Category Archives: Travel

oh em eff gee

was looking through some old photos and this from the Bali Salsa Festival 2010 made me giggle out loud – it was a nightclub called….

Vi Ai Pi – which is VIP phonetically! AWESOMENESS! It was so good that I had to quickly snap this shot whilst on the back of JC’s motorbike, risking life and limb to bring you today’s episode of Engrish.

vi ai pi bali

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engrish dreams

Everytime I’m back in Asia, I particularly enjoy sighting Engrish moments. Engrish moments, you ask? Well moments where the inspiration for a title, poem, advertising poster or sign has been awesome, but execution has failed due to a lack of English understanding.

My favorite so far on this trip, which I wasn’t able to get a photo of as it was on a moving icecream truck:

REAM OF DREAMS.

I think they meant Cream of Dreams.

plane karma

I knew I shouldn’t have blogged about crazy plane trips and me – today the weight of the plane-carmic-forces came slamming down on me and took poor Alison as an innocent bystander too.

We woke up at 4am to get to the airport for our 6am flight to KL, only to find it was cancelled. Lugging ourselves and our luggage through 2 airport terminals and legions of airport staff that had no idea what we could do, lining up in a hideous line at another airline’s (still closed) airport desk for an hour, and forking over some of our shoe shopping allowance later, we are finally, 3.5 hours after PLAN A started to fail, on another flight.

We are exhausted, grumpy, and wickedly needing an ALCOMAHOLIC DRINK (despite it being 7.20am and the sun is just getting out for the day), because people, we incurred the wrath of the plane karma, and we incurred it bad.

Wish us luck for the rest of it, and please do that voodoo dance you do so that the gods of the planes start smiling on us again. Now all that could make this ordeal any more trying is if Mister Odoure or Miss Brazilia is sitting next to us!

crazy plane people 1, sharon 0

Those of you who have been reading my writing since ye olde days of le blogging, will know that I already have abysmal luck with plane trips. I mean, tangentially speaking, have any of you ever sat next to someone with Body Odour? Ohhhh, I hear you scoff, that’s happened to me a million times at least.

On one trip not so long ago, I had scored the perfect bulk head seat, holy grail of the monkey class cabin, and congratulated myself all the way on the plane, smiled sagely to self whilst wandering down the aisle towards my throne for the trip. And people, the stench, it hit me before I even got there. Benignly smiling to himself, Mister Odoure himself reeked of unwashed skin, musky BO, as well as stale food. I sat down, trying to be all stoic and fo shizzy, sat there gagging for a couple of minutes despite desperately inhaling into my own scarf.

I walked up to the steward, and said, “excuse me, the man next to me really smells. you have to move me.”

He said, “sorry ma’am, we can’t do that.”

I said, “come with me. COME with me”, and dragged him across the plane.

People, believe me when I say, this lovely steward leaned over to say hi to Mister Odoure, and the smell HIT his nostrils. I saw those little babies flare like smelling salts had hit, and he bolted upright and AWAY from it. And looked at me.

“Ma’am, we’ll be getting you a new seat right away”.

Thank Heavens.

Then there was the time I sat next to Miss Brazilia, a crazy gum chewing, Portuegese screaming to whoever on the plane would listen, told-to-shut-up-by-others 3 times, hoochie shorts and unlit cigarette in mouth lady, who not only spent the entire trip to BRAZIL (16 hours!) talking and yelling to herself in between intermittent bouts of laughter, but also, sitting perched not in her little seat but ON THE ARMREST between us. Yes, her ass was leaned up against my forearm. Whenever I DARED to shift position due to cramp and frank fear of bum contact, she would glare at me and her chatter would get fast and scary. Oh yes, there was a fun flight, especially when we got off the flight, and my mother was all fresh and chirpy from Business Class and I was scarred and needed therapy.

I guess all this is my very roundabout way of telling you that plane rides, are always interesting at best and plain insanity at most times. Last night’s plane ride, however, was MY epic fail, where I was the crazy lady.

So we get on the flight. It’s midnight, Alison and I are already pooped. Pretty much as soon as we take off, slumber hits and we start napping. I get up and realise, with a huffy look at Alison, that she’d reclined her seat back. BRILLIANT, right? Except I try to recline the seat, and nothing. NADA. Nothing moves. The whole plane is cloaked in darkness. Stewardess nowhere to be seen. I don’t want to be THAT passenger who beeps the CALL THE NICE LADY button. So i go back to sleep. Uncomfortable, and slightly huffy about Alison’s comfort.

Over the next 3 hours, I awake intermittently with an increasingly sore neck and what is perhaps worth, a steadily heightening sense of unfairness, rage and jealousy, as I try every single way to press the button and shove that damn seat back. I shifted my weight, shoved with both arms, stood up, pushed, leaned back with my feet, all whilst glaring at Alison’s peaceful cherub face laying back in idyllic comfort.

That was it.

I rang the button. Nice stewardess comes racing up to me. “Excuse me Ma’am, can I help you?”

Now at his stage, I’m irate, sleep deprived, hungry, and well, green with envy at every single other passenger on the plane that had a reclining seat. This is unreasonable! It’s a GREAT airline! Don’t they do SEAT TESTING? You know, before every flight?

I grumble at her. “My seat won’t lean back. It just won’t. I’ve tried everything. It won’t go.” As I whinge on, I’m still trying to shove the seat back comically. I have become that passenger, that annoying one who all the stewardesses will giggle about and spit in my box meal.

I can see the pity in her eyes, and some frank condescension. “Ma’am, you just press the button and it’ll lean back.”

At this stage, my brain exploded. I make a HUGE show of pressing the button. Hard.

“See? I’ve done this. I press the button. I’ve done it a million times tonight. i PRESS the button, and SHOVE the seat back and… – ”

The seat moved. Smoothly. Like silk. In 1.5 seconds flat. One would say, with the agility of a well oiled machine.

I gape. She smiles. Politely, with a don’t mess with the crazy lady smile. And walks away.

I gape.

Disbelief. Are you kidding me chair? 5 hours and NOW you recline? WHAT THE?????

So yes. Good flight. Once again, entertaining. Except this time, I was the entertainment. Guess it had to come full circle sometime.

holiday or work trip?

The lack of posting hasn’t because I’ve fallen off the face of the planet – it’s because we’ve been full swing ahead on planning for our absence, given that we depart on Tuesday for our trip.

Trip? Yes! Myself, S, and my dance team are off to the Malaysia Salsa Festival in KL, and the India Salsa Congress in Bangalore. Teaching, performing and generally living a very TOUGH lifestyle exploring foreign lands, attending awesome dancing parties, and well, dancing our heads off.

it’s always hard for me to describe these travels – it’s work, but only sometimes and at points feels like work because of the love for dance. It’s pleasure, but definitely is work too, but oh, so much FUN. Plus, the bonding of our teams on this trip is just incredible – everyone comes back raving about their new experiences, the thrill of performing on an international stage, and the friendships made are usually extremely strong! So work? Holiday? WHO KNOWS.

Either way, I’ve been rushing around at final rehearsals, sourcing costume bits and pieces, beading my costume, OH and beading, trying to make sure the studio will be *gasp* ok without me for 2 weeks (I should really stop being anxious, I have such amazingly capable staff who always hold the fort well when I’m absent), doing all the last minute things, final purchases, squeezing in last moment meetings and trying to tee up meetings and work for when I return. Madness.

i CAN’T WAIT to be gone. And feeling like this.

roadtrip