s hand suavely and returned her some coins.

She did not even pay attention to the piece of paper Yelly wrote for us.

Every time she walked past us, she mumbled a chain of Thai words we did not understand.

“I think she’s cursing us,” I said.

The very cool lady conductor, however, did chase us down when arrived.

We walked on the corridor along the main road where many lottery sellers were stationed at but were clueless where Khao San Rd was.

We were then told Khao San Rd was located right across the main road. Canadian Chris joined us half way and we managed to find the place eventually. I think he’s a nice guy but too bad we didn’t have much time to catch up as we were busy looking for agencies to bring us up to Vientiane.

After visiting a few agencies, we found out that the cheapest bus fare to Vientiane was 800 baht (some offered 900 or 950 baht).

My advice to travelers is, book bus/train ticket with a traveling agency if you want to spare yourself from unnecessary trouble. It might be slightly more expensive but a good agency will help make proper transport arrangement especially when crossing the border from Nong Khai into Laos.

We booked ours at "Mama's Traveling Agency".

Our bus was scheduled to leave around 6.30pm. We were led to another place together with few other backpackers.

“You’ve been to New Zealand?” asked Emma from New Zealand when she saw my backpack which was printed with the country’s name.

Emma, now studying in Singapore in a student exchange programme, was traveling with her sister Kirsten. They planned to go to Vang Vieng.

Meanwhile, the girls were approached by a Korean girl named Jieun. The twenty-five-year-old sweetie pie from Taegu was traveling alone. That, to me, was impressive.

“When’s your turn to travel alone, Carmen?” I asked, and she gave me a killer stare.

Jieun talking to Hooi Hoon; Emma and Kirsten at the back.

We were joined by Wang Wei (David), 25, from Yunnan later in the bus. He who have been traveling for two months in Southeast Asia was making his last stop in Laos before heading back to Kunming.

Wang Wei intended to stay in Laos for a month but he lost about USD 200-300 during the previous bus ride. He suspected the driver for stealing the money he stored in his luggage which was placed in a booth behind the bus. He now had no choice but to return home earlier than planned.

Having Jieun and Wang Wei around did lift the spirit up. We chattered and studied the map. Sometimes when we blabbered in Chinese, poor Jieun was tugged with question marks on her head.

Later in the night I shifted to the back of the bus to get some sleep. After about 15 hours of bus ride, we stopped at Nong Khai to fill in the arrival and departure card while some paid for their visas.

It was a freezing cold morning after a night of nonstop rain.

The working life of a photojournalist

noreply@blogger.com (Elween Locke) — Sat, 04 Jun 2011 00:44:00 +0000

4 minutes ago - "Alright, just be natural when you lift the noodle."

3.4 minutes ago - "Don't lift the chopsticks so high please."

3 minutes ago - "Now turn and face me a little so I can see your mouth."

2.6 minutes ago - "No, no, no, hide those ugly teeth. I just want to see some movements in the mouth."

2 minutes ago - "Which part of instruction you don't understand?"

1.5 minutes ago - "Do it again! Do it again!"

0.9 minutes ago - "Damn you! (Turned around) Boss, one more bowl please."

Now - "That's it. Where's my BB gun."

The photojournalist is not someone you can mess around with.

- The end -

Life in a Tiny Room

noreply@blogger.com (Elween Locke) — Wed, 01 Jun 2011 09:59:00 +0000

I haven't have the time (or maybe just no motivation) to update my life in a new room.

The size is much smaller, almost a fourth of my ex-master bedroom. My stuffs (books, health products and tonnes of unwearable M size clothings) stacking around the room so crammed I can barely walk.

When I am not out for assignments I spent whole day facing the computer. I did not even know what was I doing but my butt just got nailed to the chair.

Lazing around in the room is the source of depression but I just don't see the need of going out of the house. Like CC said, I just want to spend time listening to my own voice (I know. It sounds amazing).

Dinner was definitely not the best time I look forward to, especially having it in New Town. I am like a lonely old man eating economic rice and drinking Chinese tea at the corner of the shop while kids yanking and nudging each other during dinner.

Right, now, speaking of my 'work'.

I do ponder, is this kind of life meaningless? I mean, I tried to send in at least one story a day but almost two out of three will not be published (except some stories on education, as if my only shot is to focus on that). It is frustrating not knowing what they are seeking for.

Meanwhile, photojournalism is really not my forte. When I am focused on asking questions and recording down answers, I overlooked the importance of constructing a scenario for interviewees to be reflected on pictures.

Like, asking them to strike a pose of eating beef noodle and showing contentment on their face. There were times when I wanted to take some natural pictures of interviewees being interviewed, I asked to talk to the air while I snapped their mugshots from the side. Funny right.

Getting people to interview itself is already not an easy task. And to instruct them to hold something or stand like this and that, it is even difficult. At least it is difficult from my part.

I was told my few stories were spiked because of poor pictures.

This is something I got to learn, and I promise I will soar! like a bat hanging upside down.

Meanwhile, I am preparing for my trip. To be honest I was not looking forward to the trip as the what's-gonna-happen-after-I-get-back feeling bothers me. The invisible pressure is on.

But it was until I stopped a foreigner I found cycling on the road (in front of a cemetery, spooky) and was truly inspired by his stories. I was all getting heated up (as in reigniting my passion for traveling - what were you thinking!).

So, that's all for now. I just wish my ex landlord will pay us back our RM200 deposit. This is Elween Loke, signing off from The Diamond-drops Mansion.

Finding a Home for the Cats

noreply@blogger.com (Elween Locke) — Mon, 30 May 2011 13:34:00 +0000

One by one moved out of the house, even the cats were forced to leave.

I am clinging onto the fact that Malays love cats, so by sending them to a Malay vicinity would be a great choice for them to live without us.

I drove down and took the cats placed in a box. They were very curious and afraid at the same time. I walked past an alley, heard some Malay kids saying "eh, kucing!" from afar.

No, I cannot possibly give my cats to these kids, I thought to myself. They are kids - playful, wilful and curious how cat meat would taste like. I held the box tighter in my arm and picked up my pace.

I passed and studied every house - Are there any cats in there, or cat food, or poops around. I stopped in front of a house with walls painted with dark pink colour.

They have two unhealthy-looking (maybe they were really just too small) baby kittens. I shouted and two Malay ladies came out.

They loved cats, they said, and would like to them in. At first I was very happy. I gave them the box. That lady suddenly opened a cage and shoved Little Shrimp inside.

"Why put her in the cage?" I asked.

"The environment is new for her. Just in case she runs around and goes missing," she explained.

It made sense.

But Little Shrimp growled like she never had. I sensed anger in her eyes and the sound she made. Xiao Ju was reluctant to be put into the cage. She too became very aggressive.

To stop myself from having second thoughts, I just left the ladies and went home.

But I have been thinking of them since then. 'Is Little Shrimp going to spend the rest of her life in a cage?', 'what food would they give them to eat?' and 'can they adapt to the environment?'

On the very next day, I just had to go and see if they were doing fine.

The cats were sleeping in the kitchen. I was afraid that they might act fierce towards me knowing that I am the one who abandoned them. But they were very calm.

Me and the ladies sat down and talked while the cats slept in my arms. The cats did not reject me.

Apparently one of the sisters were from Klang. She stays in Kampar, waiting for the time to go into labour in June. She would want to bring cats back to Klang but feared that the two might not live peacefully with her other existing cats.

At the same time, her sister who lives in Kampar said she is a working lady and might not have time to look after the cats during work.

They suggested me to speak to another Malay family living few doors away, saying they also keep many cats. But in the cage.

Cats should never be deprived of freedom in exchange of fishes and biscuits! My cats are so active, they are born to run and play around freely, not caged in a small space with other cats!

I told them, if they do not want to keep the cats, return it to me. But I did hope they could give it a try for a week or two. And they are still keeping the cats for now.

Any cat lovers living in Kampar want to adopt our two cats? Please contact me. Thank you.

"Completion of Study"

noreply@blogger.com (Elween Locke) — Thu, 26 May 2011 08:09:00 +0000

One should only celebrate the joy of completion of study, not the examination. But the greatest joy above all is knowing he or she passes the examination.

I am a man of no emotion but played along with course mates who threw invisible mortar hats in the Facebook after seeing the "completion of study" status in the result slip.

I will be shifting out of the house I've stayed for two years plus to a new environment tomorrow. My trip to Laos, which had already been reduced from one month to three weeks, was finally cut down to one and a half week due to incessant workload and financial pressure. A slap in the face.

All that had stolen the slightest joy of it.

Graduation will be held on late August or early September. I will look awkward in that graduation coat. Like a bat with extra inches of wings with no skeletal support.

Don't ask me to throw the mortar hat into the sky because I don't want to spend extra bucks on dry cleaning if it drops onto the floor. It's KL, so you know how bad the floors can be.

A gentle advice to friends who will attend the graduation ceremony: Don't bother buying me brown teddy bears with extra-mini mortar hat on their heads. Save the money, pack it in a red packet, and bless me with it.

Don't I have any sentimental words to say on this very special day?

Oh please. It's just another day with twenty four hours.

We started our university life on May 26, 2008 and ended May 26, 2011.

Here I am coming for you, the evil World of Capitalism.

And to that lecturer who always cancelled class because of laziness and taught nothing but nonsense and gave me a B- (of course, bitchiness doesn't come along for no reason), I have no respect for you. Period.

(Lecturers who are worthy of my personal gratitude, I have already expressed it all the time and don't need to make any special remark here anymore, or else the frequent 'thank you' will lose its value)

The Two Types of News

noreply@blogger.com (Elween Locke) — Sat, 14 May 2011 09:42:00 +0000

The angel in Aunty Lucy had an issue with the types of news I write.

Aunty Lucy: "Why do you always write 'bad' news? It's either a boycott or floods, or people complaining this and that. Why can't you write something positive like charity and social welfare group?"

As if she did not know I was not Mother Theresa but her son.

Newspapers publish both good and bad news, whether you like it or not.

Heart-warming news like donation drive or volunteer work are necessary because it reminds people in this generation who each almost have a half-black heart to do good and serve the less privileged ones in the society.

You see smiley faces welcoming you to their centres. You just sail through your interview and write about all the encouraging words but eliminate details like a minister's wife pushes wheel-chaired person aside right after the photo shoot. It is supposed to be constructed in a way to represent the well being of the 'actor'.

I was late for an interview once. By the time I arrived the kids had already done clearing out the place. And I told them to mess it all up so that I can take a good shoot of them rearranging it.

How fake, isn't it. Seriously, this is a reality. So, 'good' news exists because the bad side of it is hidden.

So you expect me to go out there, bringing a basket full of fruits, to hug and greet my interviewees as if they have known me for hundred years? Gee, please.

Let's forget there are interviewees also who can't wait to rip off your camera or greet you with their dogs. It sounds adventurous.

As a journalist, his or her EQ has to be high enough to handle this kind of situation. Or else there will be two bitches fighting to death, and the journalist him or herself will be on the page of the very next day's newspaper. Nice.

I personally enjoy writing 'bad' (touch wood) news. People get agitated and speak right out of their mind. You prompt them more they speak more.

The emotion is raw and unrehearsed. Of course, at the end of the day you will still need to filter the raw data to get what is necessary for the news story.

But you have to be caution that they do not transfer the anger onto you. How? Stand at least 20 miles away from your interviewee, or call ambulance on stand-by every time you are called to cover the 'bad' news, or you transform yourself into a wild animal and engage in a bitch fight (stay away from the BB gun, we don't want people die).

Am I repeating myself? Yeah, probably the last resort is more practical.

Theoretically (just to make it sound more professional) speaking, though I have my preference on 'bad' news over 'good' news, I have never consider what news to or not to do in serious practice as long as the incident is newsworthy.

I am neither the devil or the angel. So, golden mean it is.

Hear me, Angel in Aunty Lucy?

Updates (As of May 2011)

noreply@blogger.com (Elween Locke) — Wed, 11 May 2011 07:28:00 +0000

I am finally able to surf the Internet in my room after an enduring week (if we amplify it then it is 15 days, equivalent to 23,432,423 hours and whatever figures to show the week was like FOREVER).

In just one month our house was hit by lightning again. Instead of purchasing a router, we've decided to opt for wireless service. And it took a week for the man, whom we had to remind him through TMpoint on the seventh day, to come.

Anyway, a big thank you to Jing Wen for allowing me to use her wireless service at her place. I will treasure our wonderful orange love story ^^.

Juniors will be going for their industrial training, I feel excited for them. What I wish to say is, I hope you people get lost in KL and cry in front of the National Science Museum. Have fun.

Let me give you an update of what happened in the house lately.

Mao Niang left us last week and had never returned. Probably she found a better place to deliver her new kittens (horny horny feline animal she is). We're in a dilemma of either sending Little Shrimp and Xiao Ju off or keeping them around for as long as we can.

Little Shrimp had been making a lot of noisy recently. Few days ago we were discussing whether to send Little Shrimp away because she did not only disturb us but also our neighbours with her incessant meowings.

It seems she understood. On the very next day, she became more reserved. She used to run up to block me at the front and make all sorts of noises but she was not her usual self anymore. I found her hiding at corners of the house, alone for most of the time.

She sent signals that roused our sympathy and I felt sorry for what I did the night before.

Oh well, I chanted: "You have to keep quiet or else we will send you away, you have to keep..." into her ear for few minutes non-stop.

And I say unto thee: I do not practice witchcraft. Leave me alone. With all acknowledge I acquired in communication law Ms Chibi taught me, I can sue you under defamation till your pants dropped.

So that's it.

I am becoming a little paranoid at this point of time. I plan to continue rent the house I am staying. I have, for now, have two empty rooms waiting for their takers.

However, on and off there are people who will be moving out, some might remain while some might want to come in but cannot give me their words.

Just by thinking of paying RM1000 for rental and deposit is enough to drive me nuts. Where am I going to find this much of money if no one can share the burden with me? There are people who are interested in the house but I'd never know what is the outcome until the day they decide to move in.

Though I desperately want people to rent the house, I am still selective and selfish. Selective in the sense that I don't really want students to stay with me. Staying with a bunch of unknown young people, I never know when will they drive me up the wall.

While I am selfish in the sense that I really wish to stay with people I already know. Some course mates planned to pursue a short-term career in Kampar but were still uncertain.

I could foresee, idealistically, how our lives would be were we to live together under one roof. I don't know about others but I am looking forward to that imagined day.

In the last couple of weeks I have been playing tantrum hoping that they will stay. It was my bad. Sorry.

For now I am just going to keep my finger crossed. Despite of all bothersome uncertainties, I know I have friends and lecturers who support me. A big thank you and hug to you people out there.

noreply@blogger.com (Elween Locke) — Mon, 09 May 2011 07:54:00 +0000

9 May 2011 marks the final paper of my studies in the Universiti Tunku Abdul Rahman.

It's really the final paper (if no mishaps).

Choi.

Take care, friends.

Take care.