Review: Shogun

K is heading back to Canada tomorrow. We'd initially wanted to make Sushigroove (highly recommended) our spot. It was raining cats, dogs and goats and poor K was a little under the weather, but he turned up at my doorstep anyway to give me a ride.

Such a good chauffeur friend.

Sadly, the venue had been booked out for some event. And his family had happily and unsuspectingly gone over to the next nearest Japanese restaurant.

Shogun.

"NOOoooooo~!" Di and I screamed in unison. "Call them quick!" I urged. Sadly, all three calls went unanswered.

We were doomed.

Shogun certainly lived up to its reputation - for MYR55++ per person, we got putrid sashimi, stale and overcooked kebabs and rice, cold and bland soups, oxidised fruit and rubber tako.

How do Asian people get rice wrong? It's been known to happen though.

Ina: Oh the tako? It's like tyres!
Azzahir: More like fried chewing gum.

The sashimi tasted so bad, I hardly managed to get it down my throat. The red maguro slice actually left a trace of blood on my plate.

We barely touched our food.

Even the ice creams were shades of unnatural neon. We were more partial the Mat Kool flavour, which was a riot of colours - blue, green, pink and yellow. I wanted to take a photo of that too but was quickly stopped by the staff.

There was some promotion on Sulphur Duck, but it appeared to be sold out. I have yet to find out what it is.

Ducks are misleading dishes. Think about it:
a) Bombay Duck = Fish
b) Geoduck = Phallic mollusc that lives in mud and looks seriously unappetising and is overpriced
c) Sulphur Duck = ?

But I digress. The company was lovely. I hadn't seen K's parents in ages. They'd spent three years in Cairo living in the middle of a golf course. It was a sad thing I never got around to visiting them. (This is what happens when you're in a long distance relationship)

Seriously, I have no idea how the restaurant survives. Crappy service with foreign workers who feign ignorance at everything, disgusting food... I suppose some people might be masochists.

This should be the new face of Shogun

The awesomeness of Google Maps

Holy cow. When I turned right, we could even see Larry collecting his mail

Eternal sunshine of my spotless mind

I'm exceptionally blessed with three very distinctive traits - I am non judgmental (almost to the point of oblivion), terribly forgetful and possess the innate ability to look deceptively attentive (very useful in classes). Combined, it makes me a good listener. Even if just a pretend one.

I had blissfully assumed everyone else to be the same. A deeply philosophical talk with my brother yesterday led me discover otherwise.

I realised this - people do want to be better. Everyone just wants a second chance. But if others keep reminding them of their past mistakes and expecting the worst, how will they ever find the courage to make the U turn? It'd be simply easier to plow along and let the self-fulfilling prophecies run their course.

I know those three characteristics aforementioned don't sound too ideal. But they work for me. I don't hold grudges. Mostly because I don't tend to remember who wronged me or how. So what if it's ignorance? As long as I'm happy.

It also makes me an excellent candidate when people need to spill their beans to someone who's not going to tell them, I told you so.

I think a lot of people really just need someone to listen. Not to give advice, because deep down inside, they already know what they need to do. Talking about it helps draw it out, gives them courage to do the right thing. However talking to the wrong person is often counterproductive. Schadenfreude is a miserable thing that makes the world go round.

Or those who dish out baseless, unsolicited advice. It's patronizing and rude. Most people are a lot brighter than they're given credit for. They just need a nudge in the right direction, not a shove.

As an external auditor, I spend most of my time at client sites. You'd be surprised how lonely most top level managers are. Some will just sneak over into my room to let slip how incompetent they feel they are. Some confide how they hate their jobs but can't leave - there are too many mortgages to pay. Or how all they ever wanted to do was own a fruit orchard. It's strange how I'm supposed to be evaluating their performance, amongst other things, and here they are, pouring their hearts out.

Sometimes all we need to do is listen, for someone else's chance at redemption.

Toilet rant

Anyone who's ever been into a public toilet in Malaysia will attest that the local women need to be toilet trained.

I'm not being crude. I think during my first trip overseas, it wasn't the blue skies, the smiling locals or the cute furry marsupials that impressed me.

It was their toilets.

The floor was clean and dry! There was ample toilet paper! There weren't any footprints on the seats! There weren't any gross Unidentified Floating Objects in the toiletbowl! The door could actually be locked!

I did actually once find a frog in the loo somewhere near Cairns. No, I didn't flush. I'm so nice.

I thought I was in heaven. As it turned out, that wasn't an anomaly. Even those restrooms in the middle of nowhere along the Pacific Highway were incredibly clean and unvandalised, with fluffy, full rolls of toilet paper.

In fact, I've always wondered if there's a mysterious Toilet Fairy that keeps the supplies going. Especially when you consider the nearest town is about a two hour drive away.

Toiletus Faeriealis

I can't understand why people can't just not spray the water everywhere when they douche. (Actually, I just wish they wouldn't douche) The handheld bidet seems only to be commonly used in Malaysia. If the neighbouring countries have the same archaic practice, they're quite neat about it. The only foreign places with yucky loos appear to be the airports, no doubt the handiwork of ugly Malaysians.

Everytime I lower myself on an unfamiliar seat, there's always some fear at the back of mind that my bum might encounter a wet rim. I mean, I know it's likely to be water from some inconsiderate douchebag who well, douched.

But of course, the first thing that comes to mind wouldn't be water, would it? I'd picture the bacterial flora and fauna saturated in urine and faeces from the last user's hairy, smelly ta-ta, clinging to my skin.

And if the douchebag squatted on the bowl, well tough luck.

Worse still, some of these people not only wet the seat, but also the entire cubicle floor. The dirt from everyone else's shoes get into the puddles, upping the gross factor by a gazillion times.

Public lavatories appear to encourage creativity in users. Just look at the graffiti and futuristic deconstruction for example. I also don't get it - why don't people flush? Does the tug of the lever expend so much energy? Are they so proud of their byproducts that it's necessary to display them? Turd trophies, anyone?

Sigh. Even in the new, nice, shiny malls, the toilets only remain pretty for so long. Maybe there should be public service announcements on the art of toiletting. Oh wait, there are such things. Just look at all the instructions pasted on the cubicle walls.

How to use a Malaysian toilet

The underrated solution to everything

What's important to you?

It's funny how this rhetorical question bears such significance and can completely change every decision you make; yet it seems like somewhere in course of our busy, busy lives, we fail to remember what really matters.

When I started working, I decided I was happy with myself in most facets, but one thing - I wasn't kind.

Most people disagree with me in this aspect, but the thing is, I'm friendly, not kind. There's a difference. However, the variance is not conspicuous if noticeable at all. That's because whether I am kind, or not, when you have a problem and you call me up about it, I will still listen and if prompted, offer you advice. That's because I regard you as a friend, and I believe that's what friends do. It's almost an obligation - even if I think you're an idiot then.

That being said, it's easy to be good to people whom you care about, but what about the opposite end of the spectrum? The ones that when they open their mouths, every inane word is like serrated steel grating on your nerves? The ones whose very presence alone, is enough to raise your blood pressure and sometimes, your voice?

Working life was a real shock to my system. On my personal time, I've never been the kind of person to waffle. If we meet, I either like you, or I don't. Say we get along, I make effort to be a friend, or at least your acquaintance. If we don't, you've either made no impression on me or I just dislike you. That's it.

But when you're in a team of people of varying backgrounds and opinions, it's not so black-and-white. Long hours, stupid clients, ridiculous deadlines - the stuff so many engagements are made of, are often fertile ground for flaring tempers and well, unkindness.

I tried to be nice. It didn't (and often still doesn't) come naturally. Mental kindness, is an oft overlooked concept propagated by the protagonist of Lionel Shriver's The Post Birthday World. Baby steps. Nowadays when faced with an opportunity to glorify myself at the expense of a colleague I'm not so fond of, I try to emulate some of the better ones. Nonetheless, the high road isn't always a pleasant one and often I've found myself in a deeper cesspool than before.

Sometimes Often, I fall off the wagon.

My mother thinks I'm nuts, but I told her one of the reasons I wanted to move to Australia, was to buy myself time to be kind. When all your basic necessities and some, are fulfilled without having to slog through 12-15 hour days for pittance, it's a lot easier to be gentle and patient and not harbour unnecessary annoyance at others.

A slower pace, a simpler life... hopefully in time, kindness will become second nature then.

Return of ET

ET is back in town for two weeks. Of all my friends, his job is probably is most interesting one - his office is located at the Kenyan-Somalian border, helping out the placement of refugees. We live vicariously through his tales of scorpion stings, police escorts and watermelon theft.

We'd all missed him and decided to hold a poolside barbeque in honour of his (brief) return at DL's condo in Mount Kiara. Having limited my earlier experiences to just eating, I had no idea what to expect. Naively, I'd assumed getting the embers going involved dropping a lit match on a pile of charcoals. (Note: If you ever do that, make sure you hair is out of the way.)

Else you'll end up like this guy

Boy, was I wrong.

We spent about two hours just trying to get the coals lit. It was a good thing LL and ND brought potato salad and fried rice to stave off our gnawing tummies. In the end, ET managed to get it going. JK's chicken wings were a hit. Basically, he marinated them in a solution of Coke, salt and ketchup for two hours. In lieu of a grill, they can be baked in an oven set at 120 Celsius for 30 minutes.

Coca-cola wings

We had sausages, prawns, lamb chop, corn and other miscellanous vegetables. ET failed to live up to his promise of the Nyama Choma (yeah, I thought he was swearing at me too), a kind of African mutton dish though.

Give it to me, baby! Ah-ha, ah-ha!

After cleaning up, we headed to the CoffeeBean down the road. Occupying several tables, our group burst into raucous choruses of Happy Birthday, in as many languages possible to ensure the birthday boy was thoroughly embarrassed. VC brought some Japanese cheesecake, which the apricot glazing lent excellent flavour to.

"Ne-ga-ra-kuuuuuuuuu~!"

We talked, we sang, we joked and camwhored and drank our ice blended drinks. And suddenly, I realised how much I would miss all this.

Good friends are hard to come by

Inadvertently enhanced

The stress of the recent assignment had taken its toll on my skin. Desperate for a quick fix, I'd read up about chemical peels.

To my utter surprise, the procedure was classified under Plastic Surgery.

I had spent most of my teenage years fantasizing about having my then enormous nose shaved off. In fact, a friend once offered to sell off his violin to finance this endeavour. It's a good thing he didn't. Now the rest of my face has caught up and thankfully, my nose no longer looks out of place.

(I privately thought -and still think- that if you remove a part of yourself, when you go to Heaven, it'll be missing too.Exampli gratia, if you get a nose job, the part cut off will be gone, but so will the implant, leaving you hideously disfigured. Illogically, this theory is not applicable to people who lose their bits involuntarily)

Anyhow, I delved a little deeper into the topic, and realised that cosmetic surgery actually comprised several other procedures. Procedures I had already performed, namely:

1. Laser treatment
My skin was really bothering me; I'd heard of miracles performed by the dermatologist nearby, so I popped over for an assessment. He declared that skin was full of sebaceous cysts hidden deep within the dermis, hence the unevenness of skin tone. The only way would be to laser off the local epidermis, to evacuate the gunk. I sat around with dollops of anaesthetic cream on my face for an hour, before getting my skin fried off. I looked so crappy the next day (think scabs all over my face), everyone thought I'd been through a severe allergy attack. It was however, extremely satisfying to see years of accumulated yellow goo spurt out with minimal effort. Nonetheless, I didn't return for a follow up, as it cost a whopping MYR600.

2. Mole removal
When I was 14, I got contact lenses. And also asked out on a blind date. The mole in between my eyes which had never bothered me before, now was a prominent eyesore. Embarrassed by this inadvertent third eye, I went to my hairdresser's (who doubled as a beautician). Rina happily stabbed it a couple of times with a needle and applied a painfully stinging acidic cream on it. My eyes began to water as the tiny spot inflamed and blossomed. The cream dried into a dollop of white, and eventually the mole fell off. It's still sort of inconspicuously there though, if you look hard enough.

3.Chemical peel
My bestie Pei had gotten some miracle solution from her doctor, if I wanted some, she could get some for me, okay? Okay. Having no clue what the little glass bottle held, I applied it liberally in blind faith. Damn, it stung! Oh well. Then over the next entire week, my skin turned an unnatural shade of lobster red and proceeded to peel. In strips. My hands would roam to my cheeks and I'd pull a long piece of epidermis off. Diiiiiiigusting. It didn't help that I had a loudmouth classmate who would regularly (and loudly) remind me how I looked like a lizard. When I did eventually complete my moulting, the skin looked really fresh indeed. No pain, no gain.

Sadly, I can now no longer feel more superior than people who have had work done, because it'd be like the pot calling the kettle black. I might as well go all the way now right?

Coffs Harbour

We were on our way back from Sydney. We stopped to admire the harbourfront view. There was a gelato shop.

The kindly old man at the counter shook his head when I asked for strawberry, "Not in season, miss."

My face fell a little. "I'll have rum 'n' raisin then, I guess."

He gave me the Biggest Scoop of Ice Cream I had ever seen. In the land of oversized portions, this was about the size of my head.

"He must really like you," X said, licking his significantly smaller scoop of chocolate. I offered him a bite to quell his envy.

We sat on a bench by the harbour, occasionally trading ice creams. A flock of seagulls, not unlike the ones from Finding Nemo ("Mine? Mine? Mine? Mine?") gathered around us. Feeling sorry for a single-legged one, X flung him the last bit of his cone.

And then we sat in companionable silence, enjoying the perfect day.

I ♥ my boyfriend

The way through a glutton's woman's heart, is through her stomach.

Krabi: Day 3

Day 3
We went for our usual breakfast and decided we couldn't possibly leave Krabi without having seen Railay (also spelt as Rai Leh). What scant research we performed was not particularly encouraging, painting the place as nothing more than a bunch of cliffs only suited for one purpose.

DL and I, a lecturer and a bean counter. Not exactly rock climbing material.

With LC not feeling too outdoor-sy, DL and I walked down the main street in Ao Nang and got two return ferry tickets (THB200 per person) from the booth by the sea. This turned out to be a mistake, as we shall see later.

Peach Jinda 3, our long tail boat from the island hop the day before had been a dream. So this boat, unimaginatively named N53, was a shock to me. The wood was rotting, and the boat was full of dirty water, with bits of trash floating about. The engine was deafening and the boat sped along rockily. I said a little prayer along the way.

Railay is only a 15 minute ride away. The peninsula is actually attached to Krabi mainland, but due to the high limestone cliffs and untamed forests in between, is only accessible via boat.

Upon arrival to West Railay Beach, DL and I were floored. I had initially thought it would be similar to Hong Island, but no, it was beautiful! Clean sand, clear waters, limestone cliffs rising above the sea... and best of all, cafes along the beach.

Our boatman, instructed us to wait at "Puh-Naang-Kip" at 1pm. We were a little confused, but assumed the place was too small to actually get lost. So DL and I confidently set off, wandering through the Guest Only walkway of Railay Village Resort.

It was gorgeous and so perfect, I could completely visualise my honeymoon with X there. Green mountains overlooked the swimming pool. The garden was beautifully landscaped and well tended to. The walkway itself was smoothly pebbled. The chalets we walked past looked cosy and romance-conducive.

Limestone cliffs overlooking the Railay Village Resort pool

We wandered to the end of it and came to East Railay Beach. It's not so much a beach, but a young mangrove swamp. I use the term swamp loosely here as it's not boggy at all. The water is clear and during high tide, fish fry swim about your ankles. The mangrove trees grow in twos and threes, neatly spaced out.

This is the "service entrance" to the island. Tanned Thai men ferry foodstuff and other supplies to the resorts and restaurants with their long tail boats. Dodging wheelbarrows and carts, DL and I pottered about admiring the view.

The most gorgeous service entrance ever

When asked on the whereabouts of "Puh-Naang-Kip", the men pointed South. Okay, DL and I decided, we'd while away the next two hours or so at one of the beachfront cafes at East Railay Beach, then make our way to this "Puh-Naang-Kip" place to meet our boatman.

I got a Diet Coke and DL, a mixed fruit shake. We just laid back, watching the lithe, young farangs set up their beachtowels on the sand and observed how it seemed that all the fatties were back in Ao Nang.

When 12.45pm came, we paid the bill and hurried towards our destined meeting place. We soon found out that "Puh-Naang-Kip" was actually a 20 minute hike away from East Railay Beach. We hurried along and on the way, stopped briefly to admire the infamous Diamond Caves.

It turned out that "Puh-Naang-Kip" was butchered English/ Thai for Phra Nang Beach. And it was magnificent. We were bowled over. Stalagtites attached to the limestone caves hung over the azure waters. People frolicked about, some topless. The sand was fine and powdery white. We were a little disappointed how we'd wasted so much time at the cafe, rather than exploring this gem of a beach.

Me: Isn't it beautiful?

Mum: What if those things fall down? Won't the people die?

Me: ...

As it turned out, we had lots of time after all. Our boatman explained to us that he needed to fill his quota of eight passengers before he could leave the island. I was furious. How can anyone leave out this sort of information?

His companion jeered in Engrish, "You want go now, two pee-par, you pay 500 baht."

It wasn't the money that bothered me. It was how they could blatantly just cheat you. Our boatman and us had a date: 1pm. If he would only set off later, he could have mentioned it so we could do a bit more sightseeing. It was another shock - this is my first Thai trip on which I've been cheated. It's also worth noting that the Krabi folk are noticeably and consistently less friendly than your average Bangkok/ Phuket/ Chiang Mai vendor.

My mood completely ruined, we sat there stonily. Perhaps feeling a nibble of contrition, our boatman offered us to leave, "guaranteed", at 2.30pm. DL and I were too sunburnt to enjoy anymore of the beach, so we hid in the shade and just sat for about half an hour helplessly.

I got up and checked out other boats, asking if anyone could take us back, whatever the cost. Unfortunately, the rest of them were chartered. DL noticed my glumness and decided we should have lunch at The Most Gorgeous Cafe In The Whole World.

TMGCITWW (so christened because I failed to take down the name) is elevated on a rock platform and partially located within a limestone cave. The tables are set facing the sea diagonally, and shaded by the proliferation of trees as well as the cave itself. Almost each table has only two chairs, so that both diners may enjoy the view of the ocean.

Real linen in a rustic setting

The menu prices were equally breathtaking. In an attempt to cheer me up (and to use up all his baht), DL offered to pay for lunch. I got Roast Chicken Sandwich (THB290) and he got Fried Rice (THB300). The food took a little while to prepare, but the service was impeccable.

Our food was good, though not amazing. I guess we were paying for the luxury of (almost) fine dining in a beautiful natural setting. At 2.30pm, our boatman then appeared and tried to hurry us. DL assured him we would take away the food/ eat quickly. However, we were informed that the restaurant did not carry take away containers and hence decided to enjoy our meal slowly.

The bill came up to THB820, inclusive of drinks and VAT (7%). Miraculously, our boatman was still there at 3pm. We hurried onto the boat, nodding apologetically to the other passengers.

As LC was nowhere in sight, DL and I had quick showers and went off to Stall 9, as aggressively recommended by its lady owner. I must admit, I was a little hesitant seeing how it was extremely exposed and little more than a tin roof over several thin matresses.

The staff, genuinely friendly and welcoming, soon made us feel home. DL and I chose Aloe Vera (THB200) and Back, Neck and Shoulders (THB300) massages respectively. We both agreed they were very good. My masseuse helpfully rubbed some extra aloe vera cubes over my sunburnt shoulders to soothe the burning skin. Later, I sat down for a complimentary pedicure, where the young man also helpfully removed my ingrown toe nails.

I've been back 5 days and it hasn't even chipped

Having read the note we left her in hotel room, LC came over and joined us. We then got back to shower before heading off for dinner.

We casually chose Aning Restaurant, on the basis of how "airy" it looked. The Stir Fried Beef with Basil (miniscule portion), Red Curry (waaaay too much coconut milk) and Seafood Tom Yam (what seafood? We only found prawn heads) turned out to be real duds. We paid the THB550 and returned home.

Day 4
We got up at 6am to watch the sunrise only to realise that our beach faced the West, and ended up taking an hour long stroll on the beach. Did our usual breakfast routine, packed up and got on our hired taxi (THB500) to the airport.

KBV turned out to have a pretty decent, albeit grotty restaurant on the fourth level. There's even internet access at THB50 per half hour. We chilled there for the next hour and half. The Rice with Pork, Egg and Spicy Stir Fried French Beans that DL and LC had was pretty decent (THB120 per person). My Mixed Fruit Shake (THB60) was rendered disgusting with too much overripened cantaloupe. The Chicken Fried Rice (THB100) was excellent though, surprisingly.

At about 12.20pm, we boarded AK863 to return back to reality.

Krabi: Day 2

Day 2
Embracing the true Malaysian spirit of kiasu-ness, we awoke early the next morning to beat the crowd for the buffet breakfast (7-10am). It turned out to be completely unnecessary. There were about three other families around when we arrived. Unaccustomed to their serene grazings, we loaded up on fried noodles, bacon, ham, omelettes (with cheeeeeeeese, yum), cereal, croissants etc.

The food was not quite Zagat material, but we were happy enough it was free. Post breakfast, we hurried to the lobby and hopped onto our appointed songthaew. It was already crammed with a Danish family of four. They were quite friendly and offered advice on the local manicurists. We stopped one more time to pick up a young Dutch couple before arriving at the pier near Noppharat Beach.

From there, we got on a long tail boat and headed towards Lading Island. After a 45 minute ride, our expectations were dampened by the bits of styrofoam and rubbish floating about. The water was a milky blue, possibly due to the choppy waves, and noticeably littered. Our guide, a Thai-Malay man named "Ay", apologised for the crappiness of the place. After a few half hearted attempts to wade about, we set off for the next island.

Our long tail boat - Peach Jinda 3 (wonder what happened to 1 and 2?)

Pakbia Island was basically a delta of sand attached to a jungle, with the sea on both sides. It wasn't paticularly special, but I did manage to catch sight of some fish nearby the rocks. A particular species of yellow and black striped fish was noticeably prevalent everywhere we went.

We then took a U turn in Hong Lagoon. Our guide made flimsy excuses about bad weather, hence being unable to stop, in spite of the scores of teenagers splashing about. The lagoon was a beautiful blue with greenery decorating the walls. Or least that's about all I can comment since we spent a grand total of 2 minutes there.

In spite of the promised FIVE island hop, Ay once again let us down by saying that the sea was too choppy for us to venture to the other islands (Dai and Raeng islands respectively), so could we instead spend three hours on Hong Island, a national park instead? Honestly, I felt a little cheated, seeing how we paid THB700 (bargained down from THB750) each.

Hong Island has an entrance fee of THB200, but this had already been included in the package (as reiterated again and again by the agent). The sands were white and the water was thankfully, styrofoam free. We got off in high spirits and snorkeled about. Nontheless, the milky blue of the water provided an estimated visibility of a metre or so. After about 15 minutes of fruitless exploration, I gave up and we headed to the picnic tables for lunch instead.

The fried chicken (a suspicious orangey hue), green curry chicken and mixed vegetables (sourish, eww) was served with rice. It was okay. The pineapples served afterward were especially sweet.

LC, so fair of skin and dry of bikini, was terrified of getting a tan; only DL and I strolled about the beach and and laid under the shade of a tree. I gave him some enhancements then, out of boredom.

Thousands flock to Thailand for breast enlargements

After some fish feeding, we played some water polo with the others, before calling it a day. We arrived back to the pier at about 3pm, an hour earlier. Achey and sunburnt, we decided to recuperate with a massage (can't remember the name, it's the one where everyone wears white and blue uniforms).

I got suckered into a Milky Massage (THB300), whilst LC and DL got the Oil ones (THB200). As far as I could tell, the only difference was how much stickier my skin felt later. Having been completely spoilt by X's loving, sleep-inducing massage strokes, these felt mechanical and uninspired in comparison. Despite my disappointment, I tipped her an extra THB100; THB300 felt too little to have an old lady spend an hour kneading you.

Now with an extra layer of "milk" over the sand, dirt, salt and sunblock that already clogged my pores, we wandered about. Still unable to find Sala Thai, we ended up at Ao Nang Seafood, which was elevated by the sea. We ordered Steamed Fish with Thai Herbs (very Chinese), Deep Fried Calamari with Pepper and Garlic (our favourite!) and Stir Fried Morning Glory (a misnomer, which turned out to be Kai Lan).

As there was an ongoing Buy Two Get One Free promotion, we got a Snow Float (like an alcholic thick shake), Long Island Iced Tea and Pina Colada (served in a coconut!).


Once again, we explored the shops. I managed to get a pretty white and black tube smock, before going back to the room for a much needed shower.

Floating "balloons" - another Thai tradition used to exploit tourists (THB100)

Krabi: Day 1

I have finally recovered enough from my trip to actually write about it. Not that it was exhausting, but owing to the untimely birth of my nephew (welcome Matt! Can't believe the little dude popped out when I was overseas), I lacked time.

Day 1
We flew by AirAsia. Arrived at Krabi International Airport (IATA code: KBV) at about 12.30pm. Gloomy skies gave way to an outpour. Too lazy to wait for the bus, we got a cab to drop us at Ao Nang (TBH600). Although it was deemed the wet season, our cabby insisted that today was the first rain they had in a while.

While KBV is a pretty decent airport, on par with Chiang Mai's, the 40 minutes it took to reach Ao Nang revealed nothing but dry, unkempt grass and shanties. We did pass limestone caves, one with a sleeping Buddha.

Ao Nang itself is completely sustained by tourism. Or at least it feels so. Like a mini Patong sans trannies and hookers, 99% of the shops will fall into one of the following categories:

a) clothing/ ethnic accesory retail
b) food and beverage
c) tailors ("Cheap suit! I give you cheap cheap!")
d) "tourism info", i.e. offering accommodation/ boat transfers/ scuba diving
e) massage parlours

We got off at Ao Nang Villa Resort (USD83 per night). It turned out to be pretty decent. Our hostess wore a cream lace kebaya, indicating the Muslim influence of the state. We had arrived a tad early and housekeeping was still setting up the room, could we wait for 20 minutes

Welcome drinks in hand (sugary, mystery stuff), we completed the necessary paperwork and lounged about in the simple lobby. It was still pouring, so we saved the beach for later. There was some construction going on for the seaviewing rooms, which we weren't informed of earlier. Thankfully, it wasn't too noisy.



Our room was simple and uncarpeted. Very spacious. The promise of three beds turned out to mean two actual beds and one fold open one. Being the only guy, DL was automatically assumed the occupant of it.

Our balcony looked out to the garden, which again, simple, but well cared for. Exhausted from all the travelling, we rested for a bit until the rain abated. The beach was very similar to Patong's, not outstanding, but not completely Port Dickson-esque either. We had to cross a pedestrian walkway behind the hotel to get to it.

After a bit of beach walking, we hopped onto a songthaew (TBH500) to Krabi town, having read about its infamous nightmarkets. It is worth noting that unlike most Thai holiday destinations, we were not offered a single tuk-tuk ride the entire trip.

The rest of the space was taken up by a Dutch couple with four children. The lady was very talkative. She spent the time ranting about how Asians refuse to talk to Caucasian women and how marijuana was ruining Amsterdam, that's why they moved to a small village further away etc. We nodded politely, and agreed with her in the brief and infrequent intervals she paused for breath. Quite amazingly, she and her husband "loved" Kuala Lumpur, finding it "clean and friendly". I think the clouding of judgment was due to passive inhalation of pot.

Krabi town is, simply put, a waste of time. That's a little harsh but it's true. Having been to the Chiang Mai nightmarket (kilometres and kilometres of non-repetitive products), I'm a little spoilt I suppose. Nonetheless, the markets were definitely not meant to be a tourist attraction. Made of food/ fruit stalls all cramped in to one small, wet square, we found nothing so remarkable about it. The town itself was sleepy and dull.

Back to Ao Nang after our hour long stop at the town, we proceeded to hunt for food. Unable to find the elusive Sala Thai restaurant, reputed to be the best for seafood, we settled for Aree Bar Bar, as recommended by a vendor.

Seated at a cute pseudo-hut, we ordered seafood omelette, massaman (or mussaman - sourish curry, quite tasty), green curry chicken and mixed vegetable tom yam. The food was very good, albeit a little dear. Bill totalled to THB550, inclusive of steamed rice and coconuts and some complimentary fruit.

Forgot to take pics before eating

Stuffed, we strolled back to the hotel and stopped by numerous shops along the way, before heading back to hotel in search of our perfect fluffy beds.

Review: Jogoya

One of my favourite engagements was for a company located in the Twin Towers. For one thing, the Towers are attached to a mall. So in spite of the long hours that came along with the job, I could whip out for quickie shopping trips whenever I felt like it.

It was a secondment, but I felt completely at home with the team. Mind you, it was a very big team. They made effort to include me, and I had never felt more happy.



So on Thursday, we finally had the team dinner at Jogoya, located in Star Hill.
Despite initial hesitation (my favourite team mate couldn't make it), I was glad to have gone. For one, they have a Haagen Daz spread. Like 10 flavours. I heart Green Tea, Strawberry, Vanilla, Cookies and Cream. Mind you, we ate a lot of ice cream. I wasn't too impressed with the savoury food though. It wasn't horrible, but bordered the line between that and mediocre. I thought the sashimi and sushis were okay, but had to return to remind the guy of my Unagi Roll when it failed to turn up after 30 minutes. On a Thursday night, when it's not packed, that kind of crappy service is quite unacceptable.

Apart from the ice cream, desserts were pretty much all disappointing. The only hits were the mochi (with others, not me. Find mochi kinda queer) and tiramisu (very light).

The company was enjoyable. No regrets going, but I wouldn't personally fork out MYR108++ to eat there again. Rather have my favourite iced chocolate and chicken and mushroom pie at Dome. Twice. On the plus side, I managed to savour a variety of exotic foods such as escargot (gritty. Did they wash out the sand?), lobster (all mushed up in a wasabi tinged salad), abalone, oyster (GROSS!) etc.

I did get a diarrhea the next day though.