absolutum dominium

MATERIALISM AND MY OAKLEYS

I want...

Ooh momma I'm in lurrrrve!!!

Or...

Yeah baby what I've always dreamed of...

Or or...

...

Swoon.

Anyway I checked out the prices at Koolook. There's a pair I like that's only $221, and the cheapest pair I've found retails only at $139. What the hell? Oakley's is cheaper than adidas and Nike!!!

LOOKING BACK (ALL PUNS INTENDED)

Current state of my back: skin peeling... and itching like mad! EARGH! And to top it off, I'm moulting. Like a snake. I'm taking perverse pleasure in srcubbing with my passion fruit body scrub, and later peeling the skin straight off my back! Wahaha. Gross I know, but do I care?

Ugh. This morning the swimming captain had to give me a wake-up call otherwise I wouldn't have woken up. I haven't swum a single lap since IBG in August. And today for my first swimming training, I swam a total of 46 laps (of course under different training styles blah blah blah). Now my muscles ache like fuck and I'm damn tired. Feel so bloody unfit and breathless. Water fitness is different from land fitness I think.

But at the same time I must admit I *like* swimming training. It beats my Road Relay training last year hands-down. Even though my Road Relay training last year was only 1 hour, 3 times a week, those were the 3 worst 1 hours of my week! Seriously. When I met Kai for lunch, she asked why I didn't join Road Relay again. Answer's simple: I'm sick of torturing myself. I don't like running competitively.

Although admittedly that period in TH Road Relay was when I was at the peak of my running fitness. And of course a lot less heavy and pudgy than I am now. BLAH. I have love handles and no waist. I suck.

Incidentally, I realise that my trainings next week + domestic affairs means I have to forgo the kelong trip. Fucking sucks. Esp coz I have to fork out the money for it. But I guess if cannot means cannot. I'd love the fun but at the end of the day I still need to get my priorities right, esp as I have a lot to catch up on + a lot of responsibilities to fulfil, and my family isn't exactly in the best of states right now. We're a little dsyfunctional. I mean, me and my mom and dad - relationship's perfectly peachy, but mom and/or dad and uncles, aunts, etc etc etc... is far from peachy. And domestic help is driving my mom bananas so I've got to come to the rescue.

Anyway I was planning to make a point about this earlier, but I'll say it now.

One of the good things about my Mauritius trip was that apart from giving me a break from reality, its perfect timing as being almost immediately after my exams, forced me to slow down the fast ant-like pace I'd been assuming prior to it, and just stop and think. Reflect, appreciate. The usual philosophical stuff.

I know some people just like living life, doing their own thing, coz apparently life's too short to think. Me? I'm one of those people who's constantly thinking. I can't do anything without a purpose, without an outcome in mind. It worries me when I get too mindless. Sometimes I ask myself why I made a commitment to IHG. Contrary to popular belief it's not because I want to stay in hall next year. It's a generally selfish motive; pick up a new gae, learn a new sport, diversify. Essentially improve myself. But it comes at a high price.

The question is: am I willing to pay this price?

Right now yes. But we shall see as time progresses.

Anyway yes. I have digressed. Back to topic. One of the things that struck me about Mauritius was the lifestyle. I'm not talking the lifestyles of the rich and famous with their yachts and sailboats, I'm talking about the community that survives on a monthly salary of 4000 rupees a month (equivalently to less than SG $400) in a country where the cost of living is even higher than Singapore's.

One of the most interesting things I noticed about the little towns and residential areas of the locals, is that the houses are mostly unfinished. The cement has not been painted over. The roof has a gaping hole in it. The floor consists of earth because it hasn't been tiled yet. And people live there.

Was asking a local about it. He said that it was a tradition for locals to build their houses themselves. Meaning, they lay the bricks, fix the plumbing and electricity, paint etc etc etc all by themselves. No contractors, no architects, no design engineers. And because the locals were generally not very well off, they would build their houses as they could afford it. So once the money ran out, they would stop building till they acquired more money to get more resources.

Local houses also have flat roofs - to accomodate the building of a second or third storey above the first or seecond storey of the house, as the family expands; e.g.a family's son gets married and the daughter moves in, or more children is born and more room is needed for them.

But the best, absolute best thing about this is, that when you say "build your house yourself", you DON'T mean build your house yourself. You mean, build your house yourself... with your entire village helping you.

It's all about community living. When a member of the community wishes to build himself a house, the entire village gathers around to support him. All the men will help him to build the house, and all the women will do the cooking. And I've seen this done, and there's just this spirit of selflessness. No expectations, no payments or rewards are expected. Help is given freely, because you are my neighbour.

I've always had this belief that no one group of people is better than another. There is a common misconception that people in the so-called more developed countries of the States, of UK, of Singapore even, we are more *fortunate* than our poorer 3rd-world nations, because we are a more affluent society. We have better technology, infrastructure, economic wealth, and our standard of living is better.

I say screw that. What I believe is that for all the material gains that we have, these so-called 3rd world countries, have something that *we* don't. Or rather, have lost along the way.

You see, for all the so-called problems of poverty that such countries have to go through, like hunger, lack of shelter, maybe thirst, disease etc etc etc, they have strong bonds of kinship/fellowship, unconditional unsuspicious love and concern for each other, that somehow with the concepts of "individualism" and "materialism" that a lot of society just doesn't seem to have. For the few of us who know our neighbours, more of us have no idea what their names are or have never seen them. Whenever someone does something nice for us we always suspect a motive, and vice versa.

My father told me that loneliness is the greatest disease known to men.

For all the terrible physical diseases and suffering that might plague countries with poor medical facilities, isn't it ironic that the greatest disease permeates and goes untreated, in our "more fortunate" socieities instead?

Just a thought.

THE MAURITIUS EXPERIENCE

...For lack of a better title.

Figured that while the trip's reasonably fresh in my mind, I have all right and reason to bombard you with exhortations of the past 7 days of my life - photos included (of gorgeous jealousy-inducing scenery - but none of myself. I was the esteemed eye behind the lens, you see).

So here we go. For everyone who's been asking the dreaded (by me) question: "Where is Mauritius?", it's this small island off the cost of Madagascar, which is off the coast of the southern part of the continent of Africa. Hmm. Still scratching your head? Okay, take your world map out and look again. It's pretty small so it'll only be a small leetle weetle circle on the map, but seeing that it's at least 3 times the size of Singapore trust me it'll still be more than a little RED DOT! Wahaha.

Anyway the population of Mauritius is about 1.3 million (I'm giving you Geography lessons here. Hello? Law student givingGeography lessons? Appreciate it!), and the main export of the country is Sugar. So when you travel down the small roads (and I mean small, 1-lane, wide enough for 2 vehicles to pass through at any one point of time only small), all you see are fields of rows upon rows upon rows of sugar cane.

Like this.

This was taken from a moving vehicle (taxi). Focus on small little tree in middle is unintentional (but you gotta admit it looks damn good wahaha). Trust me this is ALL you see. Once in a while you have a backdrop of mountains but other than that Mauritius is amazingly flat. Like Holland and my chest.

Anyway even though Mauritius is part of the African continent and it used to be a slave colony under the French, such that the national language of Creole is a bastardisation of the French language, Africans make up about 25% of the population. The majority - 60% of the population, is Indian. Chinese bring up the last 15%. Okay, Chinese and the ang mohs living in Mauritius. Tourists not counted.

DAY 1 -

So we take the flight out to Mauritius via KL (coz SQ doesn't fly to Mauritius direct anymore ever since the whole SARS thing) on the morning of 1st Dec. Our 20 min transit in KL becomes a wonderful 2 hour wait in the airplane *clap clap. Well done MAS and Air Mauritius* , but you have to admit, the KL International Airport looks gorgeous. The arrival hall has glass panels and a skylight for walls and ceiling, and the entire place looks so bright and airy. To get from arrival hall to immigration you take this tiny *train*, how cool is that? And the DFS stores sell expensive cuban Habanas and Monty Cristos, which I can't seem to find in Singapore except in the Hilton. I'm impressed.

By the time we touch down in Mauritius it's 5pm going on 6pm (Mauritius time, which is 4 hours behind Singapore time. It's 10 going on 11pm in Singapore).I've managed to catch 40 winks AND finish my book 'Atomised' and plough throough half of my 'The Unbearable Lightness of Being' within this time. The bus journey from airport to hotel is almost 2 whole fucking hours. If I had leg cramps in the airplane, I had a numbed butt to boot from sitting on the bus for almost 2 hours.

We reach the hotel we are staying at - apparently it's this 5+++ star hotel called The Residence around 8pm. But the Front Desk severely screws up our booking. How you ask? Essentially the group has 13 people, and 2 families and a couple. My parents want a room adjoining mine - I have *MY VERY OWN ROOM* you see (and later you'll get acquainted with exactly how cool that is); this other couple want a room near their son; couples have rooms with single beds and singles sharing rooms have king sized beds etc. Essentially it's a mess and we have to sort out our keys. And once that is sorted out the baggage people (and us) get the headaches.

Scene:

I have just stepped into my room. The doorbell rings. I open it. The porter stands in front of my door and is preparing to move a piece of luggage into my room. Except that it is not my bag.

"Er," I say. "Excuse me. That's not my luggage."

He looks stumped. "That's not your luggage?"

"No."

He looks confused. I look confused. He apologises (half disbelieving tt the bag is not mine, like I would intentionally decide to NOT claim my own belongings) and wheels the baggage carrier with all the bags away. I stand there watching him wondering which stranger's room my luggage has been sent to.

And the best part is, this happens 3 times before my luggage finally comes to me.

On the upside, this is my room.

I would have taken a better shot, but just to give you an idea. The two single beds joined together form a king-sized bed. There are 3 pillows on each bed. There is a huge sofa set and arm chair on the other side with a nice big glass cofee table. Outside there is a balcony with 2 more rattan chairs, small rattan table, and a great view (meaning I can see into the rooms of other hotel guests, a majority of whom are European and have a habit of walking around their hotel rooms naked). My bathroom itself is huge, has a walk-in closet with a safe, one bathtub, one shower room, and is marble-tiled.

I don't have a hotel room, it seems more like a luxury honeymoon suite (and it probably is for most of the hotel guests).I have enough towels and pillows and complimentary soap and shampoo for 2 people.

Best of all, I have this ALL TO MYSELF.

WHOOPEE.

So we have dinner close to 9pm. French food. The hotel caters mainly to ang mohs (even though it's Singaporean-owned, a little known fact), and because Mauritius used to be a French colony such that French have little problems communicating with the locals, the hotel specialises in French cuisine. And I'm talking right down the the French way of eating, with the 3 sets of cutlery, the entree, main and dessert-styled menu, the lengthy waits in-between courses such that an average meal is at least 2 hours long, and the presentation of the food. For the entree I had smoked salmon with something or other that till now I have no idea what I was eating, although it was pretty and looked elaborately done, and for my main I had roast beef steak with potatoes baked in emmental cheese and sauteed vegetables. Dessert was a strawberry platter with strawberries made to form 4 different kinds of sweet dessert. All in all the estimated cost of the dinner was 1600 Mauritian rupees, which is about SG $100.

We were all really tired on the first night (hello? Singapore time it's 3am). I slept around 4.30am SG time (about 12.30am Mauritian time) to stave off the jet lag. The great thing is that Mauritian cable is African TV. And boy is African TV good. I've watched movies like Anger Management, Charlie's Angels 2: Full Throttle, Biker Boyz and Bless The Child; there's wrestling TV everyday so I've managed to catch all of Survivor Series, as well as Raw and Smackdown; and there are even cartoons like The Lion King, Swan Lake and Pocahontas (I admit I am still a sucker for Disney. So sue me).

DAY 2 -

My parents were joining the rest of the group for this tour to the North of the island, to the capital of Port Louis and the surrounding area. Me? I made a conscious choice to stay in the hotel and bum around. So off they went after a magnificent buffet breakfast (okay, the selection is like this every day, but on the first day it's ALWAYS impressive) of ham and emmental cheese (with holes. Mind you, I've never eating authentic holey cheese before), smoked marlin (it's not tt Nemo fish, moron. Marlin is swordfish), bacon, sausage, ham and mushroom omelette, pancakes with coconut and sugar (which I love Love LOVE), cereals, yoghurts, lots of fruits including the sour passionfruit which grows on you, etc.

And me? I walked out to the beach. For the first time.

And I saw this.

The first thought that came to my mind: "Where the sea meets the sky".

You know how we always talk about the horizon as this line where sea and sky meet. But somehow we never really notice it that much because there's always something obstructing or blurring the line, like a mountain or a ship or ships or buildings that just spoil everything.

Not so here.Not so here.

Here I saw white sands, unmarked, and a sea so clear that it was blue upon blue upon blue. And I just stood there unmoving for 10 minutes, taking in the cold sea breeze, staring at the blue blue sea.

But anyway to cut things short, what I did on the first day - I went for my first uncertificated dive in 2 years. Scuba dive I mean. It was a horror at first because I don't have a diving licence and a crash course in diving conducted in under 5 min in poor English (sometimes I wish I could speak French too. It is SUCH a sexy language) does not instill much confidence in one, so I would do things like breathe in through my regulator and try to breathe out into my regulator again and wonder at the air bubbles around my face; float up and down underwater uncontrollably coz I can't control my buoyancy well, therefore alternating between floating to the surface and crashing into corals, much to the shock - and later amusement - of my Creole instructor, and finally, take my regulator out of my mouth to clean it only to forget that I have taken it out and happily *breathe in* a whole lungful of salt water (and the Indian Ocean is so damn fucking salty I swear a week of this alone will give me severe hypertension).

But scuba diving was fun. After scuba diving I was in time for my water skiing lesson. Yes, I mean water skiing, not wake-boarding. Water-skiing is the one with 2 skiis. It's easier to get the hang of than wake-boarding, but it's HELL to keep the damn skiis off. Standing wasn't so much of a problem for me. The problem was that after every 20 metres of so, I would dip the front of my skis into the water accidentally, BOTH skiis would happily fly off, and I would continue on with the boat on my bare feet haplessly sinking into the water whilst holding on desperately to the rope.

Whoopee.

Yes yes yes. I took in a whole lot more salt water.

Went for my first laser sailing lesson around 3pm. By this time the wind was incredibly strong and the current was very strong, so my intructor had to go out with me. He taught me roughly how to steer the boat (although I've forgotten all the terms like 'on the run' etc), how and when to hike out, how to jibe (and mind my head), and roughly how to un-cxapsize a capsized boat. But it was incredible. I feel inspired to take up a proper sailing course now, and for the laser too. Once you sail a laser, a topper just isn't fast enough. :P

So after sailing, I went for a short kayak session. I swear I am not meant to kayak. Because of dragonboating, my right arm is a lot stronger than my left. So when I kayak, my boat naturally turns towards the right, such that I am paddling in a circle. I also kayak as though I am dragonboating, such that I expend a lot of energy to go... nowhere.

Kayaking was a disaster, esp against a very strong current. After the experience I just headed back to my room, drew a foam bath, and just soaked in the hot suds (I can after all. It's MY room and MY bath).

Dinner was once again a French/Creole affair with crab rillette as starter, chicken vindaloo as a main, and crumble with thai curry ice-dream (you'd better believe it. It's good) for dessert. And as always, after dinner it's sleepy time.

DAY 3 -

The cyclone hit today. Or rather, Cyclone Ben hit some island off Mauritius (this place is really prone to cyclones), so while there was no news of uprooted trees, blocked roads or electricity cut-offs as there would have been otherwise, the day was overcast, the weather was cold, the wind was particularly cold and strong, and it was alternating between cold rain and rain with sunshine.

All my beach plans were spoilt, so I trooped down to the South with my parents and the rest of the group like a good little girl. 2 fucking hours by bus to Curepipe. Butt numbed again. We had some cheesy sight-seeing tour type thingy where they would take us to see a Volcanic Crater (I can't remember what it is called though) off Curepipe.

Then we were taken to see what is called 'The Sacred Lake of the Hindus'. It's another volcanic crater that has been filled with water, hence becomign a lake. The Hindus of Mauritius believe it has mystical powers, and so they make pilgrimages here annually in February. Some come by car or bus or taxi, but many poorer ones walk over a period of 2 or 3 straight days.

Then we go off to see what is known as the Black River Gorge.

I got attacked by this little bastard below.

Not sure whether it was coz I'd photographed him without his permission, or I was blocking his way coz I was standing at the railing and he wanted to pass, or whether my head just looked like a giant banana. Most interestingly, he just grabbed my head and springboarded off it, leaving me stunned and bewildered. Good thing my parents stayed in the bus, otherwise they would have been fussing and fussing had they seen the monkey and his death-defying kung fu stunt.

We also visited this waterfall (don't know what it's called tho)...

...and this place known as the 'Seven Coloured Earth' because ancient volcanic formations caused minerals of different colours to settle in such an arrangement yadda yadda yadda.

Of course, I'm not really that bowled over because compared to the view of the sea and the shoreline, to me I guess the inland natural wonders just don't cut it so much.

But oh, on the way down the mountain through the deer-hunting ground (rich ang moh Mauritians hunt deer for sport in Mauritius. All you have to do is pay 6000 rupees and you can hunt already), I managed to get a shot of the panoramic view in the evening.

And I think it is absolutely gorgeous.You can't even tell what is really sea and what is really sky from here.

So we go back for the usual French/Creole dinner. And then so ends Day 3 (P.S. For those wondering, from this trip alone I gained 3 kg. Whoohoo.)

Day 4 -

Saturday. Cyclone's almost gone but the wind's still strong and the current still rough. After the breakfast buffet, me and the dad have this bonding session at the beach. Oh, speaking of which, here's a second picture I took.

The reason for the different colours is explained by the different depths. Where the sea is clear or light-blue (yes, the water really is clear and you can really see little fishes swimming around you), the sea is shallow and the sand beneath is white. In fact, you can see the coral reefs from above the water surface, and the reefs can be very near the shoreline. The darker parts are of course where it's deep. And the whitecap in the distance is the waves from the really strong currents of the Indian Ocean. Amazing stuff, really.

So back to bonding session. Okay, gotta say it was really good. Every now and then I learn something new about my father tt makes me realise he's not the goody-two-shoes prim and proper dad I used to think he was. You know those 'bad boy' types who like to date many girls at a time for the fun of it, only to become fathers who get damn protective of their daughters coz they don't want them to meet 'bad boys' like themselves when they were younger? Yeah, my dad's exactly that.

But he's still one of the only people I know who can hold an intellectual conversation with me and let me bounce my ideas off him without interrupting, changing the topic, acting stupid or know-it-all, or just not responding.

I told him tt's what I want in my guy. Someone I can talk to about anything and everything under the sun. From incredibly inane and stupid to intellectual. Someone who isn't afraid of showing his emotional side. Someone I can communicate with, essentially.

Now my dad thinks I drive too hard a bargain.

Sick of hotel food, we find the mom (who has naturally shunned Sun, Sand and Sea, for Shopping, tt dreaded 'S' word) after one hour of searching, and we walk out to a place called 'Vicky's Restaurant' for Creole food. They fry rice with long-grain basmati riceand their fish curry is yummy, as is their chiapati, which they gave some name tt I can't rem.

We walk around some of the provision shops, my dad buys shirts (he bought 10 shirts in all, and after realising tt he had no space in his bag, happily tom-panged them in mine later), we get ice-cream and cheap local beer, and local Mauritian rum for 90 rupees (72 at the supermarket), which is about SG $5.50. Anyway rum is cheap coz it's made from molasses, the by-product from burning sugar cane in kilns to get sugar. Aha.So now you know. What's so surprising is that rum is DAMN BLOODY BITTER. And I hate bitter.

I windsurf for the first time in 6 months after that. It's absolutely awful. I spend half an hour trying to get on my board and pull up my sail. This is because a) I can't rem a lot of the basic rules like keeping your hands straight when holding the mast, and waiting for the board to face the direction of the wind etc etc etc, b) the wind is damn bloody strong and keeps blowing me towards the fishing boats near where I have to start sailing from, and c) the bloody sail is damn bloody heavy. That's where the severe rope burn came from. And because my area had a lot of coral reefs and I was bare-footed, I kept stepping on/brushing against the stupid corals, which is why I got pricked by them and spent the later part of my afternoon pulling the invisible thorns out.

Anyway when I finally got my sail up and started sailing , I couldn't go very far, coz everytime I tried to turn, you guessed it. I'd unglamorously fall off. Okay, get on board, pull up sail, ok sail sail sail sail sail - BOAT COMING - turn turn tu- ... *SPLASH* glub glub glub.

That sums up windsurfing for you.

Dinner was 1600 rupee seafood buffet. With 7 different kinds of salad, sea urchin, lobster, shrimp and prawns, octopus, squid, crab, fish fish and more fish (marlin, tuna, salmon etc), mussels, clams and oysters, cooked in so many ways. I was impressed. And bloated. Talk about a feast. The locals also put up a sega dance for us. Sega is not a game console, it's the name for the dance of the slaves, where while working for their colonial masters, the locals would celebrate events like weddings or even funerals with the sega. So tonight they performed the sega for us. And OMG the women can REALLY shake their booty!

Now you know why those black dancers and rapper can shake so well - they've been shaking it all throughout history! And the men would play the drums and sing their native songs. African men are Hot. They're tanned and just exude this manly charisma that spell binds. Esp the muscular ones with no hair. Like 50 Cent, only not so gun-crazy.

Even my mom says so.

DAY 5 -

Sunday is another relaxing day at the beach. Wake up late, have long breakfast, let parents go out while, because the tide is too low I can't do any water sports - just laze around on the beach, splash around in the water, read my Milan Kundera book and reflect about life and other deep things... And uh. That's essentially it.

Dinner is Oriental, or rather Indian buffet. Fortunately, I like Indian food. My dad's horrified. He hates Indians. He does however, like Bhangra music like me. He likes the music from the Motorola ad. The one with the woman and the train.

Day 6 -

Monday. We go on this cruise on a large catamaran. Board it from a little distance from the hotel to sail along the coast line for a day. It's absolutely gorgeous, the view. I spend my entire time on the outside, either on the netting of the catamaran, on the roof of the boat over the cabin, or perched at the side in the front with my legs dangling over the side, looking down into the clear clear ocean and feeling the sea water splash against my feet.

This is the kind of view you can get of the coastline as the catamaran sails by.

Oh hell yeah. Looks like a postcard picture doesn't it? Anyway the little sailboat is another catamaran like the one I'm on. Service is fantastic, you get free drinks, food and lunch (but then again you DO pay 1800 rupees per person for it) on board. And their speciality? Rum.

Let me explain: the guys running the boat are local. Most of them are Creole except for an ang moh who's so Mauritian he's like a Creole in white skin. And he's a competitive sailor too, thus explaining the huge and muscled frame. Locals like rum. Therefore they introduced us to... rum with orange juice, rum cocktail (which I had) - a 4 coloured drink made with rum, orange juice, concentrated syrup and Orangina... According to my dad it has about 2 shots of rum in there. Starts off damn bitter but ends up painfully sweet - coffee with rum (my mom requested coffee with milk, but the local told her "it is too late in the day for milk" :P - and pineapple dipped in rum.

We get taken to see this small waterfall, but it's special because it's the only waterfall accessible by the ocean.

Thus the close close close-up. :)

From the waterfall we do some snorkelling, then break for lunch, and then we head for this small little island called Il Aux Cerfe to play around in the water for an hour and a half.

My mom dons her swimming costume and goggles for the first time in 10 years. Whoopee.

Oh yes, and another take of the ocean. This time this is what I see when I perch on the front of the boat and dangle my feet off the side.

Gorgeous right?

I could see this blue forever.

So after the Catamaran trip we get back to the hotel, and dinner is Mediterranean buffet. With risotto, penna carbonara, mozerralla with cheese, Italian cold cuts, lasagnes and ghoulashes, and I haven't even come to the breataking chocolate and custard and caramel desserts...

DAY 7 -

So it's Tuesday. The last day of the trip.

Parents and I take a taxi up north for the hell of it. We stop at Lafayette Beach to check out the whitecap.

It's gorgeous, but dangerous. Watching the waves as they crash against the shore, you understand the necessity for the big signboard saying "Dangerous Bathing" (English is not their first language you moron).

And another.

From Lafayette we travel up to Grand Bay. Another beautiful beach front.

There's even a church here. It's called Notre Dame Church, which apparently translates to Church of the Holy Angels. And it's one of the oldest Catholic churches in Mauritius.

This is the interior. We stopped to offer up a prayer here for a while.

And this is me. The only excuse of a picture you will get of me inside. What can I say? My dad is a lousy photographer. He doesn't know how to use a digital camera.

After Grand Bay we go up to Chinatown in Port Louis, because my parents insist on seeing the Chinatown in every country that they visit. So here it is.

Reminds me of Malacca for some reason. Must be all the hardware and tyre stalls, and the oppressive heat.

And another of course.

After the 90 minute journey from our hotel to Chinatown, we have our first authentic Chinese lunch at Lai Min Restaurant. I eat fish maw and deer meat. I like trying relatively exotic foods. So all you pacifists and environmentalists, I say it once again... So Sue me!!! Wahaha.

After the late lunch we get back to the hotel, pack up and leave for the airport around 7pm. Reach the airport arouind 8-something 9pm, catch the 11pm plane, and voila, after 1 night of restless sleep coz of the fat Indian bitch behind me, and 7 hours later, we touch down in Singapore.

And so here I am.

Goodbye Mauritius. Hello reality.