The most romantic thing that I've ever did

To see the world, things dangerous to come to, to see behind walls, to draw closer, to find each other, and to feel, that is the purpose of life.

The reason I love Walter Mitty the movie so much, especially this scene, is because I once did something eerily similar before. The movie just gives me a trip down the memory lane, to the time where I went to Tunisia solo, in a totally impromptu manner. Just like Walter, out of a sudden urge to move, cheesy to say but yea, an urge to feel more alive, I booked the flight ticket 3 days before departure, to a country on the African continent, a country I hadn't never been to, a country still in civil unrest and just caught the international attention due to the Arab spring one year before. I left for the unknown country without any prior research and without a plan. And then getting to know a stranger during the flight and proceed to follow him on his car with his friends on a 8-hour drive to a oasis town of Tozeur deep in the Sahara desert. It ended up that they were really kind folks, hosted me for a week there, brought me around town to visit, treated me with many homecook local meals, all and all simply an unforgettable trip. It is so crazy when I come to think about it.

Just like in the scene, while I was walking to check-in counter in the Lyon airport, I still remember the slow-mo feeling, as if everyone surrounding me just moved a bit slower. Stepping into the unknown, heart pounding, my backpack was light, so as my body. My pace was steadfast and steady. Open-minded, razor-sharp focus, driven purely by emotions - adventurous, nervous, angsty, and a bit suicidal. That point I was ready to accept anything the journey would throw at me, ready to look for something beautiful, something more exciting, yes I admit, something more dangerous. Everything was so surreal, so like a movie, that I could almost hear a soundtrack, an epic theme song, playing in the background. I remember that the day before departure on the Christmas' Eve, when my friend asked me what was my plan there, I think I said something along the line of: "I don't have a plan." That is probably the most badass line I've ever said in my life.

Never refuse an invitation, never resist the unfamiliar, never fail to be polite, never outstay the welcome. Just keep your mind open and suck in the experience. And if it hurts, you know what, it's probably worth it.

Richard, The Beach

Now that I'm older. My heart colder. Even a bit grumpier. Am I still capable to do something similar? Am I still as open-minded?

That Time I Ended Up in the ICU

"Where am I?"

The very first question I had when I opened my eyes. It was a really terrifying feeling. I have only lost track of the continuity of reality twice in my life - once in the night club Rancho in Royan where I got stupidly drunk; while the other time was this time. The question was quickly answered though, judging by the tubes plugged into my arms, the breathing mask on my face, the setting, the nurses, and the surrounding patients.

"I am in a hospital." But then the second question came in my mind, a question even more terrifying than the first one,

"How long have I been unconscious?"

I hastily called the nearest nurse, begging for an answer. "4 to 5 hours," she answered. Probably she saw my puzzled expression, she further explained my situation with her average level of English. Apparently I was admitted to hospital in the afternoon, I was suffering from severe altitude sickness. The last thing that I remembered was at Tengboche waiting for helicopter. But I don't remember anything of the journey to hospital at all. The next thing I knew was I was lying on this ICU bed. The nurse added on, telling me to put back on the breathing mask and rest more. Even though I felt OK and wanted to leave the hospital immediately, it would be wiser to comply.

I was still in disbelief after getting her answer. I was supposed to be on the way to Everest Base Camp (EBC) with a group of hikers. But there I was, lying on the ICU bed, alone in a hospital somewhere in Kathmandu, away from my hiking group, unsure of my health and my situation. After days in the high mountains, I was also unsure of the date too. "How long before I can be discharged?" "When I can see the members of my hiking group again?" "What if I get discharged after my flight back to Malaysia?" "When can I get back my belongings especially my phone?" A millions questions and worries popped up in my head. My future was clouded with unknown. Anxious.

The next day, I asked doctor if I could be moved to a normal ward, but the request failed, claiming that my lungs were still not in good shape. So I was stuck in the 12-bed ICU room. From time to time, a nurse would bring me medication to ingest, as well as some sort of medication to breath in through the breathing mask. Due to their limited English, I didn't bother to ask what those medications were for. I was entirely putting my faith on their hand. Although I no longer needed the breathing mask, my arms were still needed to be attached to some tubes at all time. So to take a leak or a dump, the nurse would just bring me a container or a stool, curtain closed, and I would need to settle the business beside my bed.

Since it was the ICU, the light was never off. The tricky thing was, there was no direct sunlight into the room. Apart from a slender window at the top of a wall, the giant clock on the wall was the only thing providing the time. My circadian rhythm was totally messed up. I slept and woke up and fell back asleep, again and again. To be honest I still can't tell for 100% sure that how many days I had spent there.

Except resting and sleeping, there just wasn't much to do. The only thing left to do was to observe the other patients and the nurses doing their job like a well-orchestrated dance crew. They were carrying out 8-hour work shift. So by judging which batch of nurses, I could roughly guess which part of the day it was, morning or evening or night time. The ICU beds were at most half occupied throughout the time I was there, mostly old folks, 2 or 3 foreigners including me. There was one patient whom I clearly remember. He was carried in very late at night. He was unconscious and looked seriously ill, judging by the multitude of life-supporting equipment surrounding him and the amount of attention needed from several nurses just to take care of him alone. That night I couldn't sleep properly due to the constant "beep beep boop boop" sound from the equipment. But when I woke up the next morning, he was gone. Not sure what happened to him.

Not sure on which day, finally I had some familiar faces visiting me. They were 2 of my hiking members - Miss Ong and Ah Kong. So glad to see some familiar faces. So they helped me fill in my memory blank. Due to Miss Ong feeling uncomfortable to continue on the hike to Everest Base Camp, both of them decided to accompany me on the helicopter to go back down to Kathmandu. Apparently, we changed helicopter twice - once from Tengboche to Lukla; and the second one from Lukla directly to Kathmandu airport. Along the way, they were so scared about my situation, kept patting me to keep me awake, afraid that going to sleep might not be a wise option. They added on that although the flight from the Tengboche to Kathamandu airport was very prompt and swift, the same could not be said to the ambulance from the hospital. We'd waited quite a while in the airport before the ambulance arrived. The trip on the ambulance was very amateur too. I was on a stretcher without strapping or anything. So I was swayed all around at the back while the ambulance bustled through the horrible Kathmandu traffic. Luckily they helped to secure me more or less in place at the back of the ambulance.

They were also relieved after seeing me in good health. According to them, my mom continued on the hiking journey, because it didn't make sense to come down with me. Nothing much she could do to improve my situation. The good thing was they kept in frequent contact with my mom and the others in the group to update them about me. Their visit was short but definitely necessary and comforting for me.

Around 3 days later (I think) I was then moved into a normal room with my own privacy (and my own TV!). Overall, I stayed in hospital for 7 days. On the 6th day, the doctor CT-scanned me and finally I could be discharged. The experience was all new to me, first time admitted to hospital and all, but certainly not pleasant one. It was terrifying due to the circumstances: unsure of my own health; trapped in a hospital in a foreign country; in the ICU room with filled with patients, some seriously ill; with memory loss and no sense of time; lost in translation half of the times. Although I had insurance covered every expenses and the helicopter evacuation sounds cool, I wish for no more.

Furthermore, it also makes me realize how this all is not only about myself.

"What do you think happens when we die?"
"I know that the ones who loves us will miss us."

-- Keanu Reeves --

I don't want my parents to worry about me like how it was during this incident anymore. Having good health is everything.

The happy face, finally discharged and free!

Special thanks to,

• Miss Ong and Ah Kong, who accompanied me for the entirety of the heli-evacuation;
• Ken, my roommate during the beginning few days of hiking, he was the first who discovered me in sick condition;
• Beng Guan, the person in charge of our hiking group, and our Shepa hiking guide, who together helped orchestrated the heli-evacuation.

Ad Astra touches my heart

Vanessa:  It's not about the artist's name or skill required. It's not even about the art itself. All that matters is how does it make you feel.
Kingpin:  It makes me feel alone.

On the surface, Ad Astra seems like a space adventure movie featuring Brad Pitt, or at least that was the impression I got by watching the trailer. I guess I was expecting some hard sci-fi stuff, may be some alien stuff, or perhaps some grand message about humanity. In the end it gives me something else entirely. To me, it is gut-wrenching. 

Jared from Wisecrack describes it the best. In the podcast "Show Me The Meaning" Ad Astra episode, he describes Ad Astra as the "anti-Interstellar", in the sense that it is going against what general audience is accustomed to when it comes to giant epic space movie, saying:

"Most space movies are, they are in space because it's a setting for big ideas. 2001: A Space Odessey, Instellar, these movies have grandiose ambitions into making you question about the meaning of life, humanity's place in the cosmos. I think this movie delibrately evades that."

It is very much about the personal journey of Brad Pitt's character - Roy McBride. Undoubtedly, it is a well-made film, impeccable cinematography, a feast for the eye. But it is also extremely slow paced. Action scenes are rare and far in between. If his journey doesn't resonate with you, then the movie is just not for you.

It is an understatement to say that I love Ad Astra. It is a very personal movie to me, so much so that I can see my reflection on the Roy character himself. The movie just makes me feel so emotional. When they say:

"I came to the realization out there, a voyage of exploration can be used for something as simple as escape."

Somehow this line makes me question if I am also doing the same - escaping, with all my alone time spent in the forests and mountains, running and hiking, pushing further and further my physical limits.

"The zero G and the extended duration of the journey is affecting me, both physically and mentally. I am alone. Something I always believed I preferred. But I confess, it’s wearing on me."

I guess I too must confess. The thing I am trying to escape is depression. All the sport really helps me to stay in orbit and not falling into the abyss of depression. While the "ghost" of Roy McBride is his relationship with this father, I think my "ghost" is about her and subsequent depressive episodes. And I think the only way to gain enough momentum to reach the escape velocity of the depression is to talk more overtly about my "ghost".

"You know, but when I look at that anger, and if I push it aside, and just put it away, all I see is hurt. I just see pain. I think it keeps me walled off, walled off from relationships and opening myself up, and, you know, really caring for someone. And I don’t know how to get past that. I don’t know how to get around that. And it worries me. And I don’t want to be that guy."

I don't want to be that guy either.

I am grateful that I watch it at the right timing of my life. Just like The Catcher In The Rye, I was crazy about it a few years back, but now I just find Holden Caufield angsty, grumpy, and annoying. It is still an important book to me, it just no longer resonates with me as much as it used to be. I wonder if ever I finally escape the grip of depression, I would still like this movie as much as now.

Kikanbo Ramen - A Kiss by the Devil

10 days in Tokyo, I was surprised for many things, and one was just how many Sichuan Ma La restaurants there were around. I long knew about this shop (Karashibi Miso Ramen Kikanbo) in particular from one of the Youtube videos by Mark Wiens. Since I was in Tokyo, it was time to try it for myself.  

Devil level!

We thought we better be early to avoid the queue, but at 11h30, there was already a queue anyway. Apparently it was quite renowned around the neighborhood. You knew the shop was serious in their spices when they let you choose separately the level of spiciness / the amount of mixed chilies, and the level of numbness / the amount of Sichuan peppercorn, 4 levels each to choose from, and max out at "Devil" level. Arrogant, I chose "Devil" level for both. Unknowingly I chose my own demise...

The waiter reconfirmed my order and then we entered the shop. The atmosphere and decoration made you feel like you were in hell, literally. But nothing would be as scary as the bowl of ramen that I'd ordered. The waiter came with my ramen, introduced me to spices in this concoction of hell. If you know what is Sichuan peppercorn and if you ever bite into one, you would know the numbing sensation it gives. So in my bowl of ramen, the top layer was thoroughly covered with an inch thick of ground Sichuan peppercorn. And the cherry on top was a teaspoon full of some imported Mexican, extremely spicy ground fresh chili paste.

I gave it a stir and the soup just became so thick from the amount of spices mixed in. I first tried a sip of the soup and damned! I knew then it was going to be an odyssey. The shock was real from my first bite of the noodle. The burn was something I'd never experienced before. I couldn't feel my mouth, as if I was just injected with a shot of anesthetic. Sweat immediately squeezed out from all over my head. Second bite, and my mom told me my face was all red, and the nerves were bursting out of my forehead, screaming for help. Not sure if it was true, I was told that the waiters and cooks all were looking at me suffering with a worry face. To be honest, the spicy chili mix was still manageable for me. It really was the insane amount of Sichuan peppercorn that was killing me. Not only my mouth, my throat, my stomach, my entire digestive system, I could feel each bite of noodle moving down my body.

After just over half a bowl in, my mind was totally lost. No amount of water could help me go through this Herculean obstacle ahead. The only way left was the way out. So I gave up. Then we went to the 7-11 opposite for some cold yogurt drink in desperate hope of putting out the Californian wildfire that was burning inside me.

I have always considered myself to be very high tolerant to spicy food. But for once in my life, I am humbled by a bowl of spicy ramen...

The vending machine to personalize your own doom.

The happy face prior. Ignorance is bliss.

3rd level of spicy and numbness.

Normal - no extra add on chili nor peppercorn.

The aftermath.

Highly Instagrammable Coffee Roastery

This has to be the most extravagant Starbucks that I have ever been to, to say the least. As for now, it is crowned as the biggest Starbucks in the world, Tokyo Reserve Roastery was opened just as recently as in February 2019. I first knew about the place via a FB post of a friend of mine. Not that I am a Starbucks fan, but since I was in Tokyo, I thought might as well go for a visit.

We visited the Roastery during evening, and judging from many Youtube videos, I guess lucky for us or may be the hype had died down, we didn't have to queue hours to get into the premise. Located appropriately in the hipster area of Nakameguro, the four-storey Roastery looks more like a church than anything else to me. What more to say about the Roastery: the lighting, the grandeur, the emblem of a star above a 'R', the criss-crossing conveyer tubes, the overall golden hue that is almost too bright for the eye. Every deco, every corner, is highly instagrammable. Every barista, every worker, is dressed impeccably for you to take photo.

The drinks there are, as expected, pricier than other Starbucks chain. I can't really judge if the coffee quality is better because I'm the kind of guy who is accustomed to the slightly burned and oily kopi kaw in a traditional Hainan kopitiam. Regardless how good or how unique the drinks there are, I don't think it is a good environment at all to enjoy a drink. This is a place built to impress, crowded with tourists is not a side effect, it is the intention. I just feel very uncomfortable having a coffee there, with everyone passing around me with phones on hand for the perfect picture. But who can blame them. I myself also unconsciously took out my phone to snap a few. "When in Rome, do as the Romans do." So when in the branded coffee church, do as instagrammers do.

The only difference between "awe-some" and "awe-ful" is the ending. I was definitely awed when I first saw the place but my overall experience in the end was just a shrug of shoulders. I would say it is worth to visit, but for once only.