To Rawa We Did Go

So we did go to Rawa. And we did take lots of pictures. Some of them are up on other blogs already. Me, I was too lazy to blog for over two weeks, and am still too lazy to resize the pictures. I'll do it eventually, I guess. In the meantime, you'll have to look here for a taste.

But hey, I can write about it. Maybe I can't (or won't) wax lyrical, but I'll put down a couple of lines.

Rawa is a beautiful place. Clear waters, beautiful clean soft sand, a real sense that time stops still. The outside world ceases to matter. Time ceases to be an issue. You honestly don't care. We left our watches and phones in the room, and just did whatever we wanted until we got hungry, which would mostly coincide with mealtimes. It felt really good just to be able to laze around all day on a deck chair or in a hammock, reading till I got sleepy, then napping till I woke up, then bobbing around in the waves for a bit till I got bored, then reading again... you get the drift. We walked around without shoes, and I sans shirt most of the time. The wind blowing on my body, the sheer physicality of the sand between my toes... it was gorgeous.

There's really not that much to do besides laze around. Oh, you could go snorkeling or scuba-diving, I suppose, but the waters were too damn choppy when we were there. We did take a little hike up the hill and got to this spot that overlooked the whole island. Real pretty, and you can imagine how lovely the sunrise or sunset would be from that vantage point. Unfortunately the climb up (or down, depending on whether you were catching the ascent or the descent) would be rather hazardous in the dark. As such, that was not a viable option, seeing as how we valued our limbs and necks.

Those were the good points. The bad? Well, I'd really be nitpicking. The hotel was a little pricey. Or to be precise, it was more a bunch of chalets than a hotel. But hey, ties in with the whole beach thing, no? The food was pretty dismal, probably because they catered to a mainly Caucasian clientele - whatever little Asian fare there was was unforgivably watered down and bland. Drinks were pretty expensive, but we managed to persuade the bartender - a really nice guy called (what was he called?... OK, checked my photos) Salam - to make 'em stronger. Which resulted in the most un-tea-like Long Island Tea ever.

I personally think we might have picked the wrong resort. See, ours was filled with families and kids and lovey-dovey couples. Whereas the one next door seemed to be teeming with hot singles. Ah, there's always next time. There's a nice little semi-private beach area... hmmm...

The low point had to come on Saturday, when the arrival of the afternoon ferry brought the quintessential Singaporean family. Oh, they were the embodiment of the Singapore Dream all right - 2.5 kids, in-laws, and even a maid (Filipino? Indonesian? Who cares?) in tow. And with them they brought all their silly Singaporean mannerisms, like lining up at a buffet.

I mean, the very essence, the crux, you might say, of a buffet is that there is no line. You see what you want, you swoop in, you get it, you leave. Nowhere is it stipulated that you have to progress down the table from salads to meats to desserts. You could have all dessert if you wanted. Whatever. You. Want. No line. Just go. This is the simplest rule there is to a buffet. And Singaporeans simply do not understand that rule. They want to form a line for everything. Give them a scenario in which a line is not supposed to exist, and they're lost. They know not what to do. "What? We can just... take it? Anything? No... line? Can it be? No, we must form a line. We must establish a System. For Higher Productivity."

I couldn't bring myself to do it. I went back to the table and had a cigarette. Fuckin' Singaporeans.

If the above rant sounded vaguely Seinfeld-ish, forgive me. I've been watching old episodes on DVD, and man, are they funny. Larry David is a genius.

One of the in-laws, thinking he was funny, made this comment as his granddaughter was about to go canoeing: "Look at her, the Olumpic canoeist."

O-LUM-PIC.

Now, in what way does "y" even vaguely sound like a "u"? And this is not an isolated incident. I've heard Singaporeans say that, all the time. It's annoying. It's ignorant. I fucking hate it. Is it that difficult? To say "Olympic" properly? To form the sound of "lim"? It can't be. More people have the surname "Lim" than "Lum" in Singapore. Why the "lum" then?

(Actually I just realized that "Lim" and "Lum" are actually the same word in Chinese: 林. "Lim" is in Hokkien/Teochew dialect while "Lum" is in Cantonese dialect. There are more Hokkiens and Teochews than there are Cantonese in Singapore. Hence, there are more "Lim"s than "Lum"s here)

If you can answer that question I will give you a dollar. And a name card. It gets you one-for-one at Winebar. Good deal. Drinks get watered down like no one's business, but still a good deal.

Anyway, don't even get me started on "stuffs" and "staffs". For the love of fucking God, people, "stuff" and "staff" are plural already!

I swear, there needs to be some kind of grammar police that goes around shooting people in the head for these things. Three strikes, you're out. You make the same mistake three times, they show up beside you and blow your brains out.

"For the last time, it's already plural! No 's'!!" *BLAM*

Sure, it'd wipe out two-thirds of the population, but who cares?

Yes, I do realize I've digressed quite a bit.

For the price we paid, we could've gone to Bali by air and stayed in a five-star hotel. Of course, then we'd have to share the beach with hundreds of other Singaporeans, then I'd really go nuts. So all in all, I guess it was a good thing. Plus, I got a great tan.

Now if I can just get out of the slacker mode it's put me in.

See, I've been procrastinating a lot since I got back. I sit on my ass most of the time, watch movies or DVDs, go shopping, don't exercise - basically do fuck-all. That's how I've seen so many movies. I should be writing, and writing my ass off, but I tend to just throw something together when stuff (see, no 's' at the end, children) is due. I hate doing this. I need to really get in the mode, get disciplined. Someone told me Haruki Murakami sits for a few hours every single day and just writes.

But he's Murakami! some part of me protests. Yet, wouldn't that kind of discipline be a great thing to have? Although, if I had that kind of discipline, I'd also have washboard abs by now...

Anyways, for the next week or so I'll be taking over from someone at work, doing some AD stuff. The lucky bastard's going to Rome - fuckin' Rome! - and apparently there's no one to take over. Palpatine wanted me to take over more, the whole two episodes, in fact, but I worked it out with the guy in question such that I'd basically only do what needed to be done, nothing more. She didn't seem to pleased with that arrangement, but well, fuck her.

I'm also attending this HD seminar thingy, only for two days. I try to be positive, maybe I'll actually learn something. I'll tell ya, HD looks pretty enticing though, given the fact that we never have enough money for actual film.

So yeah, that's my life thus far.

Note to Self: Write! Fuckin' write!

Actual scripts, that is, not this blog shit.