I See You, Malaysia.

We had loose plans for our last day in Malaysia- it was planned to be short trip and unfortunately had to stay that way, but I would have loved to stay longer. Still yawning from a late night eating all that Jonker Street had to offer, I started a lazy morning photographing the sleepy streets before we really got going. Metal racks held green coconuts ready to be trimmed and sipped, shops were still boarded up, giving the cats a porch to snooze on without fear of being interrupted by curious shoppers. 

The morning melted into early afternoon, marked only by the museums we slowly crossed off our list. The Dutch Square was first to be looked at; The historical influence and cultural was something I've been craving in Singapore. The cleanly paved walkways and English signs are convenient and modern, but I'd been missing that cultural signficance and general chaos I instantly associated with Asia. The things I love about this side of the world — the zooming motorbikes piled high with whole families, alleys crowded with vegetables and fruits for sale, tiny carts pulled by hand selling bowls of noodles and dumplings and ancient temples and relics hidden between buildings is completely erased from Singapore. Yes, Singapore is modern and urban, but to me that translates to sterile and lackluster..and certainly not the Asia I think of. That thriving busyness, crowded alleys of food streets and Dutch, French, Malaysian influence is thriving in Melaka and I was soaking it up. 

The afternoon quickly passed by as Malay wedding dresses, Arabic manuscripts, Vietnamese pottery and governmental homes were admired.  A leisurely lunch at a backpacking hostel (adorned with vintage wine and beer bottles, scribbled walls from past residents and dreamy French music) consisted of chilled cucumber juice and nasi (or rice) dish topped with a fried egg — in any country, I'm a sucker for a fried egg. Tented vendors tried to tempt us with rubber chickens, small stools painted with the logos of famous sports teams and businesses (loads of UK soccer teams and coffee shop slogans) and foot massage flip flops on our walk to the hostel but it was time to shove yesterday's clothes into our backpacks and walk the now bustling streets to find our departing bus terminal. The traffic back to Singapore was maddening- the 3 hour drive took a grand total of 9 hours due to Chinese New Year traffic; 30 rest stops stretched into an hour or so, where Laura and I ran around, spending our last remaining Ringgets on various cookies and chocolates to lift our spirits as the blue sky slowly turned inky black. A headache at customs (crowds will do that) and a bouncy bus ride brought us back into sleeping Singapore; I calmly queued up for a taxi (no need to shout or push on this side of the peninsula) and once home, flipped on my water heater, only to opt for a cold shower before bed. Malaysia exceeded all sorts of expectations and gave me that dose of culture I'd been missing — hopefully it'll last a few weeks...then I'll need to cross the border again. 

I Like Melaka.

When you've got the chance to hop on a bus and drive to another country, you take it. I think it's where I grew up that created this fascination to being able to drive to another country. I mean, sure, you could grab 30 hours worth of music and jaunt down to Mexico or go straight north for a few hours and make it to Canada from my home state; but for some reasons, Mexico and Canada doesn't seem as foreign as it would seem if you packed a basket full of bread and cheese for a picnic in neighboring Germany or France. So before I'd even left for Singapore in November, I knew I'd need to drive up to Malaysia. I just had to. 

That day came the weekend over Chinese New Year; I had day off work so my Latvian friend Laura and I got up bright and early to bus over to Melaka. Once we'd passed the Singapore border (a short bridge over the ocean, gone through customs, etc)  we left the glitzy high rise behind and entered into and into the oceans and oceans of palm trees which was Malaysia. A rest stop gave me a first taste of Malaysia which made me love it instantly; pineapple for around $0.20. The jungle soon transformed into the city, though not in the sense of Singapore.. Streets were fringed with run down homes, derelict yet painted in shades of bright turquoise and corals, tiny shops poked between foliage, selling bowls of noodles and cigarettes — it vaguely reminded me of India. The bus hub was busy and there was a fight for a cab. I knew I'd been in Singapore too long when I lined up for "my turn" at the taxi queue. In Singapore, you can't really hail a cab off the street — you find a taxi queue, and wait your turn in a very orderly fashion. Sometimes, there's even a type of official who ushers in the taxis and makes everything run quite smoothly. In Malaysia, you had to elbow your way past people and grab your driver first hand. But we got to our hostel A-OK and were eager to get out exploring the minute we dropped off our bags at the hostel. 

10/10 would recommend this hostel. 

Stop one was the oldest Chinese temple in Malaysia, where a sweet lady insisted we empty the bin of mandarin oranges into our bags; we obliged, of course. The dragon painted doorways and burning incense brought a wave of China nostalgia; I miss those temples. I quietly snapped a few pictures, watching a few locals worship and pray — it's always been something I've felt a little uncomfortable with, being able to create a place of worship like a tourist spot since no one seems to stop by my LDS chapel to pose in front and post onto Snapchat. But I digress. 

The river cruise was a suggestion made by our helpful hostel staff and we took them up on the offer — the boat ride gently guided us down a river that cut through fabulous mural walls, splashed with geometric patterns, depictions of dim sum and vivid faces — I really like wall murals, so yes, I really like Melaka. The cruise ended  just at sunset and the small city was thrown into darkness, which made things only that more fun. The crowds really came out, throes of people swarmed around these hilarious lit up rickshaws I couldn't stop photographing. Plush toys were zip-tied to create a backrest to the seats which were strung up with vibrant LED lights, complete with obnoxiously loud soundtracks that pumped out a beat you could hear for miles. I was partial to the Pokemon/Pikachu model. 

Not pictured: Frozen, Hello Kitty, and other Pokemon versions. 

The sea of people pushed us towards Jonker street; an alley we'd passed earlier in the day but wouldn't be able to recognize now. Tables lined the streets, piled high with vendors shouting out their wares. Oh, and the buzz of a hand mixer being shoved into an entire watermelon. Yep, you could buy a whole watermelon that had a small hole cut out of the top: a hand mixer had swirled the contents into a slushy juice you could just shove a straw into and drink away. It was fabulous. We squeezed our way through the insanely busy street, oogling at cheap electronics, knickknacks, old rusted coins, ornate tins, gadgets worthy of American Informercials and the food. 

We ate loads, sharing Taiwan Burgers (octopus sandwiched into 2 pancake like buns), rows of quail eggs lined up on skewers and dipped liberally in spicy sambal, fish ball dim sum, plastic containers of sushi, fried dumplings placed in translucent bags and stabbed with mega-toothpicks and coconut ice cream. I was stuffed, but couldn't resist the ice cream. It was scooped into a tiny pot, covered with Oreo crumbs and topped with a mint leaf. It was too cute to not eat. 

Asia, I love how cute your food is. 

Exhausted from all the eating and navigating the insane crowds that come with a good food street, it was time for a shower in our rad hostel — I didn't really appreciate it beforehand but I loved the exposed copper pipes and minimal design. I'm never too tired to appreciate things like exposed copper pipes. Despite the noise still blaring from the main road, I crashed — fully intent on getting a good night's rest before diving into another day in Melaka. 

A Saturday In Singapore's (Actual) Jungle

The shiny urban high rises of Singapore is something I think is a little lost on me. I have to remind myself to look up and appreciate some of the stunning architecture, because I'm normally rushing to find the hidden gems squeezed between these 40 story apartments. There is one exception; Some Saturdays I'll take the slow bus to the deserted city center; the city square normally swarming with fast talking business men and women having stern conversations and folding newspapers is completely empty. I'll pop in my headphones and wander the seemingly abandoned plazas, doused in shade by the towering buildings, scouting out geometry patterns in the concrete. 

Ah, but this weekend was different. It was time to explore Singapore's real jungle. Nestled at one end of the island, away from hustling MRT stops and crowded hawker centers is the MacRitchie Nature Reserve; an expanse of tangling vines, enormous umbrella like foliage that makes it hard for even the rain to pass through and tall towering trees, slightly reminiscent from the high rises that are only a few stops away. I hadn't realize how much I needed the time outside — Don't get me wrong, trying to find flea markets and walking from bakery to bakery in Tiong Bahru counts as being outside, but it's a completely different feeling when you are out in the forest. The hike in was nice, you slowly perforated the dense foliage, counting down until the next wooden sign told you how many more kilometers were left until you arrived at the treetop bridge. 

The bridge is pretty magical to walk across. A sturdy base and high railings were not the sort of things I found in China while waltzing across jungle tree tops; this is Singapore, so safety is one major concern and all safety instructions are clearly outlined in 4-5 languages. Ah, but I digress. I hadn't realized how much the din of the city had been weighing on me. I've taken to wearing an eye mask at night for bed because the illuminated high rises outside my windows don't power down until 3 or 4 in the morning. But that doesn't muffle the deafening blur of expensive race car engines that seem to zoom down my street at all hours of the day. Seeing butterflies flit in and out of the trees and even spotting monkeys from time to time was a nice break from the urban jungle I'd surprisingly gotten used to. 

Though, this guy was ready to pounce, thinking I'd reached into my bag for some snacks, rather than my camera. Not sure the picture was worth the risk. Though this may be Singapore, I bet these monkeys would still pounce on you for a bite of trail mix just like the ones in China. 

My Singlish "Home"

After a couple whirlwind weeks bowing with exaggerated "sawadekaaaaaaaahhhhhhs" (and an obscene amount of coco and Pad Thai) a jet lagged Christmas (and a 2 week period of wearing as many sweaters and scarfs as possible) it was time to be back in Singapore; my forever-88-degree-humidity-swathed-home for the next 3 months. It felt good to get back to wondering my bougainvillea fringed alleyways wedged between towering skyscrapers after Utah's cold. Being January, all of Singapore was getting ready for Chinese New Year, so my traditional haunts were now decked out in red lanterns while tiny shops selling red lidded bins of cookies popped up in unsuspecting places. Enormous and weighty globe-like pomelos (or 柚) were piled high on fruit carts and everything was plastered with some sort of drawing or poster of a rooster. The year of Monkey was coming to a close...made official in my book by the gigantic and rainbow painted inflatable rooster that was blown up to sit at the entrance of Singapore's Chinatown. It was both entertaining and terrifying. I mean, come on...how is a giant inflatable chicken at least a tiny bit terrifying?

I'd grown quite fond of all the Chinese New Year celebrations (and little stands) and was sad to see them go...but not before I made the trek down to Chinatown on the actual Eve to purchase yet another red-lid-bin of my favorite cookies. I'm partial to the pineapple tarts, but think I like the little buttery rounds topped with a cashew more. Let's just say the bin didn't make it to actual New Years Day. After the maddening crowd, the lantern hung streets, inflatable rooster and swarm of tourists, I had a quiet bus ride home in the dark to come home and finish up another episode of my current binge series (with those cashew cookies not far from reach). Call it a sort of coping mechanism for the crippling sense of nostalgia I always seem to get after a visit to Chinatown. Oh, I miss China.

As January whizzed by, time was also spent in what I've dubbed as Singpore's "Little Thailand" — as if the swirling melting pot of culture found on this tiny island needed another ethnic identity. I've been keeping an ear out for the trademark "Singlish" found here in Singapore — the official English has been infused with Malay, Indian, Chinese to create a tasty linguistic creole, much like my favorite dishes at the local hawker centers. I think I'm getting the hang of it. I've decided to spend my time off the glitzy shopping streets and in grocery stores instead. I particularly like wandering the aisles of the dimly florescent lamp lit grocery store in Little Thailand, examining teeny shrimps crammed into jars and seeing gnarly knobs of ginger waiting to be grated into some sort of curry. Little Thailand is about a 40 minute bus ride away, but I make the trek to get an avocado shake at my favorite place that sits just right across the pedestrian bridge. And yes, though it takes over and hour to get there and back, I did get a punch card for a free smoothie after 10 purchases at this favorite stand. I'm determined to go through at least 1 punch card (and realistically, two) before heading back home, home (the one in America). Too bad there isn't a punch card for this waffle-and-ice-cream monstrosity below. In all honesty, I had no problem polishing this off at around 10:00 AM. Waffles are breakfast, right?

It's probably a good thing there isn't a breakfast punch card for this waffle dessert, but I have found a new favorite way to start the day: Dragonfruit. I'll saunter down to the nearest wet market and pick up a couple of the deep purple, black seed studded, and Dr. Suess-like fruits along with a couple fresh pineapples and walk home to chop them both ; always chopping the pineapple first so the golden pieces aren't stained with streaks of modena purple. Tip into a bowl and drizzle liberally with thick and floral coconut milk. It's dreamy and I have more photographs of my repetitive breakfast than I care to admit. 

Between hours of editing and entertaining Pokemon obsessed kiddos, I tried to plan my Singapore excursions in such a way that I would avoid the deluge of rain that seems to happen on the daily. I will admit that at times, I did sit in my flannel and drinking pot-after-pot of tea, imagining the brooding gray skies didn't mean it was still 80-something degrees outside. Time this month (it's hard to consider January as January when free moments are spent sipping soursop by the pool in 80° weather) has evaporated. Sure, I flip through my sketchbook and see that forts were built, avocado smoothies were sipped, hawker centers were frequented, but where did time actually go? Surely it hasn't been a month down in Singapore quite yet — I feel as though I'd just arrived.

A Jetlagged Christmas.

The flight home was brutal. I hit Bangkok's airport around 3:00 AM, waited for my 9:00 flight to Singapore and bid a hasty "goodbye and I'll see you in Utah" to my sister and friends. I slept hard on the flight over and made the long trek from the airport to my Singapore home — I'd forgotten enough Sing. cash to call a cab, hence the longer trek via public transport from the apartment. I had barely 24 hours in Singapore before I'd be back at the Changi airport but I tried not to think about that. There was zero food in the apartment, so I ran down to the corner store in my unshowered state to get some dinner ingredients (and some plane food for tomorrow) — I was ravenous and should have bought more Pringles. After a looooong shower and a scattered dinner I went to bed. Early. Oh, and I completely crashed that night — sleeping so hard I snoozed straight through my alarm but did wake up in time to make my flight, don't worry...but I had the beginnings of a sore throat. You know that swollen burning you hope goes away by morning but doesn't? It persisted all the way through the Guangzhou airport, the 5 hour layover and through the longer 14 hour flight to LAX; I hadn't gotten much sleep and had that annoying breathy cough you can't shake (and a peppermint hot cocoa can't even soothe?) when I landed.  I spent my whole string of flights sucking hard caramels and wishing the time away before freezing on the platform once I made it to Utah; Temperature wise, I was in SLC, that's for sure.

The Christmas break didn't exactly go as planned: week one was basically spent hacking, trying to swallow copious amounts of tea and binge watching Christmas movies while trying to battle jet lag. Week 2 was better: a magical snow came Christmas Eve and the holidays were lovely, spent with family, twinkling Christmas lights, and lots of foods I'd missed while in Asia. The sisters and I got more than a few thrift shopping runs in (complete with a score of Ikea plates and a rad plaid) and there was lots of get togethers with good friends. Cheese plates, and cakes, and lots of Mexican food with excellent conversation. That's one of the "behind the scenes" aspects of this passport stamped life: I dislike the stress of being home for just a scant number of days, running from appointments and calendared lunch dates. I crave that normalcy of being able to just reschedule for next week instead of penciling in friends in my calendar- who does that? Oh, but I digress. It went all too quickly and I soon found myself repacking my carry on (it was mostly food...but really. I crammed a box of cereal in instead of packing an extra outfit) and made the stormy drive for a very early flight from SLC to LAX. There was a horrendous 17 hour layover in LAX which included a frustrated yours truly when my bags couldn't be checked. Thank heavens for a family friend who lives in this sunny state who was willing to lug my luggage around in her car and take me out for some beach time and Greek food before taking me back so I could make my flight to Shanghai. 6 more hours on a plane and I'd landed back in Singapore. I can't wait to get an avocado shake.