Dear Oliver and Camille

Mon petit Oliver et Camille,

In March 2013, I will bring your grandfather out on a trip. A hiking-up-a-mountain trip!
It's not that I am sponsoring the trip, sadly to say, at this ripe old age I am still lacking of the funds necessary to sponsor someone beloved, to travel together with me. The reason could be that I am not very good with money, as I have been, my whole life. And there are still so many far flung places that I would like to visit before I embark on the monotony of daily life. Your father has always been good in planning for the future, and that is why now we have a castle, a lake, a stable of horses and a large garden... Okay... ...you know we only have a small but cosy home, but it's true that we have endured many hardships together and your father has made many sacrifices for us to be together. I hope love is easy for you. I have always loved your father, and no other man could ever compare to him. I hope that we will grow old together and still keep each other warm during bitterly biting days, when we are both silver-haired. I am glad he bothered to take an interest in me, to know me inside out, to steal away a part of my soul with his antics. He warms my soul with a thousand blazes that can only stir more love, more desire for each other, and that is how we have been living together thus far.

Grandpapa is not too old yet, he can still hike faster than me on the easy hiking trails in Singapore, wearing his white hat, carrying a red Ferrari brand sling bag and his favorite accessory, a china-brand walking stick. (Only $10.) We will be hiking during the school holiday weekend in March, and staying in his friend's house, an elderly German who lives on Kuta beach, one of the biggest and most well-known beaches of Bali, a favorite island paradise of many over the world, located in Indonesia.

It will only be a weekend trip, because I only have 14 days of leave for a year, this is one of my pet peeves about working in Singapore. Yes, this sounds unimaginable in places where you get 2 months off, but it is the reality for many workers in many countries. I really enjoy a culture where the vacation time is treated as almost a ritual to be observed in summertime; then again it is summer here all year round, except in monsoon season where the rainy days from end November to early March threaten to spoil every plan with ugly blackened skies.

Just yesterday, the sky turned into that ominous color and during my usual evening walk home from the train station after work; the sky threw small leaves and grime onto my feet, my open toed slip-ons getting increasingly soaked as the rain pelted torrents. I wonder if you will ever see the monsoon rains of SouthEast Asia.

I have a bit of regret now that we have not done this trip earlier, when Grandpapa was younger; he would have enjoyed this trip more then, than now; carrying with him a prior knee injury, and recently, suffering from the kind of asthma that I used to have in my childhood (that's why I never enjoyed exercise in my youth); except that his kind of asthma starts at the twilight of life. Last year, I described to him my vacation in the South of France, I lavished praises on seeing the unbelievable white rocks that form a sort of fjord known as a 'calanque' in the Marseilleveyre range, together with the tiny alpine plants that were only permitted to grow to a puny height because of the harsh surrounds of salty sea spray and dry air with little moisture. I had a fun time trying to collect the seeds and berries of the mediterranean fauna throughout the jardins I visited, for the family's gardener hobbyist to plant. In Singapore, Grandpapa planted these seeds, but the sleeping seeds did not awaken. In the end they were carried off by the garden ants; off to their little anthouses to be eaten, a delicieux french meal, I imagine!

Grandpapa had the sort of wanderlust in his eyes when he listened to my spiel about Marseille, we are the only two in our family that share the love of traveling (and now hiking)- to destinations that are usually hard to get to, and not favored by the usual crowd. I am glad that when I was young he has brought the whole family to several roadtrips and also had the liberal thinking, very unlike typical Asian parents; to allow me to travel, solo, in my late teens, to neighboring 3rd world countries. Alhough being the scaredy cat I was, I did not venture far.

I still have not ventured that far, I think! And right now, I have no idea what my reaction will be if you inform me that you will be traveling the world at 18!

It has been a dream lodged in the back of my subconcious, to live in a place where there are mountains and seas. Perhaps that is why I started traveling. To find my place in life. In more ways than one. Singapore is a totally flat place with few hilly terrains, although now that we have built basements upon basements of train stations, there is a chance to exercise your legs on the long staircases.

When I went to Chiangmai I was in the old city, wandering around like someone who loves the city, photographing animals and street signs. But when I went to dinner with your Uncle Sergio (who is now a famous physiotherapist in Spain) - every evening beyond the city walls, I saw the mountains in the distance, ahead of us, and the scent of the sweet, fresh, mountain air as dusk arose and day turned to night. As I walked out of the city walls into the sight of the mountains, my soul whispered that the people here are so blessed to be able to see mountains everyday. Perhaps that was what inspired me to take these journeys this year. A part of me is still surprised at myself, always overestimating the energy and physical strength I have for such a journey I take to get on top of such mountains, and always having a range of emotions (some really negative), until I reach that destination. Maybe I am seeking to find something more than a short term romance with these high places.


I hope that one day you will find it possible to be able to live in a place with mountains and seas. I hope that we will go on many expeditions together. When I see the many young children being pushed in prams in freezing shopping malls here, I think to myself, that I was so lucky that it was different, during my time. We used to explore the reservoirs and the beaches, the suburban streets and wet markets. I'm not sure yet, if I want to do these, and of course, the weather here can be blisteringly hot to endure a day out in the sun. But anyway, I'm sure we will have some small adventures. I think if I was born in another period in time, I would embrace being a gypsy. If not for our wealthy city's government protocols, I would have never studied, nor done well, nor gotten a good job. So I am thankful that a person such as I was born here and never am I able to be proud of such achievements. If I look back, what I want to be known for is to have loved deeply, and to have traveled, deeply too, in the sense of being exploratory.

Dear Oliver and Camille, one day I hope you will have the chance to explore the mountains of South East Asia. I've heard that they are beautiful, but for the majority of my adult life living here I did not envision myself to want to or to be able to explore them. One day I will be going to the French alps and also I want to ride a horse, a galloping one, before I get too old. I will tell you all about it as a bedtime story!



Digital photo taken by Seth Weisel.
Analogue photos taken by me.
France, Indonesia, Singapore.

And there were elephants in Chiangmai

The Valencian has an elephant memory.

It was often surprising, and sometimes humiliating.When I least expected it, for instance, while walking on the streets of the Saturday Walking Market in Chiangmai, shopping for unique handmade things, he turned to me in response to my comment that I'm a really impatient person - that, I admit I am - and said that what I said was really astonishing, given the fact that I was late for 20 minutes upon our first meeting. It rendered me speechless to hear such words, not spoken in the manner of someone holding a grudge, but without spite. Spoken out of innocence by a man with a good memory.

A mere twenty minutes, pffft. Was that his first impression of me?

I wanted to write about how this trip was meaningful, and significant to me. Meaningful because, I went there to catch a friend I've met in Singapore 2 months prior, and he became a friend for life after that weekend. And also, it would be my last trip for some months after a variety of spontaneous trips. My 7th trip in the last two months; some people actually think I travel for a living.

Significant because, for possibly the first in a long time, I've actually done what normal people do, actually plan in advance, scan the sky for the best direct flights, and book the tickets in advance, si, two months in advance. I think I actually saved two hundred dollars!

But I am at a loss of words to describe the people I've met in Chiangmai.

The old lady sheltering from the rain, looking like a frail Thai Chinese, she actually bicycles through the old town for exercise. We chatted like old friends for twenty minutes, and upon her suggestion she directed me to a flower market outside of town where I spent a lovely drizzly afternoon, my last afternoon in Chiangmai, surrounded by the scent of flowers. If I had behaved like a normal tourist and just rushed from place to place, I would have never had found the flower market on my own.

The local beauty salon ladies who gave me a shampoo and blowdry, they couldn't stop cooing over the fairness of my long legs throughout and even touched parts of leg... It was unnerving to hear them all say they preferred my skin color. I thought they looked awesome in their bronzy glow and told them so.
The Chinese student who went on a secret trip on her own - people still gasp when I tell them I travel alone, but I wouldn't have been so daring when I was at her age.

The feisty Costa Rican who is living her life on her own terms and whom I immediately liked. I hope she finds  that her dreams come true soon. The one that is written on the palm of her hand.

The young Dutch, the gentle-macho type who immediately took a liking to me - and his mother, too, who regaled me with stories about their first summer vacation to South East Asia. I took a good shot of them, one I really liked.

And the lovely Bangkokian who relocated to be close to her parents who relocated to Chiangmai. She owns a kistch crepe stand and behind it, a very professional photo studio. She was very kind, very pretty, and the crepe was a fantastic, simple breakfast.

And the elephants, the elephants. Those majestic creatures who looked liked they could talk for hours if they could speak.

The Valencian was enthralled too, more so than me. Quick! Take photos of me with the baby elephant, he commanded. During the elephant show, he whispered to me like a small boy asking his mother for permission: I'm going to play with the baby elephant, vale? This baby elephant behaved like a small dog, almost bounding over the wooden posts, and playfully nudging my tiny foot with its massive one... it had prickly hair and its skin felt like... well, it felt like the way it looked. During the elephant ride, the Valencian was overly concerned for our elephant. It was a tad littler than the others and we were overtaken several times. At certain junctures on the arduous walk through the jungle we felt certain that our elephant could not make it. Only when we saw the clearing, both he and the elephant became happier and our elephant even playfully blew some water from its trunk on my shoe. But the Valencian's heart sank again when he realized that our elephant had to make the same journey back, ferrying another round of tourists. At least we aren't heavy, I consoled him. Perhaps we were chosen for this elephant because of our lithe frames.

To catch the glimpse of joy on the Valencian's face as he fed 'his' baby elephant with bananas and sugarcane was a bit like being in heaven where the scene before you was just a little too perfect and joyful to mirror our sorrowful, worrisome lives. He imagined 'saving' his baby elephant, and bringing it back to his house in Valencia, we were told it cost 1 million baht or close to S$40K, and as an adult it would probably consume 100 litres of water a day and countless kilograms of fresh food. Perhaps it could be a mascot for his football team (Valencia FC), and we could make money by offering special appearances... we let our thoughts run wild for a second.

Even though at the very end, I was sentimental because I would probably not see the Valencian again, not ever, or at least, not for a very long time, I printed out the photo of us on the elephant.

And I carried it around with me for a week after I came home. We were all happy in the photo, the Singaporean, the Valencian, and our elephant!!!

All photos on Lomography Chrome Xpro 35mm film taken on Vivitar Ultra wide & Slim (Superheadz).

A nutella and banana crepe near the Central Hospital, Chiangmai

Bought this shirt at the Saturday Walking Market in Chiangmai, wore it next to a balance ball class that left my inner thighs, shoulders and wrists aching.

There were really lovely people who chatted to me naturally as I went on my personal walking tour in the old city of Chiangmai - the old Thai Chinese lady who could speak perfect English. We were both seeking shelter from a sudden downpour in the afternoon hours. She had bicycled through the city despite being at the grand age of 76. I had discovered interestingly the ceramic shop (near the vintage shop) where we sought shelter sold many, miniature elephants.  So cute!

Remembering that earlier on our day trip to the Elephant camp, my Valencian friend could not stop playing with the baby elephant - and that was the happiest I've seen him; I got all the baby (blue) elephants in the shop for him, and was filled with amusement at the thought of him opening the newspaper packet and many baby elephants the size of two fingertips spilling out from it! (And also later imagining him remembering the baby elephant each time he saw his baby elephants.)

They were a mere 4 baht. I also considered purchasing some lovely ceramic plates with cracked glass patterns and posting it to myself. I chose some gray baby elephants for myself as well, and asked the shop owner to label the packets; one 'blue' for him, and one 'gray'. The old lady came to the rescue to the uncomprehending shop owner, and wrote out the words in blue marker, neatly. Your English is very good, I told her. We started chatting, just to while away the time to wait for the rain to cease. She told me the temple across the road was one where people visited when they were accident-prone, to pray that they would not meet any further road accidents. She also told me that one of the ceramic vases - a brown thing that looks like it is for a single stalk of flower, was originally used to offer water to thirsty monks and passerbys, in the past all houses had this vessel placed at their doorsteps. I gave her a Singapore magnet I had bought in Chinatown, it was nothing much and I just happened to have it in my bag, but she handled it with the greatest care.

Later, she recommended me to visit a flower market just out of town, near Warorot, and wrote the name down in Thai for me to tell the driver. I went there, and spent the rest of the drizzly afternoon surrounded in the scent of flowers. 

There was also a pretty Bangkokian who offered me more than hospitality, a friendly chat about life and hers - she relocated to Chiangmai to be close to her parents, after slogging it out in the field of accountancy she decided corporate life was not for her. In her words, Bangkok is good for business, for work, but not so much for living. Singapore is very much like that. Not so good for living, really living. I envy her for having the luxury to live in a place where you can see the mountains in the horizon. Each day when me and the Valencian walked to dinner - a further walk out of town, I see the mountains ahead, as the sky slowly lost its light, and I was always, always awed. How I wish one day I can live in a place where I can see the mountains every day.  How breathtakingly beautiful my life would be if I can just see this every single day.

So she studied graphic design instead, to carve out another livelihood. And together with the kitsch creperie, she also opened a photolab where people went to take their significant photos. She sold me a crepe filled with nutella and banana, paired with a pineapple shake, and brought out a chair for me where I can eat it 'al fresco', a simple breakfast I will remember for a long time because of her.

Such are the tales of a solo traveler. If you wander through the streets of anywhere in the world, undoubtedly, you will meet people with stories to tell. I didn't set out to be someone who takes photos, although once I have a camera in my hand I have the compulsive need to document each worthy scene...

I think being a photographer is not so enjoyable, you have to physically 'remove' yourself from the scene and be an observer of sorts. I'd like, mostly, to play a part in the scene itself. I'm also still at the age where I'd like to see many, many happy pictures of me. I would never have decided on my own to come here alone, nor thought of it as a destination I would be heading to this year. So, I'm grateful that the Valencian had deeply encouraged me to come visit. Two months prior, I constantly scanned the travel sites for good prices, and found a fantastic deal at $440+, flying Silkair direct. Unlike my many other trips, I was not alone for most of the time - on one hand, I could not complete my walking tour (also due to the terrible body aches after the balance ball class we had) on the other, being constantly surrounded, I enjoy the moments spent with others, too. I get horribly lonesome sometimes on trips like this, so it's nice to just have one other person walking beside you, even if the other person is also lost in his own thoughts.

Behind every photo I take, there is a story waiting to be told, and in some instances, a simple photo capture cannot speak about the moments contained within.