Back in SIN
Yeah, back in SIN. Literally and metaphorically, since being in the heavenly isle of Phuket makes going back to mundane SINgapore seem like a sinful thing to do.
Oh well. Life has to go on and bonds can’t be broken. 
We had a helluva time in Phuket- perhaps it gets better everytime. We spent a day longer there this time, and I’m quite sure the next time I’m there, there’ll be no more sightseeing (I think I’ve seen all their worthy attractions, minus Phuket Fantasea).
Having stayed in an exclusive villa this time round makes it even memorable. We lapped up the luxury of having a private pool to ourselves, a whole 4-bedroom villa (and all rooms were detached from the main living room, accentuating the resort-feel), had breakfast served by our pool by butlers every morning, enjoyed full spa services (masseuses, manicurists and beauticians came and provided poolside therapies at the sala )- basically, we lived like kings. Even if it only lasted a few days…
Atok and Ooyah dudok rilek-keplekk kat rumput tepi pool. Buatlah macam rumah sendiri ye...
Berfeeling kerabat diraja Thailand dengan dayang-dayang di sisi, menantikan perintah.
It was my special demand request, actually, that no expense is spared for this holiday since it HAS been a VERY LONG TIME since I went overseas, and perhaps it will be quite some time before I have another getaway. So splurging was the only way to go, baybehh- just grit your teeth and think of it as three vacations rolled into one. Because I’m worth it. Or more like, let’s make the $75 temporary passport worth it’s cost, wokay?
We basically stayed in the villa, spending our days, and nights, soaking up the sun (and also chlorinated water in the pool!), basking happily like seals without a care in the world. We blasted our music, pretended to be a team of synchronized swimmers, dared one another to go to the deepest end of the pool- well, we could even skinny dip (would it still be called skinny dip if I were to do it?) if we wanted to! But OF COURSE we didn’t lah, since our dad and my husband are around too- crazy or what?
The opening act. And my arm IS NOT that flabby- it's actually an optical illusion as a result of refraction from the water. Really.
The complete team. The star swimmer in this troupe had to put on her specs as she lost her contact lenses after going underwater without goggles... and THAT mistake cost her team the gold medal. Tsk.
It’s definitely sad as hell, our last night there… entertaining thoughts of just leaving everything behind here in Singapore (err… what is here ah, by the way?), selling our flat off to buy a nice piece of land and a villa like that in Phuket… perhaps we could open a nasi padang restaurant there- heck- a stall will do as well. We could cure the hunger pangs of weary Malay travellers from Malaysia, Singapore and Indonesia, craving for authentic Malay food…. I could teach there, couldn’t I? My sister could open up a preschool empire there, Ramli can… er… do what he does best there too… Ooyah could look like one of the Thai kids and polish her ‘khop khun kaa’ greeting…
Sigh. If only it is as easy as it sounds…
So as we boarded the plane we left those dreams behind, like the bottles of mineral water that we couldn’t bring onto the plane… tossed in the dustbin labelled ‘wet items’. Yeah. If you think about it, it does get quite close to becoming a wet dream, those thoughts. 
Oh Phuket, and all you beautiful Thai people, not to forget, the delicious food you cook- we will be back. And perhaps next time round, without luggage bags but with a container full of our worldly possessions……
Last Minute Getaway
I made YET ANOTHER trip to the ICA on Tuesday to collect my TEMPORARY travel document. I came well-prepared this time: two books, a fully charged PSP, a book of sudoku puzzles, full stomach, empty bladder (well, not for long after having a full stomach). I was mentally prepared for a very long wait, but was also hoping that it would not exceed the previous waiting time of FOUR hours.
One thing I learnt from this particular visit: it doesn’t pay to come early. My mom advises me (not that I heed that advice) that I should come at opening time to get a good number, but apparently EVERYBODY ELSE has the same idea, you know? The last time I came here, I arrived at 10am. I left the building at 2pm.
This time round, I decided to come nearer to the closing time. Heh. I came at about 3pm. Well they can’t make me wait till 7pm, can they? The officers have GOT to go home and fix dinner for their kids, correct? So who’s the smartypants now, huh?
And whaddya know? I got my temporary passport in just over and hour lah! How wonderful was that? And the officer who served me was real nice and was at least emphatic about my plight. How sweet. No ‘tsk tsk’s or disapproving frowns from this one.
So it’s set- I AM going away to this holiday. Having less than a week to book return flights and hotel rooms, we weren’t left with much of a choice. The initial plan of going to Bali, Sabah, or Langkawi was foiled due to unavailable flight tickets or hotel…. ah well. There’s always Chinese New Year and the June hols (by which time I HOPE to be granted a passport since the ban is technically over in April.
Oh me, oh my! (Ooyah’s favourite phrase these days) Is that only FOUR months away?
4 Good Hours of My Life on a No-Good Thing.
As some of you may have heard, I went to ICA on Tuesday after receiving a letter from ‘em. Apparently, in that letter, I would be interviewed by one of their officers who would then decide if I could be granted possession of a passport. That certainly raised my hopes up. To tell you the truth, I was pretty sure I would get it. Real confident. The interview was just a formality, I thought.
So I went to school first to start off band practice at 8, and at 9 plus, I sneaked off to Lavender. Now, I’ve been to ICA A LOT OF TIMES, and I have NEVER seen so many people there before. There were no seats in the collection area… darn holidays! Everybody seems to be there to renew/ extend/ create passports all of a sudden.
I went to the info counter to get a queue no. and after seeing my letter, the officer gave me 2 numbers. “One for the interview, and the other one for application”. Now you tell me- wasn’t that a sure sign that I am DEFINITELY getting the passport? Huh? Huh?
No. of people in the queue: Whoa. 66. Somehow the number being called was nearly 200 away from mine. How’d they do the math?
The time printed on that slip: 10.01am. Sure. I could queue all day if you want honey- I came well-armed with a WHOLE BOOK of sudoku puzzles and my PSP- just as long as I get the passport…
——–
3 hours passed.
I was cursing and spewing vulgarities under my breath. My PSP battery had gone flat, I finished half of my sudoku puzzles, which resulted in a splitting headache; I was starving, not having eaten anything since morning and I needed to pee – but didn’t dare to leave my seat for fear of my number being called. (They DID say the number may not be called in order, right?) One by one the counters started to close for lunch. More vulgarities (e.g ‘Mak dia punya dot dot dot!!!!’) as the word “COUNTER CLOSED” flashed. The newborn babies (and there were MANY) were pissing me off. Too much noise. I wish I could express my irritation just like them. UWEKKKKKK!! UWEKKKKKK!!!!!
FINALLY… my number appeared. I wiped my sweat and tears and sprinted to the counter.
Okay not really. Gotcha there, didn’t I?
I quickly changed my ‘PISSED’ face to the ‘PLEASE…’ face. I don’t want to be pissing off that officer at the counter.
She definitely wasn’t the officer I was supposed to meet, but it could be a good thing, I thought. Well in retrospect now, perhaps it is a bad thing afterall. I showed her my letter from THE MP which, funnily enough, gave me a false sense of power and confidence. Heh. Action like real only. She checked my details, I briefed her about the situation (minus the part about how I lost the damn thing three times, not that she asked) and she said she had to consult her superior first.
Dalam hati- alamak ni yang tak sedap ni…. Toksah tanya ler kak… iyerkan aje, kata omputeh ‘take initiative’ lah gitu. Kalau nak kena tanya-tanya dulu, camne Melayu nak maju, kak?
Sigh. Looks like the ESP technique tak menjadi.
I waited at the seat for about 10 minutes, wondering where the hell she’d gone too, and praying, wishing and hoping that the boss gave her a big nod.
She came back again. Then she said I can apply for the one-time travel document which will cost me $75…
and I said, “Sorry- WHAT?”
I guess it was her way of breaking it to me gently and subtly that her damn superior (ASS!) said NO. I have to complete my 1 year ban, no matter what.
Okayyyy… so it’s not three years, that’s the good news. Well it could be BETTER news, couldn’t it? I returned one of the reported lost passports to the ICA, hoping that that they could shorten the ban duration. Fine- so, from three years, I’m down to one. So should I be thankful?
But doesn’t the letter from the MP do ANYTHING? Like- discount a few more MONTHS at least?
No, the helpless officer said. Perhaps she muttered under her breath, You think I SCARED ijjit, with your MP’s letter and all? You could get a letter from LKY for all I care, but we are so punishing you still with a ban, missy, just so you know how powerful we ICA officers are. Muahahahhaha. You may be powerful in school because you get to whoop my son’s ass (metaphorically speaking of course), but WHO’S the ass-whooper now (literally speaking, of course)? Huh?!! HUH??!!!!
I felt like bursting into tears there and then. Really. I had to hold back my tears, and not bloody go hysterical at the counter. I got desperate and pleaded with her. Please, kak, I really NEED this passport- I’m a teacher (“SO????”) and I need to bring my students to overseas trips next year… (“SOOOO????? Is that information useful to me?”)
No, said the smiling officer. Probably getting a kick out of this, eh, kak?
Then I got angry. Should I get violent here? Because if I could, I would have said (and banged the counter):
I queued for NEARLY FOUR HOURS, doesn’t that count for something???!!! Actually SIX hours, if you count in the wait I painfully endured trying to speak to the MP! I had to sneak out of school, damn it, and this is all you have for me? Telling me, oh, you can travel, but it will cost you an exorbitant price of SEVENTY-FIVE dollars for ONE trip and we can only issue you the document in a week’s time? DAMN YOUUUUUU!
*all this I would have said in my ‘exorcist’ growl*
With my head down, I walked away from the freaking counter, then proceeded to another one (*bangs head on wall*) to apply for the ‘temporary travel document’. Screw you all. You ain’t stopping me from going on holiday, no siree…. 75 bucks it is, just so your blardy boss can dry clean his only suit for his next ‘escaped high-profile convict’ press release!
I left the cursed building at 2pm. Four good hours of my life, wasted in this hellhole. And looks like I will going there again on Saturday, and at least 5 times more until next April, braving the crowd (who are also there with their WHOLE FAMILY for WHATTT????? For petty things like ‘change picture’ or ‘renew passport’ yadaa yadaa yadaa…)
It’s times like these that I wish our government officers are a teeny-weeeeeeeeny corrupt.
DAMN IT, SG, for being squeaky clean!!!!
